Millie Vanilla’s Cupcake Café

Chapter 16

The weather continued to improve. Despite it being only February, an early spring had definitely sprung. In celebration and relief, people shed their heavy coats and emerged in butterfly-bright t-shirts. The sunshine and warmth brought out happy smiles and relaxed the hunched shoulders of winter.

In anticipation of the good weather bringing in tourists, the town opened up, like a flower to the sun, for the new season. Nico scrubbed down his ice-cream kiosk and furiously polished the windows. The Plaice Place extended its opening hours, sending waves of hot chips-and-vinegar scent enticingly across the harbour end of town. Those lucky enough to own a beach hut began the annual clean and paint routine and hung bunting across the doors before settling down for a rest with a book and a flask of tea.

Early one morning, before the town had properly woken up, Millie stood on the café’s sun terrace breathing in the mild salty air and raising her head to the sky. She closed her eyes to better enjoy the lull and swell of the sea as its rhythm beat through her. The sun warmed her face and there was a cackle of a gull swooping overhead. Even the bird sounded relieved that the long winter was over. Spring was here. She could smell it. Trevor barked in excitement and she heard his claws scrabbling on the sandy concrete, scampering to greet someone. Opening her eyes, her heart leaped into her throat as she saw Jed watching her.

‘I’m sorry, I disturbed you. I caught you day-dreaming.’ He grinned and pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head.

He wore skinny chinos and a pink polo shirt, a sweater rolled loosely around his shoulders. He looked just like what he was – privileged and wealthy. He could have stepped straight out of a Boden catalogue. His effect on her was so acute, she said the first thing she could think of, ‘I was wondering if it was time to put some chairs and tables out here.’ She cursed herself. As if he’d be interested.

In this, it seemed, she was wrong. Replacing his glasses, he came forward, nodding. ‘Absolutely, it’s definitely warm enough, or it will be later in the day. You’re always up so early. It’s barely gone eight.’ He bent to fuss Trevor, who was going into ecstasies at seeing him.

Millie laughed. ‘The alarm goes off at five. I’ve already walked Trevor and baked today’s specials.’

‘Oh, how I hate the smug early-riser! More importantly, what are your specials? I’m starving.’

‘As ever! I’ve a red-velvet chocolate and beetroot cake, some coffee and walnut and a batch of savoury scones.’

Pushing Trevor off gently, Jed came even closer. He stared intently at her lips and ran a finger lightly over them. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Millie. They sound so good. Have I ever told you how much I love your cooking? A real taste of home.’

He bent and kissed her, his lips warm from the sun. ‘You taste of home.’

This time Millie lifted her head and surrendered to Jed rather than the early-morning sunshine. And he was far more exhilarating. She let herself open and he deepened the kiss. Holding her around the waist, he pulled her in against his hardness. She thrust her fingers through his silken hair. She wanted to drown in him, in the sensations that were overwhelming her senses.

Jed rested his forehead against hers for a moment. ‘Millie, Millie, Millie, you don’t know what you’re doing to me. I want to eat you up. I want to smother you in some of your famous clotted cream and lick it off.’

Millie stood back, swaying slightly. She felt unhinged by longing. She knew she must look it. ‘Sounds messy,’ she whispered, in an attempt for control.

Jed caught her to him again. ‘Oh, it would be delightfully, sinfully messy.’ He kissed her again. ‘And so much fun.’

It was all threatening to get out of hand. Millie didn’t know whether to be furious when Tessa’s cheery voice interrupted them – or relieved.

‘Morning, kiddo. I’ll just go and put the bread inside then, shall I?’ She went past with a giggle.

Peeling herself off Jed and giving him a regretful glance, Millie followed Tessa into the café.

‘I see you’re finally getting your fun, then, our Mil.’ Tessa slammed the basket of bread onto the nearest table.

‘Well I was.’ Millie pulled a face. ‘Before you so rudely interrupted.’

‘Soz.’ Tessa giggled and peered out to where Jed was playing with Trevor. He was leaning against the low wall that divided the sun terrace from the steps down to the beach and was trying to teach the dog to shake paws. ‘Heard he took you to some swanky-wanky place the other night. Zoe’s right, though, he’s a treat for the eyes. Get a load of those thighs. You could crack walnuts with them. Blimey.’

Millie decided she’d better bring Tessa to order. ‘Invoice?’

‘On top of the bloomers,’ she replied, still staring blatantly at Jed. ‘Gotta love a blonde man, haven’t you?’ She screwed her eyes up to see better. ‘Come to think about it, he looks familiar. Where have I seen him before?’

Millie, shoving the invoice into a folder behind the counter, didn’t reply immediately. ‘You’ve probably seen him about town.’ She looked up, amused to see Tessa still staring. ‘He’s not easy to forget, is he?’

‘You’re right there, bab. Bugger, hope it’s just the weather making me hot and not an early menopause. He’s got hormones I’d forgotten I ever had going bananas.’

Millie giggled. She couldn’t disagree. ‘You got time for a coffee?’

Tessa finally focused. ‘No kiddo, I’m running late this morning. Gotta go.’ She gave an earthy cackle. ‘I’ll leave you to the tender mercies of your hot friend out there.’ Fanning her face comically, she swept out.

Millie heard her trill goodbye, waited until the coast was clear and then dragged a couple of chairs into the sun. ‘Can I get you a coffee, Jed?’

He slid off the wall in such a sinuous way, Millie had a sudden and very intense longing to forget all about the café and drag him up to bed.

‘I’d rather get you.’

He pulled her to him for another kiss. Millie’s insides went to liquid and her legs threatened to give way. She pushed him off. ‘Coffee? Toast?’ she asked on a breathless giggle.

‘Well, I am hungry,’ he replied dangerously, gazing at her lower lip with intent. ‘I have a deep, deep hunger for you.’

‘You’ll have to make do with raisin toast, I’m afraid.’

‘Can’t I have you on toast?’

‘No!’ Millie pushed him away and enjoyed his pout. ‘God, you’re so gorgeous when you sulk.’ She let him kiss her one more time and then escaped to the safety of her kitchen.

Thirty minutes later, Jed sat on the sun terrace on one of her rickety chairs, his feet up on the wall, staring out to sea. He drank the last of his coffee. ‘It’s so bloody gorgeous here. Devon heaven.’

‘There talks a man full of food.’

Jed gave her a wicked look. ‘You’ve satisfied one kind of hunger, certainly.’

‘Wish you’d stop flirting. I’ve got a day of work in front of me.’

‘Do you really wish that?’

‘No. But it’s true that I’ve got to work. There’s loads to do.’ Millie went on to explain the plans for the café’s re-launch. ‘That’s why I’m trying out the beetroot and chocolate cake, to make the right colour for a Valentine’s party.’ She glanced back at the café. The bright sunshine made it appear all the more scruffy this morning. She frowned.

‘Something wrong?’

He was always so quick at picking up on her mood. She wished she could do the same with him. Sometimes to her Jed was a riddle wrapped up in an enigma. ‘I’m confident I can put on a good party, but the café itself just looks so tired.’

Jed batted a hand at an overly persistent gull that was after toast crumbs and paused before he answered. ‘Your windows are an asset; the way they look out onto the sea. Have you ever thought about putting in the kind that open like doors? Then you could bring the outside in and those customers who couldn’t find a table out here wouldn’t mind eating inside so much. They’re not patio doors exactly, but a bit classier. Really popular in bars and restaurants in Scandinavia, Stockholm especially. You could also install heaters out here to take away the sting of the cold. Then you could use this space for more of the year.’

As Millie had never been further north than Birmingham, she hadn’t a clue what a Stockholm bar might look like, let alone their fancy windows. Patio heaters were something she’d long wanted to buy but had never been able to afford; she’d need at least eight. And that was the crux of the matter. His ideas, although appealing, sounded way too expensive. ‘Sounds great,’ she answered, eventually. ‘But I can’t afford to splash out on a big revamp. That’s going to have to wait until next year. That’s if I still have a business.’

Jed gave her a keen look. ‘That bad, eh?’

Millie nodded, miserably.

Jed shifted uncomfortably. There was a beat. ‘Well, we’ll simply have to do a paint job, then.’

Millie sat up. This sounded more like what she had in mind. ‘I could sand the tables down, paint them something pretty. I love ice-cream colours, you know, cream and baby pink and pistachio green.’

‘They would be gorgeous, but do you still want to keep the mural?’

‘Yes, I love it, although it needs touching up.’

‘I suppose we haven’t much time, have we, before the party, I mean?’

Millie shook her head.

‘Then can I suggest sticking to the colours in the mural – turquoise and pink – for the moment and we’ll add in some hot pink and lime green into the scheme to freshen it up. You can always change the colours next year, when you do your complete overhaul. Do you know what’s under the lino?’

‘No, but it’s horrible, isn’t it? Went down in my parents’ day.’

Jed grinned. ‘And it’s seen better days. If there are floorboards underneath we can paint them white. How are you fixed this weekend?’

‘But I have to open the café!’

‘Are you expecting much trade?’

Millie shrugged. These days she never expected much trade, but she wasn’t going to admit as much to Jed. ‘Rain’s forecast, but you never know.’

‘Then you’ll just have to take a chance. Far better to close down completely and then open with a dramatic flourish. How long have you got until the party?’

‘Just over a week,’ Millie answered, a little dazed by his enthusiasm. For someone who had told her he was a management consultant, he seemed to know an awful lot about interior design.

Jed jumped up and stretched. ‘Better go and buy some paint, then.’ When Millie rose to join him, he shook his head. ‘You stay here. Plan the menu with lots of old-fashioned sticky stuff and carbs. All my favourites. See you later.’

He’d kissed her and was gone before Millie had time to react. She heard him gun the engine of the Golf along the promenade road. ‘Better rally the troops,’ she said to the gull that was attacking the leftover toast on her plate. ‘I think we’ll need some help.’ She giggled. ‘Do you think two loved-up pensioners and a couple of teenagers are up for a bit of D.I.Y. this weekend? Come on, Trev,’ she said to the dog. ‘At this rate we’ll have to tie a paintbrush to your tail as well. It’s about time you earned your keep.’ She gathered the plates and mugs and went into the café, humming. With Jed’s enthusiasm filling her with a warm glow, she felt more positive than she had for a long time.

Chapter 17

The promised rain blew itself out in the night, leaving a warm, breezily-perfect seaside Saturday. The troops had answered the call to arms. Zoe dragged a sleepy Sean along, Arthur and Biddy came in bickering as usual and Sean had even persuaded an embarrassed Ken to come. He explained that Tessa couldn’t make it as she had a lot on.

‘Don’t worry, Ken,’ Millie laughed. ‘I’ll make sure I have something really evil for her to do as penance.’

‘She’s made a whole load of sandwiches for us for later. On her best granary and seeded. Shall I stick them in the fridge?’ Ken gave a shuttered glance at Sean and disappeared into the kitchen.

Millie’s heart sang. Tessa was such a good friend. ‘That’s nice. I’ll get some bacon and eggs on for everyone and, as soon as Jed turns up with the paint, we can get started.’

On cue, Jed appeared, laden down with the first of the cans of paint. As Sean helped him carry in the rest, Biddy came over and began unravelling lengths of material from a plastic bag.

‘Thought you’d like these,’ she boomed. ‘Seem to be back in fashion for some reason I can’t fathom.’ She held up a length of bunting, beautifully crafted into exquisite little triangles.

‘Oh, Biddy,’ Millie gasped. ‘They’re perfect.’ She turned one or two over, examining the perfect stitching. ‘The colours are just right. Pinks and greens and I love this sea-blue pattern.’

‘Well, I knew the right colours from the aprons I make for you.’

‘And they’re even slightly padded.’

‘Won’t look as flimsy as some you can buy,’ Biddy said gruffly.

Millie flung her arms around the older woman. ‘Thank you so much. I love them!’

‘Oh, enough with your fuss. Where’s this breakfast you promised us? Army can’t march on an empty stomach, can it?’

By lunchtime, the café was already looking transformed. Millie had squashed down her panic at missing out on any customers and had instead made the most of the sunshine by getting everyone to pile up the chairs and tables outside. Ken had brightened up his mural, repainting the turquoise to make it even more vivid. He’d also begun to add snatches of gold paint as highlights. Jed had peeled back a corner of the lino and declared there were floorboards underneath. He and Sean stripped it out and had sanded half the floor in readiness for painting. Meanwhile, Arthur took charge on the terrace. He divided the chairs and tables into three groups and had Millie painting some white. Zoe was in charge of the hot pink (which today matched her hair) while he applied the lime green. Biddy, having peered at the colours in the paint pots, had disappeared for a while. When she returned she set herself up in some shade outside and began furiously sewing cushion covers in similar fabrics to the ones she had used for the bunting, but in bright pink and green.

Millie balanced her paintbrush on top of the tin. ‘Break for lunch in a minute, guys?’ To the groans of relief, she went over to have a look at what Biddy had been doing. ‘They’re going to look fabulous.’ She perched on the wall and picked up one cover which Biddy had already finished.

‘Don’t you get paint all over them!’

‘I won’t.’ Millie turned it over, peering closer. ‘It’s so beautifully stitched.’

‘We can get some cheap foam from Dorchester market and cut it into the right shapes for cushions.’

‘That’s a great idea, Biddy.’

Sean, Jed and Ken joined them on the terrace. They brought out the enormous trays of Tessa’s sandwiches and put them on one of the unpainted tables. Zoe cheered and began to distribute food. Everyone looked a little paint-stained and weary but wore huge smiles.

Millie watched for a moment as her team ate as if starving. She felt truly blessed to have such good friends. She turned her attention back to the cushion covers Biddy was sewing. One had an appliqué pattern. The patterns clashed and yet worked together perfectly. ‘You’re so clever. I couldn’t do anything like that in a million years.’

‘What did you say?’ Biddy looked up.

Millie repeated, making sure she enunciated her words.

‘Yes well,’ Biddy sniffed. ‘It don’t do if folk are all good at the same thing. And cooking’s what you do.’

It was the closest to a compliment Millie had ever heard Biddy utter. To anyone. ‘Thank you, Biddy. That means a lot. Is that what you did as a career; sewing?’

Biddy glared at her over her glasses. ‘Seamstress? Oh no, I only sew for a hobby. For a job, I was a madam.’

Chapter 18

Maybe it was the enclosed space that made Biddy’s words louder. Or maybe she had her hearing aid adjusted incorrectly and felt she had to yell. Whatever the reason, the statement bounced off the wall behind her and out into the small group. All eating ceased as they, as one, turned to her.

Silence.

‘Sorry Biddy, you were a what?’

Biddy starred at Millie, owlishly. ‘Thought you knew. Don’t make no secret of it. I was in charge of a house in south London.’

‘A house of –’

‘Ill repute they likes to call it.’ Biddy shrugged and the gesture made her seem much younger and altogether far more mischievous.

The penny dropped. ‘Your girls! The ones you talk about –’

‘Ah! My girls. Had twelve of them working for me. Some for nearly twenty years. Good times.’ Biddy suddenly became loquacious. ‘Had some very eminent clients, we did. Although we had a real problem when the gardener decided to chop the nettles down.’ She leaned nearer but didn’t bother to lower her voice. ‘Some of the clients liked a good thrashing with them. Never saw the attraction of it myself, but each to his own.’

For once Millie had absolutely nothing to say.

‘Way to go, Biddy!’ Zoe cackled.

‘Don’t you “way to go” me, young lady.’

‘No indeed.’ Millie rose, stunned. ‘I’ll make some tea, shall I? And find some lemonade. I made some earlier.’ She rushed for the sanctuary of her kitchen. Splashing cold water onto her burning face, she giggled. Who would have thought it? She was beginning to see Biddy in a whole new light.

Unfortunately, it seemed, so was Arthur. When she returned to the little group outside, bearing a tray of drinks, it was to uproar.

Zoe took a glass of lemonade from her and muttered, ‘Biddy and Granddad are having a mega row. Turns out Biddy loaned Granddad some money for Daisy’s op and he’s got some beef about it coming from her,’ at this Zoe made speech marks with her fingers, ‘ill-gotten gains.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘As if!’

‘My good man,’ Biddy was roaring, ‘that money came from an ISA!’

‘I want no part of it. You can have it back.’

‘Come on, Granddad, if it means Daisy can have the operation,’ Zoe coaxed.

‘No, Zoe, I’ll return it.’ Arthur pulled himself up to his full five-feet five. ‘I’d rather take out a loan on the house than take dirty money.’

Biddy stood up, sewing materials dropping unheeded. Millie was relieved to see Jed grab Trevor’s collar and try to soothe him. The dog was dancing around, over-excited at the raised voices and she didn’t want a needle embedded in his paw.

‘Dirty money, you say,’ Biddy screeched, to the alarm of a family strolling on the prom. ‘Dirty money! Ah, yes, there’s always those who take that attitude. The ones who walk past you in the street, hanging on the arms of their wives and sneering at you. And you can be sure they’re the same men who come knocking at your door, wanting to be dressed in a nappy and bottle-fed!’ She gathered her stuff and shoved it into a plastic bag. ‘Millie, I will continue my sewing at home, if I may. I know where I’m not wanted!’

Whistling for Elvis to follow, she swept off, her nose in the air and scraps of material dangling out of the bag and sweeping a trail on the sandy pavement.

‘Granddad!’ Zoe cried. ‘Honestly, how could you?’

Arthur turned on her. ‘I do not want to take anything from a woman like that.’

‘What do you mean? She’s your friend. What she did in the past doesn’t change that.’

Not for the first time Millie admired Zoe’s wise, old head. Feeling the need to calm everything down, she said, ‘Come on, let’s sit down and have a cup of tea. Jed, can you take this tray, it’s making my arms ache.’ She nodded to the only other table they hadn’t got around to painting yet. ‘Put it on there, would you?’

He came to her and, relieving her of it, whispered in her ear, ‘What a shame Biddy’s gone. I’d rather hoped to hear more about what she did with the nettles.’

Millie gave him a withering look. ‘Sit down, Arthur, and have some tea. There you go,’ she passed him a mug. ‘It’s just how you like it. Strong and sugary.’

‘It all goes on in these seaside towns, doesn’t it? Who would have thought it of Biddy, of all people?’ Jed sat on the wall, looking highly amused.

‘I would for one,’ Zoe put in. ‘Have you seen the size of her house?’

Jed shook his head.

‘It’s the big one on the hill, just past the newsagents. You need to have done something interesting to bring in the filthy lucre to pay for that.’ She gave a knowing wink. ‘Hey, I guess we really are talking filthy lucre.’

‘Zoe, my girl, I would prefer you to stop talking like that,’ Arthur said, sharply.

‘Sorry, Granddad.’

The group sat in silence once more, reviewing their opinion of Biddy.

‘Wonder if she used dogs? In the business, I mean,’ Zoe piped up. ‘She said she’s always owned one.’

‘Zoe!’ Arthur roared.

‘Not helpful, Zoe,’ Millie admonished. She motioned for the girl to have another sandwich in the hope of shutting her up.

‘Is Daisy’s operation very expensive?’ Jed asked unexpectedly. He helped himself to a glass of lemonade and emptied it in two swallows.

Millie thanked him silently for changing the subject and then cursed as the question appeared to upset Arthur even more.

‘Yes,’ was the only answer Arthur could manage.

Millie saw his hands shake as they gripped his mug of tea. Some of it slopped out onto the white concrete. Sean and Ken, having grabbed a drink, edged away and went to sit on the wall at the far end of the terrace, ostensibly watching an impromptu cricket match taking place on the beach.

‘It’s likely to be about five thousand quid,’ Zoe said, when it became obvious Arthur couldn’t trust himself to explain further.

‘Jeez.’ Jed’s eyebrows rose. ‘I had no idea it would cost so much.’

Arthur remained silent for a long time, drank his tea and visibly pulled himself together. Then he began to speak. It was as if he was relieved to talk about something else, no matter how equally distressing. ‘The X-Rays show that the old girl’s lump is in an awkward spot.’ He chewed his lip. ‘It’s one reason I missed it. It’s growing quickly now, for some reason. They don’t know why. And the tests have come back, but they’re inconclusive. No one knows if it’s malignant.’ He shuddered. ‘We won’t know until she’s had the operation and they examine the tumour.’