A splash of shame joined all the other swirling emotions that evening had engendered as the patrons began to trickle in, each as diverse as the volunteers themselves, and she began to wonder about their histories. Everyone had a story to tell, and not every one had a happy ending. Why was she still lounging in a mire of misery over her cancelled wedding plans when her life could be so much worse?
Katie swallowed down a surge of remorse that threatened to send with it a smattering of tears as she ladled her home-made soup into a bowl and handed it to a woman who couldn’t have been much older than herself. Two hours ago, she had felt like a complete failure just because no one had turned up to her launch party, but clearly fate had had something else up her sleeve for that night and she had been taught a very valuable life lesson.
A crystal-clear image of Agatha, dressed in her favourite turquoise kaftan, her eyes filled with approval and pride, floated across her mind’s eyes and she understood completely what her friend was trying to do in Bali despite her own dance with the heartbreak harlots.
No matter what happened – with the café, with Dominic, with her parents – she should pin a smile on her face and count her blessings every single day because there was always someone, somewhere in the world worse off than she was.
Chapter 8
The day of the Grand Reopening of Agatha’s Beachside Café dawned with a clear blue sky, and a scant breeze tickling through the daffodils on the village green where the ducks went about their daily business without a care in the world. Katie woke to a symphony of early morning birdsong and the rhythmic crashing of the waves on the nearby beach, something she hadn’t experienced since moving from Norfolk to London six years ago where her wake-up call was more usually the cacophonous roar of commuter traffic, intermittent car horns and screeching brakes.
She jumped out of bed and straight into the shower, spending an extra few minutes on her hair so as not to frighten the customers into thinking she was auditioning for a role as Worzel Gummidge’s younger sister. Then, she skipped down the stairs to make a start on preparing the food for the day ahead and to give the café a last wipe down before she flung open the doors to the hungry hordes of Cornwall.
Apprehension swirled through her chest, but it was mingled with a healthy dollop of excitement and anticipation. The café reflected the setting she had hoped to achieve, the menu showcased a variety of delicious dishes made from as many locally sourced ingredients as possible, and she had an amazing waitress who, although on the dreamy and forgetful side, had a heart of pure kindness, which meant more to her than the ability to get an order right.
But more important than all of those things, Katie hoped that the café would be a happy place filled with chatter, laughter, music and the fragrance of freshly ground coffee, buttery pastry, and exotic spices.
‘Hey, Katie, do I have time to grab a coffee?’ Talia beamed as she breezed in through the back door clutching a home-sewn tapestry bag out of which poked a bunch of glossy magazines, which she whipped out and handed to Katie.
‘What’re these for?’
‘I only had enough money to buy five, but I’ve texted Mum and she’s promised to go over to the newsagent’s in St Ives to get the rest after she’s done Grace’s final dress fitting for her wedding next Saturday. Did I tell you how Grace met her fiancé Daniel?’
A sudden whoosh of sadness invaded Katie’s heart, so she quickly changed the subject, keen to avoid a wedding-related story, even if she wasn’t sure what she was letting herself in for instead.
‘Why do you want more than five magazines?’ she asked, hoping that Talia wasn’t going to spend the whole of their first day flicking through the pages of Vogue and OK! and Hello!
‘Why do you think? To read our horoscopes!’
‘Ah, yes, of course. Silly me.’
‘I’ve already read mine, and I think today is going to be an amazing success, but you need to read yours. And just in case we need an extra bit of luck, I’ve brought a green malachite stone to put in the kitchen, which will bring good fortune for the café.’
Talia wriggled out of her bright-orange padded jacket that made her look like an over-ripe satsuma and reached for her apron. When she turned around, Katie couldn’t stop herself from doing a double take when she saw what Talia had chosen to wear for their first day.
‘That’s a … rather striking T-shirt, Talia.’
‘I knew you’d like it! I designed it myself, you know.’
‘Yes, I thought you might have done.’
Katie found it difficult to avert her eyes from the medley of assorted pastries printed onto the front of Talia’s T-shirt, unsure whether the young woman was aware of the rather inappropriate positioning of the Chelsea buns or whether she had actually designed it that way. She had never been more relieved at her foresight in ordering their personalised aprons, which would cover the offending article of clothing.
‘Why don’t you pop your apron on while I sort out the coffee?’
‘I adore these aprons, Katie – especially how we’ve got our names embroidered on the front, too, so the customers can call us by our names. It’s just so much more friendly.’
At nine o’clock on the dot, Katie asked Talia to accompany her to the front door and together they performed a mini-opening ceremony by turning the sign from Closed to Welcome! Their first customer, a harassed-looking mum with a toddler asleep in her pushchair, gave them a grateful smile and ordered an almond milk latte, a piece of home-made caramelised apple shortcake, and helped herself to one of Talia’s magazines.
After that there was a steady stream of people, mostly tourists on their way to seaside villages further down the coast or visiting the Eden Project, but a few curious locals also stopped by and lingered long enough to exclaim their delight at the quirky, colourful décor and to assure Katie that after they had devoured a slice of her banana and honey flapjack topped with pearls of rich dark chocolate, they definitely felt the effects of the relaxing, calming ambience she was aiming to achieve.
At lunchtime, Talia’s mum and sister arrived to swell the numbers, along with several of Talia’s college friends, and Katie suddenly realised that the young waitress had cajoled, bribed and threatened them into coming, just in case there was a repeat of the previous evening’s dearth of patrons when the café had resembled the dining room of the Marie Celeste.
‘I love what you’ve done with the place, Katie, and in such a short space of time.’ Zoe smiled, digging into a slice of Bakewell tart made with apricot jam and topped with rose-infused icing whilst Mel devoured a huge helping of black cherry and sprout cake with gusto before learning what gave the cake its unique green colour and staring at Katie in horror.
‘Thanks, I did have a lot of help, though. And Talia has been amazing.’
‘Yes, Talia told me about last night – I’m sorry that happened, Katie. But I hear it hasn’t put you off and that you’ve got another soup night organised for next month? I think it’s a great way to diversify and to showcase the businesses in Perrinby as well as do your bit for charity. Are you planning any more events to build up the business?’
‘I am, actually. Oscar’s offered to put on a drawing class, Jay has promised to do a flower-arranging demonstration …’