‘I was, but to be honest, I’m not sure I’m up to the task …’
‘Well.’ Oscar laughed, running his paint-encrusted fingernails through his curls and making them stand to attention. ‘If you need any help in that department, I’m a dab hand with a paintbrush, even if I do say so myself.’
Katie hesitated. Was it fair to drag Oscar into a doomed project? Surely he had better things to do with his time than decorating a shabby old café. However, she could see from the excitement on his face that his offer had been genuine, not to mention the fact that she could do with all the help she could get if she was to have any chance at all of throwing open the doors before Agatha’s money ran out.
‘Thanks, that would be great.’
‘Good answer!’ pronounced Oscar, jumping up from his chair. ‘And when there’s work to be done, there’s no time like the present. In fact, I’ve got a couple of tins of white paint left over from when I did this place somewhere. Hang on, I’ll go and fetch them and we can make a start this afternoon.’
Katie watched Oscar disappear through a door at the back of the gallery where she caught a tantalising glimpse of a potter’s wheel and an industrial-sized kiln. She looked away when she saw him bend down to collect a packet of paintbrushes, his tattered jeans tightening to enhance the curve of his taut buttocks, the sleeves of his T-shirt straining against his muscular biceps.
‘Gorgeous, isn’t he?’ Jay smiled, a teasing twinkle in his eyes.
‘Erm … I …’
‘If my heart hadn’t already been snatched by a certain cordon bleu chef …’ he mused wistfully.
Jay was right. In another world, in another life, she could see herself enjoying more than just Oscar’s laid-back, friendly company. However, love, in all its guises, was a foreign country for her – a place where she had no intention of straying. And yet, there was something about Oscar that drew her towards him, something vulnerable in his demeanour, something that he too was hiding from the world. She could see it in his eyes, in the fleeting shadow of sadness that was probably only apparent to someone who had suffered a similar trauma. But that was neither here nor there; relationships meant rejection and she had resolved to never trust anyone with her fragile heart again – even if he did look like a blond Aidan Turner.
Oscar reappeared, clutching two large tins of brilliant white emulsion in one hand, three smaller tins of paint in the other, and a battery of rollers, brushes and cloths poking out from a bright orange bucket that was hanging over his wrist.
‘Okay, so I have pink sorbet, peppermint green and periwinkle blue. What do you think?’
‘Absolutely perfect! Just what I was planning for the tables and chairs.’
‘And, of course, it’s a yes from me,’ added Jay.
‘Okay, let’s go!’
Katie found she was grinning. A session of extreme painting was just like a session of extreme cleaning and she suddenly couldn’t wait to get started. She said goodbye to Jay who had to dash back to his shop to make sure Talia hadn’t killed off all his flowers, not to mention his business, and she and Oscar carried the decorating materials into the café. When the bell tinkled its welcome, an unexpected feeling of homecoming suffused her chest – which lasted all of five seconds until Oscar uttered his next sentence and sent her spirits crashing to the ground.
‘You’re going to love it here, Katie. I can’t wait to tell everyone that our little village café will be open for business next week. It’s exactly what we need to help revitalise our community, just like Agatha is doing in Bali. It’s the perfect way to keep wolves like Greg from lingering around our doors.’
Oh, God, what had she done! If she couldn’t make a success of the café in the next three months, not only would she be letting Agatha down, it looked like she’d be letting the whole community of Perrinby down too.
Chapter 4
‘Oh my God, Cara, I’ve never been so exhausted in my entire life!’
Katie sat at the breakfast bar in the galley kitchen in the flat above the café, her chin in her hand as she filled her best friend in on the trials and tribulations of her first day in Perrinby. She had approached the afternoon’s decorating challenge in the same way as she approached her need to scrub everything until it sparkled – with obsessive enthusiasm. She just wished she could spring-clean her life in the same way.
Every muscle in her body, including some she hadn’t even known existed, screamed its objection to the unaccustomed exertion, but that was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil churning through her veins as she realised the extent of the task she had taken on.
‘What? You mean you haven’t spent the day sunbathing on those gorgeous Cornish beaches, treating yourself to a seafood lunch at a coastal shack hidden in the sand dunes or hooking up with a bunch of hunky windsurfers?’
‘That’s what I should have been doing. What’s the point of spending the whole day and half the night painting the café and all its furniture when it’s obvious that the practical solution would be to just sell the place to Greg, then Aggie can use the proceeds to invest in her café in Bali and the cookery school and …’
‘And you can run away and continue to lick your Dominic-shaped wounds?’
‘No. It happens to be the sensible business option …’
‘Why do you think Agatha hasn’t done that already? The café’s been empty for six months. If she wanted to sell it and use the proceeds to expand her business empire, then don’t you think she would have put it up for sale when she decided to stay on in Bali?’
‘I suppose …’
‘When she gave you the key, she was clear what she wanted you to do. To give the café a new lease of life, hopefully generate enough income to keep it ticking over and, if possible, make a contribution to her pet project in Sanur.’
‘But what’s the point? The whole thing’s doomed to fail, so why even try? The bills are only paid for the next three months so that gives me until the end of May. No one with an ounce of commercial acumen would even contemplate opening a new business at this time of the year in these economically uncertain times.’
Katie cringed when she realised that she had inadvertently strayed into Greg-Forbes-speak.
‘But what do you have to lose? Agatha will still be in the same position whether the café’s a success or not. I’m batting for the winning team – Team Katie. Look, darling, I know your self-confidence took a bit of a knock when Dom …’
‘A bit of a knock? I sent my fiancé off on a stag weekend to Ibiza. And. He. Never. Came. Back! That’s not just careless, it’s tragic!’
‘Katie …’
‘And he stole every last penny we’d saved to pay for the weeding – ten thousand pounds! I don’t have a bean to my name.’
‘Okay, okay, so you’ve experienced a life-changing event. But another way of looking at it is that you’ve been given the opportunity to reassess your life goals and to pursue a new direction. Don’t forget, I know you better than anyone. The only reason you weren’t out there chasing your lifelong dream of owning your own cake-decorating business was because you were too busy helping Dastardly Dominic to chase his! I loathe what Dominic did to you, Katie, but you know what? A small part of me sort of respects …’