‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ asks Ellie. ‘I caneasily just shut the café.’
Dorothy shakes her head. ‘No, no. It’s fine. As I said,it’ll give me something to do instead of worrying.’
‘I can help as well if you like,’ I find myself offering. ‘I’vebeen working in a friend’s café down in Bournemouth so I’ve plenty ofexperience with customers and temperamental coffee machines. And I studiedpastry at a cookery school in London.’
‘Really? Wow.’ Ellie’s eyes widen. ‘I’m very impressed. I’dsay you were well over-qualified in that case!’
I grin at her, blushing a little at the compliment. ‘I wason my way back to Bournemouth but I’m in no hurry.’
‘Well... I’ll pay you both for a shift,obviously,’ says Ellie, but both Dorothy and I shake our heads and say we don’tneed payment. We just want to help.
‘It would be great if the café could stay open, especiallyover the lunchtime rush. I hate letting customers down.’ Ellie beams at us. ‘Sothank you, both of you.’
‘Er, not meaning to be rude but will we be leaving any time soon?’calls an impatient voice from the back seat. ‘My ankle’s throbbing so much, I’mstarting to feel sick.’
‘Okay, let’s go.’ Ellie grins at us, runs around the otherside of the car and hops in the driver’s seat. ‘I’ll phone to let you know whenI’ll be back. And thanks again!’ She waves and drives off.
‘Poor Maddy,’ murmurs Dorothy, as we go inside to join Jen.‘She’s quite a card, isn’t she?’
I nod, smiling at the old-fashioned expression. I remember Mumused to say that. ‘I don’t know Maddy very well but I like her. She’s so funnyat times.’
‘She’ll be out of action for a while, I imagine.’
‘I think so. She seemed in awful agony.’
‘Banana skins.’ Dorothy chuckles, shaking her head. ‘Talkingabout clowns in the circus, Maddy should be a performer. She’s properlyentertaining, although I don’t suppose she was expecting to come a cropper likethat.’
I grin at her. ‘I suppose that’s what you get forclowningaround.’
Dorothy laughs and Jen groans. ‘If that’s going to be thelevel of humour around here, I think I might have to invent a broken anklemyself and get carted away!’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’m surprised at how quickly I get into the swing ofthings in the café.
We push through the lunchtime rush and then Ellie phones asit’s quietening down with the news that Maddy’s foot isn’t broken as they’dfeared. ‘It’s just a nasty sprain. But she’ll have to keep her foot bandaged upfor a while and the doctor says she mustn’t try to walk on it for at least a coupleof weeks. How are things at your end?’
‘Absolutely fine,’ says Jen on speakerphone. ‘Dorothy andLottie have been great. And the rush is pretty much over.’
‘Well, make sure you all take a well-earned break, okay? AndI’ll be back soon.’
Ending the call, Jen says she’ll look after things whileDorothy and I take a break, so we wander out onto the village green to get someair, gravitating over to the bench by the duck pond.
Dorothy sinks onto the seat with a weary sigh.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask carefully, sitting down beside her.‘I’m used to working in a café but that lunchtime rush was a bit of a shock tothe system, even for me.’
‘I’m fine, Lottie. Thank you.’ She sighs. ‘Well, no, I’m notreally. I’m worried about my aunt. She lost her dog, Max, last month. He was a gorgeousgolden labrador and he was absolutely everything to her.’ She smiles fondly.‘My Auntie Josie has always loved animals a little bit more than people. She’llhelp any stray she finds. Max was a rescue dog and, as I said, he was her world.She never married, I suppose because she never wanted to be “tied down”, as shesaw it. She’s always been the definition of a free spirit, like Ellie said, takingoff on her travels with Max at a moment’s notice in her old camper van. But aweek ago, she just vanished without telling anyone where she was going. And shedidn’t take the camper van, which I find really strange.’
‘So it’s not like her to go off and not tell anyone whereshe’s going?’
Dorothy shakes her head. ‘Not at all. She always makes apoint of phoning me the night before she goes somewhere. She knows my mum and Iwill worry if we don’t know where she is. But this time...nothing.’
‘Did she take belongings with her? A suitcase, her phone,that kind of thing?’
‘Yes, she did. That’s what the police asked when I reportedher missing, and I could tell they thought that meant she went away of her ownaccord so it was unlikely to be suspicious. I tried to explain that she wouldnever normally do that, but I don’t think it made much difference. They don’tthink she’s a ‘missing person’ – at least, not yet – so it’s up to me to findout where she’s gone, so I can reassure the family she’s all right.’
‘Oh, that’s awful. You must be so worried, Dorothy.’
