Page 6 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

Well, God loves a tryer, that’s what her mother always used to say. And she was trying her best here. Though it felt very much like she was banging her head against her stubborn friend’s brick wall right now.

Book Club night was coming up at the Driftwood Café this week, too. A rather wonderful cake-and-coffee fuelled affair, held monthly with a gathering of between six and twelve of them, depending on commitments, the Book Club was held after-hours in the pretty tearooms on the next street in her village. Would Becky show at that, Lucy wondered? She’d been a few times with her. Who knew? Argh, it was such a shame that all the lovely things they did together had become tainted by this daft rift.

Lucy scrolled through her phone and framed a further chatty-toned message:

And don’t forget it’s Book Club this week. Have you read The Midnight Library yet? I thought it was great. Be lovely to see you there. X

Maybe the party was a step too far, but doing something normal – and non-boyfriend related – might be just what they both needed to put things back into perspective. Lucy found she was looking forward to that friendly bookish gathering too. It was a real pep-you-up kind of evening. Each month she’d got to know the members of the group a little more; beginning to feel a real part of this village community she now called home.

She’d loved this month’s book too, and couldn’t wait to hear what everyone else thought about it. Reading had always been a pleasure for Lucy, and an escape. And boy, had she needed some escape these past two years when life had gone topsy-turvy in all kinds of painful ways.

The little tinkly bell as she pushed the white wooden door open never failed to make Lucy’s heart lift, and sounded just like a ‘Welcome to The Driftwood Café’ jingle.

‘Hello!’ Lucy announced herself with a smile.

A friendly chorus of ‘Hi’s and ‘Hello’s chimed back.

Several members of the Book Club were already gathered about the big round table at the centre of the café. Lucy spotted Glynis, Paul and Sarah. Cathy was often a little late, dashing in after closing the village stores for the night. Hmm, no sign of Becky as yet – and no answer to her message from a few days earlier either. Louise, the café owner, was bustling towards them with a tray of goodies. Heads bobbed up and smiles widened with an air of expectancy about what baking delights might be on offer this evening. Louise was renowned for baking the moistest, scrummiest cakes in the county – well, she had to be up there with the best of them anyhow.

Tonight’s tray held … a host of orange cupcakes with spiderwebs, freaky eyeballs and sugar-paste bats on, as well as chocolate-dipped treacly flapjacks.

‘No tricks, just treats here,’ homely Louise announced with a grin. ‘I know it’s a little early, with a week yet to go until Halloween, but I couldn’t resist.’

‘Oh, they look great.’ Sarah beamed.

‘Chocolate cupcakes with an orange-flavoured frosting,’ Louise explained.

‘Ooh delightful,’ commented Paul, reaching forward to take one. ‘Sorry, I know it should be ladies first, but really, I can’t help myself.’

The group chuckled.

‘She’s a witch, that’s what she is,’ Cathy said cheekily as she burst through the door before pulling up a chair, ‘drawing us in with her spellbinding cakes. Evening, all!’

‘Hi, Cathy. And don’t listen to a word she says. You lot are here voluntarily every month like clockwork. There’s no need to put a spell on you.’

‘It’s because you make us feel so welcome,’ said Glynis.

‘Ah no, it’s because of the cakes,’ chuckled Paul.

‘Cheeky!’ Lou pretended to bat him with her hand. ‘Oh, and there’s a carrot and ginger cake yet to come too. Abby’s just slicing it up in the back there, and brewing a pot of tea for you all. Got to the “boil and bubble” part yet, Abs?’ she asked, joining in the puns.

‘Watch out, she’ll be cackling next,’ Cathy laughed.

Abby, who was Lucy’s pizza horsebox assistant, also doubled up as waitress here in the village café. Well, to be fair, after some early staffing issues, Lucy poached her services from Louise (under mutual agreement to boost the young woman’s hours) on the odd weekend and evening for her busier events, and the eighteen year old was proving invaluable. She was delightfully professional, friendly and a hard worker.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Helen blasted in through the jingly door next. ‘Had to wait for me mam to arrive to mind the kids. Said the traffic was terrible coming over on the A1.’

‘No problem, my love. We haven’t had chance to get going, anyhow,’ said Lou.

Abby came through with the tray of carrot cake, and an enormous pot of tea with a selection of spotted and floral vintage mugs. They seemed to be all set.

‘Well then, I think that’s it. Time to talk books.’

‘Oh, have you heard from Becky at all?’ Lucy ventured.

‘Yes pet, she let me know about an hour ago that she had something crop up with work tonight. Had to stay late or something,’ responded Louise.

With that a little ping of a vibration came from Lucy’s phone. She pulled her mobile out discreetly and took a quick peek.