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‘We’re getting married,’ Agnes tells me, waving her left hand at me to show off her engagement ring. It’s small but tasteful, with what looks like a sapphire in the middle and small diamonds either side.
‘Congratulations!’ I tell her. ‘That was fast work, Ron. It only seems like last week that you started going out together.’
‘Well, we can’t afford to hang around at our age, Daisy,’ Ron explains. ‘Who knows how much longer we’ll be spared? The sun won’t shine forever, so we need to get on and make some hay while we can.’
‘Or, as my granddaughter puts it, if he wants it, he’s got to put a ring on it. I believe the words come from a pop song,’ Agnes adds. I’m starting to wonder if they’re drunk, because they’re making precious little sense. I think I’ve understood the gist of what they’re saying, even if all the references to hay and pop songs are passing me by at the moment.
‘I’m delighted for both of you. Are your families pleased?’ I ask.
‘It’s been a bit difficult,’ Agnes admits. ‘We’ve both been surprised and a little disappointed by how greedy our children have been, haven’t we, Ron?’
‘Yes, all they seem interested in is protecting what they see as their inheritance. In the end, to keep the peace, we’ve agreed that Agnes won’t sell her house when she moves in with me. We’re going to let it out so that, if I die before her, she can move back into it and my children can get on and sell my house without having to worry about her. Similarly, if she dies first, her children can turf the tenants out and get their hands on her house.’
‘Makes me want to leave the whole bloody lot to charity,’ Agnes says glumly.
I’d love to sit and chat with them, but I’m conscious that I need to get back in the kitchen before a backlog starts to build up.
‘I’m sorry about that, but I really am delighted for you both. I hope you’ll be very happy for a long time. Thank you for telling me.’ I stand up to head back into the kitchen, but Ron stops me.
‘Hang on, Daisy. We haven’t got to the important bit yet.’
‘Sorry.’ I sit back down.
‘We wanted to ask you if we could have a little gathering in here, after the ceremony. We’re not inviting lots of people, just close family. It doesn’t have to be anything special, just cups of tea, sandwiches, and maybe some cake. We’ll pay, obviously.’
‘I’d love to do that for you!’ I exclaim. ‘When were you thinking?’
‘We’re getting married a week on Friday at two o’clock,’ Ron continues. ‘They had a cancellation at the registry office, so we grabbed it. I know you close at three, but would you consider opening a bit later for us?’
‘Of course I will. Let me go and put it in the diary now. We’ll firm everything up closer to the time, okay?’
‘Perfect. Thank you, Daisy.’
‘My pleasure.’
I make sure to write it in the diary as soon as I get back to the kitchen, otherwise I’m likely to forget, which would be a disaster. As I set about an order for two full English breakfasts, I try to work out how I’m going to manage a normal day at the café, plus make rounds of sandwiches and extra cakes for Ron and Agnes’s reception in the afternoon. It seems an impossible task, but I’ll just have to deal with it somehow. Katie and Bronwyn have shown themselves to be pretty capable cooks; perhaps I can get them through the food hygiene course and persuade them to help. I’m aware of my mobile phone ringing, but I can’t deal with any more interruptions right now. Whoever it is will have to wait.
Penny and I are rushed off our feet for the rest of the day. Bronwyn’s working at the art gallery, so Katie is promptly press-ganged into an apron when she appears at lunchtime. Normally, she’s not a lot of help and seems to spend most of her time distracting Bronwyn, but Penny is a different prospect and Katie actually looks like she might be breaking a bit of a sweat. By the time three o’clock comes round, I’m starting to flag. Penny heads off, Katie retreats to the flat to wait for Bronwyn, and I start assembling the ingredients for Monday’s lunchtime special.
A beep from my phone reminds me that I have a voicemail. I’ve been so busy that I’d completely forgotten about the call I missed earlier. I pick it up and see that the missed call is from Matt. He never rings me when the café is open, so it must have been some sort of emergency. Cursing myself for ignoring the call, I dial the voicemail number to retrieve the message. It’s very short, but it’s a big enough shock that my legs go weak and I have to sit down for a minute.
‘Hi. It’s me. I’m on my way down to you, hopefully arriving around four this afternoon.’
I check the time. Half past three. He’ll be here in thirty minutes, assuming the traffic is okay. I’d call back to find out where he is, but he doesn’t have any hands-free system in his van and he won’t hear the phone over the engine anyway. Why is he coming back now, all of a sudden? He hasn’t mentioned it before, I’m certain of that. My heart sinks as I realise he’s probably only coming to collect his stuff. I don’t know if I can face him. Maybe I should go out and pretend I never got the message. If I go into Sevenoaks now and stay there until the shops shut, he’s bound to have packed up and gone by the time I get back. I’m suddenly desperate to be out of here. Monday will have to do without a lunchtime special, I decide as I start putting the ingredients back in the fridge.
I’m interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock of the back door. There’s only one person besides me who has a key to that door. I’m rooted to the spot as Matt walks into the kitchen. He looks dreadful.
‘Hi,’ he says.
‘Hello.’
‘I knocked at the flat, but Katie told me you were still in here,’ he continues.
‘Yeah, I’m getting the lunchtime special ready for Monday.’
He looks confused. ‘But it looked to me like you were putting stuff away when I walked in?’
I’m annoyed now. I didn’t want to be here when he arrived, and now I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed trying to avoid him. I decide to brazen it out.
