She remembered when they’d first started dating, how Andy hadn’t been able to get enough of her. She recalled them falling out of a bar or a nightclub, the way he would pull her into an alleyway for a passionate kiss and perhaps a cheeky fumble … It was all so thrilling, so illicit – the feeling of his hands on her body, and the knowledge that they could be discovered at any moment. Even the memory got her juices flowing, Rebecca thought excitedly, looking longingly at the shop doorways as they passed. She wished Andy would grab her masterfully, press his body against hers and have his wicked way … But those days seemed to be long gone, and the fantasy was all she had left now.
Rebecca stopped and turned around, looking back at the cafe. There was a young woman standing outside wearing a bold black and white houndstooth-print swing jacket with a red scarf and red kitten heels. Her legs were encased in black fishnet tights, and her dyed black hair was backcombed into a funky beehive, rockabilly style.
She looked cool, feisty and, best of all, she was studying the poster intently.
As Rebecca watched, the woman pulled an iPhone from her handbag (which was red patent and shaped like a pair of lips) and began tapping in the details on the poster.
Rebecca smiled to herself. Maybe the book club wouldn’t be full of old fogies after all.
3
It was 6.57 p.m. on the Thursday of the first ever Cafe Crumb book club meeting, and Estelle was standing to attention behind the counter, looking around anxiously. No one had arrived yet, and there was an unpleasant churning sensation in her stomach. What if this whole thing was a disaster?
She knew that holding a book group wasn’t going to be the answer to all her financial woes, but it was a start, and Estelle was willing to work as hard as it took to see her little cafe succeed. Even if she could get a handful of new customers through the door, it was better than nothing, and if they brought their friends, who then brought their friends … From little acorns, mighty oak trees grow – wasn’t that how the saying went? But for that to happen, she needed people to turn up tonight.
Perhaps she looked too formal, Estelle thought suddenly, like a soldier at the ready, beside her teapot. Perhaps she should go and sit down instead.
Earlier that evening, she’d pushed the other tables back against the walls and set two together in the middle of the cafe, surrounded by half a dozen chairs. Estelle sat down on one of them, flicking casually through her copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, the text she’d chosen for their first session.
No, this wasn’t right, she chastised herself. Now she looked too laid-back, or like she hadn’t read the book and was frantically cribbing at the last minute. It was much better to be doing something.
She jumped up again, checked her watch (7.02 p.m.) and put a pot of coffee on to brew. There, that was better, she thought with satisfaction, glancing around once again to check that everything was in order. The counter was lined with a selection of cakes – squares of carrot cake, chocolate brownies, shortbread biscuits liberally dusted with sugar. Estelle hoped to goodness that someone turned up or else she’d look like a loony, stuck with an enormous pile of cakes going stale, like Miss Havisham in a pinny instead of a wedding dress.
Where on earth was everyone? she wondered in exasperation. The replies to her email address had been positive enough – a few definites and a handful of maybes, not to mention an awful lot of spam.
Estelle glanced up at the clock once again – 7.06 p.m. The silence in the little shop was deafening, and for once there was no thudding rock music coming from the flat upstairs. Joe had gone straight to his Dad’s after school tonight, and wouldn’t be back until later. Ted now lived with his new wife, Leila, in the Bedminster area of Bristol, a couple of bus rides from Estelle’s cafe in Clifton.
Funny how men could move on so quickly after a divorce, Estelle reflected sadly. It always seemed much harder for women – at least, it was for her. She was so busy running the cafe and looking after Joe that there never seemed to be any time for love …
The bell clanged and Estelle spun round, startled. A very tall, lean, young man was standing awkwardly in the doorway. He wore wire-rimmed glasses with brown corduroy trousers and an old-fashioned overcoat. Despite looking like he was in his late twenties, he dressed like he was in his late sixties.
‘Oh! You’re here!’ Estelle exclaimed, a little too enthusiastically.
‘Am I in the right place?’ he asked hesitantly, running a hand nervously through his messy brown hair. ‘For the book club?’
‘Yes!’ Estelle squeaked, wishing her voice would drop a couple of octaves. ‘This is here … I mean, this is the place. The book club that is. You’re the first! Yes. Welcome!’
The man nodded, looking warily at Estelle. Then he glanced around, noting the empty cafe, and Estelle suddenly panicked that he might decide to leave.
‘Can I take your coat?’ she asked, practically manhandling him out of it. ‘And do help yourself to cake. Do you prefer tea or coffee?’
‘Tea, please,’ he replied, sitting down self-consciously and taking a copy of Tess out of his battered old satchel. ‘Milk, two sugars.’
‘Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t introduce myself,’ Estelle apologised, looking extremely flustered as she dashed over with his tea, a piece of shortbread balanced precariously on the saucer. ‘I’m Estelle,’ she said, wiping her hands on her skirt then holding one out to him.
‘Reggie,’ he replied, as they shook hands.
‘Oh, you’re Reggie,’ said Estelle, bustling round the table to cross a name off her list. ‘You know, I expected you to be older.’
Reggie forced a smile. ‘That happens a lot,’ he said tightly. ‘It’s the name.’
‘Yes, well …’ Estelle instinctively felt that she’d said something wrong. ‘It’s lovely to have you here, Reggie,’ she clumsily tried to change the subject. ‘Very lovely to have a man here tonight. Oh!’ Estelle clapped a hand over her mouth and blushed scarlet. ‘I didn’t mean … Well, I meant … Book clubs are usually full of wom— Oh!’
Fortunately for Estelle, the bell clanged again, and a woman entered. She looked to be in her sixties, her silver-grey hair cut into a short, sleek crop. She was dressed elegantly, in a smart camel-coloured coat and expensive-looking scarf.
‘Good evening, and welcome to the Cafe Crumb book club.’ Estelle moved towards her, recovering herself. She was determined to behave more professionally this time. ‘My name’s Estelle, and this is Reggie,’ she said, indicating Reggie sitting at the table.
‘Very pleased to meet you Estelle, I’m Sue. And Reggie,’ she nodded at him. ‘That was my grandfather’s name,’ she added with a smile.
Reggie didn’t smile back, simply raised an eyebrow. He looked distinctly unimpressed.
‘May I take your coat, Sue?’ Estelle leapt in, trying to defuse the situation. ‘And what would you like to drink?’
‘Coffee would be lovely, thank you,’ Sue smiled graciously, as she slipped off her coat to reveal a cream silk blouse and smart navy trousers.
‘Do help yourself to cake,’ Estelle told her, barely having the chance to hang up Sue’s coat before the door swung open once again.
‘Hello everyone, I’m Gracie,’ announced the newcomer, smiling round at everyone. Her jet-black hair was styled in Victory rolls at the front, but tumbled in loose curls down her back, and her lips were painted with bright-red lipstick.
‘Ooh, it’s lovely and warm in here, isn’t it?’ she continued, as she took off her jacket to reveal a fifties-style polka-dot dress. There was a small rose tattoo by her collarbone, and a much larger one of a Betty Grable-type pin-up