Millie Vanilla’s Cupcake Café

‘Wish you’d stop flirting. I’ve got a day of work in front of me.’

‘Do you really wish that?’

‘No. But it’s true that I’ve got to work. There’s loads to do.’ Millie went on to explain the plans for the café’s re-launch. ‘That’s why I’m trying out the beetroot and chocolate cake, to make the right colour for a Valentine’s party.’ She glanced back at the café. The bright sunshine made it appear all the more scruffy this morning. She frowned.

‘Something wrong?’

He was always so quick at picking up on her mood. She wished she could do the same with him. Sometimes to her Jed was a riddle wrapped up in an enigma. ‘I’m confident I can put on a good party, but the café itself just looks so tired.’

Jed batted a hand at an overly persistent gull that was after toast crumbs and paused before he answered. ‘Your windows are an asset; the way they look out onto the sea. Have you ever thought about putting in the kind that open like doors? Then you could bring the outside in and those customers who couldn’t find a table out here wouldn’t mind eating inside so much. They’re not patio doors exactly, but a bit classier. Really popular in bars and restaurants in Scandinavia, Stockholm especially. You could also install heaters out here to take away the sting of the cold. Then you could use this space for more of the year.’

As Millie had never been further north than Birmingham, she hadn’t a clue what a Stockholm bar might look like, let alone their fancy windows. Patio heaters were something she’d long wanted to buy but had never been able to afford; she’d need at least eight. And that was the crux of the matter. His ideas, although appealing, sounded way too expensive. ‘Sounds great,’ she answered, eventually. ‘But I can’t afford to splash out on a big revamp. That’s going to have to wait until next year. That’s if I still have a business.’

Jed gave her a keen look. ‘That bad, eh?’

Millie nodded, miserably.

Jed shifted uncomfortably. There was a beat. ‘Well, we’ll simply have to do a paint job, then.’

Millie sat up. This sounded more like what she had in mind. ‘I could sand the tables down, paint them something pretty. I love ice-cream colours, you know, cream and baby pink and pistachio green.’

‘They would be gorgeous, but do you still want to keep the mural?’

‘Yes, I love it, although it needs touching up.’

‘I suppose we haven’t much time, have we, before the party, I mean?’

Millie shook her head.

‘Then can I suggest sticking to the colours in the mural – turquoise and pink – for the moment and we’ll add in some hot pink and lime green into the scheme to freshen it up. You can always change the colours next year, when you do your complete overhaul. Do you know what’s under the lino?’

‘No, but it’s horrible, isn’t it? Went down in my parents’ day.’

Jed grinned. ‘And it’s seen better days. If there are floorboards underneath we can paint them white. How are you fixed this weekend?’

‘But I have to open the café!’

‘Are you expecting much trade?’

Millie shrugged. These days she never expected much trade, but she wasn’t going to admit as much to Jed. ‘Rain’s forecast, but you never know.’

‘Then you’ll just have to take a chance. Far better to close down completely and then open with a dramatic flourish. How long have you got until the party?’

‘Just over a week,’ Millie answered, a little dazed by his enthusiasm. For someone who had told her he was a management consultant, he seemed to know an awful lot about interior design.

Jed jumped up and stretched. ‘Better go and buy some paint, then.’ When Millie rose to join him, he shook his head. ‘You stay here. Plan the menu with lots of old-fashioned sticky stuff and carbs. All my favourites. See you later.’

He’d kissed her and was gone before Millie had time to react. She heard him gun the engine of the Golf along the promenade road. ‘Better rally the troops,’ she said to the gull that was attacking the leftover toast on her plate. ‘I think we’ll need some help.’ She giggled. ‘Do you think two loved-up pensioners and a couple of teenagers are up for a bit of D.I.Y. this weekend? Come on, Trev,’ she said to the dog. ‘At this rate we’ll have to tie a paintbrush to your tail as well. It’s about time you earned your keep.’ She gathered the plates and mugs and went into the café, humming. With Jed’s enthusiasm filling her with a warm glow, she felt more positive than she had for a long time.

Chapter 17 (#ulink_3f72b2b6-06b1-5acc-b1f3-4e9204e16774)

The promised rain blew itself out in the night, leaving a warm, breezily-perfect seaside Saturday. The troops had answered the call to arms. Zoe dragged a sleepy Sean along, Arthur and Biddy came in bickering as usual and Sean had even persuaded an embarrassed Ken to come. He explained that Tessa couldn’t make it as she had a lot on.

‘Don’t worry, Ken,’ Millie laughed. ‘I’ll make sure I have something really evil for her to do as penance.’

‘She’s made a whole load of sandwiches for us for later. On her best granary and seeded. Shall I stick them in the fridge?’ Ken gave a shuttered glance at Sean and disappeared into the kitchen.

Millie’s heart sang. Tessa was such a good friend. ‘That’s nice. I’ll get some bacon and eggs on for everyone and, as soon as Jed turns up with the paint, we can get started.’

On cue, Jed appeared, laden down with the first of the cans of paint. As Sean helped him carry in the rest, Biddy came over and began unravelling lengths of material from a plastic bag.

‘Thought you’d like these,’ she boomed. ‘Seem to be back in fashion for some reason I can’t fathom.’ She held up a length of bunting, beautifully crafted into exquisite little triangles.

‘Oh, Biddy,’ Millie gasped. ‘They’re perfect.’ She turned one or two over, examining the perfect stitching. ‘The colours are just right. Pinks and greens and I love this sea-blue pattern.’

‘Well, I knew the right colours from the aprons I make for you.’

‘And they’re even slightly padded.’

‘Won’t look as flimsy as some you can buy,’ Biddy said gruffly.

Millie flung her arms around the older woman. ‘Thank you so much. I love them!’

‘Oh, enough with your fuss. Where’s this breakfast you promised us? Army can’t march on an empty stomach, can it?’

By lunchtime, the café was already looking transformed. Millie had squashed down her panic at missing out on any customers and had instead made the most of the sunshine by getting everyone to pile up the chairs and tables outside. Ken had brightened up his mural, repainting the turquoise to make it even more vivid. He’d also begun to add snatches of gold paint as highlights. Jed had peeled back a corner of the lino and declared there were floorboards underneath. He and Sean stripped it out and had sanded half the floor in readiness for painting. Meanwhile, Arthur took charge on the terrace. He divided the chairs and tables into three groups and had Millie painting some white. Zoe was in charge of the hot pink (which today matched her hair) while he applied the lime green. Biddy, having peered at the colours in the paint pots, had disappeared for a while. When she returned she set herself up in some shade outside and began furiously sewing cushion covers in similar fabrics to the ones she had used for the bunting, but in bright pink and green.

Millie balanced her paintbrush on top of the tin. ‘Break for lunch in a minute, guys?’ To the groans of relief, she went over to have a look at what Biddy had been doing. ‘They’re going to look fabulous.’ She perched on the wall and picked up one cover which Biddy had already finished.

‘Don’t you get paint all over them!’

‘I won’t.’ Millie turned it over, peering closer. ‘It’s so beautifully stitched.’

‘We can get some cheap foam from Dorchester market and cut it into the right shapes for cushions.’

‘That’s a great idea, Biddy.’

Sean, Jed and Ken joined them on the terrace. They brought out the enormous trays of Tessa’s sandwiches and put them on one of the unpainted tables. Zoe cheered and began to distribute food. Everyone looked a little paint-stained and weary but wore huge smiles.

Millie watched for a moment as her team ate as if starving. She felt truly blessed to have such good friends. She turned her attention back to the cushion covers Biddy was sewing. One had an appliqué pattern. The patterns clashed and yet worked together perfectly. ‘You’re so clever. I couldn’t do anything like that in a million years.’

‘What did you say?’ Biddy looked up.

Millie repeated, making sure she enunciated her words.

‘Yes well,’ Biddy sniffed. ‘It don’t do if folk are all good at the same thing. And cooking’s what you do.’

It was the closest to a compliment Millie had ever heard Biddy utter. To anyone. ‘Thank you, Biddy. That means a lot. Is that what you did as a career; sewing?’