Summer at the Comfort Food Cafe. Debbie Johnson

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       Chapter 6

      Hyacinth House is rustic and pretty, and filled with the aroma of home-baked bread and fresh, sugary confections. It smells so good, in fact, as I push open the heavy wooden door, that for a moment I think it’s been spritzed with one of those artificial scents that people use when they’re trying to sell their home. Not that I’m sure those artificial scents even exist, but if not, they should. Maybe I’ll invent them and make my fortune.

      I flick on the lights in the hallway and then the living room. Actually, I realise, as I take it all in, it’s one big open-plan room, really, in an L-shape. The little leg of the L is the kitchen and the big leg of the L is long but cosy and has a dining table at one end, and squishy-looking sofas and a TV at the other end.

      There’s a lot of exposed brick and wooden beams peeking out of the low ceiling and a big stone fireplace that we’re unlikely to use in this weather unless we decide to do some hot yoga.

      The interior design runs very much to the chintzy end of the style spectrum, with swirling floral patterns on the sofas and the throws that are on the sofas, the curtains and the lamp shades, and pretty much every available soft-furnishing surface.

      The dining table is vast and battered and made from what looks like oak; it’s solid and scarred and seems like it’s led an interesting life. It’s also bearing a big tray of delicious-looking cupcakes, all iced in different rainbow colours, and a huge seed-topped loaf that has the slightly wonky look of something home-made.

      There’s also a big bunch of wildflowers in a glass vase, and yes – praise the Lord! – a bottle of wine. Looks like it has a home-made label, so it is probably intensely organic and will get me very drunk, very quickly. Excellent.

      Propped against it is a little note, which I pick up and read as I hear the kids stomping their way through. Nate heads immediately for the cupcakes, drawn like a moth to a fattening flame.

      ‘Who’s that from?’ asks Lizzie, also reaching out for a cake. She’s become disgustingly figure-conscious over the last few months and I count a day of her eating McDonald’s and cupcakes as a positive, weirdly enough.

      ‘It’s from Cherie,’ I say, ‘you know, the – ‘

      ‘The woman who was bonkers enough to give you a job?’ she finishes. That obviously wasn’t what I was going to say, but she kind of has a point. I don’t answer, choosing to remain dignified and aloof.

      ‘Don’t do your ‘who’s farted?’ face, Mum, you know what I mean!’

      Apparently my dignified and aloof needs a little work, so I shove a whole cupcake in my mouth instead.

      ‘I mean,’ Lizzie continues, ‘that it’s all a bit weird, isn’t it? She’s never even met you. I didn’t mean it as an insult – you’re, you know, pretty good. At cooking. I’m sure you’ll be all right at working in a café. I just wish you’d found one a bit …’

      ‘Closer to home,’ supplies Nate, helpfully. ‘I think it took Matt Damon less time to get off Mars than it took us to get here.’

      He flops down onto the sofa and straight away starts trying to figure out how to use the TV remote. Jimbo leaps up onto the couch next to him, circles precisely three times, then falls asleep with his muzzle buried beneath his own tail.

      ‘So what does she say, then, the mysterious Cherie?’ asks Lizzie, snapping a few pictures on her phone as she prowls around the room. A close-up of the bread, the flowers. A snarl before she takes one of the floral curtains, which are presumably not to her sophisticated tastes. One of Jimbo. One of Nate, who is now repeatedly pressing the same button on the remote, as though it might work the ninety-ninth time he does it. Then one of me, as I quickly realise that I shouldn’t have put that whole cupcake in my mouth all at once.

      I wait a few moments, chewing frantically, before I am able to answer.

      ‘She СКАЧАТЬ