Free The Cherry Tree Cafe by Heidi Swain Page A

pulling pints with the same dexterity I had achieved when I was a paid member of staff. ‘You
wouldn’t happen to be looking for a bit of part-time work, would you?’ Evelyn asked as she squeezed past with a handful of change. ‘Only we’re a body down at the moment and
you’ve obviously still got the knack.’
    ‘Crikey, I don’t know!’ I laughed.
    This was the second job offer I’d had in days and neither bore any resemblance to the one I’d just given up. Perhaps Ben was right after all; perhaps I’d been kidding myself
all along, trying to be someone other than plain old Lizzie Dixon, but surely if I took Evelyn up on her offer it would feel like the last two years hadn’t happened. I would feel like I was
admitting, if only to myself, that I would have been better off staying put and pulling pints in Wynbridge.
    ‘I only got back yesterday,’ I told Evelyn, ‘I don’t even know if I’m staying yet.’
    I looked over at Jemma, who was now sitting on the stool next to Tom and singing her head off. Another pang of unwanted jealousy hit. Perhaps I’d made a mistake in thinking I would be able
to rebuild my life back here? Maybe I would have been better off going somewhere different, somewhere I could be the new girl in town, the only baggage attached to me stowed away in the boot of my
car? What if, I cringed, everyone here was thinking the same thing as Ben had suggested. Were they all thinking I deserved what had happened because I’d got ideas above my station?
    ‘Well, have a think about it and let me know,’ Evelyn said, her eyes following my gaze. ‘I know Jemma’s been looking forward to seeing you and I’m sure she could do
with a hand with the Café and that little rascal Ella. Your friend has certainly got her hands full at the moment, that’s for sure!’
    Evelyn was right, of course. I excused myself and headed for the ladies. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I jumped ship when my best mate needed me most, would I? In the past Jemma had
always been there for me and now I only had to think about how keen she was to offer me the flat to know that she had my best interests at heart.
    ‘Lizzie Dixon! Well this is a surprise!’
    My heart sank as I looked up into the mirror above the sinks.
    ‘Erica Summers,’ I smiled through gritted teeth, ‘how lovely to see you.’
    ‘Actually, it’s Erica Dawson now,’ the woman drawled, waving a bejewelled left hand at my reflection. ‘I got married last summer.’
    ‘Oh yes, Mum did mention it.’ General consensus was that it was the most expensive, extravagant and ostentatious wedding the town had ever seen. ‘Congratulations.’
    ‘You next!’ she giggled as she primped her hair and reapplied her lip gloss. ‘Will you be doing it here?’
    ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘The wedding,’ she said, her recent Botox permitting only the merest hint of a raised eyebrow as she stared back at me in the mirror, ‘will you be having it here in Wynbridge
or is it going to be on Giles’s family estate?’ she gushed.
    ‘I don’t know . . .’
    ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t decided yet!’ she laughed. ‘If you don’t hurry up you’ll never book the caterer or musicians you want or anything! If you
aren’t careful you’ll end up with those buffoons out there!’ she laughed, inclining her head back towards the bar door where the distant roar of ‘I Will Wait’ was
being thumped out at full volume. ‘Believe me,’ she confided in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘organising a wedding takes a lot of commitment. I can give you the details of the
planner I used, if you like?’
    ‘Erica,’ I said, trying not to cry, be sick or show any trace of emotion that would let my old enemy know that she was getting to me. ‘I think there’s been a
mistake.’
    ‘Oh no mistake, your mother . . .’
    ‘My mother,’ I interrupted, cursing her under my breath, ‘has made a mistake.’
    Erica, wide-eyed, blinked slowly and gave her carefully