Page 11 of A Touch of Magic at the Comfort Food Café
‘Are you in hiding?’ Laura says, looking intrigued. ‘On the run?’
I take a moment here and swallow my nerves. How much should I tell them? I’m freaked out by all this attention and really not enjoying this at all, but what is the alternative? Snubbing everyone? Packing up all my stuff and leaving? Moving from place to place, avoiding all contact with other people, until eventually I end up back at square one? No. That is another thing I cannot allow to happen.
‘I kind of am,’ I say quietly. ‘There was a problem, back in London. A man. I don’t really want to talk about it more than that right now, but I would appreciate it if you could respect my privacy.’
There is a surprised silence in the room. I’ve even surprised myself. Cherie reaches out and takes my hand across the table.
‘Don’t you worry about a thing,’ she says reassuringly, squeezing my fingers. ‘You’ll be safe here, I absolutely promise you.’
Something about the certainty in her voice makes me almost believe her. Wouldn’t that be nice, I think, to feel truly safe. Zoe nods, and adds: ‘What she said. Don’t worry, I won’t be tweeting about our exciting new celebrity resident. To us, you’re just Sarah. Our friend.’
Maxine pats me on the shoulder. ‘We’ll look after you, love. You can relax here. Nobody even walks down the high street without someone reporting it. And while I get that might feel a bit invasive to you right now, maybe try and view it as the world’s best and most organic intruder alarm?’
‘Yes,’ Laura adds, pouring me some wine, ‘nobody sneaks by us. And we might call it cake club, but I reckon we’d all be pretty good in a rumble. You don’t need to worry. You really don’t.’
I realise, much to my horror, that I have started to tear up, and quickly swipe the moisture from my eyes. What the hell is going on here? What’s happened to me? Not only did I open up to almost-strangers, but I’m close to crying in public!
‘Thank you, all of you. And now please move on or I might actually explode. Is this the entire Ladies’ Club?’
I’m desperate for an escape and they obviously sense that. ‘We’re missing my sister, Willow,’ Auburn replies. ‘She’s currently living in Spain with her husband, Tom– he started Briarwood. They have a five-month-old baby girl called Ronda, after the place they were staying when she found out she was expecting.’
I’ve been to Ronda, and it is a magnificent hillside town carved into the side of a mountain. Not sure about it as a name, but as a place, it is stunning. I nod to acknowledge, and she continues: ‘And Katie had to go home. She has three sons who need a lot of wrangling, and she’s shacked up with my brother, Van, who’s probably the most childish of the lot. Queen Edie is at her great-niece’s house for dinner. Anyway… how about we move on to our agenda?’
‘There’s an actual agenda?’ I ask.
‘No,’ Laura tells me. ‘At least not officially. We don’t even meet on set days, just squeeze it in as often as we can. We discuss super important things like the Halloween Ball at Briarwood, and Cherie’s gourmet evenings in the café, and men. In particular, one man. Is it time?’
There’s a flurry of people looking at their phones, and Becca announces: ‘About five minutes to go. Time to take our positions, ladies.’
I have no clue what’s going on, but everyone picks up their drinks and moves to tables by the window, where there is a clear and gorgeous view down to the beach. There’s a breeze picking up, and the waves are crashing into the bay with more force than yesterday. I look forward to seeing this exact same vista in every different season, I realise– I don’t want to ever leave. If that means a bit of adjustment on my part, then that is what Iwill have to do. You’re never too old for personal growth. Or theTwilightmovies, but that’s just me.
‘So,’ Cherie says, gesturing to the window with her head. Her hair is in a big fat plait today, trailing over her shoulder in a silver and black fishtail. ‘You know I said there’s also a new man living here?’
‘Yes. You said he was Halloween-y.’
Becca snorts out hot chocolate as she laughs at that, and Laura points at her and mocks as the liquid trails down to her chin. Sisters– the same no matter how many years they have on the clock. ‘Halloween-y!’ Becca says. ‘What does that even mean? Does he have a carriage made from a pumpkin?’
‘He could have,’ Laura replies seriously, ‘for all we know. I get what you mean, Cherie. He’s mysterious, and dark, and brooding, and…’
‘Sleeps in a coffin?’ Zoe supplies, looking amused. ‘Has a garlic allergy? Turns into a wolf when there’s a full moon?’
‘Again, for all we know, yes!’ Laura answers. She sighs, looking distraught. ‘None of us has even talked to him, and he’s been here for three weeks! And there are stories, you know, going round the village.’
‘What stories?’ asks Auburn, frowning. ‘And why haven’t I heard them?’
‘Well, Scrumpy Joe’s wife, Joanne, told me she was driving past his place and she heard howling. Like, proper howling. And Leanne who runs the butchers’ counter says he sounds exotic, like he might be from the States or Canada. And he buys loads of steak– pounds and pounds of rare, bloody steak!’
‘So,’ Zoe interjects, trying hard not to laugh, ‘you think he might be… what… an American werewolf in Budbury?’ I lose my own battle at that point and let out a stifled giggle. I wonder if I’ll pop into that pub over the road from me, and they’ll all stare and tell me to stay on the road?
‘And anyway, of course the steak is rare and bloody,’ Becca adds in. ‘It’s a butcher’s shop, not a restaurant! That means nothing! Maybe he just eats a lot of protein… He certainly looks like he works out…’
They all pause here, and a communal smile seems to run from one woman to another. The debate suddenly forgotten. ‘Hang on, I thought you hadn’t met him?’ I ask.
‘We haven’t met him, no,’ Cherie tells me. ‘But at about this time every day, he runs along the beach. And he does ittopless.’
Laura nods vigorously, her curls bobbing around her happy face. ‘It seems rude not to watch, really, when he’s putting in so much effort. This is like our Diet Coke moment– you know, like that old TV advert? Except with cheesecake and booze, which is much better.’
‘Oh’ is all I manage to say. I feel slightly uncomfortable now. I’m not quite sure if it’s because of the invasion of his privacy, or because if this was a group of men watching a woman go for a run, it would feel seedy. This doesn’t, honestly. It just feels a bit silly… but still. I’m not especially enjoying the double standard.
