Wish Upon a Star Page 11

  ‘Fridays are busy; I’ll need to get back quickly so he can have his break, too.’

  ‘I suppose half an hour is better than nothing, I’ll come with you,’ she said, and, with another dirty look at David, followed Jago out and up the stairs of the café next door. It was not exactly the ambience she’d had in mind for making it up with Jago.

  Sitting opposite, Jago looked broodingly at her. In the shop he’d seen her in exactly the way he had when he was still blinded by love: tall, very slender, with long blond hair, green eyes and endless legs shown off by a short, tight skirt.

  But now, suddenly, the scales seemed to fall from his eyes and it was like looking at a stranger. Her time in the hot sun of Dubai had hastened the slightly shrivelled and leathery look that comes to all sun worshippers in the end, and her hair seemed as dead and artificial as a doll’s. Apart from the ability to pout and bat her eyelashes, her face seemed remarkably immobile, so she’d probably been at the Botox, too … and Sarah had been right about the baggy knees.

  His mind conjured up another and much more natural beauty: Cally, with her white-gold hair springing from a central parting in crazy curls to frame a broad forehead, lovely deep blue eyes and the entrancing dusting of freckles across her nose. She was sufficiently plump to hug without being pierced by sharp bones and looked wholesome enough to eat, though he’d got the message that she’d kill him if he said so.

  He smiled, which unfortunately encouraged Aimee.

  She smiled back beguilingly, confidently, with those lovely green eyes sparkling as she tried to cast her spell of enchantment over him once again. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Jago – and you are pleased to see me, aren’t you?’

  His smile vanished and he muttered, ‘Just take a bite from this lovely poisoned apple.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about dessert.’

  ‘Then I wish you’d think about me instead! I was just saying how much I’d missed you and … well, really, I wanted to say sorry.’

  ‘I think it’s a little late for apologies, Aimee. By the way, what happened to all the wedding presents and the arrangements? I mean, I cancelled everything my end, but when I left a message for your father, he never replied.’

  ‘Oh, Daddy cancelled everything else. He was a teeny bit cross with me, because once he’d met you he said you were a good, honest, hard-working man, and I couldn’t do any better.’

  ‘Did he? I thought he’d have told you that you were throwing yourself away by marrying a bakery assistant, even one who could make his own five-tier fairy-tale wedding cake,’ Jago said, surprised. ‘Mind you,’ he added, ‘running off with a car salesman probably wasn’t what he wanted for you, either.’

  ‘He wasn’t some kind of used car salesman, Jago! He’s got the dealership for top-of-the-range sports cars in Dubai. That’s entirely different.’

  ‘He’s still a car salesman, though, isn’t he?’

  ‘What did you do with our wedding cake?’ she asked, ignoring that. ‘Fruitcakes keep, don’t they? I expect you’ve still got it.’

  ‘No, actually, after you ran off we had a bit of a party at Gilligan’s and ate most of it, then we shared the last two tiers to celebrate our win on the lottery.’

  She looked faintly indignant, though why she should when she was the one who had run off just before the wedding was anyone’s guess.

  ‘Daddy had all the wedding presents sent back,’ she said regretfully.

  ‘So, how is … what was he called – Dan?’

  ‘Vann,’ she corrected coldly. ‘So far as I know, he’s fine. Things … didn’t work out between us.’

  ‘So you said on the phone. And there was me all this time thinking you’d be living happily ever after in Dubai, among the palm trees and concrete. I’m sure I saw they even had an indoor ski run with fake snow – there’s surely everything there you could want, if you don’t mind it hot and artificial.’

  ‘The shopping would have been wonderful if Daddy hadn’t cut my allowance off but actually, apart from that I hated Dubai because Vann wasn’t really in with the top people and so we never got invited to the best parties,’ she said, dissatisfaction and disappointment in her voice. ‘And it was tricky not being married, because they’re really hot on immorality over there and he was afraid to put a foot out of line.’

  ‘So he was a bit of a washout from the social-climbing angle,’ Jago said with mock sympathy. ‘I’m gutted for you.’

  ‘Jago, darling, you make me sound like such a shallow bitch and you know I’m not … really I’m not.’ She put her hand over his on the table and he noticed for the first time that she was still wearing the engagement ring he’d given her – one he’d still been paying for even after she’d run off – but on her right hand. The diamond flashed at him like a warning signal.

  ‘I think I got cold feet. Getting married seemed such a big step to take.’

  ‘So does running off to Dubai with a car salesman,’ he said drily.

  ‘I realised almost at once it was a mistake, that it was you I really loved and wanted to settle down and raise a family with.’

  ‘I think you may have left having a family a little late,’ he said, and a look of fury crossed her lovely face.

  ‘That bitch David’s engaged to told you how old I really am, didn’t she? I knew she recognised me when I went in the salon!’

  ‘Aimee, it wouldn’t have bothered me that you were a few years older,’ Jago said. ‘There wasn’t any need to lie about it.’

  ‘I know that now … and that you’re the only man who’s ever truly loved me …’ she said, with a break in her voice.

  ‘It’s a pity you didn’t figure that out earlier then, isn’t it?’ he said, but more gently.

  ‘But I realise it now and that’s all that matters, surely?’ she said softly, squeezing his hand. ‘Please forgive me! I’d so love to wear my ring on the proper finger again.’

  He stared at her, his light brown eyes startled and wide. ‘Aimee, you can’t just swan back into my life after living with someone else for a year and expect to pick up where you left off.’

  ‘But I still feel the same about you … and I know I hurt you, but you still love me, don’t you? I promise this time it will be different. You can start your own business in London and I can help you with all my contacts,’ she suggested, though truth to tell the whole party scene had moved on and changed while she was away and she no longer seemed quite to fit in.

  ‘Set up my business in London? Using what for money?’ he demanded.

  ‘Your lottery winnings, of course! You told me the syndicate at Gilligan’s had a big jackpot.’ She paused. ‘Though come to think of it, when I went there to try and get your number, I recognised quite a few of the staff, so why were they still there?’

  ‘Apart from the fact that they all love their work, we didn’t win that much by the time it was divided between us. The rest of them just paid their mortgages off or bought new cars or whatever, then carried on working. David and I were the only ones who wanted to set up our own specialist businesses.’

  ‘You didn’t win that much …?’ Her mouth went tight.

  ‘No. I haven’t even got enough to buy premises somewhere trendy in the North-west, like Knutsford or Wilmslow, where I first looked. Though that’s a blessing, as it turns out, because actually I love it round here and I want to settle in one of the villages near Ormskirk. I’ll be near David and Sarah, and I’ve already started to make friends locally.’

  ‘But – if we got married and started up a business in London, I’m sure Daddy would help us,’ she suggested.

  ‘But we’re not going to get married and nor am I coming back to London,’ Jago said wearily. ‘You can’t just come back and expect to pick up where you left off, Aimee. I’ve moved on and things have changed.’

  ‘You’ve found someone else?’ she said quickly.

  ‘I – no, of course not, David and I have been too busy,’ he said,
but he must have sounded unconvincing because she eyed him suspiciously. ‘Like I said, I’ve made friends locally but that’s all.’

  ‘Good, because I’ll be back and I intend to make you change your mind and give me another chance.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen, Aimee. We can be friends, but there’s no way we’re ever getting back together.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said with a confident little smile. ‘I’ve just accepted a job with the Corporate Party People, starting next week, but I’ll keep popping up to see you when I can.’

  She gave his hand another squeeze and the sparkling diamond, having slipped right round her bony finger, dug painfully into his hand.

  Chapter 13: Sad Cake

  Another, more frugal, relation of the Eccles and Chorley cakes is the Sad cake, which originated in East Lancashire. Basically pastry sprinkled with currants or raisins, it can be baked in a large round or square and cut into wedges or fingers to go with morning coffee.

  Cally Weston: ‘Tea & Cake’

  Since I talked to Jago on Thursday he’d instantly become my sounding board for questions, ideas and interesting foodie stuff, and messages by text, phone and email constantly flew to and fro between us. But he was much more than just a sounding board, because he was so interested and knowledgeable that he constantly sparked off new ideas.

  The one thing he hadn’t mentioned again was his ex-fiancée, so I hoped David was wrong and he wasn’t about to kiss and make up with her. Then latish on Friday we were chatting on the phone and I thought he sounded a bit subdued, so to cheer him up I told him the story of Ma losing the hammer and my finding it in the fridge.

  ‘It was the one from the studio she uses to make her canvas stretchers with, so she must have been carrying it when she felt hungry and came down to make a sandwich. It was where the ham had been, so I went up to the studio and looked in the toolbox and there it was. It’s lucky I know the way her mind works by now.’

  ‘That is seriously absent-minded,’ he said, impressed.

  ‘It’s because her mind is usually focused on her work. She’s always done things like that.’

  ‘My mind’s been a bit preoccupied this afternoon,’ he confessed. ‘Aimee dropped by unexpectedly on her way up to the Lake District and it was really odd to see her again.’

  ‘Yes, I can imagine,’ I agreed, though wondering whether it had been odd in a good or bad way.

  ‘We were very busy in the shop, so I didn’t have long to talk to her.’ He sighed heavily. ‘She was a bit upset and kept saying she’d made a big mistake and would I forgive her.’

  ‘And – did you?’ The question tumbled out, despite myself.

  ‘Oh, I’ve long forgiven her, because I think it was all for the best and it wouldn’t have worked out if we’d married. I hated all that partying and clubbing, so I’d have bored her senseless.’

  ‘You’re not boring in the least,’ I assured him, surprised.

  ‘Not to you, perhaps, because we’re both interested in the same things, but I don’t think I’m that exciting to most women.’

  He can’t ever have looked at himself properly in the mirror! But actually, it was quite engaging that he had no idea just how attractive he was.

  ‘Maybe she’s had enough of exciting and she’s ready to settle down now?’ I suggested. ‘So … are you going to see her again?’

  ‘She said she’d keep dropping in, though she’s about to start a job in London so maybe that won’t be so easy,’ he said. ‘I told her I was looking for somewhere to buy up here and there was no way I’d ever get back together with her or live in London now.’ He sighed again. ‘I hate it when she cries over me.’

  That sounded like emotional blackmail to me and I hoped he hadn’t fallen for it. But he brightened up and told me something funny one of his customers had said and I capped it with Stella rapping on Ma’s head earlier when she was trying to get her attention and asking her if she was in there.

  That made him laugh, so at least I’d cheered him up a bit, but I wished this Aimee would leave him alone because she sounded like bad news on all fronts. In fact, if I’d known Gregory Lyon or Florrie Snowball a bit better, I’d have asked them for some kind of vanishing powder to toss at her if we ever came face to face.

  I got up early as usual next morning, to a blackberry-dark sky with one pale Promethean spark of light, and from sheer habit let Toto out into the garden, even though he’d totally mastered the cat flap and could let himself in and out any time he liked.

  I thought of David and Jago, probably even now baking the first batch of the day’s macaroons … and I had had a good idea in the night for a new Christmas recipe – filling a traditional Eccles cake with mincemeat! If it worked I thought I’d call them Christmas puffs. I need to file a few more seasonal recipes fairly soon, so that would make a good start.

  First, though, before I started baking, I checked the Stella’s Stars fundraising website, for often there had been small random donations from kind strangers. But to my incredulous amazement, this time someone had donated the whopping great sum of ten thousand pounds! And I thought I could guess who it was, despite what I’d said …

  Feeling cross, I rang Jago up on the shop line and I was right about their being up and working already because he picked up almost immediately.

  ‘Jago? It’s Cally. I’ve just spotted that there’s been an anonymous donation of ten thousand pounds to the fund. It was you, wasn’t it?’ I said accusingly.

  ‘Me? No, honestly it wasn’t,’ he answered, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘But that’s wonderful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Do you swear, on a first edition of Mrs Beeton, it wasn’t you?’ I demanded, still suspicious.

  ‘I swear,’ he assured me solemnly. ‘I admit to thinking about it, but I was sure you’d guess it was me, so I decided I’d just put some money aside in case there was any shortfall at the end of the fundraising. You’d have had to take it then.’

  ‘I suppose I would, and it was a kind thought, but you really need all your winnings to start your croquembouche business.’

  ‘Well, you may not need it anyway now, because you should be able to raise the rest easily.’

  ‘Yes, ten thousand pounds does seem more do-able in the timescale,’ I agreed.

  ‘Piece of cake.’

  ‘Biscuit?’ I suggested.

  ‘Biscuit. I don’t suppose you’ll be in the Blue Dog at lunchtime today, will you?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’ll just be dashing in and out to the supermarket this time. I probably could next week, though.’

  ‘Then I’ll see you at the fundraising meeting tonight in Sticklepond village hall instead,’ he said, to my surprise.

  ‘How do you know about that? There are posters about it all over the village, but I’m sure not as far as Ormskirk.’

  ‘Raffy came in yesterday and introduced himself, and then he invited me. It slipped my mind to tell you when I was talking to you last night, because Aimee’s visit had knocked me for six. It must have slipped your mind too,’ he added pointedly, ‘since you didn’t mention it.’

  ‘I felt you’d done more than enough already, with the gingerbread stars. You really don’t have to come.’

  ‘I want to come. In fact, wild horses couldn’t keep me away,’ he said. ‘And anyway, I welcome anything that gets me out of the flat at the weekends when Sarah’s up here, so the lovebirds can be alone for a bit.’

  I heard David say something rude in the background.

  ‘Ma says she’ll baby-sit Stella while I’m at the meeting.’

  ‘Do you want me to pick you up?’ he offered.

  ‘No, that’s all right, I’ll walk. It’s only ten minutes and it’ll do me good.’

  Stella wanted to see the angels in the graveyard again later, so Ma really has given her angel mania. I’m not entirely sure how wholesome an interest in visiting graveyards is in a three-year-old, but we walked down there anyway, with Toto. I hoped no one would object
to his coming into the graveyard with us, since he would bark his head off if I left him tied to the lych gate.

  We admired all the angels, though the one to Susan Winter was her favourite, because it’s such a lively carving that it seems to be taking off vertically in a swirl of drapery.

  I’d always assumed that the Almonds would be buried elsewhere, since they belonged to some obscure Baptist sect, but when I’d said so to Ma recently she’d replied that no, they were in the All Angels churchyard, because the Ormskirk Strange Baptists hadn’t had their own burial ground.

  So for the first time I actually went looking for the Almond family graves and found them clustered round an austere granite obelisk in the corner nearest the village green. The stones featured lots of biblical Amoses, Elijahs, Marthas and Marys, and even a very Thomas Hardyesque Bathsheba, so I think Ma lucked out on her name. My grandparents had a modest modern granite headstone, but the rest of the graves were much older ones of local stone, which of course they would be, because of the entire Almond clan emigrating to Australia after the war.

  Stella wanted to see inside the church again, and it was unlocked, so I parked the buggy in the porch and tucked Toto under my arm – the advantage of having a small dog – before we went in. While Stella was gazing raptly at the Heaven and Hell window behind the altar, I wandered up and down looking at the memorial brasses and stone plaques and discovered one or two more Almonds there – including one that seemed to have had an additional name chiselled out of it, for after saying, ‘And to the memory of’, there was just a roughly hacked space.

  Strange … I wondered if perhaps the missing name was that of Esau Almond, the black sheep of the three brothers up at Badger’s Bolt, the one that Ma didn’t want to talk about. What little I knew about them was that the eldest, Saul, had stayed on the farm during the war, since food production was vital, while the other two brothers, Amos and Esau, had enlisted. I’d asked her once if they’d both survived and she’d just said she thought the past was best left behind us, and then clammed up.

  On the way home, as an afterthought, we detoured for a quick look at the war memorial. There were two Almonds listed as killed in the First World War, but none in the Second … though again, someone had roughly chiselled out a name in the As.