Hope Blooms in Tuppenny Bridge (Tuppenny Bridge #5)

Chapter 1

ONE

SATURDAY 6 JULY

Three months earlier…

Daisy Jackson loved Saturday mornings. Not only was she guaranteed to be kept busy in The Crafty Cook Café—because there was nothing worse than hanging around all day, bored—but also because she loved the bustle of Tuppenny Bridge on market days.

Running her own café meant early starts for her, even though she only opened the doors to customers at 10am. The lights, till, and coffee machine needed to be switched on, tables set, and food prepared.

She liked to bake fresh every day, which took some planning, although she did keep a few cakes in the freezer for emergencies, which just needed decorating. The Crafty Cook Café menu wasn’t particularly extensive, but it was good quality food that was right for the location of her premises and the sort of customer she attracted.

Her initial idea had been to open the café Tuesdays to Saturdays from early in the morning until around 5pm, but she’d quickly realised that it made more sense to leave the fried breakfasts to The Market Café on the opposite side of the market square, which dealt with heartier fare for a different type of customer.

With the focus on light lunches and snacks, afternoon tea (pre-booked only), a selection of cakes and scones, and various teas, coffees and hot chocolates, as well as soft drinks, Daisy seemed to be building a reputation in Tuppenny Bridge for quality. Her cakes were in such demand that she’d even taken orders specifically for birthdays and other special occasions, so the buyers could collect them from her. She certainly hadn’t expected that to happen.

Almost immediately she’d decided to change her working hours, and now opened the café at ten in the morning and closed at four, seven days a week rather than five, and had taken on two assistants—college students who worked weekends, which enabled Daisy to take either the Saturday or Sunday off.

It didn’t leave her much time for socialising, but then, that had never been Daisy’s thing. As long as she could escape into the countryside to hike one day a week, it was enough.

She’d been used to working all her life. When she was a little girl, she’d helped her mother around the house, and worked with her father and brother, Tom, on their farm in Upper Skimmerdale. After her mother’s death she’d taken care of the home and looked after the menfolk. It was what she was used to.

Crowscar Farm had been pretty isolated, so she hadn’t made many friends. When she moved to Leeds to live with her brother, after their father went into a care home, she’d focused on working in pubs and cafés in the area, visiting her dad, and making sure Tom was fed and the house kept clean, as payment for living under his roof. He hadn’t asked her to do that, but it wouldn’t have occurred to Daisy not to.

Now she’d started over in Tuppenny Bridge in Lower Skimmerdale. She’d been here less than a year which, in Yorkshire Dales terms, meant she was a complete newcomer, even though she was Dales born and bred. She’d rented a little flat over the Cutting it Fine hair salon in Market Square, made friends with many of the locals, including her landlady, Bluebell; Kat, who owned the craft shop below her café; and Bethany, who was even newer to the town than she was. Even so, her social life was almost non-existent and that was fine by Daisy. Work was her comfort zone. She felt blessed to have her own flat and business, and didn’t expect anything else.

Even though the café didn’t open until ten she liked to be there by seven so she could start baking. Crossing the market square she smiled, seeing the market traders already arriving and setting up their stalls. By the time she opened the doors to her first customers this area would be heaving with people. Many of them would, hopefully, pop into the café for something to eat. The market was good for her business and brought plenty of visitors to the town.

The sun was shining on Tuppenny Bridge this morning. She raised her face to the sky and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth on her skin despite the early hour. She loved the summer and hoped for plenty more sunshine and blue skies in the coming months.

She felt a pang suddenly, remembering July days on the farm. Remembering, too, the village of Beckthwaite where she’d grown up, and Ravensbridge where she’d gone to school. Remembering Crowscar with her sullen father and resentful brother. Remembering Wildflower Farm, where she’d sought refuge and escape in the company of her brother’s best friend, Eliot Harland…

Making her way up the stairs to the café she tried to push all thoughts of Eliot from her mind. Still, the memory nagged away at her.

Even as she focused on getting the café presentable for the customers, making sure the craft areas were tidy and in order, switching on the till and coffee machine, and putting on her apron to start baking, her mind kept wandering back to those busy summers with the Harlands. She sometimes wondered if she’d ever been happier than she had been back then.

‘Coffee cake,’ she said aloud, determined not to dwell on the past. ‘Orange and lemon cake. Oh, and the white chocolate and caramel cake,’ she added, remembering that Noah had eaten the last slice yesterday. He loved it so much he’d be disappointed if he didn’t get any today.

Then she remembered it was Saturday and Noah wouldn’t be in today. He only ever popped in for half an hour during his lunch break. He was the headmaster of the local primary school, and seemed to have decided that The Crafty Cook Café was his place of refuge during the day.

‘Isobel wouldn’t approve,’ he’d admitted to her just a couple of weeks ago. ‘Still, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, will it?’

She’d been half tempted to push him on that subject. The state of Isobel and Noah Lavender’s marriage had been the cause of much speculation in recent weeks. Daisy hadn’t known them long, but apparently, they’d been together for years—since they were teenagers. The consensus had always been that Isobel was not a nice person and that she dominated Noah.

However, Isobel herself had recently told the guests at Kat’s hen party that it was Noah who kept control of her eating habits, watching what she ate and monitoring her weight. Daisy wasn’t convinced that was true. She didn’t know Noah very well, but he just didn’t seem the sort to her. But, as her new friend Bethany had pointed out, no one knew what went on between a husband and wife behind closed doors, so how could they judge? Daisy knew she was right, but part of her hoped Isobel had exaggerated. She didn’t like to think of Noah as the controlling sort.

Then again, her judgement of men was notoriously bad. Look how she’d convinced herself for years that Eliot secretly loved her!

She could feel her face burning with embarrassment at the thought, even all these years later.

‘Plain scones, cheese scones, sultana scones,’ she said firmly. ‘That will do for today. Better get started before Tess and Rowan arrive.’

She’d baked some large quiches last night and stored them in the fridge so she wouldn’t have to make them this morning. The salad needed washing and preparing but that wouldn’t take long.

Daisy assembled her first set of ingredients, switched on the radio, and, humming along to one of her favourite songs, got to work.

‘Do we have to have this racket on?’

Noah glanced up as Isobel entered the kitchen, her face already set in a scowl. She didn’t wait for his reply as she wandered over to the radio and flicked it off.

He didn’t protest. She would be leaving for work soon anyway. He could put the radio back on then.

‘How can you listen to that at this time of the morning?’ she demanded irritably. ‘Have you never heard of easing your way into the day?’

‘It’s at low volume, and I only put it on while you were upstairs,’ he said mildly. ‘Anyway, your coffee’s ready for you.’ He folded the newspaper and lay it on the table. ‘What would you like for breakfast? I wasn’t sure so I didn’t?—’

She tutted and waved a hand at the paper. ‘Why do you persist in getting one of those delivered? Honestly, no one reads physical newspapers any longer. It’s all online. You’re so old fashioned.’

It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that, and not just by Isobel. He knew he was viewed with some amusement by the staff and parents at his school, but he saw nothing wrong with good manners and politeness. He liked routine and familiarity, and knew he was a bit of a stick-in-the-mud. He found the presence of a newspaper on his doormat each morning comforting somehow. Reading it on his phone wouldn’t have been anywhere near as pleasurable.

‘Boiled egg?’ he enquired mildly. ‘Toast?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not hungry. And I don’t want coffee today. I want tea.’

‘I’ll boil the kettle,’ he said, half rising to his feet, but she waved a hand at him.

‘I can do it myself. Stop fussing.’

Noah sat down again and took a sip of coffee, not entirely sure what to do or say next. He glanced at the clock and mentally calculated how long it would be before she left for work. She’d have been long gone if it was her turn to go to the flower market, but her assistant Kelly was going today. About half an hour he thought. Just thirty minutes…

He watched as she busied herself making a cup of tea, dressed as smartly as she always was in black trousers and a Wedgewood blue top, her baby blonde hair immaculately styled. Soon, he knew, she’d don her usual skyscraper heels before heading out, even though she’d be on her feet all day at the florist’s. He had no idea how she managed it. Sheer willpower probably. Isobel was never short of that.

Cutting off that train of thought he allowed his mind to drift to the day ahead. He’d promised to visit his great aunt later this afternoon, and this morning he’d a list of jobs to do around the house. But tomorrow he’d take the opportunity to get away from Tuppenny Bridge. He’d expected to be at home with Isobel all Sunday, but she’d announced she was going to meet her grandmother in Leeds for shopping and afternoon tea, which was fine by him.

Noah had been daydreaming of an excursion for weeks and the unexpected freedom to carry out his plans felt quite intoxicating. He’d thought he’d missed his chance this year, and there was so little time left. Another week or so and it would be too late, so this was perfect timing. He could hardly believe his luck and even Isobel’s deliberate banging and clattering as she opened the cupboard doors and drawer didn’t unduly disturb him.

When she eventually sat down, mug of tea in hand, he gave her a polite smile.

‘Will you be home for lunch?’

‘I doubt it. It’s Saturday and you know how busy the shop gets on Saturdays. Although…’ She scowled again. ‘Did you know a flower stall has opened on the market? I mean, how rude is that?’

Noah chose his words carefully. ‘I shouldn’t think they’ll attract the same customers as you do. Your shop’s been here years, and you have a loyal customer base. It will be mainly visitors to the market rather than locals who use the stall. I shouldn’t worry.’

‘Who says I’m worrying?’

He smiled. ‘Well, that’s good then.’ He drained his coffee cup, aware that she was watching him thoughtfully.

‘What are your plans for today?’

‘I thought I’d put a wash load on,’ he said. ‘It’s bright and warm with a good breeze—perfect drying weather.’

Isobel rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve always said you’d make someone a lovely wife.’

He shrugged. ‘Men are just as capable of doing housework as women, and you’re busy today so why shouldn’t I help?’

‘Yeah, yeah. So, what else are you doing?’

‘I’m not sure really.’ He hesitated. ‘I promised Aunt Eugenie I’d pop by and see her later.’

‘Why?’ she asked, immediately on guard. ‘What does she want?’

‘Nothing,’ he assured her. ‘Just a catch up. I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks, and you know how she likes to be kept in the loop.’

‘Huh! Well, there’s not a lot to tell her is there? Not like we ever do anything exciting, is it?’ She sighed. ‘Look at us, Noah. Thirty-seven years old and we live like crumblies. Your great aunt has more of a social life than we do and she’s eighty! Did you ever think life would be this dull when you were at university?’

‘Life,’ he said slowly, ‘never turns out exactly as you plan.’

‘You can say that again,’ she said bitterly.

He waited, wondering if she’d expand on that remark but to his relief she didn’t. Instead, she surprised him by reaching out and squeezing his hand.

‘It’s all work, isn’t it? Maybe we ought to think about taking a holiday somewhere.’

He raised his eyebrows, astonished. ‘We could, but I think we may have left it a little late, don’t you? School holidays start in just over a fortnight and I doubt we’d get anywhere decent with such short notice.’

‘Oh, but Noah!’ She looked downcast, her blue eyes clouded with disappointment. For a moment it seemed she was going to protest, but then she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sat up straight. ‘Ah well, it can’t be helped. It’s such a shame because Kelly’s gran offered to cover for me. You know, she was a florist, but she retired far too early and Kelly says she’s itching to get back to it, even if it’s only temporarily. It would have been so nice, don’t you think?’ she added wistfully.

He nodded. ‘It would have been,’ he told her gently. ‘Perhaps we could think about a few days away at half term in October instead?’

‘Hmm. Maybe.’ She drained her tea and slammed the mug on the table. ‘Well, I think I’ll get off. No rest for the wicked.’

He didn’t reply and she bent over and kissed the top of his head.

‘Have a lovely day,’ she told him brightly, before ruffling his tawny coloured hair with something akin to affection. ‘See you tonight.’

‘Was there anything you particularly wanted for dinner?’ he asked her, keen to make this unexpected thaw in their relationship last a little longer.

‘Oh, surprise me. I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious. You’re a much better cook than I am, after all.’

Feeling ridiculously happy as she smiled at him, he smiled back. As she grabbed her bag and left Peony Cottage, he settled back in his chair for a moment and considered the unexpectedly bright start to the day. Maybe he’d pop to the travel agent on Station Road before visiting Aunt Eugenie. There might be some last-minute bargains to be had. You never knew.

Whistling softly, he strode over to the worktop and switched the radio back on.