The Comfort Food Café

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

A few days later, when Sophie finally confesses that she is in a relationship with James, the farming apprentice, I am pleased for all kinds of reasons.

She makes this announcement as we sit at the kitchen table one evening, and does it so amusingly I spit out my tea.

‘So, yeah, me and James had the talk—please give The Talk capital letters in your mind—and we’ve decided that we’re exclusive. Before, it was just a situationship.’

‘A what?’ I say, after I’ve finished spluttering.

‘You know, where you’re seeing each other but it’s not official? But now, we’ve had The Talk, and it’s an actual relationship. Bearing that in mind, I was wondering if you could maybe explain how babies are made, because he seems to think there’s some connection?’

Sophie is way beyond needing instruction on the birds and the bees. She had a long-term boyfriend for over a year, and I know she was active on that front because I went with her to the family planning clinic to discuss contraception. I had to try really hard not to cry as my baby was prescribed the pill and given free condoms, but I was glad she trusted me and was being sensible. I’d love grandchildren one day, but not for a while yet, thank you.

‘Right,’ I say, wiping up the tea and recovering myself. ‘Well, that’s good to know. I really like James, and if you’re happy, I’m happy. You know where I am if you need me, for anything. It’s always awkward isn’t it, The Talk?’

‘Yeah. Mainly because both of you are a bit worried the other one doesn’t feel the same, and nobody wants to go first and look like a tit. Is that what’s happening with you and Gabriel?’

I lose another mouthful of tea at that, and decide to abandon it all together.

‘Don’t look so shocked, Mum, I’m not an idiot. I can see the signs. You didn’t really need to stay overnight in Cornwall, did you? Plus I came home early last week without you knowing, and I had to put my headphones on to drown you out. I was traumatised. Scarred for life.’

My mouth drops open, and I shake my head in a combination of shock and shame. I have no idea how to respond to this, but luckily Sophie doesn’t seem to need me to.

‘It’s okay. I think it’s a good thing, Mum. I don’t want the gory details or anything—we’ve got to have healthy boundaries and obviously, yuk —but why shouldn’t you have a bit of fun? Assuming that’s all it is?’

‘I don’t know what it is,’ I say, deciding that there’s no point in trying to deny it. ‘And unlike you and James, we haven’t had The Talk.’

‘How immature of you. I hope you’re being safe at least!’

She’s clearly enjoying herself, and I assure her that we are. I refuse to discuss that particular topic any further—healthy boundaries and yuk are both good reasons not to—and instead turn the conversation towards our impending move.

That, as well as the work and the sex and the fun, is the other main development in our lives. Hyacinth has a brand new roof, her ceilings have been plastered, her attic boarded for storage and the whole upper floor has been given a clean bill of health. Cherie has kept it plain and bare, and given me a very generous budget to do the refurb.

It is now the end of November, and the work has taken a lot longer than we’d expected. These things always do; once you start one repair, you tend to find other things that need doing. The bathroom initially looked like it was okay other than some smashed glass and a broken toilet lid, but nothing worked properly after the chimney crash. Nobody could figure out why, but the plumbing had turned into a game of chance, and Cherie decided to simply replace it all. She let me choose the suite and the fittings, which was nice. Who doesn’t love a spa bath?

They also discovered during the work that the electrics were playing up, which may or may not have been related to the storm, so that needed sorting as well. Then, of course, there was the weather. We’ve had some blissful days, all sunshine and crisp cool air, but we’ve also had a lot of wind and rain, which delayed everything. The workmen kept disappearing to deal with other people’s emergencies, and basically everything dragged on and on.

Cherie and Laura were constantly apologising for this, assuming I was desperate to get into my new home. It’s a logical assumption, but in reality, part of me is dreading tomorrow when we finally move in.

It’s not just the sex. It’s everything; I’ll miss it all. I’ll miss the badgers, who are becoming harder to spot now—they’ve been in a feeding frenzy stuffing themselves with all the autumn berries and lining their nests, building up fat to survive the lean times in deep winter. They don’t hibernate, but will retreat to their little hobbit hole in a state of torpor when it’s cold. I can definitely identify with that.

I’ll miss Belle, and all of her weird noises. We’ve become friends over the last couple of months. She only tries to bite me maybe one out of three times these days.

I’ll miss the quiet solitude of this place, the way the autumn shades have transformed it into a landscape of gold and red and bronze. A few days ago I went into the woods on a windy day, and the leaves were blowing off the trees and whistling around, surrounding me in a whirlwind of crinkling russet and amber while I danced and laughed.

I’ll miss the nighttime sounds, the owls hooting, Belle braying, the rustle of passing foxes and the many tiny creatures that make the countryside their home.

I’ll miss the house itself, with its beams and its uneven stone floors and quirky layout. I’ll miss the way the Aga radiates so much warmth that when you walk through the kitchen door, no matter what the weather is like outside, you immediately feel warm and cosy.

I’ll miss all of it, but mainly, I suspect, I will miss him . Gabriel. He has as many shades and subtleties as the falling leaves, as many nuances as the stars in the clear night sky above us.

I realise, as I ponder this, that Sophie is still talking. Something about a trip to Bristol and a sex dungeon.

‘Wait? What? A sex dungeon?’

‘I thought that might get your attention! You’re distracted. I hope you’re not just thinking about boys. There’s more to life than boys you know. Friends, work, hobbies…’

This is, of course, a mashed up version of conversations I have had with her, and she is clearly thrilled to be turning the tables on me.

‘When’s Ben coming?’ I ask, ignoring her sarcasm. I was thrilled when he said he’d be joining us in Budbury, and am so looking forward to seeing him again. He’ll be going to his dad’s for New Year, but we get him for Christmas, which is a compromise I can live with.

‘Term finishes on the 9th so he’ll be here on the 10th. It’s going to suck balls.’

‘Sophie! What a horrible thing to say! And I know you don’t mean it anyway. Okay, so we’ve got time to sort his room out.’

‘What’s the point? He’ll just cover everything in crusty socks and man sweat. Not like me, I’m a fragrant princess.’

‘You’ll just cover yours in charger cables and video games.’

‘True. So, what do you think we’ll do next? I mean, I know it was a three-month trial, which takes us up to the end of December. What do you think? For what it’s worth, I like it here, but I’m also aware that I’ll possibly be heading to uni next year so my opinion should probably carry less weight.’

My heart does a little shudder at the thought of her leaving—of both my babies flying the nest—but I make sure to hide it. It’s a good thing, Sophie moving on with her life, and I don’t want to hold her back in any way. If her resits go well and she gets a place at a uni she likes, there’s no reason for her not to leave.

It will hurt, but I realise that if we were still at home, still in Birmingham, it would hurt even more. Here, at least, I have my own life. And I don’t just mean Gabriel. What we have is undefined and possibly transient, both terrifying and wonderful. What I’m building with my work, with my new friends here, is less spectacular but maybe more reliable. I don’t know, it’s all a bit of a conundrum.

‘I’m not sure, Soph. I really like it here. When I think about leaving and going back to my old life, I feel sad. I enjoy working at the café. I’m interested in seeing if this interior design thing has any legs. I have friends, and cake, and Gary’s happy. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Even in the wind and the rain when the sky is grey, it’s beautiful. I like the idea of seeing the seasons change here, and getting to know everyone better. I suppose my life has just been more … full, since we got here.’

‘I note you’re not mentioning Gabriel at all?’

‘Well, that’s new, and I have no clue where it’s going, and I don’t want to factor it into my decision in case it goes wrong.’

‘That’s very defeatist of you.’

‘Maybe, love, maybe, but life hasn’t exactly taught me to expect hearts and roses, you know? The thing with your dad did some damage, and I’m not sure how long that will take to repair. Or even if it can be repaired. I’m not trying to be mysterious or hide stuff from you. I just don’t really know what’s going to happen, or how I might feel about it. But, as you say so wisely, there’s more to life than boys, and that’s how I have to think about it. All of this, of course, is also dependent on whether Laura and Cherie want me to stay on at all.’

‘I think that’s a given. They love you. What’s the score with the tenants?’

‘They’ve said they’d like to renew the contract.’

‘Bob’s your uncle then, whatever that means. Anyway. Can I use the car? We’re having a movie night at James’s. Ghostbusters marathon.’

I laugh out loud at this. For all their tech-dominated lives, the younger generation still cling to the old-school classics.

‘Are you packed and ready for tomorrow?’

‘Scout’s honour, yes. Can I take Gary?’

‘All right then. Just make sure you’re not back too late. And don’t let him eat popcorn or chocolate!’

She agrees and scoots away to grab her stuff. Gary looks confused when she hooks him up to his lead, but follows her out happily enough. She gives a farewell toot on her horn, and she’s away.

That leaves me alone with my thoughts, and my cold tea. I decide that neither of those is a good thing, and go to see where Gabriel is. I find him outside, welding something by the barn. It’s only five but already dark, and the sparks fly around him like bright orange glitter. He has a little floodlight set up, so bright it could signal Batman, and is wearing a big plastic mask to protect his eyes.

There is something almost unbearably sexy about a man doing manual labour. I have no idea why—maybe some biological throwback to the times us ladies were programmed to seek out strong hunter-gatherer mates—but the sight of him working always gives me a little thrill.

It’s a lovely evening, cold but calm, and he’s wearing the chunky fisherman’s sweater he had on the day we arrived. Now, though, I know exactly what’s beneath it, which makes it a lot more interesting.

When he notices me, he stops what he’s doing, and takes his mask off. His hair cascades around his face, and my insides go all gooey. He picks up a drill instead, and starts messing with the bit attachment.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask, genuinely curious.

‘I found an old fire pit— Well, no idea if it was that originally, maybe it was some kind of feeding trough? But I used the angle grinder on some scrap metal to make some legs, and now I’m attaching them. If I make a grid for the top, might even be a barbecue. You stopped listening at angle grinder, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah. I’m too flustered now. Sophie’s gone over to see James. I’m as sorted as I can be for tomorrow. Do you want to do something?’

He grins at me, and replies: ‘Shall I keep my tool belt on? Shall I chase you around with my drill?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ I reply dismissively, already turning back towards the house. ‘There’s no way you could catch me!’

I glance over my shoulder in time to see him start running, just like I thought he would. I half-screech, half-laugh, and take off as fast as I can. He pursues me round to the front of the building, Belle braying loudly at our stupid antics, and I manage to evade him by throwing a handful of hay at his head.

I make it inside the kitchen, and try to slam the door behind me, but he’s already got one of his steel toe caps inside, and instead I sprint away, by this point just laughing.

I dash away from him, but he corners me in the living room—quite literally. I am crammed up in one corner, alternating between sucking in air and giggling and finding that I’m quite out of breath. Gabriel presses the button on the drill and it revs up, filling the room with its aggressive zzzzzz noise and making me laugh even more as he brandishes it in the air.

‘Admit it, woman!’ he cries. ‘You can’t escape me!’

I have tears streaming down my cheeks by this stage, and hold my hands up in front of me, saying, ‘Okay, okay! You win! You’re the biggest and strongest of them all, Gabriel!’

He drops the drill, and hammers his own chest like Tarzan, roaring in approval. He picks me up and slings me over his shoulder, my head dangling down behind his back like I’m in a fireman’s lift. I yell for him to put me down, and start hammering on his back with my fists, but he completely ignores me. He gallops up the stone stairs, through the door to my room, and slings me roughly onto the bed.

I bounce a couple of times, and literally can’t stop tittering as he stares down at me, trying to look menacing and almost succeeding. He could look menacing, with his broody looks and dark eyes, but I can tell his heart isn’t in it. He’s having too much fun.

‘Did you put your back out?’ I say innocently. ‘Is that why you’re just standing there?’

He narrows his eyes at me, and suddenly he does look a bit on the menacing side. In a split second, he’s climbed onto the bed and is straddling me, grabbing my hands and holding them down onto the mattress. I squirm around a little, give him a half-hearted kick, and eventually settle for simply enjoying the experience.

‘Aren’t you going to try and escape?’ he says, grinning at me and raising his eyebrows.

‘I don’t think I am,’ I reply, arching up to meet him and enjoying the way it makes his nostrils flare. ‘Why would I want to escape? I’ve got you exactly where I want you!’

‘ Exactly where you want me?’ he answers, leaning down to nuzzle my neck, making me sigh out loud in a way that now feels deliciously familiar.

‘Well, maybe not exactly …’

It doesn’t takes us long to get naked, and there is little preamble. I suspect the thrill of the chase was our foreplay, and we’re both more than ready to go a little crazy. I throw my legs around him, and he holds my hands over my head, and when he slides inside me I gasp with the thrill of it.

Our hands and mouths work their magic on each other, and things definitely get wilder than usual. We test the bed out to its absolute limits; we spend some time on the chair, and eventually end up on the floor.

By the time we collapse, exhausted and coated in sweat, I am practically floating, having some kind of out-of-body experience. I have been well and truly seen to, and all my womanly needs have been extremely well met. Now I feel both exhausted and exhilarated.

His head falls down onto my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around his waist to squeeze him close. Even the afterglow feels exciting with this man, and I don’t want the contact to end. My skin feels sad when it’s not touching his.

He laughs, and says: ‘I’d like to scoop you up and throw you on the bed again, but I don’t know if I have the energy. I think you might have finally finished me.’

He clambers upright, and I stare up at him. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the sight of this man’s body, and I hold my hands out to him. He pulls me up, and peels back the duvet. I climb in next to him, and cuddle up in his arms.

We’re both silent for a few minutes, recovering from our efforts, and I find myself feeling almost sad about the fact that this is my last night here, in this house. With him. I know it’s a new beginning, moving into Hyacinth, but it is also an ending.

‘You okay?’ he asks, kissing my forehead and holding me tight. ‘Your silence has changed.’

‘What?’

‘Well, to start with, your silence was all content and happy, the kind of silence that says, “That was the shag of my life, I am such a lucky woman.” But now your silence is a bit more pensive, like it might want to sneak off and have a cry while it listens to an Adele album.’

‘You could be right. I should probably get up and finish packing. It’s not late enough to go to bed. Not to sleep, anyway.’

‘I know you’ve already finished your packing, Max. What about if we go out? Are you up for a little trip? And if so, can you get us a flask of something hot, and wrap up warm? There’s somewhere I’d like to show you if you’re up for it.’

I grasp the suggestion with both hands, knowing that my mood might sink if I lie around here worrying about what the next day might hold, and whether this might be the last time I lie here with him in this bed.

Before long, I’m up and dressed, and have gathered a flask of hot chocolate and a can of squirty cream. I add on a few layers as well as my walking boots while I’m at it.

He meets me outside, and he’s driven his ancient Land Rover out of the garage and loaded sleeping bags in the back. He’s wearing a beanie hat, his hair flowing out from underneath it, and passes me one to wear as well. Maybe we’re going to Alaska.

We drive for almost an hour, down the winding lanes that I am now familiar with, the headlights picking out scurrying mice and one very surprised fox that runs in front of us. We stop to let it pass, and it turns towards us, the beams reflecting back at us from its eyes. Gorgeous.

Eventually we park in a lay-by next to a hill, and even though it is not late, there’s no one else around. This is understandable, as it is an insane thing to be doing in the dark. We both have torches and he leads the way, climbing a path that winds around the hill like a ribbon, until eventually we reach the top. There’s a kind of plateau here, and he zips the sleeping bags together to make one big one, laying it on the ground and adding pillows.

He holds it open for me to clamber inside, and before long we are snug as two bugs in a rug. I lie with his arms around me and my head against his chest, and he says: ‘This is an old Iron Age fort. It’s been here since about 400 bc , they reckon. There are a few of them around here, hence my granddad’s visit all those years ago I suppose. This is my favourite, because it’s more remote, and you don’t see many people here. And because of that.’

As he speaks, he points up at the sky, and I turn to gaze at it. The whole vista is painted in shades of indigo and black, streaked with clusters of gold and silver. Some sparkle in solitary beauty, others are lined up together like a glittering string of jewels. It’s a cloudless night, and it feels like we are lying together beneath a blanket made entirely of stars.

‘Wow,’ I murmur, because that’s really the only word. The night skies in this part of the world are sensational, given the lack of light pollution, but this is in a different class. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It is. It’s my favourite thinking place. I’ve been out here, doing exactly this, quite a few times.’

‘But without me and the squirty cream?’

He laughs and drops a kiss onto the top of my head, holding me so close the warmth of his body seeps into mine.

‘You and squirty cream could be quite a tempting combination, Max, but it’s a bit too cold for that.’

‘You’re right. I’ll save some for later. Do you know their names? The constellations?’

‘Well, it changes according to the season, but tonight we have Orion, and Taurus, and over there is Bob the Builder.’

‘You made the last one up!’

‘What gave it away?’ he asks, tugging the sleeping bag up to our chins. If any passing space satellites are watching, they’ll just see two beanie hats sticking out at the top.

We lie contentedly together for a while, watching the stars journey across the sky, listening to the sounds of the night birds and the cows in a distant field. We could be the only two people on earth, caught out of time. Suspended in space, floating in our own glimmering reality.

‘I’ll miss you when you’re gone,’ he says quietly, turning on his side to face me. I reach out and stroke his hair, trail my fingers around his jaw.

‘I’ll miss you, too. But I’m only in Hyacinth. You can come and visit me; I’ll come and visit you. If you want that, I mean. No pressure. If this was just a fling that’s come to its natural end, that’s okay too.’

I wouldn’t be thrilled about it, but I suppose I’d cope. He is silent in response, which of course makes me nervous.

‘Is that what it is? I don’t mind, honest, but I’d rather know.’

I see his lips curve into a smile, the moonlight shining in his deep brown eyes, and he replies, ‘Ah. Are we finally going to have The Talk?’

Obviously, I give it capital letters in my head, and say, ‘I suppose we probably should. My nineteen-year-old daughter has kind of shamed me into it. She says it’s always scary because one of you has to go first, and you’re scared you’ll look like a tit.’

‘She has a way with words … and she’s not wrong, is she? So, I’ll go first, and be totally honest. I don’t want this to end. I really will miss you, and that worries me a little. I’ve been so used to getting by on my own, for years now, and suddenly I’m wondering how I’m going to cope with the solitude. When you two first arrived, I was concerned by all the noise and the chatter and the stuff. Now, I’m concerned that it’s going to be too quiet. Too empty. And that feels strange and a bit unsettling. I don’t want this to end, but I also don’t know if I’m ready for it to be any more serious than it already is.’

‘Wow,’ I say, grinning. ‘You’ve actually been thinking about The Talk, haven’t you?’

‘Yeah. I practised it in front of the mirror in the bathroom. How did it go?’

‘It went fine, and mine is pretty much the same. You know my history. You know that it was only just over a year ago that Richie walked out. A lot might have happened since then, but I’m still sore. This has helped—you have helped—but like you say, it also feels unsettling. I hate the thought of being apart from you, but maybe the only way we’ll see things clearly is if I move out.’

‘Is that because you’re going blind with all the orgasms?’

‘Exactly that! Maybe, once I’m gone, we can … start again? Maybe do some normal things, like go on dates, and have dinner together without the dog and the teenager? Feel our way through it all? Maybe you’ll just get used to us not being here, and decide you like it that way. Maybe I’ll get my independence back and like that. Or maybe we’ll just … I don’t know, take our time and see?’

‘What about the sex?’

‘Oh, we’ll still be having that, don’t worry. I’m not suggesting we go through some long-winded courtship ritual, Gabriel. We’ve come too far for that, and I still have a few ideas about that squirty cream.’

He goes quiet, and I don’t know if he’s reassessing our entire relationship, or just thinking about the squirty cream.

He rolls on top of me and kisses me so well and so thoroughly that I start to see stars in all kinds of ways. I guess it must have been the latter.