Take a Chance on Me (6 page)

‘I'll leave you to… it. Jasmine, I'll wait in your office. Apologies again,' he added and swept out of the room before Charlie could clamber to her feet. At the sight of Charlie's face, Susannah collapsed on the floor, guffawing. Marcia who had found the whole episode, hilarious stifled her hysteria by stuffing the end of a sequined scarf in her mouth.

T
he next morning
, Charlie arrived at the Art Café earlier than usual. She kicked the door open with her foot and attempted to manoeuvre around the tables while balancing several Tupperware containers containing cakes.

‘I was thinking about you yesterday,' said Art, appearing from behind the counter to help her. He took the plastic boxes from her. ‘I had an idea that maybe you would like to put on a belly dancing performance one afternoon, here in the café, or possibly serve the customers in your outfit!' He waggled large bushy eyebrows at her. She was fairly certain he was joking but since his large moustache covered his mouth, it was difficult to tell.

‘Let me think about that for a moment,' said Charlie. ‘Um… no!' she finished emphatically.

‘It was worth asking,' chuckled Art.

‘The class was a laugh but there is no way I am shimmying around the café in a belly dancing outfit. The public would be put off their food for sure. Talking of which, what's the soup of the day?' Charlie asked, changing the subject.

‘Carrot and coriander. I'm also making vegetarian quiches, cottage pies and apple crumble. People love comfort food when it's chilly. Did you get my message about the Death by Chocolate Cake?'

‘Yep, you sold out. I baked two more last night. They're in the bottom boxes. I'll put one out in the display cabinet and leave the other in the larder. You did sell it, didn't you, and not scoff it yourself?'

‘I might have had a tiny slice for afternoon tea,' he replied, rubbing his stomach. ‘Let's get down to business. It's Mother and Toddler group at nine-thirty. Patricia has fired the pots the little ones painted last week, so they can take them home today. You'll need to put out the large tubs of crayons in the Rainbow room. I've already laid out books and the soft toys.'

‘I baked two dozen fairy cakes for them. They enjoyed those last week. I put pink and blue icing on the top of them this time.'

‘Super,' replied Art, wiping his hands on his apron. ‘Upstairs in the back room, we have a creative writing group. They arrived first thing, so if you could nip up there in an hour with cakes and coffee that would be much appreciated. There's no one in the front room. It has been taken since last November when we had the upholstery club mending chairs in there. I probably need to advertise it some more.'

‘Is Patricia working in the craft shop?'

‘No, she's halfway through some pottery pieces she wants to paint. She sold three of those fat cow pots last week so she's trying out a line in chubby sheep. A new artist asked us to display some painted mirrors in the shop. They're a little too ornate for my taste, but if they sell, we'll get our usual ten per cent commission. We'll cover the shop between us.' he replied, tugging on his moustache thoughtfully. ‘Oh yes, I almost forgot, someone has kindly donated more books for our Quiet Room. They're in a cardboard box in the corridor. If you get time, could you arrange them for me please?'

‘Of course. I'll get these cakes out and then do it before it gets too busy.'

Charlie unpacked her cakes, cut them into generous-sized portions and displayed them in the cabinet. She was washing her hands when Patricia, dressed in jeans and a large shirt that was splattered with small globs of clay, came bustling through the door. She held three small painted mugs in her hands.

‘Not bad at all,' she said, waving the mugs. ‘One or two of the little darlings show talent. Look at this one.' She showed Charlie a mug. Someone had painted a rainbow on it and under it written
Katie
.

‘That's rather good given the children are only three and four years old.'

Charlie looked at the assembled mugs now resting on the counter. She turned one around. It was painted yellow. On the front was a large smiling face with blue eyes and corkscrew hair.
For Mummy
was written in child's writing under the happy face.

‘Oh, you would treasure that forever, wouldn't you?' Charlie said, a small lump forming in her throat. ‘Okay, I'd better get the books unpacked,' she continued, hastening away before emotions overtook her. She owned a mug that Amy bought for her. It said
World's Greatest Mum
. She never used it, but every now and then, she removed it from the cupboard and washed it with care before replacing it at the front of the cupboard.

There was a regular in the Quiet Room when Charlie walked in. She sat in her usual seat with a notepad resting on her knee. She smiled at Charlie then went back to her scribbling. She was a poet and often came into the café to get inspiration and jot down some verse. The café encouraged a variety of artists to visit. Inspired by cafés in France and Prague where great artists, philosophers and writers, gathered in the past to share ideas and enjoy a convivial atmosphere, Art and Patricia sunk all their savings into renovating an old house and transforming it into the Art Café.

There were three separate small rooms at the front of the building: the Quiet Room where writers and readers would enjoy some peace and gather thoughts, the Main Room where general customers or business people had access to Wi-Fi and the Rainbow Room, for families.

The Rainbow Room was Patricia's idea. It offered something different to ordinary cafés. Parents could purchase food and drink for themselves, children's meals for their little ones and also buy a plain pottery plate, cup or mug for the children to decorate with the special paints that were supplied, and then Patricia would fire them in her kiln. Parents loved the idea and brought their children in to make gifts for relatives.

Behind the rooms, a restaurant catered for twenty people with a small open kitchen. A corridor with walls covered in artwork led from the restaurant to the toilets and into another room filled with goods created by local artists, ranging from key rings and bookmarks to paintings. Patricia and Art wanted to showcase local talent and give artists a place where their goods might be purchased.

Upstairs were two large rooms equipped with tables and chairs that were for hire to anyone who needed a conference room. When they first opened, a Reiki master used one room for classes but after a while had moved on, saying the noise from the café below disturbed concentration. Since then, various groups had hired the rooms, but interest was drying up and they were often empty.

Charlie enjoyed working at the café. Time went by quickly when she was at work, giving her little chance to brood on anything in particular. She baked her cakes at home rather than risk falling over Art in the cramped kitchen. It also meant she was free to serve.

The doorbell chimed as a woman entered carrying a squirming toddler.

‘Morning Alex. Hello Molly, that's a lovely blue dog you're carrying. What's its name?'

‘Doggy,' replied the little girl, struggling to remove her coat and race over to the table to grab some coloured pencils.

‘A cappuccino for me and a small orange juice for Molly, please,' said Alex. ‘I'll look at the cakes when the others get here.'

The doorbell rang again. More mothers with pushchairs came in. It was going to be a busy morning. Charlie beamed at them. She knew most of the mothers and children.

‘Hi Lewis. Are you going to paint a pot today?'

The wide-eyed toddler nodded and went to join Molly as the doorbell chimed once more and a man and woman came in.

‘I'll be with you in a moment,' Charlie called to the couple who were settling themselves in the Main Room. The woman acknowledged her. She was an arresting woman, with piercing blue eyes and the longest hair Charlie had seen. It was golden mahogany brown in colour and shone as if she was in an advert for a luxurious hair conditioner. The woman was wearing a short skirt, tailored jacket and pale cream silk blouse but it was her shoes that made Charlie stare at her own scruffy trainers and wish she had more style. She was wearing the most glamorous high-heeled black shoes with red soles. Charlie wished she could carry off an outfit like that. She delivered drinks to the group of mothers then scurried into the Main Room.

‘Morning. Sorry to have kept you. What can I get you?' she asked and dropped her pen in surprise as a pair of twinkling slate-grey eyes looked into her own. As she fumbled on the floor for the pen, she heard him mumble, ‘No squealing today.'

She rose, crimson-faced to take his order. He hesitated for a brief moment before beaming at her and saying, ‘Suddenly, I have a fancy for a bacon sandwich or maybe a ham one.' It was the same man she had bumped into at Archipelago restaurant and more recently at the belly dancing class.

M
ercedes was finishing
a telephone conversation when Charlie ambled in. Charlie wanted to tell her about the man in the café and how she had spent an hour hiding in the Rainbow Room until he left, but Mercedes was too excited to listen.

‘I'm in!'

‘In what? Trouble? In cognito? In flagrante?'

‘No you daft person. I'm in, are you ready for this?
Nosh for Dosh.
'

Charlie's mouth fell open. ‘I adore that show. I watch it religiously. You are going to be one of the contestants? I've always wanted to be on
Nosh for Dosh
.'

‘I know. You wrote it on your Carpe Diem list, you ninny. That's why I've had Sean occupied for three days writing a wonderful character reference for me and then badgering the show to get me on. They advertised ages ago for contestants, so we were worried we'd be too late. Luckily, they had someone drop out at the last minute.' Her smile widened further.

‘Sean's been brilliant. Even I didn't know who he was talking about in the email he sent. It was a piece of superb fiction: “Enigmatic character with a feisty personality who adores nothing better than entertaining and cooking exotic dishes for her friends.”' She read from her computer screen. ‘It did the job too. That was the producer on the phone. They gave me a quick interview and they love my “sunny disposition”. They're going to come here next month to film me, before they do the scenes at home of me cooking for three complete strangers.'

‘Oh my goodness! That is fantastic. I am so excited for you.' Charlie hugged her friend. ‘Hang on. There is one major flaw in all of this. You can't cook. Ryan always does the cooking. You're the only person I know who can burn water.'

‘Now then, don't be defeatist. This is your challenge and according to our agreement, I have to complete it. I've got a plan to not merely appear on the show but to win the contest.' She touched the side of her nose and gave a wink.

‘How? You can't cheat, Mercedes. That wouldn't be ethical.'

‘Who said anything about cheating? It isn't all about the food. It's about the entire evening and I'll be the hostess with the mostess that everyone talks about for weeks, no, make that months afterwards.'

‘It'll be an incredible experience,' said Charlie.

‘You've got one of those wistful looks in your eyes. You really want to be on the show, don't you?'

‘Of course. I've dreamed of being on it for the last three years, impressing guests with my pastries and desserts. You know how much I enjoy cooking.'

‘And, you are a fabulous cook. We all fight over your brownies when you bring them in. Nil desperandum. I'll make sure you get on the show. You can be like Alfred Hitchcock and make a cameo appearance. I'll nip into your studio and bring the cameras with me. I also have another idea of how to smuggle you onto the show without anyone complaining, but that is going to require some careful planning. Leave it to Aunty Mercedes,' she said, giving another wink and leaving Charlie wondering just what she had up her sleeve this time.

J
asmine was ending
a session with a group of young women when Charlie arrived for her next class. The Carpe Diem list had stated Charlie attend a full programme of classes and she was happy to oblige. She sat in reception listening to the muffled music. Marcia came in carrying a large cloth bag. When she saw Charlie, she snorted like a pig.

‘Don't you start that again!' warned Charlie, smiling. ‘I'm not going to make an idiot of myself again, today.'

‘You didn't make an idiot of yourself. Mind you, that fella did look rather surprised when you wriggled into him shouting “wee, wee, wee!”' She started to laugh. ‘I wouldn't worry about it. What are the chances of seeing him again?'

‘Funny you should say that. I saw him only the other day at the café where I work.'

‘Did he recognise you?'

‘I'm afraid he did. Made some daft comment about bacon sandwiches. I had to wait until he left before I dared go back out and serve again. Art, my boss, thought it was hilarious and kept suggesting we should get some Peppa Pig books for the Quiet Room or pork scratchings. I've heard every pig-related joke possible.'

‘It was rather funny, wasn't it?'

Charlie smiled. ‘I guess so. Have you been practising your fluttering?'

‘Oh yes. I've worked hard at it every morning in the bathroom mirror. My cat found the whole thing fascinating and sat on the toilet to watch me. Weird. By the way, I hope you aren't offended, but I made this for you. You didn't have a belt last lesson so I thought you might like this one. I'm into sewing. I make all my own clothes. If you don't like it, don't worry. I won't mind.'

‘Oh wow!,' said Charlie as Marcia handed her a tissue-wrapped parcel. Charlie unwrapped the parcel to reveal a turquoise sequined scarf. ‘I had hoped to pick something up after Jasmine told me last time but I hadn't got round to it. This is beautiful. It's really beautiful. I must pay you for it.'

‘Cripes, no. I had nothing to do yesterday afternoon and I happened to have some spare material, and thousands of sequins, so I whipped it up. Thought it would suit you.'

There was a lot of excited giggling. The class had finished and the door to the studio was now open. Several young women came rushing out, all talking at once. They were dressed similarly, in baggy black satin harem pants and cropped tops with their names written on them. Each one also wore a veil and one of them was wearing a large pink sash that read
Wife Number 1
.

Jasmine followed them out. ‘Hen party,' she said by way of explanation. ‘They're off to the pub now to show off their new moves and outfits.'

‘They're braver than me,' said Marcia. ‘It's chilly out there. They'll have some super goosebumps to show off.'

‘Do you get many hen parties, Jasmine?' asked Charlie.

‘More than I used to. This and Bollywood dancing is becoming very popular. Hens today want something different. They still like going abroad or on spa days but they are trying out all sorts of new activities. I've got a friend who went on a hen party to Scotland to do some grouse shooting.'

‘That's different,' said Marcia. ‘I sat in front of the television painting my toenails the night before my wedding. And I was that excited about the wedding that I couldn't keep anything down, not even wine. Besides, I wanted to keep a clear head for the big day. The whole hen party thing wasn't what was important. Becoming a bride was what counted for me. It was a bit of a whirlwind romance so I didn't have much time to organise anything big. Mind you, when I held my divorce party, now that was a proper celebration. Me and a few girls from work all went off to the South of France for a long weekend in a plush villa and got completely wasted on vintage Dom Pérignon. Dropped a pile of money on the tables at the casino in Monte Carlo too. Not that Carlton would have missed the money. He was minted. I don't think he missed me either. Last I heard, he'd gone off with a toy boy. Yes, you heard that correctly. After a few years of marriage, he came out, or whatever the expression is, and headed off into the sunset in his GT Porsche with a bloke called Gary who's about twenty years younger than him. It sure explained why he wasn't keen to have children, or sex for that matter.' She shook her head at the memories.

Charlie was aghast.

‘You're kidding,' exclaimed Jasmine. ‘How did you cope?'

‘I'm harder than I look. I was a real tough cookie in my youth and super confident. I was also a lot slimmer than I am now and boy did I turn heads? I was a golden Aussie goddess with no cares in the world and a thirst for adventure. I met Carlton when I was travelling around the world. I took a job as a waitress at a top golf club in Scotland to earn some money to get me around the rest of Europe. I was planning on going to Italy and finding my own Italian stud. Plans went awry when he turned up one day for a game of golf. He was such a handsome blighter. He had that posh Brit accent that makes my knees go weak and he was a proper gentleman. He asked if I wanted a drink with him and bought me a glass of champagne. That's the way to a girl's heart, I can tell you. He must've liked my accent or maybe it was because I was talking about touring through Spain. Either that or he was gobsmacked by my outspoken views. Anyways, he didn't go out and play his round of golf. He sat at the bar and chatted to me about Australia and life and all that sort of stuff. I was quite wild in those days. I drove a Harley Davidson and I was up for anything. I think that's what he liked best about me. He liked that I was so completely different to him. I think he wanted to shock his family. He'll have shocked them a bit more now, won't he? Anyway, I moved to England and after only a few weeks together, we got hitched. The marriage lasted ten years,' she said and paused. ‘It was good while it lasted,' Marcia added and stared off at a wall for a minute. Charlie was about to say something when the front door opened again. Susannah came in wearing her red and white woolly hat and coat.

‘Girls today,' she said with a huff. ‘They don't care what they look like, do they? Just passed a group of scantily clad women. Honestly, if my daughter went out like that, I'd send her upstairs and lock her in her bedroom. Even if she is twenty-two years old. They have no idea they look like hookers.' She pulled off her coat, caught sight of everyone looking at her own skimpy tight-fitting belly-dancing outfit and burst into peals of laughter. ‘Oh, what do I sound like? I suppose if I had a body like theirs, I'd want to show it off. Help! I'm turning into a grumpy old woman. Come on Jasmine, sort me out. Make me sexy so I can flaunt my body like that,' she continued as she pulled her pants up. ‘Mind you, I could hardly move after the last class. My stomach ached like mad. It only stopped yesterday.'

‘Yes, a lot of women say that after the first class. You'll soon see a big difference, Susannah, not only in your shape but your energy levels. I fully expect to see all of you sashaying across to the pub in your outfits in a few weeks' time.'

Marcia sniggered. ‘You're joking. I'm only letting Felix see me dressed like this.'

‘Is he your new man?' asked Charlie.

‘No, he's my cat. He's a Persian, so that probably explains why he's been enjoying watching me practise at home.' Marcia wriggled her eyebrows, ‘There is a new man on the horizon, though. I'd like him to see me after these classes. It might help seal the deal,' said Marcia with a satisfied smirk.

‘Go Marcia,' Charlie said. ‘Sometimes it's fun to be a little daring. I'm already beginning to feel a little more adventurous.'

‘Hear, hear!' replied Jasmine. ‘Now ladies, let's go and belly dance.'