Poppy's Recipe for Life: Treat yourself to the gloriously uplifting new book from the Sunday Times bestselling author! Read online

  ‘Here,’ said Lou, calling me over as I pushed through the door, ‘I’ve got you a drink already.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, flopping into a seat at our familiar table next to the door. ‘I could do with a stiffener.’

  ‘Have you finished packing?’

  ‘Almost,’ I said, nodding, between gulps of the refreshing bitter that was brewed by the microbrewery that managed the pub. ‘There are just odds and sods to finish now.’

  Lou nodded and waved to Colin, who had walked in with a reluctant Gus in tow.

  ‘Silly sod didn’t want to leave the shop,’ he told us as he settled the dog under the table. ‘I swear he’s getting more depressed.’

  ‘Can dogs get depressed?’ I asked, ducking down to look at the sad expression on Gus’s face.

  ‘Look at him,’ said Colin.

  ‘Um,’ I conceded. ‘I see what you mean.’

  Head on paws, Gus huffed and closed his eyes.

  ‘So, where’s the fire?’ Colin asked Lou. ‘You said it was urgent. Everything is still all set for moving day, isn’t it, Poppy?’

  ‘Yes,’ I told him, ‘no worries there.’

  Clearly, he was as in the dark about Lou’s summons as I was.

  ‘So, what’s the deal?’ he asked her.

  ‘Well,’ she said, taking a deep breath and spreading her hands out on the table. ‘I’ve been thinking about your shop, Colin.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, sounding wary.

  ‘Even the name’s a duffer,’ she announced. ‘The Reading Room. It sounds positively Victorian.’

  I shuffled in my seat, not sure how Colin was going to react. He could be very defensive about the legacy he had been left.

  ‘I see,’ he said.

  ‘To be honest,’ Lou pushed on, ‘the place probably looked exactly the same when Dickens was scribing.’

  That much was true. The bookcases were built from the darkest wood and they were high, packed and imposing. Only the tiniest pinprick of light made it to the back of the shop. Had it been an antiquarian bookstore the image would have been spot on but the Reading Room had contemporary stock and a children’s section and I knew Colin was keen to encourage young readers. If only he could get them to cross the threshold.

  He frowned. ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘My point is,’ said Lou, not unkindly, ‘that in a year’s time, probably less, you’ll be shutting up for the last time if you don’t do something soon.’

  Colin mulled this over but didn’t contradict her.

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ I asked.

  It was obvious she had something in mind.

  ‘I want to give the place a makeover’ – she grinned, her eyes lighting up with excitement – ‘and I want you, Colin, to come up with a new name.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Colin?’ he muttered.

  ‘Not for you, you idiot,’ Lou guffawed, ‘for the shop, of course.’

  *

  ‘So,’ said Lou as she gazed around my rapidly emptying flat with her hands planted on her hips, ‘what did you think of my idea about giving Colin’s place a makeover?’

  ‘Loved it,’ I told her truthfully. ‘Personally, I think it’s a great idea.’

  ‘I’m pleased you’ve said that.’ She nodded, throwing me one of her I knew I was right expressions, ‘because for some reason he’s still dithering and at this rate he’s going to leave it too late.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t tell me she’s on about the makeover again,’ puffed Colin as he wheezed his way back over the threshold and caught the end of our conversation. ‘I’ve said I’ll think about it and I am.’

  Lou selected a heavy carton from the small pile of boxes that were left and thrust it into his outstretched arms.

  ‘I’m only trying to help, you know,’ she told him, her trademark pout fixed on her crimson-stained lips. ‘I just want to see your business thrive, Colin.’

  ‘I know you do, Lou,’ he said, jiggling the box to get a tighter grip. His tone softened as he looked down at her. ‘But seriously, if I have to hear it all even just once more today . . .’

  ‘All right,’ she relented. ‘I’ll leave it, but you can’t put off making a decision for much longer.’

  ‘Come on,’ I said, quickly stepping between them as my eyes made one last sweep of the now almost empty rooms, ‘let’s get on. The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner you pair can get back to work.’

  ‘And don’t forget you promised us lunch,’ called Colin over his shoulder. ‘I was hoping for another taste of your piccalilli later on, Poppy.’

  ‘Oh hello,’ Lou said, sniggering childishly, ‘is there something you two want to tell me?’

  Poor Colin went bright red and turned his attention back to the stairs and I dug her sharply in the back with the corner of the box I was carrying.

  ‘Hey,’ she yelped. ‘Watch it. This frock’s vintage, you know.’

  ‘I was actually rather proud of that last effort,’ I sighed, thinking of the piccalilli. ‘It was tantalisingly tangy with just the right amount of crunch.’

  It really had been piccalilli perfection and I hoped I was going to be able to make another equally exquisite batch as soon as I had set up my new kitchen and unpacked my precious pots and pans.

  ‘I’ve almost finished setting out the recipe card for that one, Colin,’ I told him as we emerged from the stairwell at the back of the shop and into the bright spring sunshine. ‘I’ll save you one if you like and then you can make your own.’

  Given how fast the cards were flying out of the shop, I would soon have to increase the number I had printed. They were proving so popular, I was hoping that by the end of the year I’d have the entire neighbourhood pickling and preserving their own seasonal harvests as well as utilising the local produce we stocked in the shop.

  Now the move was really happening, I had finally allowed myself the indulgence of getting excited about using the fruit and veg from the community garden in my cooking. The thought of using produce I had actually had a hand in growing was thrilling – and there were hens in the garden too. Perhaps I should try my hand at baking again. Surely I couldn’t have got any worse at it, could I?

  ‘Thanks, Poppy,’ said Colin, ‘although if it’s all the same with you, I’ll pass on the DIY option. I’d rather just eat yours. I’d get in a right mess with all that peeling and chopping at home.’

  ‘Me too,’ Lou agreed.

  This was no good at all. I was going to have to get the pair of them in the mood for making their own otherwise I’d never have enough left over to keep my own larder stocked.

  ‘Well, we’ll have to see about that,’ I said, tossing Lou the keys to her old van, which was acting as my removal vehicle for the day. ‘I’m sure you’d both enjoy making it if you entered into the spirit of it and weren’t so worried about the mess.’

  Colin looked doubtful.

  ‘Perhaps.’ Lou smiled, capitalising on his apprehensive look. ‘I mean, it would be the perfect opportunity to get Colin into one of those floral aprons that I’ve just taken delivery of, wouldn’t it?’

  Colin rolled his eyes.

  ‘Never mind that,’ I tutted. ‘Hadn’t we better get on? The morning will be gone at this rate.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Colin, ‘I really need to get back to the shop.’

  ‘Scared you’ll miss your one and only customer of the day?’ Lou teased. ‘If only you could tempt more readers in, Col. You really need—’

  ‘A makeover, a book club and a new name,’ he batted back in a sing-song voice.

  ‘A book club,’ Lou gasped. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

  ‘I told you I’d think it all over,’ said Colin for the hundredth time. ‘And I am.’

  All he needed was a bit more time to come round to the idea, but Lou was all for licking him into shape in record time. Personally, I couldn’t help thinking that if she backed off a bit she might find him more malleable.

  ‘We’ll talk about
it on the way,’ she said with a grin, climbing behind the wheel and turning the key. ‘You sure you’ll be okay walking round?’ she asked me as she revved the engine to encourage it to keep running.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I told her. It was only a short walk, after all. ‘I’ll drop the flat key with Harry and then I’ll catch you up. The fresh air will do me good and I need to get some bread. I’ll see you both there.’

  The April day was wonderfully warm and, as Lou’s van disappeared from view, I lifted my face to the sun, feeling grateful that the sharp sting of winter had finally gone for good. My plans to move into Nightingale Square last autumn might have been unexpectedly scuppered, but now all was firmly back on track and I had every intention of grabbing this new beginning with both hands.

  *

  ‘You all set then, love?’ asked Harry, as I pushed open Greengages’ shop door. ‘Did you get all your stuff in Lou’s van?’

  ‘Yes.’ I frowned. ‘Every last bit of it packed into just one load. Not much to show for well over two decades’ worth of living really, is it?’

  It hadn’t struck me before, but I hadn’t accumulated much in the way of material possessions during the few years I had lived above the grocers.

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t worry about that,’ Harry chuckled as he set about restocking the boxes of bright spring greens. ‘You’ll soon make up for it now you’ve got more space to fill. Although,’ he added with a wry grin, ‘knowing you, I daresay you’ll be more interested in buying new jam pans and Kilner jars than the knick-knacks most women go in for!’

  He was right, of course. The prospect of a new jam pan did set my pulse racing perhaps a little faster than was generally considered acceptable for a woman in her late twenties.

  ‘Funny you should say that . . .’ I began and Harry laughed all the harder.

  I didn’t know how I would have managed without him over the last few years, but then I’m not sure how he would have managed without me. Harry had just been widowed when I arrived on the scene and had soon become so much more than an employer to me; he was always willing to help, right from the moment when I had burst into tears during my interview after he had, quite reasonably, pointed out that I was really rather overqualified for the job. I think he had been expecting to attract applications from school leavers rather than someone who had abandoned studying for a degree. We had both shed tears by the end of that afternoon but we had formed a bond and our friendship had gone from strength to strength as a result.

  ‘Seriously though,’ I said, swallowing hard as I handed over the keys to the flat, ‘thank you, for everything.’

  Harry wouldn’t hear a word of it and waved my thanks aside with a dismissive sniff.

  ‘I know,’ I continued nonetheless, ‘that you always maintain you’d do the same for anyone in a tight spot, but you have made me feel like someone. Someone who actually counts. I haven’t had many people in my life who have bothered to do that.’

  Harry began to look a little misty-eyed, but I wasn’t going to stop. The shop was almost empty and I knew I might not get the chance to say this to him again. It wasn’t as if I was leaving my job as well as the flat, but I knew Harry would go out of his way to avoid having to listen to me sing his praises and I was determined to let him know how grateful I was that he had taken me under his wing when I had been so desperate not to have to move back home.

  ‘You,’ I told him, ‘are my family.’

  He nodded and wiped his eyes roughly with the palms of his calloused old hands.

  ‘I know,’ he croaked.

  ‘And Ryan, of course,’ I quickly added, thinking of my elusive brother.

  The poor little sod had been an afterthought in every way since the day he had been conceived. I hoped, if I could get him to turn up, I might have a chance of making him feel as good about himself as Harry had made me.

  ‘And what about your mother?’ Harry ventured.

  ‘Hey now,’ I said sternly, trying not to imagine what Ryan’s life stuck with her was like, especially now he didn’t have Tony to escape to. ‘Let’s not go there, shall we? Today is supposed to be a good day.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Harry smiled ruefully, taking my rebuke on the chin.

  I gave him a swift hug and headed back out into the spring sunshine. As always, I could smell the comforting scent of freshly baked bread wafting along the road from Blossom’s Bakery even before I had opened the door.

  ‘Poppy!’ called Mark, who was now going to be my neighbour as well as a pal. ‘How’s it all going? Have you unpacked? Are you ready for visitors yet?’

  ‘Give the girl a chance,’ said Blossom, laughing. ‘You said yourself not ten minutes ago that Lou had only just headed round to the square in her van.’

  I looked at Mark and raised my eyebrows.

  ‘I might have been keeping an eye on proceedings.’ He blushed.

  ‘I haven’t had so much as a cottage loaf out of him all morning,’ scolded Blossom good-naturedly.

  ‘Oh, good grief, it’s going to be like living next door to Miss Marple, isn’t it?’ I groaned. ‘I won’t be able to leave the house without someone signing me in and out.’

  ‘You have no idea!’ Mark giggled. ‘And if you think I’m bad, just you wait until Carole starts her curtain-twitching antics. Then you’ll really know the meaning of neighbourhood watch.’

  Fortunately, I already had an idea of what I was letting myself in for and, to be honest, I rather liked the thought of living in such close proximity to neighbours who looked out for each other.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Mark with a wink, ‘I wouldn’t worry about that too much if I were you. You won’t be the sole focus of attention, not today anyway.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Customer!’ shouted Blossom.

  I waited until he had finished serving and then asked him again what he had meant.

  ‘Neil phoned,’ he told me. ‘He’s working from home today, but he’s having a job concentrating.’

  ‘Why?’ I frowned.

  Mark’s husband, Neil, ran his own business from home and tended to be rather too married to his work. I couldn’t imagine he had any issues focusing when the day job called.

  ‘What’s happened to our oasis of calm to draw his attention?’ I asked. ‘You know I’m only moving in because it’s so peaceful again now. Well,’ I added, ‘that and gaining access to the community garden, of course.’

  ‘Apparently,’ Mark confided, leaning his flour-covered shirtsleeves on the counter as he settled down for a good gossip, ‘you aren’t the only one moving stuff today.’

  ‘You mean someone’s moving out of the square?’ I gasped.

  ‘No,’ Mark laughed. ‘Who in their right mind would want to leave?’

  He had a point. The place was perfect. Well, it was now Kate’s former tenants had done a bunk.

  ‘Your neighbour,’ Mark confided, ‘Mr Grumpy. He’s moving stuff in. He’s finally getting himself some furniture.’

  ‘Did he not have any before?’

  Mark shook his head.

  ‘The day he moved in he had little more than suitcases and a couple of boxes. None of us have been inside of course, what with him being such a misery, but as far as we can tell the place must be pretty sparse. He’s certainly not had any major deliveries. Not until today, that is.’

  I felt rather sorry for the house and its current occupant. Nice neighbours were one thing, but having your worldly goods scrutinised by everyone around you was a bit much. I wondered if the intense interest might account for his belligerence, or if perhaps his bad temper had been fuelled by a lack of home comforts as well as the noisy folk who had been right next door.

  ‘Why would anyone want to spend winter in an empty house?’ I mused.

  ‘Beats me.’ Mark shrugged.

  ‘Perhaps some new stuff might cheer him up,’ I suggested.

  Mark shot me a withering look.

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘let’s hope Lou’s van wo
n’t get in his way. The last thing I want is to stir up trouble before I’ve so much as plugged in my kettle.’

  ‘I wish I could be there to watch,’ Mark said with a frown. ‘I’d been hoping we’d eke out any excitement and now it’s all happening on the same day and I’m not going to be around to see any of it.’

  Clearly, he took the unsatisfactory situation very much to heart.

  ‘Unless I fire you for slacking on the job,’ Blossom’s voice boomed from further along the counter. ‘If I let you go, Mark,’ she said, ‘then you can head home with Poppy and not miss a thing.’

  ‘Point taken,’ he said, rushing over to give her a make-amends hug, which she failed to fight off. ‘Now, what was it you wanted, Poppy?’ he said seriously. ‘Are you here to buy something or have you just come in to get me into trouble?’

  With the loaf I had gone in for, and some cream cakes I hadn’t, tucked under my arm, I set off for the square. I didn’t have much to unload but it was hardly fair to leave Colin and Lou to do all the donkey work.

  ‘Text me when you catch a glimpse of Mr Miserable, won’t you?’ Mark called after me. ‘Neil thinks he’s quite a dish!’

  Life was certainly going to be fun with Mark and Neil as neighbours. As I wandered along I imagined impromptu get-togethers, both in the garden and on the pretty green in front of our houses. Barbecues, beers and long sunny evenings stretched ahead and I couldn’t wait to throw myself into life in the square.

  My blissful bubble of idyllic imaginings didn’t last long, however, as I had barely set foot in the square before Lou’s dulcet tones met my ears. She didn’t sound happy. She didn’t sound happy at all.

  ‘But for how much longer?’ I heard her shout. ‘You aren’t the only one on a tight schedule, you know.’

  The schedule she was banging on about was news to me, but then she and Colin did need to get back to their shops. Lou caught sight of me and came rushing over.

  ‘Would you look at this!’ she shouted as the man she had been ‘talking to’ retreated back inside his house. ‘Have you ever seen such selfish bloody parking?’

  The situation was far from ideal. My neighbour had a huge delivery lorry and a truck outside his house. They were both completely blocking the road and as a result Lou’s little van couldn’t get through.