Page 28 of Hope and Hot Chocolate on Mistletoe Lane

I tried to focus on what she was saying. ‘The ceiling?’

‘I can’t see properly as it’s so dark and still raining but it looks… bad,’ Mary finished apologetically, like it was her fault.

Instantly, I felt terrible for snapping at her. I sat bolt upright. ‘The café ceiling?’

‘Yes, I thought I should let you know… I’m outside.’

‘I’m coming down now.’ I hung up and jumped out of bed. I pulled on last night’s jeans with a jumper I’d left on my chair and I hurried out, shoving my phone in a pocket and slipping trainers on. I rushed down the stairs from my flat and barrelled through the door that led into the café and then I came to a sudden halt. Reaching for the light switch, I suddenly stopped myself in case that would be dangerous. I pulled out my phone and turned the torch on.

The ceiling had indeed collapsed in the middle of the café and rainwater had been coming in for most of the night, it looked like; it was almost ankle-deep around me.

There was a knock at the door. I saw Mary outside under an umbrella. I went over carefully to the door and opened it. ‘Thanks for calling me, Mary,’ I said, beckoning her inside out of the rain.

She looked at the damage. ‘Oh no, Paul, I’m sorry. How can I help?’

‘I don’t know…’ I was stumped for a moment. ‘I’ll call my parents and we can start clearing up. I’ll grab a few buckets to try to stop the flood at least.’

‘I’ll do that while you call them. Out the back?’ Mary asked, already moving further inside.

‘You don’t need to,’ I said hastily. Mary was older than my mum.

She waved me off so I called my parents and then I stood for a second and surveyed the damage. This was a disaster. We’d be shut for a few days at least sorting it all out. It felt especially bad luck after last night’s shit ending. For a second, I thought it was a sign that I had to leave Birchbrook now. Then Mary returned.

‘Come on!’ she cried, snapping me out of my pity. ‘I’ve called Birch Tree Farm for help; they are always up and about by now. We need all hands on deck!’

That shook me out of myself and I grabbed a bucket and put it under the worst cascade of rain coming in. Mary put the other two she found under the hole. Then I moved the tables and chairs to the side of the café so they wouldn’t be damaged if any more of the ceiling came down. I went to the mains and turned off the electrics and the water just in case of any further problems. Mary grabbed a mop and opened the café door to try to push the water out there while I picked up the debris that had fallen onto the floor.

Mum and Dad arrived, closely followed by Willow’s four-by-four car. I glanced over to see Willow, Dylan and Holly jump out and hurry inside. I turned around, unable to look at Holly. This was about the café. I focused on supervising everyone around me so we could fix as much as we could.

‘Oh, Paul, this is bad,’ Mum said quietly to me. ‘What are we going to do?’

I looked at her. ‘It’ll be okay,’ I promised, determined that I would fix it.

21

HOLLY

What a twenty-four hours. I hadn’t felt so much in such a short space of time for years.

When I walked into Birchbrook Café on Sunday morning, my eyes found Paul immediately. He was lifting a piece of plasterboard from the floor while calling out instructions to his dad, who was carrying in a ladder. He looked like he’d slept as badly as me with dark circles under his eyes. He wore jeans and a jumper, his beard rough and his hair tousled out of its usual beanie. He looked both younger but also older somehow. Like the weight of the world was on his shoulders but also like he had a fire inside him to sort out what had happened. He looked completely capable somehow, and I admired that about him because right then, I felt the utter opposite of that.

Willow had called out to me that Mary had phoned her about an emergency at the café. She said that she and Dylan were heading over to help and I hadn’t hesitated; I’d jumped out of bed and joined them. No matter what had happened between us last night, this café had been a sanctuary for me growing up and I had to help Paul if I could.

We all worked together to clear up the mess. Paul and his dad with Dylan’s help patched up the hole in the ceiling with plywood, needing to call the insurance company for a more permanent fix. That stopped the rainwater from coming in finally so then we cleaned up the café, getting rid of the rainwater and debris from the ceiling collapse as well as removing a broken table and chairs that the ceiling had landed on. They then tried the electrics but a fuse had blown and the lights weren’t working so Paul went out the back to sort that out.

‘You should all take some food with you; we’ll have to shut for a few days and it’ll be ruined,’ Female Pat told us, and started to box things up. ‘I can’t thank you all enough for coming in to help us.’ She looked understandably frazzled. I’d always seen her so calm but this had clearly upset her.

‘You don’t need to thank us,’ Willow told her. ‘You’ve helped me at the farm so many times. Remember the storm we had a couple of years ago? We help each other out around here.’

I watched their interaction and realised that Birchbrook had changed. It was a strong community and everyone was there for one another. It was lovely to see. I didn’t even know my neighbours’ names in the city, unfortunately. I watched Female Pat give Willow and Mary both a hug. I suddenly wished that I’d leaned on people more when my dad left. Instead, I had retreated into my shell, thinking that everyone was talking about us and not wanting to admit I was struggling to deal with it. The only person I had confided in had been Paul. I’d even shut my mum out.

‘Exactly right,’ Male Pat said, putting an arm around his wife. ‘We’ll fix it all, don’t worry, darling.’

‘I hope so,’ his wife replied, biting her lip. She leaned against him for support and he dropped a kiss on her forehead.

My heart tugged and my feet seemed to move of their own accord as I walked out the back to find Paul holding a torch as he tried to fix the fuse box.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, hoping that word might encompass everything that was going on.