CAFE PARADISE BOOK 2 - MARILYN’S DAUGHTERS - PROLOGUE AND EXTRACTS
Mayfield Road, York. September 2012
Barney Anderson swung the car into the drive and switched off the engine. He turned to look at his new wife and smiled. ‘Home Mrs Anderson,’ he said. ‘The start of a whole new chapter in our lives.’
Jackie smiled back at him. ‘After such a fantastic honeymoon it’s going to be hard to open the book, never mind begin a new chapter.’
‘It’s still going to be wonderful, you’ll see. Wait there a minute,’ he commanded. He got out of the car, opened the front door and came back.
‘Now you can get out,’ he said.
Jackie got out of the car and Barney swept her up into his arms. ‘Hey what’s going on?’ But she knew very well and locked her arms around his neck, laughing.
Barney grinned. ‘I’m carrying you across the threshold. You’re entering this house for the first time as a new bride. Must keep up the traditions.’ He strode the short distance to the front door and carried her through to the sitting room.
‘Enough, enough,’ Jackie cried. ‘You’ll do yourself a mischief. Put me down.’
Barney paused for a moment before letting her down gently. ‘You’re as light as a feather, my darling. I could carry you all day and not notice.’
‘Flattery will get … ouch, what the hell…?’
Seeing the front door open, Samson, Marilyn’s beloved cat, had come in to see what was going on. Spotting Jackie, he made a beeline for her. He was very cross at having been left at home for two weeks and fed tinned cat food by Mrs Scott from next door. He vented his anger by sinking his claws into Jackie’s leg and dragging them down hard.
‘Bloody cat,’Jackie yelled. ‘That’s some welcome home.’
Barney bent down and scooped up Samson. He held him tight and looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘Do that one more time Samson, and I think you might find yourself in a tin of cat meat. Get my meaning?’
Samson glared back at him and spat furiously.
Barney regarded him calmly. ‘Listen, my friend.’ He spoke softly now, into Samson’s face. ‘Times are changing and you will have to change with them. I will not have you do that to my lovely wife. Not now, not ever. Because if you do, you will never be welcome here again and as I said, cat meat,’ he hissed into Samson’s ear. ‘Now, I’m going to put you down and you will behave nicely.’
He put Samson gently back on the ground and tensed, waiting for him to strike. But something of what he said must have got through. The cat stalked disdainfully back to the front door, his tail high in the air, and disappeared down the drive.
‘Well,’ said Jackie admiringly, ‘you must be on his wavelength. Do you think he’s got the message?’
‘I think we understand each other,’ said Barney. ‘One man to another and all that.’
‘Oh, that’s it. I’ve been the wrong sex all these years.’
Barney took her in his arms and kissed her. ‘Definitely not, Mrs Anderson. Most definitely not.’
Barney Anderson swung the car into the drive and switched off the engine. He turned to look at his new wife and smiled. ‘Home Mrs Anderson,’ he said. ‘The start of a whole new chapter in our lives.’
Jackie smiled back at him. ‘After such a fantastic honeymoon it’s going to be hard to open the book, never mind begin a new chapter.’
‘It’s still going to be wonderful, you’ll see. Wait there a minute,’ he commanded. He got out of the car, opened the front door and came back.
‘Now you can get out,’ he said.
Jackie got out of the car and Barney swept her up into his arms. ‘Hey what’s going on?’ But she knew very well and locked her arms around his neck, laughing.
Barney grinned. ‘I’m carrying you across the threshold. You’re entering this house for the first time as a new bride. Must keep up the traditions.’ He strode the short distance to the front door and carried her through to the sitting room.
‘Enough, enough,’ Jackie cried. ‘You’ll do yourself a mischief. Put me down.’
Barney paused for a moment before letting her down gently. ‘You’re as light as a feather, my darling. I could carry you all day and not notice.’
‘Flattery will get … ouch, what the hell…?’
Seeing the front door open, Samson, Marilyn’s beloved cat, had come in to see what was going on. Spotting Jackie, he made a beeline for her. He was very cross at having been left at home for two weeks and fed tinned cat food by Mrs Scott from next door. He vented his anger by sinking his claws into Jackie’s leg and dragging them down hard.
‘Bloody cat,’Jackie yelled. ‘That’s some welcome home.’
Barney bent down and scooped up Samson. He held him tight and looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘Do that one more time Samson, and I think you might find yourself in a tin of cat meat. Get my meaning?’
Samson glared back at him and spat furiously.
Barney regarded him calmly. ‘Listen, my friend.’ He spoke softly now, into Samson’s face. ‘Times are changing and you will have to change with them. I will not have you do that to my lovely wife. Not now, not ever. Because if you do, you will never be welcome here again and as I said, cat meat,’ he hissed into Samson’s ear. ‘Now, I’m going to put you down and you will behave nicely.’
He put Samson gently back on the ground and tensed, waiting for him to strike. But something of what he said must have got through. The cat stalked disdainfully back to the front door, his tail high in the air, and disappeared down the drive.
‘Well,’ said Jackie admiringly, ‘you must be on his wavelength. Do you think he’s got the message?’
‘I think we understand each other,’ said Barney. ‘One man to another and all that.’
‘Oh, that’s it. I’ve been the wrong sex all these years.’
Barney took her in his arms and kissed her. ‘Definitely not, Mrs Anderson. Most definitely not.’
CAFE PARADISE BOOK 2 - MARILYN’S DAUGHTERS
SHORT EXTRACTS
Penny was putting the finishing touches to a lasagne for supper when she heard a roaring noise outside. Looking out of the kitchen window, she saw a huge, gleaming motorbike parked on the drive and a tall, leather-clad figure standing beside it, leisurely drawing long gauntlets from his hands. She could not see who the visitor was as a black helmet covered his face.
Penny was puzzled. They had no friends with motorbikes. Quickly she wiped her hands and went out of the back door to see what this person wanted. ‘Hello?’ she said uncertainly to the black-clad giant who was polishing an already pristine chrome exhaust pipe.
The figure turned towards her and took off his helmet. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick black hair.
‘George!’ Penny took a step back and looked at her husband in horror. ‘George. Is that really you? What are you doing in that get-up and riding that … that thing?’
George stroked the bike lovingly. ‘It’s not a “thing”, Penny. It’s a Harley.’ He breathed the word reverently, like a man newly in love. ‘A Harley Davidson. Isn’t she beautiful?’
Penny felt a little dizzy. Please, God, if there’s any good in You at all, please don’t let George tell me this is his new hobby. I can’t bear it. Trying out cross-dressing last year was bad enough and now you want me to live with leathers and engine oil? No, please, give me a break.
‘It’s my new hobby,’ George announced proudly. ‘I’ve given up fancy clothes for good now. I said I would and I’ve gone for biking instead. It’s a real man’s machine. All that power and thrust between my legs, make a man of me again. I’ll soon drive any lingering thoughts you might have about that Enrique Gonzalez fella right out of your head. Forget all that zumba dancing nonsense. I’ll show you lurve.’
**********
SHORT EXTRACTS
Penny was putting the finishing touches to a lasagne for supper when she heard a roaring noise outside. Looking out of the kitchen window, she saw a huge, gleaming motorbike parked on the drive and a tall, leather-clad figure standing beside it, leisurely drawing long gauntlets from his hands. She could not see who the visitor was as a black helmet covered his face.
Penny was puzzled. They had no friends with motorbikes. Quickly she wiped her hands and went out of the back door to see what this person wanted. ‘Hello?’ she said uncertainly to the black-clad giant who was polishing an already pristine chrome exhaust pipe.
The figure turned towards her and took off his helmet. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick black hair.
‘George!’ Penny took a step back and looked at her husband in horror. ‘George. Is that really you? What are you doing in that get-up and riding that … that thing?’
George stroked the bike lovingly. ‘It’s not a “thing”, Penny. It’s a Harley.’ He breathed the word reverently, like a man newly in love. ‘A Harley Davidson. Isn’t she beautiful?’
Penny felt a little dizzy. Please, God, if there’s any good in You at all, please don’t let George tell me this is his new hobby. I can’t bear it. Trying out cross-dressing last year was bad enough and now you want me to live with leathers and engine oil? No, please, give me a break.
‘It’s my new hobby,’ George announced proudly. ‘I’ve given up fancy clothes for good now. I said I would and I’ve gone for biking instead. It’s a real man’s machine. All that power and thrust between my legs, make a man of me again. I’ll soon drive any lingering thoughts you might have about that Enrique Gonzalez fella right out of your head. Forget all that zumba dancing nonsense. I’ll show you lurve.’
**********
Barney was appalled. ‘Have Genevieve here? In my office? Mother! Have you completely lost your marbles?’
Grace regarded her son dispassionately. He was extremely handsome. Tall, blonde and blue-eyed. He had it all: a new wife he adored and a new business in the centre of York city, working in partnership with his old friend Jake. They had served together at the Citizens Advice Bureau and had recently set up a solicitors’ practice. Yes, Barney was very fortunate and now it was time, if Grace had any say in the matter, that he took his share of family responsibilities, in the form of minding his sister, Genevieve.
‘I would remind you, Barnabas,’ she began.
Barney groaned. He knew he was losing. When his mother called him Barnabas, she was like the Rock of Gibraltar and about as immovable.
‘I would remind you, Barnabas,’ Grace continued ‘you have been very fortunate to have been born with a good brain which your father and I have spent a lot of time and money nurturing to ensure you can lead a happy and fulfilled life.’
‘For which, as you know, I am grateful.’ He knew he was swimming against the outgoing tide but a bit of timely grovelling would not go amiss if it would prevent Genevieve being foisted upon him.
‘Don’t give me grateful, Barnabas.’ Grace was in no mood to be sidetracked. ‘The fact is, my dear boy, it’s your turn to look after your little sister. Juliet has had her for six months, quite heroic of her in my opinion, especially as Genevieve nearly managed to electrocute the dog, burn the house down and lose their new baby in the middle of Bellingham. Juliet’s done her bit for the cause and so has your father. He’s lucky he’s any members of his Chambers left, let alone staff to run them, since he let Genevieve loose in the office. He’s going to be a high court judge soon and he won’t do that with Genevieve in tow. No, there’s nothing for it, you’ll have to take your turn.’
Barney sagged back against the richly upholstered armchair in his mother’s drawing room. Genevieve. A five-foot-ten lamppost, all legs, long red hair and freckles. His staff were fairly new and were just beginning to work well together. Barney wondered if they would be strong enough to work with his little sister….
Genevieve was not a loud, noisy girl, quite the opposite really, but somehow… Barney could never work it out. Things just happened when Genevieve was around and before you knew it, chaos ensued.
**********
…… Walter stood in the centre of the room, pointing at his wet, muddy trouser. Water splashed onto his muddy boots and dripped onto the floor around him.
‘Get out, Dad,’ Jackie screeched at him.
Walter looked indignantly at his daughter. ‘Now there’s a fine welcome, I’m sure. You ask me to come and help you and and here I am and then you tell me to get out. Make your mind up.’
‘Even a pea-brained mouse would have the sense not to walk all the way through the café in muddy clothes, Dad. Go the changing room - I’ve left your chef’s whites ready for you.’ …….
Walter turned to go ‘I could have been flattened by a juggernaut or caught triple pneumonia for all you care. Never mind, as long as I get my chef’s whites on, that’s all that matters.’
‘Correct.’
Seeing there was no sympathy to be had, Walter trailed away to change his clothes He was pleased to find the old tumble drier was still in the cloakroom and pushed his wet clothes in. He set the dial to hot for thirty minutes and went off to get to grips with the new kitchen.
Walter looked around his new domain. It would be like the old days when he reigned in the kitchen; fry-ups, baps and chips with everything.
His mouth watered at the prospect. Ellie was miles away in Claygate with that daft dog, she’d never know if the occasional sausage buttie crossed his lips.
Penny Montague popped her head around the door. ‘I’ve to carry out your induction training for all the kitchen equipment and apparatus. Are you ready to start, Walter?’
‘Induction training?’ Walter shook his head incredulously. ‘I think I know how to turn a gas switch on and stick a pan on the stove, lass.’
‘I know that, Walter, but it’s health and safety these day. As a new employee, you have to be induced, or is it inducted?’ Penny looked at him doubtfully.
‘I’m not having a baby, just lighting the gas and I promise I won’t blow meself up.’
‘Rules are rules, Walter,’ Penny said firmly and went to the microwave. ‘Now, look at this. This is a new oven and microwave combined. It’s got a digital timer, ten different heat settings that can be used alternately for the same dish. It can defrost, make bread and cakes, do roasts, grill anything you want…’
‘Sing, dance and serve your supper whilst it’s on with it.’ Walter eyed the machine dubiously. ‘Awful lot of buttons, Penny. By the time you’ve worked out which is which, isn’t it as quick just to whack something in a pan or a real oven?’
‘And don’t forget it’s kilograms now, Walter. It doesn’t know pounds and ounces, so don’t try that on it.’
‘Kilograms! Them new-fangled European things.’ He wasn’t having any truck with them. ‘I’m a Yorkshireman, our Penny. “Walter”, remember, not some jumped-up French Johnny. We’re not in the euro.’
‘It’s nothing to do with…’
‘What is that awful smell?’ Jackie burst into the kitchen, wrinkling her nose in disgust. ‘The whole place pongs of goat. What have you brought with you Dad, and where is it? You’ve only been here five minutes and there’s trouble already.’
‘That’s right, blame me,’ Walter said indignantly. ‘I left my bike outside and I walked in the door. Am I likely to drag a goat along with me all the way from Claygate?’ Walter bowed. ‘“Come along Esmerelda, leave off chewing all that lovely grass, come and have a day at Cafe Paradise.
Sit among the chips and coffee cups all day.”’ He glared at Jackie.
Penny wrinkled her nose. ‘There is something amiss, Walter.’
Kate put her head around the door. ‘For God’s sake, open the doors and get rid of that pong. We’ll never get any customers today, smelling like we’ve a herd of Mongolian goats in the back.’
‘I’ll find it if it kills me.’ Jackie stormed to the door. ‘And if I find it’s you at the bottom of this, Dad, I might well kill you too.’
‘Don’t know what she’s on about, I can’t smell anything,’ Walter said, staring at the closed door.
‘Can’t smell…’ Penny cried.
Before she could say anymore, Jackie was back, holding a bundle of clothes out in front of her. ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about these, do you?’ Her voice had a dangerous edge to it.
‘Well, you knew I was soaked. I put me clothes in the drier. You wouldn’t want me to cycle home in wet clothes, would you?’ Walter appealed.
The room was silent for a moment. He looked round for support. Kate had followed Jackie in and was frowning. Penny was too and Jackie looked thunderous.
‘You could cycle home in your long johns with a rose between your teeth for all I care right now, Dad, but never, ever use that drier for your clothes again. It’s only for the café laundry.’
‘But I’m part of the café…’ Walter caught Jackie’s eye and subsided.
Jackie thrust the clothes at Walter. ‘Put them outside,’ she ordered.
‘They’ll get wet,’ Walter protested.
‘Out,’ shouted Jackie. ‘And leave the doors open.
‘I’ll get cold.’
‘The freezer’s colder. Would you like to try it?’ She stalked out, banging the door behind her.
‘Typical,’ Walter said with feeling. ‘She never changes. Goes off on one at the drop of a hat.’
**********
‘Get out, Dad,’ Jackie screeched at him.
Walter looked indignantly at his daughter. ‘Now there’s a fine welcome, I’m sure. You ask me to come and help you and and here I am and then you tell me to get out. Make your mind up.’
‘Even a pea-brained mouse would have the sense not to walk all the way through the café in muddy clothes, Dad. Go the changing room - I’ve left your chef’s whites ready for you.’ …….
Walter turned to go ‘I could have been flattened by a juggernaut or caught triple pneumonia for all you care. Never mind, as long as I get my chef’s whites on, that’s all that matters.’
‘Correct.’
Seeing there was no sympathy to be had, Walter trailed away to change his clothes He was pleased to find the old tumble drier was still in the cloakroom and pushed his wet clothes in. He set the dial to hot for thirty minutes and went off to get to grips with the new kitchen.
Walter looked around his new domain. It would be like the old days when he reigned in the kitchen; fry-ups, baps and chips with everything.
His mouth watered at the prospect. Ellie was miles away in Claygate with that daft dog, she’d never know if the occasional sausage buttie crossed his lips.
Penny Montague popped her head around the door. ‘I’ve to carry out your induction training for all the kitchen equipment and apparatus. Are you ready to start, Walter?’
‘Induction training?’ Walter shook his head incredulously. ‘I think I know how to turn a gas switch on and stick a pan on the stove, lass.’
‘I know that, Walter, but it’s health and safety these day. As a new employee, you have to be induced, or is it inducted?’ Penny looked at him doubtfully.
‘I’m not having a baby, just lighting the gas and I promise I won’t blow meself up.’
‘Rules are rules, Walter,’ Penny said firmly and went to the microwave. ‘Now, look at this. This is a new oven and microwave combined. It’s got a digital timer, ten different heat settings that can be used alternately for the same dish. It can defrost, make bread and cakes, do roasts, grill anything you want…’
‘Sing, dance and serve your supper whilst it’s on with it.’ Walter eyed the machine dubiously. ‘Awful lot of buttons, Penny. By the time you’ve worked out which is which, isn’t it as quick just to whack something in a pan or a real oven?’
‘And don’t forget it’s kilograms now, Walter. It doesn’t know pounds and ounces, so don’t try that on it.’
‘Kilograms! Them new-fangled European things.’ He wasn’t having any truck with them. ‘I’m a Yorkshireman, our Penny. “Walter”, remember, not some jumped-up French Johnny. We’re not in the euro.’
‘It’s nothing to do with…’
‘What is that awful smell?’ Jackie burst into the kitchen, wrinkling her nose in disgust. ‘The whole place pongs of goat. What have you brought with you Dad, and where is it? You’ve only been here five minutes and there’s trouble already.’
‘That’s right, blame me,’ Walter said indignantly. ‘I left my bike outside and I walked in the door. Am I likely to drag a goat along with me all the way from Claygate?’ Walter bowed. ‘“Come along Esmerelda, leave off chewing all that lovely grass, come and have a day at Cafe Paradise.
Sit among the chips and coffee cups all day.”’ He glared at Jackie.
Penny wrinkled her nose. ‘There is something amiss, Walter.’
Kate put her head around the door. ‘For God’s sake, open the doors and get rid of that pong. We’ll never get any customers today, smelling like we’ve a herd of Mongolian goats in the back.’
‘I’ll find it if it kills me.’ Jackie stormed to the door. ‘And if I find it’s you at the bottom of this, Dad, I might well kill you too.’
‘Don’t know what she’s on about, I can’t smell anything,’ Walter said, staring at the closed door.
‘Can’t smell…’ Penny cried.
Before she could say anymore, Jackie was back, holding a bundle of clothes out in front of her. ‘I don’t suppose you know anything about these, do you?’ Her voice had a dangerous edge to it.
‘Well, you knew I was soaked. I put me clothes in the drier. You wouldn’t want me to cycle home in wet clothes, would you?’ Walter appealed.
The room was silent for a moment. He looked round for support. Kate had followed Jackie in and was frowning. Penny was too and Jackie looked thunderous.
‘You could cycle home in your long johns with a rose between your teeth for all I care right now, Dad, but never, ever use that drier for your clothes again. It’s only for the café laundry.’
‘But I’m part of the café…’ Walter caught Jackie’s eye and subsided.
Jackie thrust the clothes at Walter. ‘Put them outside,’ she ordered.
‘They’ll get wet,’ Walter protested.
‘Out,’ shouted Jackie. ‘And leave the doors open.
‘I’ll get cold.’
‘The freezer’s colder. Would you like to try it?’ She stalked out, banging the door behind her.
‘Typical,’ Walter said with feeling. ‘She never changes. Goes off on one at the drop of a hat.’
**********
……. Stan raised his eyes heavenwards. Women. Why did they always turn on the taps and make a man feel so helpless? What could he do against that? ‘I know, I know,’ he muttered.
Sofia slid her arms around his waist once more and whispered softly in his ear. ‘I will lie down on my bed when we get home. Perhaps you could bring the ice-packs to me, look after me a leetle, eh? I will need lots of ice for the next three days at least.’ She sighed dramatically. ‘What a good thing it is that you are here, Stanlee. I could not manage without you.’
‘You’ve got your mother,’ he said shortly, starting up the scooter engine.
‘Didn’t I tell you? She is going to visit her sister in Madrid for a week. She will be gone when we get home. It’s just you and me, Stanlee.’ Sofia held him tightly. ‘You, me and the ice-packs and after that … with luck, the warm baths for the tender muscles. I will be relying on you, Stanlee.’
Stan rode slowly back to the house. He’d thought that things couldn’t get any worse but they just had. Cold-shouldered by Kate and marooned with an Italian sex-siren. Years ago, he’d have gone for it, hook, line and sinker, but now?
**********
