Christmas at the Beach Cafe(26)

‘But who . . . How . . . ?’ I stammered.

‘Keep looking,’ Jake said with a grin.

I flicked through to find a Contents page and let out a shriek of excitement. No longer were there a paltry nine recipes. Someone had added new ones – a whole raft of new ones.

Decadent Chocolate Log

Best Ever Christmas Cake

Boeuf Bourguignon

Pad Thai

Amber’s Christmas Cocktails

Apple Spice Muffins

Christmas Pudding Cupcakes

Annie’s Famous Millionaire’s Shortbread . . .

Tears pricked my eyes and the rest of the page blurred. Wow. Just wow. I couldn’t believe they’d pulled all of this together. I flicked through the pages to see that they’d taken photographs of the dishes wherever possible and that the recipes – from Jake, Mum, Louise, gosh, so many people – had been typed up perfectly.

‘This is the best present ever,’ I managed to say, taken aback by how hard they must have worked on it together. No wonder there had been so much secretive whispering and vanishing lately.

‘We thought you could email it around to everyone this morning,’ Ed said. ‘Florence collected lots of email addresses at the bonfire yesterday; she said she’d bring a list with her when she comes over. That recipe for Apple Spice Muffins is hers, by the way.’

‘And you did all this in secret,’ I marvelled. ‘I had absolutely no idea. Thank you.’ I hugged them each in turn.

‘I felt so bad when I thought I’d wrecked it,’ Jake said. ‘I’m really glad we could make it all right again.’

‘All right again? Are you kidding me? This is a way better recipe book than I could ever have made on my own,’ I said. ‘You’re all amazing. The best. Cheers!’

‘Talking of “Cheers”,’ my dad said, glancing up at the clock on the wall. ‘Is it too early for champagne, do you think?’

There’s only ever one answer to that, needless to say.

Christmas lunch was a million miles away from the quiet, romantic meal for two I’d originally planned. No smooching or hand-holding or gazing into each other’s eyes with the gentle strains of carols in the background. Instead we had Christmas hits blasting out, a whirlwind of activity in the kitchen, three turkeys at once as well as enough roast potatoes to sink a ship. My Dad was teaching Amber the moves to ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree’, Monty was barking dementedly and running round in circles, Annie, Martha and Florence arrived to another round of champagne and the volume levels rose even higher. In short, it was a madhouse. But do you know what? It was absolutely brilliant too.

When it came to serving up lunch, we dragged two long tables together in the café, spread out the beautiful holly-green tablecloth that Annie had brought along, and lit the candles in silver candlesticks lent by Florence. We pulled the crackers, put on our gaudy paper hats and laughed like drains at the dreadful jokes.

Once everyone had a plate full of food and a glass full of bubbly, my mum got to her feet, a little pink in the cheeks. ‘I would just like to say a few words before we begin,’ she said.

‘Here we go,’ murmured my dad, pulling a funny face at me across the table.

‘Before we start on this amazing feast – thank you Ed, Amber, Annie – well, everyone really, it looks wonderful – I’d like to raise a toast to my sister, Jo. I wish with all my heart that she could be with us right now.’ Her voice shook and I felt a lump in my throat. Oh, me too, Mum. ‘However,’ Mum went on, gathering herself, ‘what gives me comfort is thinking how proud and happy she would be to see us all here today, knowing that the café was in such good hands with Evie and Ed.’ A tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away impatiently, and gave me a watery smile. ‘I can’t think of a nicer tribute to her than that. To Jo!’

‘To Jo,’ we all chorused.

I looked around the table as everyone clinked their wine glasses and I felt a tingle go through me. It might have taken me a long time to realize it, but at last I knew that this was what Christmas at the Beach Café was really about: community, friends and family, everyone mucking in together and cracking jokes, everyone toasting Jo and bringing her back in our memories. ‘Tuck in!’ I ordered – and we were off.

Later, while Mum was organizing a team of washer-uppers and my dad was making umpteen teas and coffees, Ed and I slipped away to the beach to give each other our presents. It was a mild, bright day and the snow had almost vanished from the sand by now. We found a dry place to sit up on the rocks together, enjoying being alone again.

I couldn’t wait another second. ‘Happy Christmas,’ I said, handing him the wrapped calendar.