Anchors WAY HEY!

Cruising into the sunset with a rich widower — could Cherry make her dream come true?

-  Christabel Smith

Arriving in the cafe kitchen 10 minutes late, Cherry was greeted by the smell of freshly baked sponge.

'Morning, luvvie,' said Sal, cheerfully. She'd decided long ago that life was too short to be irritated by her workmate's tardiness. Blowing icing sugar off her to-do list, she said, 'That's the Victorias done. Now I just need to ice the chocolate cake and we're all set for opening time.'

Her words fell on deaf ears. Cherry was absorbed in her favourite celebrity magazine. 'Look at those two, swanning about on their private island,' she carped. 'Charlie's idea of the perfect beach holiday is a week in a caravan in Bournemouth. What I wouldn't give to go to the Caribbean with a hunky footballer. I tell you, if I had my time again...'

Sal tuned out, knowing this was the start of the usual rant about Charlie, Cherry's hard-working other half, and the universe generally not providing her with the lifestyle to which she felt she was entitled. Cherry bashed on. 'I'd look the part, living in a mansion with walk-in wardrobes and a hot tub. I'd have staff and a convertible sports car with a number plate that says 'Cherry', with a little kiss on the end.'

Sal heard the last part. 'Eh?' she asked, thinking of the plain letters and numbers on her own battered old runabout.

‘How would that work?’

Cherry flicked her hair. ‘CH3 RRYX,’ she answered. ‘I looked it up.’

‘Well, you've certainly got it all worked out,’ Sal chuckled. ‘But in the meantime, Mrs Beckham, we've got tea and buns to serve.’

Blossom and Brew was close to the entrance of the town’s large park, and once the doors opened, there was a steady stream of customers. Sal loved seeing mums with their babies, and pensioners gossiping over biscuits and brownies. Though Cherry inevitably grumbled about pushchairs crowding the tables and people's inability to work out how to pay with their phones. ‘She's getting worse,’ Sal thought.