Harvey died.
But that day, back in October, I really thought it was all over.
I was booked to create a buffet-style wedding breakfast for a couple in Sunnybrook, who were getting married in a couple of days. I’d met Rosie and Daniel several times to talk over the menu and they were such a lovely young couple. I was determined to give them the best wedding day spread possible.
But that morning, at the cash and carry, my bank card was declined.
My trolley was filled with all the delicacies I needed to make a really sumptuous feast. I stared at the check-out assistant in horror. I was going to have to leave it all behind.
An iron fist gripped my insides as I tried to act as if it was fine, while a queue of customers built up behind me. I knew my credit cards were already maxed out, so I was forced to apologise and leave the store, my cheeks burning with embarrassment and a horrible feeling of panic surging up inside me.
What was I going to do?
Rosie and Daniel’s wedding was in two days’ time, but if I couldn’t fund the ingredients, how was I to fulfil the contract? They’d put their faith in me. But I wasn’t going to be able to deliver…
At home, I sat at the kitchen table for a long time, racking my brains to think of a way of getting my hands on the necessary cash. Selling things would take too long. I needed the money now. Today. Several catering jobs were lined up in the weeks ahead, but I wouldn’t get paid for that work until it was too late.
I’d heard people talk about having ‘cash flow problems’ in business, but I hadn’t really thought what it meant – until now…
By that point, I wasn’t even worrying about the future of my business. All I cared about was not letting Rosie and Daniel down on their big day.
What about the pawnbroker’s? Could I make some money that way? Harvey had given me some lovely jewellery over the years. Maybe that was the way out of this mess?
All I knew was that if, by some miracle, I managed to help give that lovely couple a wedding day to remember – instead of a total nightmare as they tried to find another caterer at the last minute – I’d give up the business afterwards. I’d waded in, with a naïve idea of making money from the word go, without giving proper thought to the financial side of things. It was clear I didn’t have a business brain. And I never wanted to feel this level of panic over letting people down ever again in my entire life!
With a heavy heart, I gathered up the jewellery I thought might make a good return at the pawnbroker’s in the morning. Then I trailed downstairs, grateful that Tavie was watching TV in her room and knew nothing of my inner turmoil.
A good strong cup of tea. That’s what I needed. Then I’d sit down and work out exactly how much cash I’d need to make from the jewellery in order for this nightmare to go away…
But I was foiled at the first hurdle by a lack of milk in the fridge. Tavie must have used the last of it on a bowl of cereal when she came in from school. Wearily, I grabbed my coat and walked down to the corner shop.
As I stood in the small queue at the till – held up by a man asking how to fill in his lottery slip – my eyes wandered over to the confectionary shelf. A gigantic bar of milk chocolate was staring at me, within easy reach. It was also the last one on the shelf, which somehow made it even more tempting. (The rest were tiny. They could be devoured in two or three bites, if a person was feeling really desperate and in need of comfort.) That large bar was definitely calling out to me.
I reached out to grab it.
But someone got there first. A small hand with a gold band on the ring finger, studded with what looked like diamonds. And a tag attached to the ring that said For Sale.
Feeling disgruntled at the chocolate’s disappearance, but intrigued by the ring, I turned to find that the wearer was a short woman with a bleached blonde pixie haircut with pink tips. She was turned away, helping herself to a second bottle of wine, and I glared at