Wish Upon a Star. Trisha Ashley

lives upside down,’ Jago agreed. ‘But I’m sure you’ve never regretted having her for an instant.’

      ‘No, my only regret is that she has to suffer the effects of the heart problems – and even if I manage to raise the money for the operation, there’s no guarantee of success … so I worry about that, too: but it’s her only hope of living a normal life.’

      I finished off my very excellent sandwich and Jago ordered two madeleines to go with another cup of coffee, which he said was his treat.

      ‘They do perfect madeleines. I don’t think I’ve tasted such good ones outside Paris.’

      ‘I used to make them years ago, but had sort of forgotten about them,’ I said, distracted as usual, even if only temporarily, from Stella’s problems. ‘I still have a madeleine baking tray, though …’

      ‘I’ll send you my recipe for them, if you like?’ he offered. ‘It’s a genuine French one and usually turns out well. I worked for a year in Paris, that’s where I learned how to make the croquembouches.’

      When they came, we dunked our madeleines in the coffee, companionably.

      ‘Madeleines would be a really good thing to feature in one of my articles,’ I mused. ‘I’m trying to stockpile as many as possible, to leave me free for several months later in the year. I’ve been thinking about doing a feature on proper Eccles cakes for “The Cake Diaries”, too.’

      ‘It must be difficult constantly coming up with ideas when all the Stella stuff is going on?’

      ‘It is, but I have to keep them coming and bringing in the money – and anyway, I find baking cakes a sort of a comfort … and eating them too.’

      ‘Yes, so do I,’ Jago agreed.

      ‘At least yours hasn’t hit your hips,’ I said wryly. ‘I must have put on stones in the last couple of years.’

      ‘I think I’m just the type who burns it off. And you don’t look overweight to me, but just right.’

      I’m sure that was a kind lie, but even so, I warmed to him even more.

      ‘So, have you had any more ideas for fundraising the rest of the money you need?’ he asked.

      ‘Nothing major. The Sticklepond vicar visited us the other day and when I told him about Stella he said he was sure the whole village would get together and help me, and he’d think of how best to organise it and get back to me … and you know,’ I added ruefully, ‘I suddenly seem to have gone from being one of the most buttoned-up women in the world, to one who tells everyone her whole life story on first meeting. I’m so sorry to unload on you, when you just wanted a quiet lunch.’

      ‘I’m glad you did.’ He laid his warm hand momentarily over mine on the table and squeezed it. ‘I want to know all about you, because the moment I saw you, I felt as if we’d known each other for ever. We’re obviously on the same wavelength and I hope we’ll become good friends.’

      ‘I felt much the same,’ I admitted, and our eyes met and held, just like the first time … His wrinkled up around the edges as he smiled.

      ‘We do have so much in common, don’t we? Broken hearts, a love of cake …’

      ‘I don’t suppose you also love watching rom com films?’ I asked, laughing.

      ‘I certainly do! Love Actually is my all-time favourite and I’ve put it on so many times that David has hidden the DVD.’

      ‘That’s my favourite too … or maybe it’s Pride and Prejudice.’

      ‘Or Mamma Mia! Oh, and While You Were Sleeping.’

      ‘Yes! In fact, I like anything with Sandra Bullock in, but that is one of her best.’

      We discussed rom coms for a few minutes and then I said, ‘Do you think we were separated at birth, or simply knew each other in a previous existence?’

      ‘I don’t know, but I’ll settle for knowing you in this one.’

      ‘Me too, and I certainly need a friend – especially one who understands that Stella’s needs must come first right now, and that I can’t think beyond getting her to the USA for the operation,’ I said directly and honestly, just in case he was thinking about anything in the romantic line. Though actually, given the weight thing and that I’d stopped bothering much with makeup and what I was wearing, I should be so lucky even if he wasn’t clearly still carrying a torch for his beautiful ex.

      ‘I not only understand that, but I’ll help you,’ he offered. ‘In fact, I’d give you the money if I thought you’d take it, but already I know you well enough to be sure you’d turn me down.’

      ‘Quite right, I would, because that’s the money you need to buy your own premises, isn’t it?’

      ‘Yes, but I could always rent for a while, or get a small mortgage.’

      ‘No you couldn’t. But thank you for the offer … And don’t try doing it anonymously through the site, because I’ll guess it’s you,’ I warned him, then paused. ‘The vicar said I should trust in God to provide and go ahead and book the tickets and the hotel and everything, so I’m going to take his advice, even if finding the rest of the money does give me sleepless nights.’

      ‘The vicar was right,’ he said encouragingly. ‘It is a lot of money to raise in a small amount of time, but it’s not impossible, by any means.’

      His mobile rang just then and when he finished the call he said it was David sarcastically asking if he planned on going back to the shop that day.

      ‘I’ll have to go. He and Sarah want to have their lunch too, and the shop’s still busy.’

      We exchanged mobile numbers and email addresses, and then I went back with him to the shop to buy a gingerbread pig for Stella, though he refused to charge me for it. I only hope he isn’t as generous to all his customers or he won’t be making much of a profit …

      Driving home from Ormskirk, I thought how amazingly easily I’d opened up like that to a man I’d only just met. But then, we had so much in common and he was so sweet and sympathetic that he’d instantly felt like an old friend. We were comfortable together.

      I liked his thin, mobile face and the way it reflected every passing emotion, something he probably wasn’t aware of, his unusual light brown eyes and the way his dark hair, released from the pirate scarf, was just a little too long and trying to curl around his ears …

      When I got home Ma and Stella were in the garden – Ma sketching and Stella sitting in her blue plastic clam-shell sandpit, carefully arranging a pattern of bits of sand-washed glass that we’d picked up on Southport beach into an intricate pattern. Toto wagged his tail but didn’t get up from under the lavender bush.

      The May sun was quite warm, but there was still a bit of a chilly breeze, so I was glad to see that Stella was wearing her little purple corduroy coat. She must have put it on herself, because only one of the big buttons was fastened and it was in the wrong hole.

      Ma’s ample derrière rested on her ancient and ingenious fold-up sketching stool, which incorporated an easel in front, and she had obviously been working for some time, for oil pastel and charcoal sketches of Stella littered the grass around her. Toto and Moses featured in some of them, though I don’t think Moses was feeling very co-operative since I could see the tip of his tail from underneath one sheet of paper, where he must have decided to go to sleep.

      ‘Mummy!’ Stella exclaimed, and Ma looked up.

      ‘Had a nice time?’ she asked.

      ‘Yes, and I’m sorry I was a bit longer than I expected,’ I said guiltily. ‘I did the shopping and got the flake white paint and the linseed oil, and I’ve brought you a vanilla slice from Greggs and a gingerbread pig for Stella from the Happy Macaroon.’