by Heidi Swain
Joe nodded, but didn’t comment.
‘Anyway,’ I said, reaching for the door handle. ‘I’d better be getting back and I daresay you’ve got things to be getting on with, in spite of the weather.’
‘That I have,’ he nodded, safely stowing the flask away, ‘but I’ll run you back to the cottage first. We can’t have you getting blown out of Wynmouth again can we, Tess?’
Chapter 11
The weather made absolutely no attempt to pull itself together during the next couple of days and the only flames I thought that June had a chance of seeing were the ones that licked up the chimney when I lit the wood burner every afternoon. The cottage was nowhere near as chilly as it had been when I first arrived and there were some days when the fire didn’t need lighting at all, but I hoped the glowing hearth might lift my descending spirits.
Confined to barracks and embarrassed that my first kiss had been forgotten, my mood had tumbled and I had fallen further into the unsavoury depths of Mum’s diary. I was managing to ignore my phone, but I was constantly drawn to her words. Sad, lonely and also embarrassed summed up her emotions and there was no disputing what the line I threw myself into doing what I now did best meant. Dad might have moaned about Mum’s colossal credit cards bills, but had he been the loyal and loving husband the world imagined him to be, she wouldn’t have felt the need to compensate for his absence by continually hitting the shops.
I knew I wasn’t blameless either. Had I not been so wrapped up in work, I would have noticed that something was amiss. Had I paid more attention, Mum might even still be here. I was beginning to think that the universe was conspiring against me: the rotten Wynmouth weather, my forgotten first kiss, my misplaced feelings for Sam – the evidence was adding up. Perhaps I really didn’t deserve to feel any better about life. Perhaps I had made a mistake in running away. Had I stayed and faced up to things, it would all be resolved by now and I wouldn’t have suffered these most recent humiliations.
‘Tess!’
A loud hammering on the cottage door made me jump.
‘Are you in there?’
It was gorgeous, green-eyed Sam, sent from the universe to tempt me before being cruelly snatched away again. I didn’t much want to see him but dragged myself up off the sofa anyway.
‘Yes,’ I answered, as I tightened the belt on my dressing gown before opening the door. ‘I’m here. What is it? Is everything all right?’
The rain was still lashing down and he quickly ducked inside. His bulk made the space feel much smaller than it actually was.
‘As all right as it can be in weather like this,’ he said, quickly closing the door behind him. ‘But we’ve been worried about you. We’ve hardly seen you and now there’s this blasted power cut.’
‘Power cut?’
He stopped looking about the room and turned his lovely eyes to me.
‘Yes, power cut. It’s been off all day,’ he said, now looking me up and down and taking in my nightwear and unbrushed hair. ‘Haven’t you noticed?’
Exactly how long had I been staring into the fire? The room was pretty dark for what I thought was still the afternoon, and a June one at that.
‘Are you all right?’ he frowned. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’
‘I’m fine,’ I shrugged. ‘Just having a bit of a lazy day, that’s all. In this weather I can’t do much else. I’ve been reading.’
‘Bit dark for that,’ he commented. ‘Anyway,’ he carried on, ‘I’ve just come to say that as it’s looking like we won’t be getting reconnected until at least tomorrow morning, I’ve decided to make the most of it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘A cut-price dinner for everyone who turns up at the pub,’ he smiled. ‘Sophie and Hope are cooking up a storm on some camping stoves and George has promised an evening of spooky tale-telling for afters.’
It sounded like a great way to ride out the miserable weather.
‘It was so good to see everyone supporting the pub before,’ Sam grinned, shoving his hands into his cargo shorts pockets, ‘and I thought this might be a nice way to carry the feeling on. You will come, won’t you? Or were you planning an early night?’
Even though the evening sounded lovely, I wasn’t much in the mood for socializing. I wanted to stay curled up under a blanket, eating biscuits and not reading the book I had alleged to be engrossed in.
‘I’ll be there,’ I quickly answered, determinedly ignoring the black dog who was prowling around the edges of my mood. ‘In fact, I’ll get dressed and come straight round to help you set up.’
‘Excellent,’ he grinned. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
Forcefully pulling myself together, I had a quick soak in the tub, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper before shrugging back into the waterproof coat and running next door. It might have only been a few paces, but it was plenty far enough in the driving rain and stiff breeze.
I handed Sam the dripping coat and he set me to work. Thankfully it didn’t take all that long before I started to feel like my true self again.
‘Aren’t you going to light the fire?’ I asked, as he handed me a box of glass jars and tealights to set up along the windowsills.
‘Not until later,’ he explained. ‘I’m expecting quite a crowd and it isn’t particularly cold. If I light it too early, we’ll be roasting before George has even started to scare us witless. It’ll be more about creating ambience than warming us up tonight.’
Given the way my heart reacted when our fingers touched as he passed me the box, Sam was still more than capable of warming me up, but I wished he wasn’t. There might have been no chance of acting on my feelings for him, but that apparently wasn’t going to stop me having them. It was all very inconvenient, not to mention frustrating.
‘Tess?’
‘Hey, Hope.’ I flushed as she popped up right on cue and looked delighted to see me.
‘I thought I heard your voice,’ she beamed, rushing around the bar and relieving me of the box so she could administer the hug I had come to expect every time I saw either her or Sophie.
She looked beautiful with her dark hair braided and pulled away from her face and wearing clothes so full of colour it was impossible to believe the weather outside was wall to wall grey. Had I tried to wear anything like that, I would have looked as washed out as Wynmouth currently did, but with Hope’s stunning skin tone and natural vibrancy she was a reminder of the summer which was, hopefully, waiting in the wings.
‘You look amazing,’ I told her. ‘I can’t believe you can cook and still look like that.’
‘Mum’s doing most of it,’ she said, waving my compliment away. ‘I’m just her sous chef really. Come and see what she’s making.’
She took my hand and led me through to the kitchen where Sophie was rustling up another fascinating fusion using Norfolk produce and adding her own unique twist. The spiced chicken smelt delicious, as did the curried vegetables.
‘There’s not masses,’ said Hope, as her mum continued to alternately chop and stir with her back to us. ‘But there should be enough to give everyone a little taste.’
Noticing the size of the pans, there looked like there would be more than enough to go around, but I knew Sophie liked the people she was responsible for feeding to be well full. Her portion control at the café was testament to that and Hope obviously felt the same way.
‘Tess,’ said Sophie, turning to smile at the pair of us as we stood side by side with our arms linked, while trying not to interrupt her creative gastronomic flow. ‘Sam said he was hoping that you were going to come. It’s lovely to see you.’
Her eyes tracked from me to Hope and back again. There was something searching about her gaze, but it was gone in a moment. I hoped she hadn’t caught on to the fact that I had a bit of a crush on her daughter’s other half. That would be mortifying.
‘Anything beats staring at four walls,’ I told her, feeling my face colour. ‘Not that they aren’t lovely walls.’
I gabbled. ‘I didn’t mean that I’m not happy with the cottage.’
‘Oh Tess, don’t worry,’ she laughed. ‘I think I know what you meant and with this weather, I can’t blame you. You must have read every book in the place by now!’
‘Pretty much,’ I fibbed.
The only words I had devoured were the ones from Mum’s diary.
‘This all smells delicious, Mum,’ said Hope, releasing me so she could give one of the pans a stir.
The sight of mother and daughter working in well-practised unison brought a lump to my throat. I swallowed it away and banished the tears I could feel brewing.
‘Leave it now,’ said Sophie, tapping Hope’s hand with the back of a wooden spoon. ‘That one can just sit and simmer. I haven’t been able to make anything too adventurous, what with the limited facilities,’ she said to me, ‘but perhaps that’s no bad thing.’
‘Mum’s saving her best recipes for the beach party,’ grinned Hope, then spotting the wobbly smile on my face, quickly asked, ‘are you all right, Tess?’
‘Yes,’ I croaked, before clearing my throat. ‘I’m fine.’
I had to admit, I hadn’t given the solstice celebration all that much thought, but Sam, Hope and Sophie had. We sat in the bar and they told me what they had arranged so far. The council had voiced no objection to the idea, so the three of them had forged ahead, planning the menu, drinks and a list of entertainment ideas.
‘And we were wondering,’ Sam said to me, ‘if you would consider designing the posters, Tess, and adding the event to the online community notice board.’
‘Sam said you were a dab hand with the marketing things for the pub event,’ said Hope, smiling fondly at him.
‘She was brilliant,’ Sophie agreed, before heading back to the kitchen. ‘An absolute star.’
‘But we wouldn’t want to eat into your holiday time,’ Hope quickly added. ‘We don’t want you to feel obliged to get involved . . .’
‘Although it would be great to have you on board,’ Sam added.
It was impossible to resist the pair and, in truth, I was keen to take part. I had thought, before I arrived, that some peace, quiet and solitude would help get my life back on track, but the last few days were proof enough that I was wrong about that. What I needed was another project to sink my teeth into to help balance out the thinking time and give me some perspective. It turned out that you could have too much quiet, even if you had been craving it.
‘I’d love to help,’ I told them, ‘as long as no one thinks I’m butting in. I’m only a holidaymaker after all and I wouldn’t want to stand on any local toes.’
Sam shook his head.
‘After the success of last week’s event, no one’s going to think that. If anything, they’re all grateful to you for getting me to shake things up a bit.’
‘A bit?’ said Hope, raising her eyebrows.
‘All right,’ Sam laughed, ‘a lot.’
‘And now there’s no stopping you,’ I smiled.
‘And Hope,’ said Sam, giving her a nudge. ‘She’s got plans too.’
‘All still in the early stages,’ she said softly.
‘What’s this?’ I asked.
Sam slipped away and Hope told me about her potential business venture. She explained how her recent trip to see family and her visit to Blossom’s Bakery in Norwich had inspired her to come up with the idea. She was planning to develop a range of mail-order Caribbean-inspired cookies. Blossom already sold a couple and apparently they sold out almost before they’d cooled.
‘Blossom has given me the recipe for her ginger and lime ones,’ Hope said, ‘and there’s potential to develop lots more. Mum said I can trial them in the café.’
‘So, you’ll be able to build up a local reputation first,’ I said, ‘and gauge what works and what doesn’t.’
That sounded like a great idea to me.
‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Although really, I’d like to just set up a mail-order business and go for it.’
‘I think your mum . . .’
‘Has the right idea,’ Hope laughed. ‘I know. I’m just excited to get going, that’s all.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ I laughed back, ‘they sound delicious.’
‘Wait till you’ve tasted the coconut one I’ve been working on.’
‘Oh my,’ I drawled. ‘You’ll be creating a buzz in no time and once you’ve decided on your line, you’ll be able to sell them at local food fairs.’
‘That’s a great idea.’
‘I’d definitely focus on getting yourself a local reputation before you launch online,’ I mused, my marketing head already imagining the look of the labelling and website. ‘Build slowly, but strongly.’
‘You’re right, Tess,’ Hope agreed. ‘No point trying to make a splash before I’ve made a ripple, is there?’
‘Exactly.’
‘So, you think it’s a good idea?’ she asked. ‘I know Mum does, but of course she’s biased.’
‘I think it’s a great idea,’ I told her, ‘and,’ I added thinking with a pang of the combined force of such a special mother and daughter, ‘if you follow your mum’s advice and build steadily, I think you’ll be sending off your first batch of Caribbean cookies before you know it.’
Hope looked very pleased.
‘Thanks, Tess,’ she said, giving my hand a squeeze. ‘Besides Mum and Sam, you’re the first person I’ve talked to about it. Your reaction really means a lot.’
I felt honoured that she trusted me enough to tell me about it.
‘Hope!’ Sophie called, ‘can you give me a hand, please?’
In the time we had been chatting, the pub had started to fill. No one looked too soaked, but it was obviously still raining and getting darker by the second. I helped Sam light the candles while everyone settled down to enjoy some fine food and, later, George’s tall tales.
I had just finished my bowl of curried veg and was mopping up with a hunk of crusty bread, when my chair was almost knocked out from beneath me and my lap was full of a familiar-looking Labrador.
‘Hello, you,’ I said, rubbing the top of the dog’s damp head before pushing him and his wet paws away.
‘Bloody hell, Bruce,’ said a breathless voice. ‘I said you could say hello, not leap all over her.’
I twisted round to find Joe standing behind me.
‘Still not dried out from Monday?’ I chuckled, taking in his damp hair and the rain flecked shoulders of his jacket.
‘Something like that,’ he nodded. ‘Have you finished eating?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘are you going to have something? It’s all absolutely delicious.’
‘No, I ate at home,’ he told me, ‘but I wouldn’t mind a pint of bitter. Would you like to join us in the snug? It’s a bit quieter in there.’
I still wasn’t sure I had forgiven him for forgetting me, but in the spirit of making an effort and banishing my low mood, I accepted his offer.
‘Love to,’ I smiled, as the pooch I now knew as Bruce nudged his way under the table, scouting for crumbs.
‘Will you keep an eye on him while I go to the bar?’ Joe asked.
I looked over and saw Sam frowning at the fuss being made because of the energetic hound. Bruce was nowhere near as calm as Skipper who generally just wandered in and made himself at home. That said, when I looked closer, I thought the expression on Sam’s face was directed more at Joe than his dog.
‘I’m not sure Bruce will behave for me,’ I said to Joe. ‘You go and find a seat and I’ll get this round in.’
Joe didn’t respond and when I looked up from checking I had enough cash, I found he was staring at Hope, who was now also behind the bar. I watched as Sam closed the gap between them and bent his head to whisper something in her ear. She gave Joe a fleeting glance, her eyes wide and full of surprise, and disappeared back into the kitchen.
‘Bloody hell,’ Joe groaned.
‘You all right?’ I asked.
All of
the colour had drained from his face.
‘I’m okay,’ he nodded.
‘Do you know Hope?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘yeah, I know Hope.’
Bruce’s deep-chested bark suddenly rang out and he lunged towards the bar, cutting off my next question. Joe gave chase and quickly grabbed the dog by the collar and clipped his lead back on.
‘I thought it was you,’ said Sam, when Joe looked up.
‘Hello, Sam,’ said Joe. ‘Long time, no see.’
‘Yeah,’ said Sam, turning red. ‘It’s been a while.’
A few silent seconds ticked by and I realized that everyone had their eyes on the pair, their conversations were halted, drinks forgotten and breaths held.
‘Is it all right having the dog in here?’ Joe eventually asked.
‘As long as you keep it under control,’ answered Sam.
I had no idea what was going on, but you could have slashed through the tension with the bluntest knife.
‘I’ll get our drinks then, Joe, shall I?’ I suggested brightly, trying to break the spell before the relaxed ambience we had worked so hard to create was lost for good.
‘Sure,’ said Joe. ‘Thanks. I’ll have that pint of bitter.’
He turned and made for the snug.
‘Can you make that two pints, please?’ I asked Sam, as the noise level began to rise again.
His gaze was trained on Joe’s retreating back but eventually he nodded, grabbed two glasses and speedily filled them. He put far too much head on the first one and had to tip it out and start again. I might not have known him long, but I’d never seen him so ruffled.
‘So,’ he said, his voice husky and low, ‘How do you know Joe Upton?’
‘I don’t really,’ I shrugged. ‘We bumped into each other a couple of days ago while I was walking along the clifftops, and his dog just made a beeline for me again.’
‘And that warrants buying him a drink, does it?’
‘Was that Joe Upton I just saw you with, Tess?’ asked Mike the butcher before I could answer. ‘You want to watch yourself with him.’
‘That’ll do, Mike,’ Sam cut in gruffly.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked Mike, ignoring Sam.
