The Seafront Tearoom

by Vanessa Greene

“Sure,” Séraphine said. Adam was standing in his hallway, the front door still open. There was an anxious expression on his face.

  “Could you make a delivery for me?”

  “Depends what it is. I’ve been warned about people like you,” she joked.

  “It’s nothing dodgy, I promise. Come and see.”

  He led her into the living room, where in the middle of the floor there was a white metal birdcage.

  She approached it and bent down to get a closer look. “Lovebirds. How pretty.”

  “Yes, they’re beautiful, aren’t they? Very much in love but sadly no longer so loved by their owner.”

  “You’re not keeping them?”

  “No. No way. And luckily we have a taker for them already. You’re seeing Letty tonight, aren’t you? Do you think you could give them to her for me? She said she could do with some company. She’s got that flat over the tearoom. I’d take them myself but I’ve got an after-hours call-out at Flamingo Land. Zoe’s going to be at her violin lesson, so I’ll collect her on the way home.”

  “OK. No problem. I’ll take them with me this evening.”

  “Thanks. I’ll pay for a taxi.”

  Séraphine shook her head. “The bus will be fine.”

  “If you’re sure. And there’s one other little thing . . .”

  “What is it now?” she asked, laughing. “A tarantula? A boa constrictor?”

  “Not that bad,” Adam said. A bark from the garden gave it away. Séraphine went over to the window.

  “A dog.” She smiled. “Where did he come from?”

  “I just brought him back. He came in this morning. Part beagle. Part something else. And totally mad, from the looks of things. The previous owners couldn’t give him the exercise he needed.”

  “And he’s going to . . . ?”

  “My friend Euan—obsessed with marathon-training, and totally foolhardy.”

  “An ideal match.”

  “I hope so. He’s said he’ll do a two-month trial period, and I’m hoping it works out, because the alternative isn’t that rosy. No delivery needed—Euan will pick him up later. Would you be able to keep an eye on Bagel in the meantime?”

  “Bagel?”

  “Bagel. The beagle.”

  “Nice. Yes, sure.”

  “Maybe you and Zoe could take him out for a walk after school? Euan said he’d pop by at four to collect him.”

  “OK,” Séraphine said, with a little trepidation.

  “It’ll be fine, honestly.”

  “You didn’t put this in the job description,” Séraphine joked.

  “Haven’t you noticed that I barely put anything in the job description? Because if I had, you never would have come.”

  Séraphine laughed. “That’s probably true. Anyway, don’t worry, your animal hotel is in safe hands with me. Have a good day.”

  “You too. And sorry about all this.”

  “No problem. But try not to bring anyone else home tonight.”

  So here are the different shops in the town,” Séraphine said, pointing to a picture of her village in the hope she could engage Zoe’s attention. “Patisserie, boul—” The doorbell interrupted her.

  “Saved by the bell,” Zoe said, springing to her feet. “I bet that’s Euan.” She looked out of the window. “Yes it is. You get the door, I’ll get Bagel.”

  Séraphine went to answer the door. The man on the doorstep was around Adam’s age, with dark-blond hair.

  “Hi,” she said. “You must be Euan. I’m Séraphine.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” he said. “Adam’s told me all about you.”

  “Good, I hope.”

  “Yes. All of it good.”

  “You’re here for the dog, aren’t you? Zoe’s just getting him.”

  “Euan,” Zoe bellowed through from the garden, “he won’t move!”

  “Oh dear,” Euan said. “That doesn’t sound a very promising start.”

  The beagle was pressing himself up against the garden wall and whining. Zoe had hold of his collar, and was tugging at it, but the more she did so, the more determined Bagel seemed to stay put. He was letting out a high-pitched whine.

  “Look, Euan, he won’t move,” Zoe said. She threw the lead to the floor, exasperated. “You try.”

  Euan stepped forward and crouched down next to the dog. He spoke to Bagel in soft tones. “Hey there,” he said. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

  He turned around and looked at Séraphine. “Have you got anything we could lure him with? Any food?”

  “Cheerios?” Zoe said.

  “Not ideal,” Euan said. “Doesn’t Adam have any Pedigree Chum? Or dog biscuits?”

  “I don’t think so,” Zoe said. “We used up the biscuits last time.”

  “Last time?” Séraphine said.

  “There’ve been a few,” Zoe said. “Staffordshire bull terriers mainly. But we had a husky, and a Chihuahua.”

  “This is the first one that Adam’s succeeded in getting me to say yes to, Séraphine,” Euan said, with a smile. “He knows I’ve got a weakness for beagles. I’ve always admired the way they can learn to get into fridges on their own.”

  “What about a madeleine?” Séraphine said. “No one can resist a madeleine.”

  Bagel was letting Euan stroke him, but wasn’t moving an inch.

  “OK, a madeleine it is. Whatever that might be,” Euan said.

  “You try one first,” Séraphine said. She ducked into the kitchen and came back with the biscuit tin, handing a madeleine to Euan. He took a bite and nodded appreciatively. “Not bad.”

  Bagel started to sniff at the food and bark loudly. Euan got to his feet. “OK, I’m going to lay a trail of crumbs. Zoe, you stay here, so that he can’t get any farther away, and Séraphine, could you stand by the front door to stop him dashing out?”

  The three of them worked together for the next quarter of an hour, tempting Bagel with crumbs until he was safely in Euan’s hatchback.

  “Thank you,” Euan said.

  “That’s OK.” Zoe shrugged.

  Séraphine was starting to see a different side of her in Euan’s company. Softer, quick-witted and kind.

  “I wish you two a very happy life together,” Séraphine said to Euan. “And if either of you ever want any more cakes, you know where to find me.”

  Séraphine got off the bus and walked toward the Seafront. The town looked different at night, the reflections of lights twinkling on the water. She glanced down at the cage she was carrying and smiled. The lovebirds had attracted quite a lot of attention on the journey. It felt good to be out on her own in town, talking to local people, and now, with friends, and somewhere to go. Kat had texted her earlier to say that she and Charlie would be at the tearoom that evening too.

  Letty opened the tearoom door to her, and Séraphine greeted her, waving over to Kat and Charlie, who joined them at the door.

  “Hi, everyone. Letty, I brought you something—from Adam,” Séraphine said, setting the birdcage down gently.

  “Wow,” Charlie exclaimed, smiling. “I really wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Oh, aren’t they gorgeous?” Letty said, crouching to admire the birds.

  “So pretty.” Kat peered into the cage. “Are these yours now, Letty?”

  “Yes. I expect they’ll be no end of trouble, flying around upstairs, but I can’t bear to think of them in this cage all the time.” She lifted the cage. “Thanks for bringing them over. I’ll take them upstairs and get them settled. See you in a moment,” Letty said, walking off with the birdcage toward the staircase at the rear of the tearoom.

  “How’s it all been going?” Séraphine asked Kat and Charlie. “Did you have a good trip today?”

  “It’s been great,” Kat said. “We wanted to give Letty an upda
te. I think she’s slightly envious that she hasn’t been able to join us. Today we went to see some tearooms along the coast and found a beautiful place cut into the rock of a cliff—it took us about an hour to get to it, but the tea and cake were totally worth the long walk.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Séraphine said. “Have you finished, or are there more places to visit?”

  “We’ve got a few more to see,” Charlie said.

  “Then I’ll be back to looking for a permanent job.” Kat wrinkled her nose.

  “Put off reality as long as you can,” Séraphine said, smiling.

  Letty reappeared, without the birdcage this time.

  “So, you two. Guess what Séraphine’s going to teach me to make?” she said.

  Kat turned to Séraphine. “Let me think . . . Not croissants—Letty can already make those. Something with fruit? A tart?”

  “That’s right,” Séraphine confirmed. “This is Tarte Tatin 101. And Letty’s giving me a scone workshop. Why don’t you join us?”

  “I’d love to,” Kat said. “A cup of tea wouldn’t hurt.”

  “I should get back, I’m afraid,” said Charlie. “I’ve got a ton of e-mails that need my attention. Another time perhaps.” She smiled and said good-bye.

  “Come through to the kitchen,” Letty said. The women filed past the till and out to the back room.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this,” Séraphine said. Even the lesson with Zoe had been manageable that day, due to the knowledge that she’d soon be enjoying a break, doing what she loved most in the world—baking. There was something about Letty’s calm, melodic voice that put Séraphine at ease.

  She lifted a canvas shopping bag. “I picked up the ingredients on the way over.”

  “You’re a star,” Letty said. “Now, empty that bag up here on the counter and let’s get started.”

  Letty and Séraphine worked together in the kitchen, aprons on and sleeves rolled up, while Kat chatted to them from her seat.

  “You know how this dessert came to be?” Séraphine said.

  “I don’t think so,” Kat said. “What happened?”

  “The story goes that one of the Tatin sisters was making an apple tart, but she accidentally left it too long in the oven. In trying to salvage it, she turned it upside down. Her guests loved it.”

  “How wonderful. Some of the best things come out of mistakes, don’t they?” Letty said.

  “Yes. My brother and sister, for example,” Séraphine replied, with a mischievous smile.

  “Is that so?” Kat said.

  “I’m sure of it.” Séraphine nodded emphatically. “There’s almost fifteen years between us—I don’t think anyone plans a gap like that! My parents would never admit it, but me and my brother Guillaume have always been pretty certain that Mathilde and Benjamin were a happy accident.”

  “I bet they wouldn’t change a thing now,” Letty said.

  “Definitely not. They’re spoiled awfully by all of us,” Séraphine said.

  Kat took a sip of tea and watched as Séraphine worked on the fruit for the tart.

  “So, you peel the apples, then halve them this way—” She held one up to show Letty. “Then scoop out the middle, the seeds and the core.”

  Letty got to work, preparing the apples on a wooden board.

  “Heat up the pan, and this is where you’ll be making the caramel. I add a vanilla pod and the seeds, scraped out. When you add the apple, you get that lovely . . . how do you say . . . toffee thing as it softens.”

  Making the tart, Séraphine realized she felt something she hadn’t since arriving in England—at home.

  “I always thought it was terribly complicated, this one. But you make it look easy.” Letty smiled.

  “I grew up with it. It feels strange, talking you through it, because for so many years it’s been something my mum and I have done without a recipe—without even needing to talk about what we’re doing.”

  “How lovely. I must say, I adore French baking. As much as I’m proud of our English cakes—and I still think you can’t beat a good Victoria sponge—I’m glad that afternoon tea is such an international affair these days. Millefeuille, éclairs—we’ve had some good imports from over the Channel.”

  Séraphine laughed. “I’ve only recently learned how to make those things myself. In the village next to mine, we have a fantastic pastry school. It’s world-renowned. For my last birthday, my father gave me the best present I could have wished for—a week staying there and studying.”

  She smiled at the memory. Those had been some of the happiest days of her life. Covered in flour, and fretting over oven temperatures, yes—but in good company. She’d been paired with Carla, who had come over from Barcelona to take the course.

  “Was this something you always wanted to do?” Séraphine asked, as she loaded the tart into the oven. “Run your own tearoom?”

  “Oh no,” Letty said. “Much as I love it, it was the family business. To be honest, it never crossed my mind to do anything else.” She smiled. “Nowadays that must seem strange, I suppose.”

  “Not at all. I think it’s nice to have something that you share with your family. That continuity,” Séraphine said. “Will you pass the place on to Euan?”

  “Oh no.” Kat smiled. “I mean, he wouldn’t be interested, would he, Letty?”

  She shook her head. “He helps out from time to time, but he’d never run the Seafront, no. He put far too much effort into his architectural training for me to want to see him running the tearoom.” A wistful look came into her eyes. “I would have liked to pass the place on though, if things had been different . . .” She paused for a moment, then picked up a bag of flour. “But things are as they are. Now, these scones won’t make themselves, will they? Are you ready to learn my secret recipe?”

  An hour later, Kat had left, and Letty and Séraphine were sitting at a table in the tearoom, tasting the scones and tart that they’d made.

  “The tarte tatin is delicious with crème fraiche. But I couldn’t find any so we’ll have to make do with some vanilla ice cream,” Séraphine said. “It’s not a bad option, actually.”

  “And for the scones—strawberries and clotted cream,” Letty said.

  She watched as Séraphine helped herself to fruit and cream.

  “No. More than that,” Letty insisted, stopping Séraphine as she raised a scone to her mouth. “You haven’t got nearly enough on there.”

  Séraphine laughed. “More? I’ve already piled it high, Letty.”

  “Definitely more. And come on, there’s barely anything of you. You could do with some calories.”

  “I knew there was a reason I wanted to come to England.” Séraphine smiled, adding an extra layer of cream and topping it with jam. The past days with Letty, Charlie and Kat had helped her to relax and brought back some of her natural optimism. Instinctively, she felt she could be herself with them, without any fear of judgment. Her feeling that she’d made the wrong decision in coming to England was gradually being replaced by a certainty that she’d been right to be brave and step out on her own.

  “I’m rather proud of that tart,” said Letty.

  “You should be,” Séraphine said. “You did well turning it out. That’s quite tricky when the caramel is so hot.”

  “I think I’m going to add it to our menu,” Letty said, holding up a slice and admiring it.

  “Are you serious? What an honor. My mother will be delighted.”

  “Good,” Letty said, putting her fork down for a moment. “Now, tell me. How are things at Adam’s? Is Zoe still making your life a misery?”

  “It’s not much better,” Séraphine said. “She simply does not want to learn.”

  “I wonder what the problem is. Zoe does know some French—I remember she used to speak it all the time with her mother.”

 
; “She did?”

  “Yes. I’m sure Adam will have told you that they lived in France when his wife, Marianne, was alive. They’d still come here for holidays though, to visit Adam’s parents and to see Euan. During those trips, Marianne would always bring Zoe in here. They’d take that table in the corner and chatter away over slices of strawberry shortcake.”

  “I see.”

  “Then Marianne died, which was incredibly sad. She was so very young. Adam and Zoe moved back to Scarborough so that he could have the support of his parents. He still brings Zoe in from time to time, like you did the other day, but she’s a different girl now. Not surprising, given what she’s had to cope with.”

  “How did she die, Zoe’s mother?”

  “It was a horse-riding accident. In the countryside near their house. Her favorite horse startled, and she was thrown.”

  “That’s awful.”

  Séraphine thought of Zoe—her hostility and coldness. Given what she’d heard, it wasn’t hard to understand why the girl would be resistant to having a stranger in her house, and why she might resent Séraphine’s attempts at friendship. Perhaps by trying to ignore, rather than acknowledge, the palpable absence in the house, Séraphine had been going about building a relationship with Zoe in the wrong way.

  “It was. Adam was very much in love with Marianne. I remember Euan said he thought he’d never get over it.”

  “And now?

  “Well, he still isn’t over it—I’m not sure you do get over something like that. But Euan seems to think he’s found a way to move on. Focusing on Zoe must help.”

  “So him wanting Zoe to speak French—it’s about more than education.”

  “Oh yes, far more. It’s about fulfilling a commitment to his wife: the one thing he can still do for her.”

  On Saturday, Séraphine and Zoe walked back from the supermarket together. Séraphine asked questions, and Zoe gave monosyllabic answers, dragging her heels. But after her conversation with Letty, Séraphine realized she’d found the patience she’d been missing.

  That evening they ate together, and when Zoe went off to read in her room, Séraphine stayed to clear up.