“I think it is, especially since she and my dad separated,” Euan said. “She’s always given me space to do my own thing, but as it turned out I chose to stick around in Scarborough.”
“I can understand that.”
“Do your parents live in London?” Euan asked.
“No. They live in Bristol, where Pippa and I grew up. We’re scattered all over the country these days.”
“What are your family like?”
Charlie bit the inside of her lip, wondering where to start. “My mum is lovely. She’s kind of an old-fashioned mum, runs around after all of us, cooking and organizing. Dad and Pippa are pretty high-maintenance. We’re very different people.” She paused, then smiled. “That, or we’re exactly the same and I’m in denial about it.”
Euan was listening to her calmly, an empty coffee cup in front of him. In a gray hoodie and T-shirt, his hair ruffled, he looked completely relaxed. She was aware of her torn Lycra running gear, and the fact that her hair, coming loose from a ponytail, was a mess. This wasn’t something she did—sitting with a man she barely knew, still sweaty from a run, talking about her family. Saying things she’d never said to anyone other than Sarah.
Unsettled, she switched the focus back to him.
“I bet you had a great childhood, growing up here.”
“It was good, lots of time outdoors. Mum’s a magpie and she used to drive Dad mad collecting things. When I was young she brought home a broken old rowing boat, complete with oars, and set it up in the garden for me. I loved it—Adam was always round, playing in it with me. We’d pretend we were sailing out to a secret island, like in Swallows and Amazons.”
“That must’ve been fun.”
“It was. I had friends round a lot. I think Mum and Dad were worried about me turning out weird, being an only child. But I reckon I turned out all right.” He wrinkled his nose. “At least, I hope I did.”
“You seem relatively normal.” Charlie smiled. “To be honest, I’m not sure having a sibling makes you any saner. Probably the opposite.” She glanced at her watch. “Speaking of siblings, mine will be wondering where I’ve got to,” she said. “I told Pippa I wouldn’t be long.” Charlie tipped her croissant crumbs onto the floor next to Bagel, and he snuffled them up quickly.
“Sure, of course,” Euan said.
As he asked for the bill, Charlie wondered if she’d said too much. When she’d been with Ben, they hadn’t ever talked about family—it was something they had both chosen to overlook, preferring to focus on going out, enjoying every high-octane, indulgent moment in the city’s bars and clubs when work was done. Yet here she was, opening up to someone she had only just met.
“Thanks for being so understanding about this terror.” He pointed at Bagel.
“It’s fine. As long as he’s learned his lesson.” Charlie stroked the dog’s ears. “Behave yourself,” she said to Bagel. “He can still give you back, you know.”
She got to her feet. “Thanks for the coffee,” she said.
“It was good talking to you,” Euan said. “See you again, I hope.”
“Yes,” said Charlie, secretly hoping the same. “That would be nice.”
20
Thursday, September 18
Kat spread an ordnance survey map out on the tearoom counter.
“Over here in Whitby there’s a lovely place run by an old friend of mine,” Letty said, tapping her finger on the map. “The Alexandra Tearoom. You should give that a visit. And then up here”—Letty’s finger moved up a centimeter to the port—“you’ll find the loveliest little tea shop. The Hideaway, I think it’s called. Doesn’t look much from the outside—and I haven’t been there for years—but I seem to remember they do the most delectable strawberry tarts.”
“Sounds perfect,” Kat said, marking the spot with a Post-it.
“I’m rather envious. You and Séraphine are going to have a wonderful trip.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“It seems to suit you, this work,” Letty said. “I haven’t seen you this excited in a long time.”
“I have been enjoying using my brain again, as well as my taste buds.” Kat smiled.
“You were always cut out for great things, Kat.”
“Thanks. I feel a little out of my depth, to be honest—but Charlie seemed happy with the reviews I’ve written up till now, so hopefully I’m on the right track.”
“I’m sure you are,” Letty said. “You’ve always had a knack for writing.”
“When I sat down, the words simply flowed,” Kat said. “I didn’t think it would come so easily to me. You know how it is when you’ve got a young child—the last few years I’ve struggled to find time to read a grown-up book, let alone do any writing. But once I got started, it was as if something clicked in my mind and the cogs starting whirring again. Perhaps those years at uni weren’t wasted after all.”
“Of course they weren’t,” Letty said. “You’ll find the right job for you. And as long as it involves tea, I’m sure you’ll be happy.”
“You know me too well.”
“Talking of tea—I’ve christened the lovebirds Lady and Earl Grey. What do you think?”
“Perfect!”
“They’re settling in rather nicely. Not quite as sophisticated as the names make them sound. They’re more than happy to watch telly.” She smiled. “They’re nice to have a chat to though, when I’m making my dinner. They fly around and then rest up on the rafters—always together.”
“How sweet.”
“Yes. They’re very romantic, a real team, won’t be separated.”
A thought came to Kat. The tearoom was quiet, and now seemed a good time to ask Letty something she’d been wondering about. “I don’t suppose anything’s changed—with John. The two of you still aren’t talking?”
“No, love,” Letty said, shaking her head. “We’ve gone too far for that. I hear the occasional thing from Euan about what he’s up to: fishing trips they’ve taken together, or a new car he’s taken on to repair. I don’t mind hearing about him. It was a long time we were together, a lot of them happy years. I’ll always care about him. But it’s easier this way. Better two happy parents than an unhappy home—you know all about that, of course.”
“Yes,” Kat said.
“It’s must’ve been harder for you, though, with Leo so young.”
“I don’t know if there is such a thing as a good age where that’s concerned. But children are resilient, I think—I hope. I felt bad about it at first. But when Jake left . . . well, I felt lighter, somehow. I suddenly remembered how to have fun again.”
“You certainly seem happier,” Letty said.
“I am. And this time alone, while Leo’s with Jake, has reminded me of all the things I used to enjoy doing. I realize now that I don’t have to give up being me in order to be there for Leo. If anything, I’ll be a better mother to him if I know what I want.”
21
Friday, September 19
“I was so happy when I got your call,” Séraphine said to Kat the following morning, as they boarded the bus for the journey to Whitby.
“I’m glad you had time to come.”
“Adam’s pretty easygoing as a boss. He knows I’ve been working hard with Zoe, and he says he wants me to be able to see some of the country while I’m over here. Especially now the weather’s good.”
That day, Kat had woken to sunshine pouring in through the slatted blind in her bedroom window, warming her face. After a week of gray days, she’d almost forgotten how it felt. She’d put on a denim jacket and an orange scarf that morning, and walked to the bus station where she met Séraphine.
“Where exactly are we going again?”
“The fish-and-chip capital of the northeast,” Kat said, unfolding the map to show Séraphine the places she’d marked with luminou
s Post-its. “And hopefully the home of some fine tearooms too.”
“OK. Interesting . . . The Hideaway—I like the sound of that one.”
“Me too. We can start there.”
“It’s a plan.” Séraphine took out her guidebook and opened it at a page with a smaller local map. “I have a friend back home who would be so envious. She’s obsessed with English tea, cakes, all that kind of thing.”
“You’ll have to try everything out for her,” Kat said.
“I suppose it’s my duty,” Séraphine said, with a mischievous smile.
“How are things at the house?”
“They’re getting better, actually.”
“What’s changed?” Kat asked.
“I’ve got to know Zoe better, and I think she’s starting to trust me. We’ve been talking about her mum, who was French, and she’s begun to open up. We’ve also been painting together, and she seems to enjoy that—we’ll chat together but without the pressure of a class.”
“Sounds as if you’re doing a good job. How old is she again?”
“Ten. Going on sixteen.”
“It’s a tricky age, ten, isn’t it? You’re stuck in the middle. I remember when I was ten, I’d be looking at my cousins, who were teenagers, and wanting desperately to go out with them, but to them I was just a kid. Books were the thing that saved me. I’d go up to my room and read—whether it was Jane Austen or Sweet Valley High, it gave me an escape.”
“I know what you mean. With a good book, you can enter into whichever world you want. When I find the twins still reading under the covers late at night, sometimes I can’t bring myself to tell them off.”
“It’s a magical time, discovering that.”
“That’s part of what makes me want to be a teacher.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?”
“Yes. Teaching English. I’m qualified already, so I’ll look for a job when I get home. I came here because I wanted to polish up my English conversation and pronunciation. I feel it’s become quite rusty.”
“Your English sounds great to me. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding a teaching position.”
“I can’t wait to start.”
“Children or teenagers?”
“Teenagers, I hope. Seems more of a challenge. Although I doubt anyone could be a bigger challenge than Zoe.” She laughed. “Have you got any photos of your son, Kat? I’d love to see one.”
“Sure. Yes. Here’s Leo.” Kat took out her phone and showed Séraphine her screen saver, a picture of Leo on a swing, his hair golden in the sun. “He’s three. No reading under the covers yet.”
“He’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you. He’s pretty good. The terrible twos certainly lived up to their name, but, fingers crossed, I think we’re coming out the other side.” She bit her lip, recalling it. “This past year it’s been tantrums in the supermarket, refusing to get in his buggy, climbing into my bed every night. It nearly drove me crazy. But now he’s sweet as anything.”
“I remember that time with the twins. Being so much older, I’m more like a mum to them than a sister. I Skype them when I can. They’re far better with gadgets than I am.”
“Leo’s the same.”
“You must miss him a lot,” Séraphine said.
“I do. Even though him being away gives me the freedom to do things like this—I still can’t wait for him to come back. Isn’t it silly? When he’s here I’m usually desperate for a minute to myself. I dream about being able to pop out to the shops, or go out with a friend without having to beg a favor off someone. Even to read a magazine in peace. But the moment he’s gone, I wonder what I ever did without him.”
This can’t be it, can it?” Kat said, peering in through the windows of a shabby-looking tearoom by the water. She and Séraphine had arrived in Whitby shortly before midday, and walked down to the port in search of the café Letty had mentioned. There was only one place that it could be.
“It does say The Hideaway,” Séraphine said. “Look.”
Kat looked up at the sign, where raised lettering reading THE HIDEAWAY had been crudely whitewashed, with the new name painted over it. Another sign hung in the doorway announcing that it was under new management.
“Not quite what I pictured,” Kat said. “But appearances can be deceptive, can’t they? Let’s give it a go.”
They went inside, and found a table out toward the back. A man in his fifties, with gray hair and a mustache, came over to them.
“What can I get you, ladies?” he asked kindly.
“Hi,” Kat said. “Could we have a pot of tea and two of your strawberry tarts, please?”
“Coming right up.”
“Can I ask a question?” Kat said, as he turned to go. He smiled and nodded. “Have you just taken this place over?”
“Yes. A couple of months ago. Me and my wife fancied a project. It’s uncharted territory for us, this tea business, but we’ve always enjoyed a cuppa. We’re getting on OK so far.”
“I see,” Kat said.
“That’s the missus”—he gave a nod in the direction of a stressed-looking woman juggling pots in the kitchen—“trying out a new recipe.”
He left to get their order.
“The décor could do with some sprucing up,” Kat whispered when the owner was out of earshot. She pointed to the faded wallpaper, with a repeat pattern of ships just visible on it.
“It feels quite damp in here too,” Séraphine added.
“It doesn’t matter. Letty said not to expect much from the surroundings.”
“Yes. Of course.”
The teapot arrived a few minutes later, with the tarts on plain white plates next to it.
Kat only needed a quick look. “Shop bought,” she said, disappointed.
“Oh dear.” Séraphine took a bite and nodded to confirm Kat’s suspicions. “You’re right. The jam’s not good at all.”
The door swung open and a man with a gray ponytail lurched into the café. “How’s it going, Steve?” he called out.
“And who’s this?” He made his way over to their table and Kat noticed the strong smell of whisky. “Haven’t seen you two around here before.”
“We’re visiting,” Séraphine answered politely. “It’s our first time here.”
“A Frenchie, eh? Oooh la la.” He pulled up a chair, turned it around and sat with Kat and Séraphine. “You seem friendly enough, though. Don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
“Actually we were—” Kat started.
“Charming conversation with a local lad, you can’t beat that, can you? Now let me tell you how I came to be here . . .”
Kat rolled her eyes at Séraphine discreetly and Séraphine’s mouth twitched as she tried to hold in her laughter.
“I used to work in the merchant navy,” he drawled. He then burst into song, forgot the words and suddenly remembered he’d started a story. “I’ve been all around—Singapore, Malaysia, Germany. You name it.” He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and showed them his arm, patterned with dark-blue tattoos. “A few memories these bring back.”
“Nice,” Kat said.
“You’ve just got the one”—he pointed at the tattoo on Kat’s wrist—“and I bet you it wasn’t as painful as these ones. An old pen—do you know the way?”
Kat looked over at the owner, hoping for rescue, but he was talking to his wife in the kitchen.
“Grew up in Ireland, I did,” the man continued. “One of ten. I was one of the lucky ones. Two died from TB, we were crammed into a room, all of us and . . .”
His drunken drawl slowed as once again he lost track of what he was talking about.
Kat wolfed the last of her tart and raised her eyebrows at Séraphine. “I’m afraid we have somewhere we need to be.”
“Do we?” Séraphine a
sked innocently. Kat widened her eyes. “Oh yes—of course we do,” Séraphine said, pulling on her jacket. “So sorry,” she said to the man. “But we must be going.”
Kat left money to pay the bill on the table and they headed for the door. As soon as they were outside on the pavement, they both collapsed in giggles. “God—I didn’t think we’d ever get away from him,” Kat said.
“He’d have enough stories to keep going all day, that’s for sure.”
“Oh dear. Not the most promising start. But the only way is up. Where next?”
They looked at the map, getting their bearings. “How about the Alexandra Tearoom?” Kat suggested. “That looks a safe enough bet. Don’t hold me to that, though.”
The Alexandra Tearoom was a short walk away and had a terrace overlooking the sea. The tables were filled with a mix of elderly couples and younger day-trippers in groups.
“I think we’re safe,” Séraphine whispered, making Kat laugh.
They ordered the full afternoon tea and Séraphine put on her sunglasses, looking out at the water. “It’s beautiful here.”
“Yes, stunning. What a view—completely unobscured. I thought Letty had the best view going, but this—”
“I’ll tell her you said that,” Séraphine teased.
“Don’t you dare!”
The teapot and cake stand arrived, and Kat poured out tea into their two cups.
“It’s a lovely tradition, this,” Séraphine said.
“Do you know how it all started?” Kat asked, taking a finger sandwich.
“No, how?”
“In the mid-nineteenth century a woman called Anna—a duchess, I believe she was—wanted a little something to pep her up in the late afternoon. You know that post-lunch lull when you can’t find the energy to do anything?”
The Seafront Tearoom Page 12
