The Bakery at Seashell Cove: A feel-good, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

by Karen Clarke

  ‘Actually, I’d better get to work.’ I cupped my hand over my eyes as I looked in the direction of the café. ‘You should pop in for a cold drink and some cake.’

  ‘Ooh, cake!’ Charlie clapped his hands. ‘Or maybe ice cream?’ He’d noticed the van on the path leading up from the cove.

  Nathan grinned. ‘It’ll be one or the other, I expect.’

  ‘It was nice to see you both.’ I got inelegantly to my feet as my phone began to buzz. ‘I’d better get this.’

  Nathan’s eyes rested on me a moment longer. ‘Sure you’re OK?’

  ‘Perfect!’ I lied, tears welling in my throat. ‘Just a bit warm, that’s all.’

  ‘We’ll leave you to it,’ he said. He took Charlie’s hand and they walked to the water’s edge, where sparkling waves foamed on the damp sand, and I turned to the path leading up to the café, my phone pressed to my ear.

  ‘Hi, Beverley.’ My voice sounded thick, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  ‘Poppet!’ she said, as loud as if she was with me. ‘Listen, I’m sorry about Sunday lunch, I think us girlies had a little bit too much vino. Let’s put it behind us shall we, sweetie?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, because there didn’t seem to be any other answer that would do. ‘Have you heard from Sam?’

  ‘Oh, you know what he’s like when he’s in the zone, he won’t be thinking about home, but we’re cheering him on in spirit!’ In the zone. That seemed to sum Sam up. As long as being in the zone meant doing exactly what he wanted. ‘Why don’t you pop round later on, and we’ll talk wedding dresses? I’ve found a lovely pattern I think you’ll like. I think a scoop neck would show off your lovely cleavage and the design will nip your waist in, and I know you said you didn’t want white, which is probably as well with your skin tone, my lovely, you’d look very washed out, but maybe cream, or even champagne…’

  I let her chatter on until I reached the top of the path where I stopped and turned, searching the sea for Nathan and Charlie, but there were too many heads bobbing in the water and I couldn’t pick them out.

  ‘OK, Bev, I’ll see you later,’ I said flatly and rang off. I would have to go along with things until Sam got back – or at least until I’d talked to him.

  I took a few more deep breaths, and entered the café terrace through the white picket fence outside, where I spotted a familiar blonde-haired figure draped over a chair at one of the tables, scanning her phone.

  Hurrying over, I threw Gwen a wave through the window to let her know I’d arrived, and she semaphored back with two dishcloths.

  ‘Sadie, what are you doing here?’ The Ryans rarely ventured over to Seashell Cove, but once Sadie had passed her driving test, she’d taken to occasionally dropping into the café if she had a spare hour. ‘I’m afraid I have to work,’ I said, noting her faultless complexion and expertly outlined eyes. ‘Shall I fetch you a drink?’

  She shook her head, her cloud of hair floating around her face. ‘I saw you,’ she said, putting her phone down and resting her chin on her palm as she gazed up at me.

  My heart bumped. ‘What do you mean?’

  Her smile was guarded. ‘I was in the car park when you got here,’ she said. ‘I was going to suggest we get an ice cream. I wanted to apologise for Mum and Maura on Sunday, but then you met that guy with the little boy.’ She twisted her head to look at the cove. ‘You were down there for ages.’

  My breath was coming in shallow leaps that had nothing to do with the walk up from the beach, or my shredded thoughts. ‘He’s the agent in charge of selling the bakery,’ I said, hitching my bag up on my shoulder. ‘The little boy is his nephew, Charlie.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ She coiled a strand of hair around her finger. ‘So, it was a business thing?’

  My face and neck became fiery hot. ‘He wanted to update me on a possible buyer.’

  ‘And he couldn’t have just called you?’

  ‘MEEEEEEEEG!’

  I almost leapt out of my clothes at the sound of Gwen’s caterwaul, but didn’t turn. I was transfixed by Sadie’s expression, which was a curdled mix of pity and curiosity.

  ‘He was looking after his nephew today and wanted to bring him to the beach, so we arranged to meet here.’

  ‘And you talked business?’

  My gaze travelled to the white, ruched-front crop top she was wearing, which showed her delicate collarbones. I couldn’t remember ever seeing my collarbones. Perhaps I didn’t have any. ‘What are you getting at, Sadie?’

  ‘I followed you,’ she said, unwinding the strand of hair and examining it closely. ‘It didn’t look like a business meeting to me.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘What was that all about?’ Gwen met me at the doorway, looking past my shoulder to see who’d been keeping me from work.

  ‘Oh, it was Sam’s sister,’ I said. ‘She… wanted a word about something.’ I turned and watched her leave, not sure I’d managed to convince her I hadn’t done anything wrong. I supposed me chatting to a good-looking man on the beach while Sam was away might look suspicious, coming so soon after my TV disaster, but I didn’t like the fact that she’d followed me. I wondered whether she planned to tell her family and felt a tug of apprehension.

  ‘Skinny little thing,’ said Gwen. ‘’Ow is Just Sam?’

  Following her inside, I said tiredly, ‘Cycling his way across Paris.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I forgot ’e likes to get on ’is bike. Surprised it don’t mess with ’is nutsack, all that chafing against the saddle, if you know what I mean.’

  I did. He’d even mentioned it to the doctor, but tests had showed Sam’s ‘swimmers’ as he called them had ‘full motility’.

  ‘It’s a myth that cycling affects fertility,’ I said. ‘Exercise boosts it.’

  ‘I was only kiddin’.’ Gwen gave me a beady look as she let me behind the counter. ‘You’ve trampled sand in.’ She glanced at the floorboards. ‘And your ’air could do wiv a brush.’

  ‘I had an hour on the beach,’ I said, defensively. ‘I needed some fresh air.’ I smoothed my hair, which felt as ruffled as if I’d been rolling around on the towel. With Nathan.

  ‘Missing ’im, are you?’

  I jumped. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Just Sam?’

  ‘Of course.’ It came out without conviction. ‘I mean, yes, I suppose so.’

  ‘Pity you ’ain’t got a pussy to stroke, it would do wonders for your blood pressure.’ It was very hard to tell when Gwen was joking.

  ‘I’m allergic,’ I reminded her, as I had nearly every shift since Dickens had appeared on the scene. ‘And, anyway, cats don’t like being stroked as much as dogs.’

  ‘Dickens does, ’e lives for the feel of me ’ands.’

  We both knew the conversation was a diversion, but Gwen didn’t push it as I went to hang up my bag. I quickly checked my phone, but there were no messages from Mum. Could she still be sleeping off her virus? I needed to check after work.

  I pulled a comb through my hair feeling oddly lightheaded, as if my brain had been replaced with feathers, and had to run cold water over my wrists before I felt able to go through to the café.

  ‘I fink Tamsin’s agreed to go out wiv Dom tonight, for ’er sins,’ said Gwen, as I sidled behind the counter and checked my cakes had been put out and neatly sliced. Gwen wasn’t delicate with a knife, and tended to hack out uneven portions that didn’t always favour the customer. ‘Gawd knows what she sees in ’im. I reckon she only said yes to put ’im out of ’is misery.’

  I looked to where Tamsin was chatting to Dom as they cleared a table together, their faces flushed and smiling.

  ‘Maybe they’ve fallen in love,’ I said, but in a desultory way. It was too hot in the café, despite the open doors, and I kept thinking of Nathan and Charlie paddling in the sea and eating ice creams.

  ‘Love?’ Gwen’s bark startled a sleeping baby on its mother’s lap, its hands flying out to the sides. ‘What do they know abart love at their age
?’

  I flashed her an incredulous look. ‘Some people do, Gwen.’

  She held up her palms. ‘Sorree,’ she said, unapologetically. ‘Forgot abart you and Just Sam.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about us.’ I grabbed a cloth and began wiping the already clean counter.

  ‘I thought you were the expert on love’s young dream.’ Gwen’s voice was sly.

  ‘I never said that.’ I wiped more vigorously, my face burning with the effort. ‘I just don’t think you should give Tamsin a hard time for falling in love.’

  I looked up to see Gwen was wearing her ‘bad-smell’ expression. ‘Yeah, well,’ she said with a sniff. ‘I don’t believe you can truly love someone until you know everyfink abart them.’ Guessing she was referring to her own doomed marriage, I didn’t bother responding. ‘Although,’ she added, ruminatively, ‘I did fall for my Dickens at first sight, and I can’t imagine not loving that furry little bleeder for the rest of ’is life.’

  To my relief, one of our regular customers, Valerie Jones, was approaching the counter with a tentative smile on her tanned and friendly face. ‘I thought you were great on Hidden Gems the other evening,’ she said to me, eyeing what was left of the cake I’d dropped off earlier. ‘I hope a buyer comes forward for the bakery, it would be nice not to have to buy our bread at the supermarket. It’s not the same. Not that we eat as much of it now the kids have left home, but my husband and I are partial to a decent loaf.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling shy. I’d almost forgotten that people might recognise me, but it was good at least one person had picked up the point of why I had been on the show in the first place. ‘I hope so too, and you’re right, Mr Moseley’s loaves were the best.’

  ‘Oh, I saw the programme as well,’ said the woman with the baby on her lap, giving me a broad smile. ‘That cake you made looked amazing! Is Alice Denby as nice in real life?’

  ‘Oh, she’s lovely,’ I said, happy to talk about something besides my personal life for a change. ‘She was really supportive.’

  ‘I think under new ownership, the bakery could do really well,’ the woman went on. ‘I know a few people who’ve said since seeing the programme they’d love it to reopen, and would definitely shop there.’

  ‘That’s good to know.’ I returned her smile. ‘Fingers crossed,’ I said, crossing mine to demonstrate.

  ‘My husband was looking to invest in a new business earlier this year, but thought the location wasn’t quite right,’ she added, extinguishing the faint flicker of hope that had begun to burn. Clearly no one with any business sense was going to see the bakery as a profitable proposition, and no amount of appealing, televised or otherwise, was going to change that.

  ‘Well, if it does reopen, I’d love a job there,’ said Valerie, her eyes suggesting I ignore the other woman’s comments. ‘I’ve always fancied working in a bakery and I’ve a lot more time on my hands, now the kids have left home.’

  I served the next few customers on autopilot, accepting compliments about the show with as much grace as I could, keeping half an eye on the door in case Nathan and Charlie showed up, and tried not to think about Sadie following us to the beach – spying on me – or about what I would say to Sam the next time we spoke.

  Tilly appeared at one point, to meet her walking group outside the café, but only managed a wave, as one of the ladies was loudly protesting that Tilly was running late (she wasn’t the best time-keeper).

  I was about to take my coffee break outside and give Mum a call – something still felt off about this morning – when I glanced through the window to see Nathan coming off the path in a lurching half-run, Charlie under his arm waving his baseball hat like a flag.

  ‘We’ve runned all the way!’ he cried, as Nathan burst into the café and came straight to the counter, panting and red-faced. ‘Uncle Nafan said my legs was too small, so I had to be a parcel.’ He grinned at Nathan, but Nathan was looking at me like a man who’d won the lottery.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Can we get Charlie a drink?’ he said, putting his nephew down and wiping a hand across his brow. ‘He’s heavier than he looks, especially when you’re running uphill,’ he added, in a manner I could only interpret as jolly. Despite his breeze-tangled hair and heightened colour, his eyes were as shiny as glass and his smile wider than I’d ever seen it.

  ‘I know our drinks are the bleedin’ best, but I ’ain’t never known anyone run all the way to get one,’ Gwen observed, her eyes darting between us. ‘What gives?’

  ‘I just need a quick word with Meg.’ His tone had an air of urgency that made my stomach squeeze and, seeming to grasp that whatever he had to say was important, Gwen tutted.

  ‘I’ll keep an eye on the young ’un,’ she said. ‘What do you want to drink, little fella?’

  Charlie’s rosy face bunched into a frown. ‘Please may I have a stwawberry one?’

  ‘He means a milkshake.’ Nathan rested a hand on his nephew’s curly head and scanned the menu. ‘That’s if you…’

  ‘We do,’ said Gwen. ‘The best milkshakes in Sarf Devon.’

  Charlie did a jump of excitement and looked at his uncle for permission.

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Nathan said, with a smile.

  ‘’S’e all right wiv cats?’

  ‘I LOVE cats and dogs, and anyfing, really,’ said Charlie, earnestly. ‘Don’t I, Uncle Nafan?’ He was amazingly cute. Nearby customers were smiling mushily and making ‘isn’t he adorable?’ faces.

  ‘You certainly do,’ agreed Nathan.

  ‘TAMSIN!’ Gwen bellowed. ‘Make this young man a strawberry milkshake, while I take ’im out the back to see Dickens.’

  Looking as if he might explode with happiness, Charlie followed Gwen without a backwards glance.

  ‘Will he be OK?’ Nathan scratched his head when they’d disappeared. ‘She seems nice, but kind of terrifying.’

  I suddenly wanted to laugh. ‘He’ll be fine,’ I promised. ‘She’s a teddy bear, really.’

  ‘The sort you imagine coming to life when you’re asleep and wreaking havoc.’

  I smiled, but my mouth had dried up. ‘What did you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘Can we go somewhere more private?’

  My heart started racing. ‘Round the back?’

  I led the way outside and round to the car park, trying to imagine what could have warranted a dash from the beach in a heatwave, carrying a four-year-old.

  In a spot of shade at the rear of the café, Nathan let his rucksack slide to the ground.

  ‘So, I got a call just after you left.’ He held up his phone, and his voice dropped low in his throat. ‘It’s about the bakery.’

  The world seemed to slide to one side. ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s been bought by an anonymous buyer.’ His eyes danced over my face. ‘He must have seen the show and was apparently impressed by your passion.’

  I pressed my hands to my cheeks. ‘You’re kidding?’ A grin stretched across my face. ‘I can’t believe it!’

  ‘It gets better.’ Nathan’s smile grew even wider. ‘He wants you to run it.’

  ‘WHAT?’

  ‘I know.’ He widened his eyes. ‘He doesn’t want to knock it down, or work there, or open an ice-cream parlour. He wants you to reopen the bakery.’

  I clutched my hair. ‘I’ve just done a triple cartwheel in my head.’

  Nathan let out a deep, uncensored laugh. ‘It’s being done through a solicitor, and he’s keen for it all to go through right away. Lester’s over the moon, as you can imagine.’

  ‘So am I!’ Through a whirl of joy, a horrible thought struck. ‘Oh, Nathan, I’m not sure about him being anonymous. Is it definitely a man?’

  ‘That’s the impression I got, at least, the solicitor referred to the buyer as “he”.’

  ‘What if he’s a money launderer, or, you know, a bit dodgy?’

  ‘He isn’t. I called the office back, and had it all checked out. Ever
ything is completely above board. It’s quite uncommon to do business like this, but not unheard of.’

  ‘Oh my days.’ I was half-laughing, half-crying. It was exactly like the daydream I’d had, where Nathan had said more or less those exact words, and I’d leapt into his arms. Any minute now, we’d be kissing madly. ‘It seems almost too good to be true,’ I said shakily. ‘Are you sure it’s not a prank?’

  ‘It definitely isn’t.’ Nathan’s eyes were full of feeling. ‘I’ve passed on your details and the solicitor will be in touch.’

  ‘But…’ My contrary mind was still looking for pitfalls. ‘How will it work? I mean, how will I pay for things like staff and overheads, and… flour?’ I wouldn’t be getting paid at the café any more and I could hardly ask Sam to help out.

  ‘I expect there’ll be a business account.’ Nathan pocketed his phone. ‘There’ll be money for all that sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh my god. How does that even work?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He laughed. ‘It’ll all be explained in the paperwork.’

  ‘But… why would anyone do this?’

  He hunched his shoulders. ‘Why not?’ he said. ‘Maybe he’s a rich, bored businessman looking for a new investment, or just wanted to do something nice.’

  I shook my head, feeling stunned. ‘It’s too much to take in.’

  ‘I’m so pleased for you, Meg.’ Nathan’s voice grew serious. ‘I know this is what you wanted, so just make the most of it.’

  I was taking deep breaths again, hoping this time the extra oxygen would help it all sink in. ‘It’s literally a dream come true.’

  ‘I know.’

  The air between us fizzed.

  My heart thundered in my chest and my body flooded with adrenaline, and before I could work out who’d made the first move I was in Nathan’s arms and we were exploring each other’s mouths, his hands pressing me close while my fingers raked through his hair. Heat drenched my body as I pushed against him, our breathing erratic as the kiss grew deeper, and Nathan’s arms tightened around me.