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

by Karen Clarke

  I knew I should say something, anything, but he’d turned on the heel of his shiny shoes and was striding away, marked out by his posture and the quality of his clothes, drawing curious eyes. A man with enough money to change someone’s life, and not demand anything in return.

  My bakery angel.

  ‘Where did you go flying off to?’ said Kath, when I returned to the shop, feeling as if I’d had a transformative experience – which, in a way, I suppose I had.

  ‘I, er, needed some fresh air.’ I stared at the window, where Don had been. If I hadn’t seen him, would I ever have known? On balance, I was glad I did.

  ‘I’m not surprised, love, after what you’ve been through.’ Kath looked at what remained of the strawberry and cream cake. ‘I don’t suppose I could have a slice of that with a cup of tea, could I?’

  ‘Go on,’ I said. ‘You’ve earned a break.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ said Cassie, when Kath had gone through to the kitchen.

  ‘Isn’t it your drawing day at the café?’

  ‘I’ve cancelled,’ she said. ‘I thought you might need some help. And don’t forget Valerie is coming in.’

  I’d completely forgotten my newest member of staff would be here any minute.

  ‘You didn’t have to cancel your café day,’ I said. ‘I could easily have managed here.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she replied. ‘That’s what friends are for.’

  I gave her a hug, wondering how I’d managed so many years without her in my life.

  ‘Sure you’re OK?’

  I briefly considered telling her about Don, but knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself. ‘I’m sure,’ I said, just as Valerie turned up, eager to get to work, strapping on my old Star Baker apron with brisk efficiency. Once we’d had a little chat, I left her in the capable hands of Kath and Cassie and returned to the kitchen to start work on a celebration cake for an anniversary party, which the customer had requested be anything ‘as long as it’s lemon-flavoured’.

  As I grated lemon zest and melted butter and sugar, my mind kept returning to what Nathan had said. Would Don have even considered buying the bakery if it hadn’t been for Nathan?

  My brother doesn’t fall in love easily.

  Had love prompted Nathan to say what he had to Don? If that wasn’t love, then what was? I’d thought it was what Sam and I had had, but that seemed a paler, much tamer version. Not love at all, when it meant being second best, or wanting to be with someone else, or making a commitment because it’s what you thought you should do.

  I cracked eight eggs into a bowl, by mistake. I only needed four.

  I couldn’t think straight. I kept seeing Nathan’s face as he’d burst into the café with Charlie under his arm. He’d run all the way from the beach to see me, to tell me the bakery had been bought. He’d thought about staying around – because of me. I remembered our kiss, and his face on the beach, watching Charlie – the tenderness in his smile.

  I knocked over a bag of flour and it spilt across the table.

  Was I in love with Nathan?

  I picked up the lemon I’d grated. I’d taken off too much skin and knew the zest would be bitter. Could I go the rest of my life without seeing Nathan again?

  I looked at the mess of egg yolks in the bowl. What was I supposed to do next? I was completely out of my depth.

  ‘You look confused.’ Big Steve was back, wearing a fresh T-shirt, his hair damp at the ends, smelling of coconut shower gel. ‘Forgotten what you’re doing?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I said.

  Was it too soon to be thinking about someone else, when I’d only just called off my wedding? I thought about Mike and Mum and all the years that they hadn’t known each other, only a short plane ride between them, but neither knowing it.

  Life’s too short, Mike had said. When you know, you know.

  My heart was suddenly racing, as if I’d been running. ‘I’m just popping upstairs,’ I said to Steve.

  ‘When you gotta go, you’ve gotta go,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t need the toilet.’

  ‘Did I say you did?’

  I leapt over the bags, and almost shattered my tibia as I fell up the stairs, swearing and praying my phone still had some charge left. I couldn’t be bothered to start rummaging around for my charger, providing Sam had packed it.

  There was a single bar of power left in the battery, and I called Nathan’s number with a shaky finger. It went to voicemail.

  ‘Aargh!’ He was probably in Ireland by now. I was too late.

  I rang Mum.

  ‘Oh, Meg, I was getting a bit worried that we hadn’t heard from you,’ she said. ‘Mike was going to pop over to see if you were all right.’

  ‘I broke up with Sam.’ No point dressing it up, and if I didn’t tell her now, she’d probably hear it on the lunchtime news. ‘He kissed someone else, and I’m in love with another man.’

  ‘Oh!’ I waited for her to digest it, knowing a week ago she’d have had trouble handling the news, hoping now she had Mike she’d be able to bear it more easily. ‘Does he know?’ She didn’t sound as put out as I’d expected.

  ‘He knows I kissed him, but it turned out he’d kissed someone else, called George, from the cycling group.’

  ‘Sam’s gay?’

  ‘What? No,’ I said. ‘She’s a woman. Georgina.’

  Silence. ‘I meant, does he know you’re in love with him? The other man.’

  ‘No.’ Tears slid down my cheeks. ‘He’s gone away.’

  ‘Go after him,’ Mum said. ‘For god’s sake, Meg. What are you waiting for?’

  I couldn’t speak through my tears but my phone battery had died anyway.

  Back in the kitchen, I stared wildly at Steve.

  ‘What?’ He looked behind him, in alarm. ‘What have you seen? This place is meant to be haunted you know, by the ghost of the smuggler who—’

  ‘Can I borrow your phone?’

  He pulled his head back. ‘Er, sure.’ He dug it out of his back pocket. ‘Everything OK.’

  ‘Not really.’ I googled the number of Walsh Property Agents, crossing my fingers that Hugo would be there, and closed my eyes in relief when he answered the phone.

  ‘Hugo, it’s Meg. Meg Larson from the Old Bakery.’

  ‘Hello Meg Larson from the Old Bakery.’ He sounded droll, and a tiny bit pissed off. ‘Nathan’s not here, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Has he left already? For Ireland, I mean.’

  ‘He’ll be at the airport now,’ he said, voice sharpening. ‘Why?’

  I spun round on the spot. ‘Oh… poo.’

  ‘Did you want me to pass on that message?’

  ‘I wanted to talk to him.’ I was close to tears again. ‘I’m not getting married now and I… I, oh, it doesn’t matter.’

  There was a pause at the other end. ‘His flight doesn’t leave until two. You might make it if you hurry.’

  ‘Is it Exeter Airport?’

  ‘It is.’

  A surge of hope ripped through me. ‘Do you really think I can make it in time?’

  ‘I don’t know, Meg, but getting off the phone and into your car would give you a fighting chance.’

  I hung up and shoved the phone at Steve. ‘I know I said I wasn’t going to let things slide, but could you look after the place for a couple of hours, pretty please? I have to be somewhere.’

  ‘So I gather,’ he said, eyes full of curiosity. ‘Go on then, or you’ll never make it.’

  Cassie came through, as I was rummaging my keys out of my bag. ‘Valerie’s got the hang of the till really quickly so I think I’ll make a move.’

  I looked up, feeling feverish. ‘I’m going to the airport to find Nathan, to tell him I love him.’

  Her mouth fell open. ‘Oh my god, Meg!’ She grasped my arms and gave me a little shake. ‘You know what this means?’ Her mouth widened into a grin. ‘You’re doing a Ross and Rachel!’

  ‘Oh my god!’ I looked
from her to Steve. ‘I’m doing a Ross and Rachel!’

  Steve slapped a handful of dough down on the table. ‘Someone should go with you, if you’re going to be true to the episode. Phoebe and Ross turn up at the airport to find Rachel, and—’

  ‘I know how the episode goes,’ I said. ‘I just hope Nathan won’t already be on the plane.’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I decided I didn’t want an audience in the end, and Cassie and Steve waved me off with assurances that the bakery would still be standing when I got back, and a request from Big Steve to ‘do something’ with my hair.

  It took too long to get to Exeter, thanks to three sets of roadworks and slow-crawling traffic, and then it took ages to find a parking space. I was sweating and panicky by the time I burst into the airport, praying that Nathan’s flight had been delayed.

  The lobby was swarming with people, and for a moment I felt paralysed. I began to run up and down, sandals slapping the tiles, scanning the display monitors overhead, and realised I had no idea which flight Nathan was even on. And was he landing at Belfast Airport or Dublin, before heading to… I couldn’t even remember the name of the mountain he’d mentioned.

  Maybe Hugo would know.

  I scrabbled in my bag for my phone, then remembered the battery had died and that I’d used Steve’s mobile to ring Hugo the first time.

  Was there a public phone? There was, but I didn’t have the number of the agency on me, and couldn’t face wasting any more time trying to find it.

  I scanned the monitors again, trying to see past the sea of heads, and to not trip over anyone’s baggage, and saw that the Belfast flight was boarding, but the plane to Dublin had only just landed.

  I rushed further inside, the air-conditioning icy on my sweaty forehead, then realised that without a pass, there was no way I could get as far as the boarding area. If Nathan was bound for Belfast, I had no chance.

  But if he was heading to Dublin, he might still be around.

  I spent the next half hour scouring the area, darting into cafés, and shops, and WH Smith’s in case he was having a coffee or looking at books, but couldn’t see any sign of him.

  I even ducked into the men’s toilets and called his name, earning myself a few strange looks, then went into the Ladies to splash my face with cold water. I almost screamed when I saw my scarlet-faced reflection. I had a sliver of lemon zest stuck to my eyebrow, and was still wearing my Meg’s Kitchen apron, and my hair was only half in the band I’d fastened round it that morning. I looked like a chef in the middle of a meltdown, trying to flee the country.

  I patted my face dry and shot back out, looking around as if, by doing so, I could magically make Nathan appear. This was nothing like Friends, or any romantic movie airport scene I’d ever watched. There were just lots of people, either excited or bored, queuing or hurrying, and security guards milling about.

  After locating the help desk, I asked if a Nathan Walsh had boarded his flight yet.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the man behind the counter, his heavily tanned face impassive. ‘We’re not allowed to give out that information. Data protection.’

  ‘What about a loudspeaker thingy, where you ask someone to come to the information desk?’

  His eyebrows lifted a notch. ‘Is it an emergency?’

  I hesitated. ‘What would you class as an emergency?’

  ‘Life or death,’ he said flatly, perhaps assuming from the state of me that I meant to hurt someone. ‘Has a loved one died?’

  ‘Well, no. Thank goodness.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He raised a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. ‘I’m afraid we can’t help.’

  ‘But this is the help desk.’

  ‘We don’t offer the sort of help you need.’

  What was that supposed to mean?

  Knowing I was beaten, I retreated and sat on a bench, my bag between my feet, fighting an urge to cry.

  I really hadn’t thought this through. Nathan had gone, or was about to go, and there was nothing I could do to bring him back.

  The drive back to the bakery was long and torturous, and I didn’t even have a bottle of water to quench my thirst. My temples throbbed, and I couldn’t find my sunglasses in the glove box. I remembered I’d left them in the kitchen at home. No, not home. Not any more. They were probably in one of the bags I hadn’t had a chance to unpack.

  Maybe it was as well I hadn’t found Nathan, I reasoned. I should probably get settled into the flat first, and let him complete his assignment in Ireland, and then, when things were calmer, try and establish contact. If he really had feelings for me, they wouldn’t just vanish overnight.

  Tilly would tell me to wait. That I should be on my own for a while – but I had no problem being on my own, I’d just rather be with Nathan. And if it did turn out to be nothing more than a wild attraction, then maybe that was OK too.

  It was gone four when I got back and the first thing I noticed when I stepped through the back door was that Steve had moved my bags upstairs. He was giving the kitchen a thorough clean, and his face lit up when he saw me. ‘You’re back.’

  ‘So I am.’ I dropped my bag on the floor. ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Perfect,’ he said, and I realised he was suppressing some kind of emotion.

  Cassie came through, Kath hot on her heels.

  ‘It’s OK, Valerie is solid, and the shop’s not busy at the moment,’ she said.

  They were all wearing that same weird look. As if they had a secret I wasn’t in on.

  ‘I need a drink of water,’ I said, filling a mug at the sink. ‘It was so hot in the car, and there were so many roadworks, and when I got to the airport, I realised I didn’t even know which flight he was on.’

  I drank deeply, aware of the silence behind me.

  I turned. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You’ve got a guest.’ Cassie’s eyes were wide and bright, her lips parted in a smile.

  ‘A guest?’

  ‘Upstairs.’ Kath’s gaze hit the ceiling. ‘Waiting for you.’

  ‘He took your bags up,’ said Steve. ‘I made him a cup of tea and he’s had a slice of your strawberry and cream cake, which by the way, has sold out, and if it’s OK, I finished making that lemon cake you started and it’s in the oven.’

  ‘Guest?’ I repeated.

  Cassie turned me round and gave me a little shove towards the stairs. ‘Go and see.’

  Of course I knew who it was before I even reached the sun dappled living room and saw him sitting on the lumpy sofa, reading an old copy of Little Women, which must have spilt out of one of my bags.

  ‘There you are.’ He looked up as I reached the top of the stairs, and put the book down. ‘I was really hoping you hadn’t got on a plane to Dublin.’

  ‘I knew it would be Dublin,’ I said, my voice as light as air. ‘How come you’re here?’

  ‘Hugo called. He told me you rang, wanting to talk to me, and happened to mention you were no longer getting married.’

  ‘I did.’ The look in his olive-green eyes was making me breathless. ‘And I’m not.’

  He smiled. ‘I got a taxi here.’

  ‘A taxi, all that way?’ I took the final step, and then another, until I was standing in front of him. ‘It must be love.’

  ‘Oh, it most definitely is.’ Reaching for my hands he pulled me onto his lap and we looked at each other for a long moment, and it didn’t feel awkward at all. It felt lovely. I could have looked at him for hours. ‘This sofa’s really uncomfy,’ he said.

  ‘You should try the bed.’

  ‘Oh?’

  And then we were kissing, and it was just as good as it had been the first time, and every time that I’d imagined us kissing since.

  ‘What about your assignments?’ I said, when we’d finally pulled apart and had looked at each other some more, smiling as if we couldn’t believe our luck, my stomach doing acrobatics. ‘Won’t you be sacked?’

  ‘It’s not that sort of
job,’ he said, fingers drawing circles on my back. ‘It’s the sort of thing I can do any time. I was thinking I might leave it for a few more weeks.’

  ‘You know I’m going to be very busy with this place.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You’ve only just taken it on. I wouldn’t expect anything less.’

  ‘And it’s early days for… this.’ I gestured between us. ‘I – I don’t know what’s going to happen.’

  ‘That’s OK.’ He tilted my chin with his fingers. ‘This is all new for me too.’

  ‘Charlie will be happy if you’re staying around for a while.’

  He smiled. ‘So will my brother, if it means free babysitting on tap.’

  ‘Don Williams bought the bakery,’ I said, unable to keep it in. ‘After what you said to him.’

  Nathan’s head jolted back. ‘He told you that?’

  ‘More or less.’

  He thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘To be honest, I did wonder,’ he said. ‘He got this look… I don’t know. And it seemed a bit coincidental that he withdrew his offer, then a mystery buyer came forward almost immediately.’

  ‘Thank you, for saying what you did.’

  He gave a tiny shrug. ‘I meant every word.’

  ‘Meg, sorry to bother you.’ It was Big Steve, calling up the stairs. ‘There’s a customer wanting to know if she can have the recipe for your pecan and caramel tart,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll be down in a minute!’

  ‘You’re already in demand.’ Nathan’s smile grew. ‘I like it.’

  I traced his lips with my finger. ‘Gwen just tells them to mind their own bleedin’ business.’

  ‘But you can’t do that?’

  ‘I’m too polite,’ I said. ‘Too British.’

  ‘A proper “hidden gem”.’

  I laughed and stood up, retying the strings of my apron. ‘Will you wait for me?’ I wanted to look at him a moment longer.

  He leaned back on the lumpy sofa, his smile pouring through me like sunshine. ‘As long as it takes,’ he said.

  If you loved reading about Meg’s life in Seashell Cove, then The Café at Seashell Cove is your perfect next read! Join Cassie as she makes a new life for herself by the seaside – and finds love where she least expected it. Get it now!