The Single Mums' Picnic Club
Page 29
‘Right.’ Frankie grabbed a Little Seaside Picnics-branded apron and slipped it over her head. ‘What can I do to help?’
Although Frankie and Katie’s main roles were office-based, they still assisted George in the kitchen when needed, made deliveries, and helped set up their catering bookings. They’d just agreed to take on a couple of part-time assistants who were working towards catering qualifications at the nearby college, but they wouldn’t be starting for another couple of weeks, when the summer trade would really pick up.
‘I’m glad the weather’s taken a turn for the better,’ Katie said as she joined them in the kitchen a while later. ‘I was getting worried for a while there.’
George had been so busy in the kitchen, she’d forgotten to check the weather. But she looked out of the window now, a smile spreading wide across her face. The grey clouds had dispersed, and the sun was shining brightly.
They set up the picnic on the beach outside George’s hut, spreading a large, red gingham blanket across the sand, ready to fill with delicious food. They were having an early dinner down on the beach as they’d spent the morning and afternoon catering for their clients. Saturdays were definitely their busiest day of the week.
‘Hey, you.’ Frankie felt a pair of arms slip around her waist and she twisted so she could face Alex. He’d left for work early that morning, before she or the twins had woken, so she was glad he’d made it down to the beach now. Jake sat by Alex’s side, a totally different dog to the one who’d knocked her over eighteen months ago. The training classes were certainly paying off; he hadn’t chewed any of the twins’ toys, Alex’s shoes, or the remote control for weeks now, and he no longer posed a danger to the public whenever he went for a walk.
Jake was officially Alex’s dog now, and the information on his chip had been updated to reflect his new address. Alex’s sister wasn’t coming home any time soon – it turned out the man she’d met on holiday in Cyprus really was the love of her life, and they were now married. Katie had looked after Jake while Alex, Frankie and the twins flew over for the wedding, and she’d vowed never to offer her dog-sitting services ever again. And that had been several months into the dog training, when Jake was starting to turn a corner. Frankie shuddered to think how much carnage he’d have caused beforehand.
‘That thing isn’t going to wolf our picnic down, is it?’ Katie grumbled as she placed a selection of cupcakes and muffins on the blanket. She eyed Jake warily, though he remained seated. Although Lizzie had fallen for Jake’s charm while he’d been a guest at the house and now wanted a dog of their own, Katie couldn’t see anything remotely appealing about the daft hound. She’d told Lizzie to ask her dad about getting a dog at his house instead.
‘He’s a good boy now, aren’t you, fella?’ Alex reached down to scratch Jake behind the ears, but Katie wasn’t convinced. She’d only just moved back into her parents’ house when she’d offered to look after the dog, had just made the garden a little more presentable with a neat lawn and a few flowers along the edges, and that mutt had dug up each and every one of them. Unforgivable.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she told the dog as he watched her with huge, brown eyes. She would not soften towards him, no matter how contrite he pretended to be.
She continued to set out the picnic, shooing away a seagull as it tried its luck, its beady eyes on the handmade pork pies as it edged towards the blanket.
‘You’re really not an animal lover, are you?’ Isaac asked as he plodded down the stones steps and headed towards them.
‘I don’t know about that.’ Frankie smirked at her brother. ‘She somehow puts up with you.’
‘She’s lucky to have a young, hot stud like me.’ Isaac winked at Katie as he passed, while Frankie made gagging noises.
‘Seriously, how do you put up with him?’ she asked her friend as Isaac headed into the beach hut to grab more food to set out on the blanket.
Katie had a reason or two but didn’t think Frankie would appreciate them. When Katie had started seeing Isaac – properly, with actual dates and everything – she and Frankie had made a pact that there would be no icky oversharing, and Frankie had been delighted when Katie had moved out of her old seafront house, as it meant she would never have to come face to face with the setting of her little brother’s nocturnal activities.
‘Aren’t Elliot and Lizzie coming?’ George asked as she rearranged the sandwiches Isaac had placed on the blanket.
Katie caught Frankie’s eyes briefly before she turned back to George, a slight frown on her face. ‘They’re with Rob and Anya.’ She spoke slowly, her eyes flicking to Frankie and back again. ‘It’s their wedding. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it once or twice.’ Frankie sniggered at the understatement. The decree absolute had barely made it to the doormat before Rob had announced his engagement. He hadn’t wasted any time at all, and it was only Anya’s insistence on planning the wedding carefully that had held them back from exchanging vows while the ink was still wet.
Katie had passed on a Little Seaside Picnics business card – promising a family discount – but they hadn’t taken her up on the catering option.
‘Of course.’ George rolled her eyes and sank down onto the blanket from her kneeling position. ‘Sorry – baby brain.’ She placed a hand on her stomach and shook her head. ‘I swear my brain’s becoming more and more sieve-like by the day, and I’m only eighteen weeks. Can you imagine me towards the end of the pregnancy? I won’t even remember my own name.’ She laughed lightly to herself and sat up again. ‘How are you feeling about the day, Katie?’
‘I’m fine.’ Katie shrugged. ‘I won’t lie: I was feeling a bit sad when I woke up this morning and realised what day it was. I mean, it really is the final nail in the coffin of our marriage, isn’t it? But it’s more of a nostalgic sadness. I don’t want Rob for myself, it’s just the end of an era and all that.’
‘But you’re feeling okay now?’ George asked, and Katie nodded, the corners of her lips lifting into a smile.
‘Oh, yes. Isaac did something that made me forget all about Rob.’ She half-laughed, half-yelped as she hopped out of the way of Frankie’s swing. She held her hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.’
‘And how do Elliot and Lizzie feel?’ George was back to rearranging food, ensuring everything was just so. ‘It must be a bit weird for them?’
‘They’re happy enough.’ Katie took one of the bowls of salad Isaac was balancing in his arms and carried it to the blanket. ‘Lizzie was thrilled to be a bridesmaid and Elliot was just glad his dad didn’t make him wear a tie. Plus, he got to take Zara as his plus-one, so he’s fine.’
George waited until Isaac and Alex had disappeared inside the hut again before she asked, ‘Do you think you’ll ever get married again?’
Frankie attempted to cover her ears, but she only had one available hand as the other was holding Jake’s lead. She didn’t trust him enough to let go. ‘I’m pretty sure this kind of conversation is breaking the pact.’
George shrugged. ‘I wasn’t necessarily talking about Isaac.’
‘But that makes it worse.’
‘Does it?’ George thought about it for a moment. ‘I guess it does.’ She shrugged. ‘Baby brain strikes again.’
Frankie laughed. ‘Are you going to blame everything on baby brain from now on?’
George thought about this, and then nodded. ‘Probably.’
‘I don’t blame you. It’s the perfect excuse.’ Katie sank onto her knees on the blanket. ‘Can we eat yet? I’m starving.’
‘Me too.’ George winked at her. ‘Baby’s hungry. But I guess we should wait a bit longer. Jack and the kids should be here any minute.’ She turned to look up at Frankie, squinting against the sun. ‘What time did your mum say she’d get here with the twins?’
Frankie pointed at the promenade. ‘They’re on the way now. See that giant teddy? Skye is under there somewhere. I hope they haven’t run Mum ragged on the pier.’
‘I know, but they can be a handful.’
‘Your mum raised you and Isaac – she knows what she’s doing.’
Frankie nodded. ‘You’re right, but I’m going to go up and meet them. Make sure Skye doesn’t trip over that bear going down the steps.’ She held the dog’s lead out towards Katie and offered a beaming smile. ‘Any chance you can hold Jake for a minute?’
Katie sighed, but she took hold of the lead. By the time Frankie made it back to the blanket with Christina, the twins, and the giant teddy bear, Katie was feeding cocktail sausages to the dog. It seemed she wasn’t immune to his charms after all.
The party was complete once Jack arrived with Thomas, Leo, Ellie and Vevie. They all gathered on the blanket, with Katie proposing a toast to the growth of Little Seaside Picnics.
‘It’s been an amazing year,’ she said, raising her glass of champagne. ‘Let’s hope the next twelve months will be just as fun, hectic and successful.’
George raised her glass of sparkling water and leaned against Jack’s solid frame beside her. Who would have thought, eighteen months ago, that she could be so happy? Thomas was thriving at school, she was completely besotted with Jack and her new extended family, which was about to extend by another member in a few months, and she was an integral part of a flourishing business. There were times she had to pinch herself to prove it was all real, but for now, she would sit back, relax and enjoy the moment.
Acknowledgements
A massive thanks to everyone who helped me to name Alex when I put a call out on my Facebook page, especially Anne Wood and Michelle Tierney, whose suggestions led to ‘Alexander Greyson’. Also thanks to Julie Shackman, Elaine Blake, Andrew Cahill (who I still suspect is messing with me somehow, but I’ve missed the punchline), Trish Hills, Beth Cahill, Helen Brown, Leyanne Bunting, Samantha Burden, Cheryl Jewell, Rachel Broughton, Melissa Elizabeth, Birgit Pitson, and Adrian Tierney for your suggestions. A super-duper thank you to Jake Tierney, for generously donating his name for Alex’s furry friend.
As always, a gigantic thank you to the HQ Digital team for all their hard work transforming my words into actual books with gorgeous covers. Special thanks to my editor, Charlotte Mursell, who somehow spots the beginnings of a decent story in my initial manuscripts and helps me to create much stronger stories and characters.
Huge thank you to my family for all your support. It really means a lot. Ginormous thanks to the Joyces – Chris, Rianne and Isobel (and Luna!)
Enormous thanks to everyone in TSAG, for always being there with advice and support and celebrations. This writing stuff wouldn’t be half as much fun without you.
Finally (because I’m running out of synonyms for ‘big’), whopping great big thanks to you, the readers. I still have to pinch myself that people are reading my stories. I hope you enjoyed The Single Mums’ Picnic Club!
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading my book. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I’d love to hear what you thought, so it would be wonderful if you could leave a little review.
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If you enjoyed The Single Mums’ Picnic Club then turn over for an exclusive extract from Jennifer Joyce’s The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea!
Chapter One
Mae
Mae was in a mad rush that morning as she flitted from room to room, eyes flicking to whichever clock happened to be nearest every thirty seconds. Right now, it was the digital display on the microwave that made her eyes widen in panic as she trundled into the kitchen, dumping the armful of goodies she’d collected onto the breakfast bar. Where had the morning gone? She could have sworn it was only five minutes since she’d dragged her weary body from beneath her sheets, forcing it in the direction of the coffee machine. And now it was almost time to go and she wasn’t even ready. The caffeine hadn’t had chance to work its way into her system, even after her second giant mug, gulped down between bites of toast.
Taking a calming breath, Mae added the goodies to the baskets she’d set out on the breakfast bar with a practised hand, arranging the mini bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body lotion to the bed of scrunched-up tissue paper among the bottled water, individually wrapped teabags and sachets of coffee. The bar of chocolate, cellophane-wrapped biscuits and stick of rock added a sweet touch. Mae prided herself on attention to detail; it was the little things that stuck with guests long after they’d packed their suitcases and returned home, the unexpected touches they gushed over with their friends and family or added to their TripAdvisor review. Although the welcome baskets she left in the rooms of her bed and breakfast took time, effort and extra cost, Mae knew they could tempt a guest to leave a sparkling, five-star review instead of a four-star, and entice them back next year – and the year after that. Mae had dreamed of running her own bed and breakfast since she was a little girl. Now her wish had come true, she would put her all into the venture and make it the best bed and breakfast she possibly could.
‘Hannah!’ she called as she popped the final item – a note for her guests written on a postcard with a photo of the seaside town on the front – into the basket. ‘Have you got your shoes on yet?’
She grabbed the baskets – one each for the two rooms she had available in the house she’d inherited from her grandmother four years ago – and headed towards the stairs, stopping outside the family room where she spotted her four-year-old daughter still glued to the television. Shoeless.
‘Excuse me, little lady, but aren’t you supposed to be putting your shoes on?’ Mae arched an eyebrow at her daughter. ‘We need to set off for Nanny’s in two minutes.’
‘It only takes me one minute to put my shoes on,’ Hannah said, eyes travelling back to the screen.
Mae’s eyebrow arched further. ‘And how long does it take you to walk up the stairs to grab them?’
Hannah scrunched up her nose, eyes still on the television, as she calculated. ‘Ten seconds?’
‘And do you know where your shoes are?’
Technically, Hannah’s shoes should be lined up at the bottom of the wardrobe with her other shoes, but Mae knew her daughter too well. Mae might be a stickler for the little details, but her daughter was not. In Hannah’s world, there was a place for everything, but nothing was in its place.
‘One of them is under my bed,’ Hannah said. ‘I kicked it under there this morning when I tripped over it.’
Mae closed her eyes, briefly. ‘And the other?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘In my room?’
Mae hoped the shoe was in Hannah’s bedroom. They had guests arriving later and Mae lived in fear of the day one of them would trip over an abandoned shoe or toy. She did her best to keep the house in pristine condition, but it wasn’t always easy with a four-year-old tearing about the place.
‘So, actually finding the other shoe could take you more than the fifty seconds you have left. Plus, we’ve been discussing this for…’ Mae scrunched up her own nose as she calculated the wasted time. ‘Twenty seconds? So, really, you only have thirty seconds to find your shoe. Probably twenty-five by now. So do you think
you should turn the telly off and go and put them on?’
Hannah sighed, her little chest heaving dramatically. ‘Fine.’
Mae watched as her daughter wriggled off the sofa and turned the television off before shuffling out of the family room and up the stairs. Hannah was four and already behaving like a teenager – how would Mae cope when hormones set up camp? But Mae didn’t have time to ponder. She had welcome baskets to set out and less than two minutes to do so. She followed Hannah up the stairs, pushing open the guest room they had on that floor, and placed the basket on the end of the bed, smoothing the bedspread with the palm of her hand. The left curtain wasn’t quite even so she moved across the room to open it a little more, smiling at the view as she did so. With the bed and breakfast on the seafront, Mae had the perfect view of the beach, with the pier in the distance, the Ferris wheel already turning slowly. The school summer holidays had started the previous week, so Clifton-on-Sea was jam-packed with holidaymakers hopeful of a warm and dry British summer. Growing up in Clifton-on-Sea, Mae hadn’t always appreciated the beauty of her little town. Building sandcastles with her grandpa, the delicious scent of sweet candyfloss and hot doughnuts mingling with the sea air, eating fish and chips from the paper with her feet dangling over the harbour walls – these were ordinary occurrences for Mae as a little girl, and it wasn’t until she left the town in her late teens, eager to see a bit more of the country, of the world, that she realised what a special place she’d left behind. Or how privileged she’d been to have such an idyllic childhood by the sea. She couldn’t imagine a better place to raise her daughter.