Lovely Little Things in Pretty Beach : A magical feel-good romance book to escape with in summer 2021.

by Polly Babbington

  ‘Hmm. Yes. I’ve heard that. I guess I was lucky not to have to bother with all of that.’

  ‘You absolutely were. Apparently, there’s a house coming up though that is perfect for me, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed. I got a call from Shane Pence yesterday. I’m going to have a look at it soon.’

  ‘Good luck with that then,’ Lulu replied. ‘And what do you do for a living?’

  ‘Right now, I’m helping out with the family business. Just boring back office stuff.’

  Lulu nodded and took another sip of her tea and decided not to tell this lovely Ollie about her new job and make him feel worse about her bandaged hands.

  ‘Right. So, would you like me to help you with the strimming? I’m more than happy to,’ Ollie asked.

  I would like you to help me with many, many things, Ollie with the honey skin.

  Lulu went to shake her head and then a little voice in the back of her head told her to take the offer, to say yes.

  ‘You know what? Why not? I would be ever-so-grateful,’ Lulu replied as she looked back towards the huge old house. ‘I’ve been doing it bit by bit and I seem to be getting nowhere fast.’

  ‘I think you’ve done really well to even attempt it on your own. Those weeds look like they have a mind of their own and a will to take over the whole of Pretty Beach.’

  ‘I thought the same thing! But the little strip I’ve done gives me hope. Just that bit alone is an indication of what it once might have been like.’

  Ollie looked back at the garden and squinted to the top lawn. ‘If you can break the back of it the whole thing will be much easier in my humble opinion.’

  ‘Do you have a lot of gardening experience then?’ Lulu asked.

  ‘Not really, nothing special. The house I had with my ex-wife had a beautiful big garden and I used to love spending time out there,’ Ollie said as he got up from the chair, picked up his plate and mug and offered to take Lulu’s too. ‘The house I saw this morning was nice but the garden was a bit small. I do think it’s nice to have a bit of green around.’

  Lulu agreed as she opened the gate and they began to walk back up towards the house.

  A few hours later, Lulu stood in the kitchen in her painting clothes and looked out the window. There was no doubt about it, this Ollie was her kind of gardener and either she was a very slow worker, or he was a machine. He had got well stuck into the top lawn, and after strimming nearly half of it and clearing the weeds, he had then found the mower in the garage and gone over it with that too. It was amazing how much quicker and stronger he was than her.

  Finishing up with the mower he looked up at the kitchen window, smiled, and Lulu walked out onto the terrace.

  ‘Okay! I think that will do you for a bit. Look how much better it looks!’ Ollie exclaimed. ‘You’ll just need to try and keep on top of the mowing and get a grass treatment down to get rid of the weeds.’

  Lulu beamed. There was light at the end of the tunnel and she could now even see garden beds at the sides lined with antique edging and a little patch under the willow tree with a block paved section and a birdbath.

  ‘Well, thank you so much, Ollie. I’m really grateful.’

  ‘You’re welcome. The least I could do for the woman I knocked off her bike in the laneway.’ Ollie chuckled in response.

  ‘Oh, it was nothing. I’m fine.’

  ‘Nothing! Have you seen those hands? I feel awful.’

  ‘Well, we’re all square then,’ Lulu said as Ollie pumped the soap on the kitchen sink, washed his hands then face, and Lulu handed him a clean towel.

  Lulu felt a shiver run down her spine as Ollie finished with the towel, the strong soap smell lingering between them.

  ‘Right, I’ll see you to the front door.’

  As they walked through the house to the front door, Ollie turned around. ‘I didn’t get my guided tour and I don't have time now. I’ll have to do that another time.’

  Come around anytime, my friend.

  ‘Yes, pop in next time you’re passing,’ Lulu said trying to sound as casual as she could as she opened the front door and strolled across the driveway to the pavement.

  As Ollie opened the door to his car and waved he called out over the roof. ‘You be careful now, Lulu - no bumping into cars on the laneway or letting strange men into your house to strim your garden,’ he joked.

  Strange or not, you can strim my garden anytime.

  12

  A couple of days later, with Mabel trotting along beside her, Lulu strolled out into the garden and the smell of the lawn mixed with the ocean breeze hit her nostrils. She stopped on the terrace and looked up at the rapidly fading light, and took a deep breath in. That Pretty Beach air; she’d forgotten just how good it was. How it did something miraculous to the soul.

  No Fenton, no marriage, no real prospects, but a new start, an old house, gorgeous clean, fresh air, and a very nice view in a sweet little town by the sea. Things could be a whole lot worse.

  She walked over the grass to the now visible flower beds, snapped off a few bits of greenery and a few flowers, continued her way around the garden taking in the sights and sounds of the evening, and then made her way back to the kitchen with the flowers balanced in the crook of her arm.

  With the multi-cooker plugged in on the newly sanded butcher’s block worktop and a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge, as Lulu walked back in from the garden she felt as if something had shifted in her. The fear, dread, and worry of the past year had slowly begun to dissipate along with all the dirt and gloom in Seafolly House.

  She put the flowers on the kitchen table, decided that she was going to pretty the place up a bit, walked into the study, and rummaged around in the moving boxes for a tablecloth and candles. Finding her favourite beautifully soft crumpled linen tablecloth and coordinating runner, she went back to the kitchen, put the tablecloth on the old farmhouse table, and placed the candles in the middle.

  Using a couple of old Mason jars she’d found in the cupboards when she was first clearing everything out, she filled them with water, added the flowers and greenery, and placed them on either side of the candles. Next, tea lights went into four vintage lanterns she’d found on a shelf in the garage and she placed them on the windowsill.

  She might be on her own, divorced, and rather worried about her future, but there was always room for accessories and her lovely, pretty little things. As Lulu looked at the tablecloth, candles and flowers, and gazed at the beautiful soft light in the white room, she smiled. When she had her things around her everything, even the memories of Fenton and what he had done, felt better.

  The kitchen softly glowing in the flickering light reminded her of her small business Lovely Little Things and how her website, Instagram, and Facebook accounts were all sitting there waiting for her to get back on the horse and get back into it. It was the one thing that, because of Willow’s foresight, had been safe from Fenton’s debts and lies.

  Lulu fetched a chilled bottle of white wine from the fridge, together with the fresh uncooked prawns she’d bought from Pretty Beach fish shop that morning, and just as she was walking back into the kitchen her phone started to ring in her pocket.

  Pulling her phone out and flipping open the case, Lulu looked down at the unknown number and thinking that it could be something to do with Willow, pressed the green button.

  ‘Hello, Lulu Drinkwater,’ she said in a semi-happy voice.

  ‘Oh, hi, Lulu. It’s Ollie. Ollie from the, err, accident.’

  Did my heart just skip a beat? As if I have many Ollie’s in my life!

  Lulu tried to make her voice slow, calm, and sound more like a grown-up than a six-year-old. ‘Hey, Ollie, what can I do for you on this lovely evening?’

  ‘I just thought I would give you a call seeing as we were chatting about it the other day. My offer was accepted on that house I was telling you about. I am about to officially be a member of Pretty Beach. I’ll be a neighbour or at least a local.’


  ‘Oh! Excellent! Congratulations. That’s brilliant news.’

  Oh good! You’ll be closer to me.

  ‘Thanks. Obviously, all the official stuff has still to be done, but hopefully, if it all goes well I’ll be in soon as there’s no chain at all on this one.’

  ‘I take it the garden was big enough for your liking, then?’ Lulu asked.

  ‘Indeed it was. Well remembered.’ Ollie chuckled. ‘Look, actually, what are you up to? I still need to apologise properly for the other day.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was just about to pop over to the Smugglers for a celebratory drink. Fancy joining me for a quick one?’

  Lulu’s heart most definitely skipped a beat.

  ‘Actually, I’ve just this minute walked into the kitchen to add the prawns to a big dish of pasta and I’ve opened a bottle of wine that’s been chilling in the fridge all day.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Not to worry about it then. Maybe another time,’ Ollie replied.

  Before Lulu could think about what she was saying she heard herself respond, ‘Join me if you like. There’s more than enough for two. I’d like some company.’

  The other end of the phone was silent.

  ‘Ollie?’

  ‘I think that would be lovely, Lulu. I wouldn't say no to a glass of white wine after the last couple of days with all this house stuff. Thanks. I’ll be there in what, half an hour?’

  ‘Perfect. See you soon,’ Lulu replied and pressing end on the call raced up the stairs trying to ignore the pain in her leg and the throbbing on the palms of her hands. As she pulled the long-sleeved t-shirt she’d been wearing for dinner for one over her head, she ran into the bathroom, grabbed her cream cashmere jumper where it was neatly placed on top of her box of yet-to-be unpacked clothes in the corner, and looked at her hair in the mirror. Thank god she’d decided to attempt to wash it with her head under the shower and hands in plastic bags after the day in the garden. All it needed was a quick spray and it would be good to go.

  Scraping her hair back as best she could into a ponytail, Lulu popped pretty pearl drop earrings into her ears and rummaged around to find the matching bracelet but gave up trying to secure it with the sore, injured hands.

  After layering on her trusty foundation, adding highlighter to her cheeks, and her favourite pale nude pink lipstick, and dabbing on a hefty smattering of the miracle blurring cream, Lulu looked back in the mirror - all done trying to hold on as best she could with her brushes.

  Divorced, yes. Still got it? Possibly. Most definitely never knowingly under-accessorised.

  As she peered into the old, cracked mirror she held up her bandaged hands. Not quite part of the look, but she was doing well considering the time frame.

  Lulu sprinted back down the wide curved stairs to the hallway, patted her hair to make sure it was still in place and took a deep breath in.

  What are you doing? He’s young (well, he’s not, but he looks young), hot (he’s definitely hot, really, really hot), and you are newly divorced. The last thing you want is to be even thinking about someone else. This is what is officially known as rebound territory. You’re concerned about what you look like because of a man who knocked you off your bike who you don’t even know? Putting your favourite pearls on for a man who you’ve about hood-winked into coming to your place for dinner. Unbelievable.

  A few minutes later, Lulu pottered around the kitchen pretending to be relaxed and nonchalant about her guest. She found more candles in the boxes in the study and placed them all around the kitchen and nodded to herself. It was looking better. She had done a good job. She could do it. She could cope on her own.

  As she lit more of the candles, the old ship’s bell at the front door rang and Lulu walked through the house, got to the entrance, pulled the inner door open, stepped through the tessellated tile porch, turned the key in the lock, and pushed open the front door. She pretended to be all casual. Ollie was standing on the front steps in a navy-blue jumper over a crisp collared shirt, with his left hand in the pocket of his jeans and his right hand holding a small bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine.

  Mabel bounded out of the door and greeted Ollie by bouncing and doing the little whimper that she did when she liked someone.

  ‘Good evening,’ Ollie said with a beaming smile and stepping up to the porch offered Lulu the flowers. As Lulu took the flowers Ollie bent down and stroked Mabel’s head.

  The beat in Lulu’s heart missed again and then it thumped like crazy. She started to fiddle with her earring as Ollie stepped in.

  ‘Oh, you didn’t need to bring flowers,’ Lulu pretended. Inside, she was really pleased he had.

  ‘Not at all. Least I can do after what I did to you. These and this are my way of apology for that,’ Ollie said holding up the flowers and wine and then looking down at Lulu’s bandaged hands. ‘How are the hands feeling now by the way?’

  Lulu shook her head and wrinkled up her nose. ‘Hmm. They’re okay, but I thought they would be healing a lot better by now.’

  ‘Have you been back for the re-dressing?’ Ollie asked.

  ‘Yep, but it’s been since then that the throbbing has started again so I’m not sure what to do.’

  ‘You’ll have to get them checked again,’ Ollie replied with a concerned look on his face.

  ‘Yep. I’m fine for now,’ Lulu said as she led Ollie into the kitchen and she smiled to herself as she walked in and took two huge wine glasses from the now white dresser.

  Pouring the wine from the chilled carafe and looking around at what she had achieved, Lulu felt, for the first time in more than a year, quite pleased with herself: proud, even.

  Here she was in a totally different part of the country, in an old falling down house with a kitchen she had painted herself which was looking lovely, a huge vat of homemade pasta filled the air with its lovely comforting scent, and the whole scene was topped off with a very handsome man and surrounded by soft flickering candlelight.

  Sometimes things in life do go right. I am capable. I won’t end up sad and alone.

  Lulu pottered around chatting, put a small dish of marinated olives in front of Ollie, and whisked up a French vinaigrette while Ollie sat sipping on his wine. She wondered how the heck she had got where she was. Not long ago she was married and living on the outskirts of London, now she was here making dressing overlooking the sea. It all felt very odd. Very new.

  As Ollie chatted about what would hopefully be his new house and searched for pictures of it on his phone, Lulu found memories of her old life flitting in and out of her mind as if she was watching a movie about somebody else. Another person who was called Lulu in another life. Her lounging opposite Fenton in a lovely restaurant over an eye-wateringly expensive bottle of champagne, sitting beside Fenton driving along in his brand-new sports car, popping off to her very-nice-thank-you-very-much Pilates class in beautifully cut exercise gear, checking the time on her Cartier watch. The same one that was no longer hers, taken away, with many of her things, to pay Fenton’s secret debts.

  And now here she was sitting in a kitchen she’d painted herself, making pasta and prawns and drinking a bottle of wine looking out old French windows down to the sea in the town she had vowed she would never come back to. With a totally different man at the table.

  ‘Lulu?’ she heard Ollie say as she stood cutting up some roasted beetroot for the salad.

  ‘Oh, sorry! Yes, I do love that part of Pretty Beach,’ Lulu replied as she turned from the window and the beetroot and took Ollie’s phone to look at the photos. She gazed down at the pictures of what looked like a Georgian townhouse.

  ‘Ahh, yes, the Old Town. Gosh, it looks gorgeous. Not quite as much to do as there is here.’

  ‘No, there’s not. I don’t mind a bit of DIY but this place doesn’t really need much at all. Fingers crossed it all goes through. To be quite honest, I’m sick of it. I’ve been looking for so long and the last two chains I was in both fell through after months of
waiting.’

  Lulu took a sip of her wine, slid the phone back across the table, got up and dished the steaming pasta with prawns into a shallow dish, and placed it in the middle of the table together with a green salad with the roasted beetroot and a jug of French vinaigrette.

  ‘At least I didn’t have to go through all that with this house, I suppose. I just had to get out of the last one,’ Lulu replied as she gestured to Ollie to help himself.

  Ollie looked at the pasta and beautifully presented salad. ‘Wow, you don’t do things by halves. This looks and smells delicious. You like to cook, do you?’ Ollie asked.

  ‘Ahh, yes and no. I like pottering around in the kitchen after a day of work. I have a few dishes that I love and I have mastered them well. I like to eat nice food so there’s that.’ Lulu laughed back. ‘I make a mean roast chicken and roast potatoes are my speciality. Plus, my pancakes are renowned!’

  ‘Ooh, my favourite. I’ll have to come back for roast chicken then. Or pancakes one morning. Or both.’ Ollie laughed as he picked up the salad servers.

  Come back whenever you want. I’ll lose myself in your honey skin while you're here. Or make you pancakes in the morning. Be my guest.

  ‘Another glass of wine?’ Lulu asked as Ollie helped himself to the pasta and piled the beetroot salad onto his plate and Lulu furtively watched him as she reached over to get the dish of pasta. Ollie nodded and Lulu filled his glass and felt the heat rise in her neck as he lifted the glass and raised it to hers.

  Lulu felt her face flush as she looked at Ollie’s green eyes as their glass clinked. ‘Phew, it’s getting warm in here. I’ll just open the window,’ Lulu said, putting her fork down, and going over to open the window over the sink. She leant on the worktop, took a deep breath of the fresh sea air to clear her head. Her stomach felt knotted and she felt as if the pasta would get stuck in her throat if she even attempted a forkful.