Spring at The Cosy Cottage Cafe: A heart-warming story of friendship and new beginnings

by Rachel Griffiths

  “Honey… I had to know where we stand. If you don’t want to be with me then I will have to accept that and move on but I can’t stop thinking about you. You have such a generous heart, a sweet nature and you’re loyal to your friends. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re also very independent, but sometimes… that independence means that you push people away.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. But it’s more than that. See… I really like you. In fact, I care for you deeply but I’m afraid.”

  He caressed her palm with his thumb.

  “I’m afraid too. Nothing worth having comes without risk, you know?”

  “I know. But, Dane, you pushed me away too.”

  “I did. With my busy schedule. I was terrified I wouldn’t get the job and I’d have to move away and the thought of not seeing you and being around you hurt me. But the irony is that I missed so much time that I could have spent with you because I was working so hard.”

  “I know you have to work hard but you also need—”

  “Balance.”

  “Yes, balance.”

  “That was one of the reasons I decided to take up yoga, wasn’t it? Plus I needed to try to loosen these old rugby tensions.”

  “Did I help with that at all?”

  “You did. But I think I need a live-in yoga teacher.”

  “You what?”

  His eyes widened. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

  “Uh… no… but…”

  “Move in with me, Honey. Let’s give this a go. I’d love to see you every morning and hold you every night.”

  “Wow.”

  His face dropped. “I’ve scared you.”

  “No… no, you haven’t scared me but you have surprised me.” She swallowed hard. “In a good way.”

  “What do you think, then?”

  “Dane, I need to tell you something. The reason I ran away after our night together wasn’t because I didn’t want to be there but because I hadn’t told you everything about my past.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t need to tell me everything.”

  “Okay, not absolutely everything, but there are things… like when I was with Elliott, we had a… I had a…”

  He squeezed her hand, gently encouraging her to continue.

  “I lost a baby,” she whispered, her heart contracting as she vocalized the words, releasing them onto the breeze.

  “You lost a child?”

  She nodded, her vision blurring.

  “I’m so sorry, Honey.”

  “The pregnancy wasn’t planned and I was young, but just as I started to accept the idea of being a mum, it was over.”

  He took her drink and placed it on the table then opened his arms and embraced her. She pressed her face against his neck, breathing him in and a sense of calm and security filled her. Dane had her back; he wouldn’t hurt her or leave her, he was in this for the long run.

  She leant back and gazed up at his face.

  “I’ve stayed away from relationships and intimacy because I was terrified of it happening again. The idea of losing another baby was too much for me and I was filled with guilt because I always believed it was my initial lack of enthusiasm for the pregnancy that led to me miscarrying. Kind of like a punishment.”

  “Honey,” he lifted her chin and met her eyes, “it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know. I spoke to Elliott about it and I’ve read about it. I’ve spoken to other women in online support groups. I know that I’m not to blame but there’s a lot of guilt attached to losing a baby.”

  He nodded. “Women often blame themselves. My mum lost a baby after she had me. She told me about it when I was older and said that she was filled with guilt. If only she’d eaten better, rested more… the list went on. But it wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I also… I shut down and pushed Elliott away. I couldn’t bear for him to touch me, kiss me, even be near me. It was as if I was punishing him for what happened.”

  “I’m sure he understood.”

  “He does now but back then, we were so young and it was all so raw. I know I was cruel to him when he needed comfort too. It’s why I find it so hard to open up… why I’ve struggled to tell you how much I care. I never want to be the reason why you hurt, Dane.”

  “I care about you too. A lot.”

  “Dane, you said something earlier about children. I don’t know if I’ll be able to…”

  “Look, we’ll be together in everything as a team and make decisions together. We’ve plenty of time. I want to be with you… get to know you better.”

  “I had a D and C after the miscarriage and developed an infection. There could be scarring of my womb and that could make conception difficult.”

  “Honey, didn’t you hear me? I said I want you. If, one day, years down the line, we decide we’d like to start a family then we’ll deal with any challenges together.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He leant forwards and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm, his scent was deliciously familiar, and as he slid his arms around her, she felt his strength enveloping her and keeping her safe.

  “Look! Mr Ackerman is kissing the Easter Bunny!”

  Honey pulled away from Dane to see three small children with chocolate-covered faces gawking at them.

  “Hello, Sir.” One of the boys grinned. “Did she bring you a nice egg?”

  “Sorry?” Dane frowned.

  “Well you were kissing the bunny to say thank you, weren’t you?”

  “Oh! Yes, that’s right.” Dane glanced at Honey then cleared his throat. “Why don’t you kids run along now? Go and ask the band to play a special song. In fact… come here a minute.”

  He stood up and whispered into the boy’s ear then they shook hands.

  “What was all that about?” Honey asked, pushing herself to her feet.

  “Special request.” Dane frowned at her. “What happened there?” He pointed at the yellow stain on her foot.

  “HP.”

  “Ah, right, say no more!”

  “Exactly.”

  Dane reached for her hand as the band started to play.

  “I think I know this,” Honey said.

  “It’s You Make My Dreams Come True by Hall and Oates. By request. Dance with me?”

  “To this?”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s quite… funky.”

  “And appropriate.”

  Honey let him pull her close and they moved in time with the music. Dane twirled her under his arm then back to him and round again, but Honey started laughing.

  “What is it?”

  “You keep stepping on my big feet.”

  He smiled. “They are rather large. I don’t know how you ever find shoes to fit.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What for? Laughing at your feet?”

  “For being you.”

  “Ditto.”

  He cupped her face then kissed her. Honey slid her arms around his neck and felt his hands roam over her bunny tail before giving it a tweak.

  “Hey!” she murmured against his lips.

  “You know, I’ll have to behave myself in public from now on. I can’t have the pupils seeing me kissing the Easter Bunny again, so I was making the most of it.”

  “Mandy?” A shout from the front lawn made them freeze.

  “MUM!”

  Honey and Dane hurried around to the front of the café as the music stopped. Everyone was staring at the young woman standing at the gate in a red satin ball-gown. Her blonde hair was a windswept mess and mascara was smudged down her cheeks making her look as though she’d just completed a military assault course. She pushed the gate open then ran into Allie’s arms.

  “It’s all gone so wrong, Mum!” she wailed.

  “Come on, love, let’s get you inside.” Allie led her daughter into the café, followed by Chris and Jordan, then they closed the door behind them.

  “What happened there?”
Dane asked.

  “I’m not sure but I know Mandy hasn’t been very happy lately. Looks like she needs her mum.”

  “Allie will sort her out.”

  “If anyone can, Allie can.” Honey nodded.

  The music started again and Maxwell called people to the drinks table, obviously keen to distract the villagers from the dramatic scene they’d just witnessed.

  “Should I go and see if I can help?” Honey asked Dane.

  “Probably best to leave them to it. I’m sure Allie will call if she needs you.”

  “I guess you’re right. What shall we do then?”

  “How about we go back to mine and discuss this moving in together idea in a bit more detail?” Dane stroked her cheek and goosebumps rose on her skin.

  “Actually, how about we go back to mine and see if there’s enough room in my wardrobe for your things?”

  “Really?”

  “Well, I own my cottage but you rent, so it makes more sense. Besides, I have the chickens and my studio and one of the spare rooms would probably make a great study for you.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “Come on then. If you play your cards right I might even take these bunny feet off.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  They said goodbye to their friends, then walked through the gate and onto the street. Honey was worried about Allie and her family but she knew her friend would call if she needed her, and that she had the support of Chris and Jordan.

  Before walking away, Honey cast one more glance behind her. It really had been an eventful start to spring at The Cosy Cottage Café, and for the first time in a long while, she was looking forward to embracing the present and anticipating the future. With Dane at her side.

  The End

  Spring Spritzer Cocktail

  Ingredients:

  1 shot lavender syrup

  1 shot Lillet rose vermouth

  1 shot freshly-squeezed lemon juice

  2 shots prosecco

  Directions:

  Fill a cocktail shaker halfway with ice then add the lavender syrup, Lillet rose vermouth and lemon juice. Shake well.

  Strain into a glass then top up with the prosecco.

  Garnish with a slice of lemon and a sprig of lavender.

  (NB – 1 shot = approximately 30ml / 1 oz)

  Also by Rachel Griffiths

  If you enjoyed Spring at The Cosy Cottage Café, you might also enjoy Summer at The Cosy Cottage Café by Rachel Griffiths

  Here’s an extract:

  Chapter 1

  “Such a terrible loss, Mrs Burnley. I really am sorry.”

  Allie Jones nodded solemnly as the elderly woman dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

  “She was a good friend… all these years.” Judith Burnley’s watery eyes burned into Allie’s. “Since school you know? Even though she was a few years older than me, we were still so close.”

  “I can’t imagine how you must be feeling.”

  “Dreadful. Dreadful.” Mrs Burnley’s emphasis caused a tiny bead of saliva to land on her chin. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. Although it was a lovely service.”

  “Oh good. I would have gone myself but I had to be here to get everything ready.”

  “Of course you did. Her son said some very nice things about her. He’s a good lad that Chris Monroe.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  Allie chewed her bottom lip, wondering how long she was supposed to stand with the older woman. After all, what length of time did social etiquette demand? Plus, she really didn’t want to discuss Chris right now and had been trying not to think about him too much.

  “I hope someone says positive things about me at my funeral. At my age, I probably don’t have much time left…”

  Time!

  The word made Allie think about the miniature quiches in the oven. She needed to rescue them. Five more minutes would mean perfect pastry but any longer and they’d be ruined.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to get back to the kitchen. I have a thousand things to do before everyone arrives.”

  Mrs Burnley’s grey eyebrows shot up her heavily powdered forehead.

  “I have quiches in the oven that will burn,” Allie added, in case the urgency of the situation was in any doubt. She placed a hand on the older woman’s arm. “Again, I’m sorry.”

  Mrs Burnley seemed placated. She gave a sharp sniff then headed across the café to a group of women standing near the log burner. Their uniform of black skirts and jackets paired with flesh-coloured tights, made Allie think of a nature documentary she’d once seen about crows, especially as they took it in turns to cast inquisitive glances around the café.

  Allie picked up two used cups from a table near the counter then went through to the kitchen. The quiches should have been ready before the funeral party started arriving. She was sure the service had been scheduled for eleven o’clock and hadn’t expected anyone to turn up at the café until around noon. But the group of women had arrived promptly at eleven thirty-five, so Allie guessed they had left the small village church as soon as the final hymn had been sung.

  Poor Chris!

  Allie hadn’t seen Chris Monroe in years. After he’d left the village, he rarely returned. Allie thought she had an idea why, having known his mother – the rather harsh Mrs Monroe – since she was a child, but there could be other reasons she knew nothing about. Whenever she’d asked Mrs Monroe how Chris was getting on, her stock response had been ‘he’s travelling with his writing’ and that was as much as Allie had known. Until a week ago, when she’d received a phone call out of the blue, from Chris himself.

  The call had been polite and brief, not allowing for more detailed pleasantries or a potted history. In fact, if Allie was being honest, Chris had been a bit rude and rather cold. But business was business and she wasn’t going to turn down a job. Besides, where else would they have held the wake? At one of the village pubs? Allie knew that Mrs Monroe would never have been happy with that. The old woman had seen the local pubs as dens of iniquity and would, no doubt, have turned in her new grave had her son chosen to hold her wake surrounded by locals enjoying a lunchtime pint.

  Allie shivered. All this thinking about graves and funerals summoned her own dark clouds to the horizon and the old sadness tugged at her heart. She didn’t have time for this today, so she’d have to pin her knickers to her vest and get on with things.

  She opened the oven door and the comforting aromas of grilled cheese and caramelised onion greeted her. Just in time! She removed the trays from the oven then set them on the worktop to cool.

  “Hey, Mum!”

  Allie turned to find Jordan had joined her in the kitchen.

  “Oh thank goodness! I thought you’d forgotten you were working this morning.”

  He shook his head and his floppy fringe fell over his left eye.

  “Of course not. Would I let you down?” He gave her a cheeky grin then pulled an apron from a drawer and hooped it over his head. Allie knew she could tell her son that he had let her down in the past, and that, yes, he did sometimes oversleep and forget about his Saturday morning shifts at the café too, but she didn’t. He was here now and that was what mattered.

  “Where do you want me?”

  “You oversee things out front. I’ll get everything finished up in here then come and help you. Just keep the tea and coffee going.”

  Jordan paused then rubbed the back of his neck as he inhaled deeply, a sign that he was worrying about something.

  “What is it, love?”

  “Mum… Are you, uh, okay?”

  “Why, Jordan?”

  He met her eyes and she watched as he chewed his lower lip.

  “Well, you know, with this being a wake.”

  Allie nodded. “Honestly, I’m fine. This isn’t the first wake we’ve done since your dad…” She swallowed the end of her sentence.

  “Well I’m here for you.”

  “I know and I’m here for you too.
I love you, Jordan.”

  He smiled. “I know.”

  “Now go and make some hot beverages.”

  “Yes ma’am!”

  He gave her a mock salute then disappeared.

  Allie knew why he was concerned about her and she worried about him for the same reason. Funerals always reminded them of Roger’s and although she had been strong in front of her children at the time, it had been truly awful.

  She turned her attention back to the quiches and removed them from the trays, then deposited them onto foil serving platters before adding sprigs of decorative parsley. The pastry was light and crisp and the cheese on top had a rich golden hue. She might have got some things wrong in her life but she did know how to bake, and opening the café had been, perhaps, the best decision she’d ever made. Of course, it had been a lifelong ambition too, one she’d harboured since her days at secondary school when she’d excelled at food technology. She’d always enjoyed baking with her mother as a child and an enthusiastic cookery teacher had encouraged her to consider baking as a career.

  However, she’d fallen in love after while sitting her A Levels and an unexpected pregnancy had led her to sideline her ambitions. She’d still baked regularly and taken cakes and savoury delights to birthday parties, village fetes and church celebrations, but thought her café dreams would never be realised. Some things brought out a wave of yearning in her, like occasional trips to Bath when they’d visit the delightful tearooms for refreshments, but she’d told herself she was lucky to be a wife and mother and tucked her old ambitions firmly away.

  Until her life had changed dramatically and she’d had to make some big decisions.

  Allie shook the sadness away; she couldn’t afford to think about all that right now. She had to focus on the positives. She’d had another good spring, and early summer was looking good so far – in part because the medieval Surrey village of Heatherlea was a tourist attraction, which meant plenty of business for the café—and she was seeing some pleasing profits. Her situation was looking better by the minute and she was hoping that August would bring plenty of customers. She had her own business, two wonderful grown-up children, two funny cats and her grief was not as sharp as it once was.