“I’m just… stunned.”
“Me too. I mean, how didn’t I notice how bad things had become?”
Her heart squeezed at the confusion on his face.
“How are you doing?”
“Up and down. I keep expecting her to walk in and offer me a cup of tea.”
“That will happen for a while.”
“You know, Allie, I’ve been so busy building my career and travelling from one place to another, immersing myself in my books, that I was oblivious to the fact that my mother was living like this. I’m just so annoyed with myself.”
“You weren’t to know so don’t blame yourself. ”
“It’s hard not to. Look at this mess… and upstairs is just as bad. Mum used to be so meticulous about everything, even OCD. At one point, this front room was her pride and joy and only ever used for best.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “If I’m honest, when I did come back, I’d take her out for dinner then bring her home and rush off again, back to my London apartment, or to catch the next flight. I hadn’t been in here for ages. Or upstairs. I just wonder how long this had been going on.”
“What are the other rooms like?”
“Not so bad. It’s like she stuffed it all in here and the spare bedroom. My old room is pretty much the same as when I was living here. A bit like the room of a teenage boy.” He gave a wry laugh. “Although her room isn’t great. You should see under the bed and in her wardrobe.”
“In all honesty, I never noticed anything different about her. She was always well turned out when she came to the café and when I saw her around the village.”
“That’s good to know. At least she held it together in that way. But knowing that she was saving all this stuff at home makes me sad. She must have been lonely.”
Allie chewed her bottom lip as she listened to him. She knew what he meant, because it was sad. Mrs Monroe had seemed outwardly fine, yet she’d been dealing with all this. What on earth had she been saving it for? And Judith Burnley hadn’t said anything about it, so evidently hadn’t been as good a friend to Chris’s mother as she’d made out at the wake.
“Still,” Chris said, “no point standing here staring at it. Let’s get stuck in. If you want to that is. It stinks in here and I wouldn’t blame you if you want to leave.”
“Of course I’m not going to leave. I’m happy to help.”
They took a bag each then got to work.
Two hours later, Chris stood up and arched his back. “I don’t know about you but I’m parched. Fancy a cuppa?”
“I’ll make it.”
“Thanks. I’ll take all this out to the back garden and pile it up. I think I’m going to need to hire a skip.”
Allie went through to the rear of the cottage and froze in the kitchen doorway. Beautiful solid oak units lined the walls on both sides, and under the window, which was adorned with a rectangular wooden box full of fresh growing herbs, was an apron-front sink with a vintage style rose-gold tap. Of course, she’d been in Mrs Monroe’s house a few times when she was younger, but only in the hallway to wait for Chris, as his mother had once explained that she didn’t like other people’s children traipsing through her home.
Allie located the kettle then filled it and switched it on. She found mugs in the cupboard under the kettle – behind the bone-china cups and saucers that were evidently Mrs Monroe’s preference – and tea bags in the cupboard above. As she waited for the water to boil, she gazed around. The units were good quality and built to last. The grey slate floor tiles were pretty with their uneven hues of orange and blue. The curtains on the window above the sink and the one to the left of the room, that overlooked the garage, were pale blue with tiny white daisies embroidered on them. It was clear that Mrs Monroe had loved her kitchen and kept it immaculate. Unlike other rooms in the house.
She poured water over the tea bags then went to the freestanding silver fridge. There was a fresh container of milk in there, a tub of spreadable butter and a bag of mixed salad leaves but nothing else. She wondered what Chris had eaten for breakfast.
When the tea was ready, she took it through to the front room.
“Just what I need.” Chris smiled as he accepted the steaming mug.
“You don’t take sugar, do you? I didn’t see any in the kitchen.”
“No, thanks. Sweet enough already.” He winked.
“Chris, did you have anything to eat this morning?”
He nodded. “I had a piece of toast and an apple.”
“Aren’t you hungry? It’s gone eleven and you’re quite a big guy.” Her cheeks coloured as she realised how that sounded. “Oh. I didn’t mean big as in fat. I meant big as in muscular and…” He was grinning at her now and her blush deepened.
“Nothing like a compliment or two to make a man feel good about himself.”
“I am such an idiot.”
“No you’re not. You are as sweet as always. It was one of things I lo… liked so much about you.”
Allie swallowed a mouthful of tea. “Look, we’ve done quite a bit now, so why don’t we head over to the café and I can make us some pancakes.”
Chris frowned. “Pancakes, eh?”
“With maple syrup.”
“And chocolate spread?”
“If you like.”
“Now you’re talking. Not that I need distracting from this mess but I certainly can be persuaded to leave it for an hour if pancakes are involved. As you said, I have all these muscles and they need feeding.” He flexed his left arm and laughed. “Well, not exactly up to bodybuilder standard, but I’m working on them. I mean, I work out when I can as it would be a shame to waste having access to all those hotel gyms.”
Allie drained her tea then reached for his mug. “I’ll put these in the kitchen and we can head over there.”
As she left the room, she hugged herself inwardly. Chris might not have muscles the size of a bodybuilder but he certainly had a very toned physique indeed, and Allie had to admit that she wouldn’t have minded watching him work out.
Or helping him work out.
Or working out with him.
Or… she wasn’t quite sure what she meant.
***
Allie ladled batter from the mixing bowl then carefully poured it into the frying pan. As the surface bubbled, she got two plates out of the cupboard then located the thicker maple syrup that she preferred. Chris had asked her what she wanted him to do to help, so she’d asked him to make some drinks.
When the pancake was browned on one side, Allie flipped it. She continued the process until all the batter had been used and each plate was heaped with thick fluffy pancakes, then she poured maple syrup over each pile.
She went through to the café and found Chris sitting on the leather sofa reading a magazine that he must have found on one of the bookshelves. On the table were two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, their surfaces were brimming with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.
“Very nice! You know how to use the machine then?”
“I’ve watched enough times in enough cafés to master it, yes.”
“The hot chocolates look delicious.”
“And so do those pancakes.”
Allie handed him a plate and watched as he lifted a heaped fork to his mouth. As he chewed, he widened his eyes and moaned.
“Sooooo good, Allie.”
“Thank you. And so easy to make.”
“You’d make someone a good wife…” He winced. “What a stupid thing to say. God, I’m so sorry.”
Allie shook her head.
“Don’t be. I was a good wife, I tried really hard to be what Roger wanted.”
She pushed a piece of pancake around her plate.
“What do you mean?” He put his fork down and covered her hand with his.
“Oh nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Allie. I know you, remember. We were best friends for a long time. You seemed happy with Roger though, and I assumed it would always be that way for you g
uys.”
Allie sipped her hot chocolate, enjoying the silky feel of the sweet drink in her mouth. It was comforting, like a hug in a mug.
“It was good between us for a while. Even after we had the two children, it was still okay. We enjoyed a lot of things together but I don’t know… somewhere along the way, something changed. He…” Was she really going to tell someone the truth? If it was going to be anyone, she guessed it should be Chris. “Roger liked things done a certain way. I think it might have had something to do with losing his parents when he did. He had no control over that and it emerged in other ways. The house had to be spotless, the garden had to be tidy, the children had to be well behaved and I had to be… perfect. He had a gardener in twice a week, so the roses were gorgeous and the lawn was up to bowling-green standard, and I did my best to keep the house the way he liked it. But I wasn’t perfect and neither were the children. He never let on to them how he felt about their so called imperfections, but he never failed to tell me.” She smiled to try to lighten the impact of what she’d just confessed. “I don’t know. Maybe my bum was too big or my roots were showing or perhaps he just found that he didn’t really love me.” The old humiliation swept through her.
“Well that’s crazy. I can’t understand how he wouldn’t have loved you. You’re amazing and as for your bottom… well, let’s just say I’ve sneaked a peek and it’s looking good.”
“You’re very kind. But things did change between us and Roger drifted away from me. Or rather, we drifted apart.” The full truth was on the tip of her tongue – the details about Roger’s final day – and she was about to tell him when he spoke again.
“Some men find it hard with kids around, even their own kids. And with Roger being an only child, like you and me, perhaps he struggled with having more people in his space. Although I often thought that was why the three of us gelled, you know? We three were a bit lonely growing up and there was a kind of affinity between us. But I don’t know. Perhaps he felt a bit left out because you were wrapped up in the children? I’m not excusing him. If that was the case, as an adult, he should have tried harder. Not that I should be judging anyone.” He gave her a shy smile. “After all, I’ve shied away from commitment all these years. Never settled down, never moved in with anyone–”
“What? Never?” Allie was surprised by the hope that fluttered in her belly.
“Never.”
“But why?”
Chris shrugged.
“After I left, I never found anyone who made me want to get married or procreate. I’m not saying I’ve lived like a monk, because that would be a lie, but I’ve kept away from commitment like it was a disease.” He shook his head then started tucking into his pancakes.
“So you’re not seeing anyone at the moment?”
He swallowed before replying.
“Haven’t even dated for about six months.”
“Oh.” Allie raised her mug and hid her smile behind it. Not that it should matter, of course, whether Chris was dating or not, but she found that she was delighted that he was single. And that he thought her bum looked okay.
All the more reason to relax and enjoy her pancakes. Then she’d go back to Mrs Monroe’s house and help Chris to carry on sorting through everything. Now that there was no other woman to worry about, she felt even better than she had done before.
Chapter 7
The next day, Allie pulled into a parking space at the Meadowsweet Retirement Complex and cut the engine. The drive wasn’t too onerous and today had only taken forty-five minutes. Sometimes she wished there was a similar complex closer to Heatherlea, even in the village itself, but at others she was glad of the distance. It meant that she could visit her mum and dad whenever she wished but also didn’t feel obliged to visit them every day.
Her parents, both now in their early seventies, had lived in Heatherlea all their lives but following Roger’s death, it was as if they’d been struck by a sudden urge to change something and moving out of the village had been their solution. Perhaps they’d even hung around there until they thought she was at the point where she could manage alone, as if they knew she’d do so better after Roger was gone.
Meadowsweet was a modern complex with everything her parents had wanted. Small apartments were built into blocks that led out onto the vast rear lawns with luscious green grass that looked as though it had been painstakingly combed. Her parents had a ground floor apartment with one bedroom, one bathroom and an open plan lounge / kitchen. However, if they didn’t feel like cooking, there was a food hall at the centre of the main building. There were also shops, a unisex hairdressers, a swimming pool and sauna, a bar and an onsite doctor and dentist. It was almost futuristic in its self-sufficiency.
Outside were sprawling well-kept gardens, a golf course and tennis courts, so they had no excuse for not keeping fit. There were wardens on call at the complex at all times, so there was always help available should they need it. Allie knew her parents paid a high premium to live there but her father was fond of repeating that they couldn’t take their money with them, so he intended to enjoy the good life while he could.
She entered the main building and headed through the warm sunlit hall – that strangely smelt of peaches – to the corridor that led out to the lawns. When she reached her parents’ white PVC door, she knocked and waited.
The door swung inwards and her mother stood there in a flowing purple kaftan and green monster-head slippers, smiling broadly as she opened her arms.
“Allie, darling. So good to see you.”
“Hi, Mum.”
Allie breathed in her mother’s familiar rose and patchouli perfume as they hugged.
“Come on in.”
Allie automatically followed her mother through to the kitchenette where the kettle was bubbling away. The aromas of freshly baked bread and chicken soup made her stomach grumble.
“Something smells good.”
“It’s our lunch.”
“Wonderful. Where’s Dad?”
“Oh he went out for a quick round as he put it. Quick often turns into three hours but who am I to complain? I’m just glad he’s making the most of the facilities.”
“He does seem happy here.”
“He’s getting plenty of exercise that’s for sure and I’m reaping the rewards.” Her mother’s hazel eyes sparkled as she giggled.
“Mum!” Allie shook her head. “I don’t want to know things like that.”
“Don’t be such a prude, Allie. How’d you think we conceived you?”
“Yes but I only thought you did it once.” Allie winked at her mother.
“We’re enjoying it even more now we’re older, especially since he doesn’t have to waste energy taking care of those ridiculously high-maintenance gardens, believe you me.”
Allie nodded, keen to move her mother on from the subject of her sex life. “Yes it must be a huge relief.” She’d been sad to see her parents sell her childhood home, but knew it made sense for them.
“How are the new owners?”
Her mother always did this, asked about the people who’d bought her old home as if they moved in just yesterday even though in reality it was just over four years.
“Oh they’re doing well, I think. I see them around the village and they sometimes come in the café.”
“Good. Such a pleasant couple and they have lovely children, don’t they?”
“They do, although two of them are at comprehensive school now and the oldest girl is at university.
“Lovely.”
When her mother had made tea, they took their mugs to the square table in the small dining area and sat opposite each other.
“So what’s on your mind, Allie?”
“What?”
“I know you, my darling, and I know there’s something troubling you. I can almost hear the cogs whirring.”
Allie met her mother’s curious eyes.
“You know Mrs Monroe died?”
“Yes.” Her mother n
odded slowly. “We did consider coming back for the funeral but she wasn’t exactly a good friend, so we sent a card to the house instead, thinking Chris would pick it up.”
“He did and he asked me to pass on his thanks.”
Allie thought back to the previous day when she’d started to help Chris clear out the house. After pancakes at the café, they’d spent another four hours sorting Mrs Monroe’s front room. They hadn’t even managed to get upstairs.
“Well, I’ve been spending some time with Chris.”
“I see.” Allie’s mother eyed her over her mug. “And how do you feel about that?”
Allie’s skin prickled. Sometimes it was as if her mother could see into her heart and mind.
“It’s strange. We used to be so close – me, him and Roger – but that was such a long time ago.”
“Time is a matter of perspective, Allie. At my age you understand that more than ever. In my heart, I’m still a girl, but my body tells me otherwise, although yoga is really helping with my flexibility. You know, your father said—”
“Okay, Mum!” Allie held up a hand, not wanting another insight into her parents’ bedroom shenanigans.
“Anyway, as I was saying, the years fly by. You and Chris were close and you’ll probably find you still have things in common.”
Allie gazed into her mug, wishing someone would tell her fortune. At least then she’d know if her recent thoughts and feelings were real, acceptable, normal.
“Allie,” her mum said as she took hold of her hand over the table. “You are still young and life has so much to offer you. If you want Chris then go get him.”
“But how do I know if I do? I feel silly that I’m like a teenager with a crush whenever he’s around, yet I also feel more alive than I have done in years. Since way before Roger died if I’m completely honest.”
Her mother nodded. “I know things weren’t right in your marriage and your father and I often talked about it. Dad always said you married the wrong one.”
“But he never said that to me. Neither did you.”
Her mother pressed her lips together.
Summer at The Cosy Cottage Cafe: A feel good second-chance romance Page 6
