Whatever it was, she liked it.
An hour and a half later, Allie was thoroughly relaxed. She sat back in her chair and fingered the stem of her wine glass. She’d enjoyed her dinner of vegetarian lasagne and chunky beer-battered chips and was waiting for dessert to arrive. Chris was good company and he made her laugh as he told her stories about people he’d met over the years and about his experience with an overly zealous fan. The woman had followed him everywhere for six months, attending every book signing and reading, before finally deserting him for the next bestseller, a reality TV celebrity who had his autobiography published at twenty-two.
“So you’ve done well with your books then?”
“I’m no Stephen King but I do all right. My books are a kind of hybrid genre of thriller and horror.”
“Are you with just one publisher?”
“Tied in for the next three books because of a rather generous advance but who knows then? This business is a rollercoaster. One day you’re number one, the next…” He shrugged. “It’s not for the faint-hearted, that’s for sure.”
“Have you met lots of famous people?” Allie asked, thinking about her own sheltered existence within the confines of Heatherlea. Yes, she’d had holidays and headed to London for the odd show or night out with the girls, but apart from that, she was either in the café or in bed alone. It didn’t bother her at all normally, but she realised that her life probably seemed a bit sheltered and possibly even boring to Chris.
“Some. At book signings and events like the London Book Fair. But at the end of the day, celebs are just people like you and me.”
Allie watched as he took a sip of his second pint. His full lips were still so kissable and with his movie star looks, he probably fitted in around beautiful people with ease.
“What about you though, Allie? I noticed how you’ve deflected my questions so far tonight. Very cleverly but you’ve done it all the same. What’s life been like for you?”
“Oh…” Allie swallowed hard. “There’s not much to tell.”
Chris leaned forwards and covered her hand with his. His skin was warm and smooth and goosebumps rose on Allie’s arms. She met his gaze and her mind went blank.
“Allie, you’ve been through a hell of a lot. Don’t underestimate that. You lost your husband and brought your kids up alone. I know they’re older but you still had to be there for them. You renovated an old cottage and turned it into a successful business. I know I haven’t been around but I heard how you were doing from my mother. She said you coped admirably with it all.”
“She did?” Allie fought back her surprise. All she’d ever known of Mrs Monroe was as an acid-tongued woman who never seemed to have a good word to say about anyone.
“She did. Mum always told me good things about you, although the rest of the village didn’t enjoy such leniency. She said you did yourself proud and encouraged me to come back and see how you were doing. On more than one occasion.”
Allie sipped her wine.
“That’s not exactly how she came across.” She thought of the woman who’d cast icy stares across the post office and been painfully blunt when she’d come into the café.
“My mother was a harsh old bat at times, I know.” He sighed.
“Chris, are you okay?”
“I still can’t believe she’s gone. I mean, I didn’t come back all that often but I knew she was here. Harsh as she could be, she was still my mum.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged then nodded.
“Thanks. I guess it’ll just take time to come to terms with it. Like everything in life, right?”
“It’s still early days.” Allie fought the urge to jump up and hug him. She hated to see his pain.
“She thought very highly of you, Allie. She wanted…” He shook his head.
She realised he was still holding her hand.
“She wanted what?” she asked gently.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does. Tell me.”
“Okay. She wanted me to… for us to… she always thought we should have been together. If she ever seemed at all resentful, it was because of that.”
“But why would she have thought that we could have been a couple?”
“She knew how I felt about you.”
“How you felt about me?”
He inclined his head.
“After all, that was why I left.”
“Oh Chris. I didn’t know.”
Allie turned her hand over and squeezed his fingers. He’d had feelings for her? All these years had passed and she’d seen Mrs Monroe around the village, completely unaware that Chris’s mother had known something she hadn’t. As a mother, Allie could understand how Mrs Monroe must have worried about her son. No one wanted their child to be sad and Allie thought she’d struggle to hold back if anyone ever hurt Mandy or Jordan.
But now she wondered. If Mrs Monroe had spoken to her about it, could things have worked out differently? Would it have changed anything?
“It’s all in the past now.” Chris smiled then gently pulled his hand back. “But tell me more about you and your children. How are they getting on?”
“Mandy’s twenty-four now. I can’t believe that I have a daughter six years off thirty. That’s when you know how quickly time has passed. She’s working in London as a publishing intern.”
“Brilliant career ahead of her, no doubt.”
“I hope so. She’s very driven and motivated. Not at all like I was at her age.”
“Don’t be so down on yourself. You were full of ambition but life kind of got in the way. Besides, I’m full of admiration for you and what you’ve achieved, especially in light of the circumstances. And things were different when we were young.”
“I guess so. I just couldn’t envisage leaving Heatherlea after I got pregnant. The world suddenly seemed far too big and scary. Motherhood creates a vulnerability in you that wasn’t there before; everything takes on a different slant as you realise what could hold potential danger for your child.”
“I didn’t really have any intention of leaving myself until… well, things changed.”
Allie nodded, suddenly nervous about hearing more and feeling a need to fill the space between them with innocuous conversation. “Then there’s Jordan. He’s twenty-three now and still living with me. He does some shifts at the café and some odd jobs around the village. He’s a good lad.”
“Does he have any ambitions?”
Allie scanned Chris’s face, wondering for a moment if he thought Jordan should be out in the world by now, following a career in a city office perhaps, but all she found in his eyes was interest.
“Not that I know of. I’ve tried since he was about fourteen to get him to consider different careers and qualifications but he was never interested. He hated school and couldn’t wait to leave. He says he doesn’t care about earning lots and that he’ll be fine as long as he earns enough to put food in his belly and a roof over his head. Of course, at the moment, he doesn’t have to worry about a mortgage or rent, but I like having him around. It would be too quiet without him there. And too tidy.” She laughed. “I suppose I could have pushed him harder but I think kids these days have it tough enough. They’re all competing to climb the ladder or to be famous and I’m sure it’s why depression is on the increase. Pressure makes people miserable and I just want my children to be happy, whatever they’re doing. If Jordan is content being so laid-back, then that’s fine with me. Perhaps he’ll take over the café once I’m too old. Who knows?”
In all honesty, she was glad Jordan was so relaxed about life. If he’d been more like Roger, she’d have been worried about him. The quest for perfection was one that often ended in disappointment.
“Sounds like you’re all doing well.” Chris smiled. “I’m sorry I wasn’t around after Roger…”
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I completely understand. You’re a busy man.”
“I should
have come back for the funeral but I just knew how awful it would be.”
“It was awful. But it’s been six years since he passed away and so much has happened since then. He’d have understood why you weren’t there.” She took another sip of wine, gazing into her glass to avoid meeting Chris’s eyes. “I read the newspaper stories about your success and watched that TV interview a few years back.”
“Sorry about that.” Chris finished his pint.
“Hey it was interesting.”
He shook his head.
“I was so uncomfortable in front of the camera.”
“You couldn’t tell. It’s wonderful to see how successful you are. I mean, we went to the same school and were friends when we were younger and look how well you’ve done. I’m so proud of you.” Her breath caught in her throat. Did she have any right to say that?
Chris lowered his eyes and toyed with a cardboard beer mat. He turned it over and ran his finger over the logo at its core.
“I’ve done all right. I’m comfortable but I’m tired too. It’s not easy travelling so many weeks of the year and living out of a suitcase. To be honest, Allie, I think as I get deeper into my forties that I’d like to put down roots.”
“Village life appealing to you now?”
“Something like that.” He met her eyes and her heart raced at the intensity of his gaze.
“Shall we have another drink? Something to wash our dessert down with?”
“Go on then. But only one more as I’ve got to be up early for work.”
“The burden of being self-employed, eh?”
“Tell me about it.”
When Chris went to the bar, Allie took the opportunity to check her mobile. No missed calls but a text from Camilla asking if she’d managed to get a kiss yet. She shook her head then stuffed her mobile back in her bag without replying. There’d be no kissing or any other shenanigans this evening.
Or any evening, for that matter.
5
“So that’s one latte, one pot of Earl Grey and two scones with cream and jam?” Allie hovered the pencil over her small notebook.
“Yes please.” The blonde woman nodded at Allie then resumed her conversation with the older woman, who Allie guessed was probably her mother. The resemblance between them was too strong for there to be no connection.
In the kitchen, she got two china plates from the cupboard then took two freshly baked lemonade scones from the wire rack. Next to each scone she put a small white ramekin full of thick clotted cream and an identical one full of homemade strawberry jam. Last year she’d had fabulous crops of strawberries and raspberries in her back garden and had enjoyed turning them into delicious preserves to use in the café.
She carried the plates to the counter then set about making the latte and the Earl Grey. Everything was automatic now; she’d developed her routines and enjoyed the comfort that came from them. From baking to serving to making conversation with the customers, running the café was everything Allie had hoped it would be and more. It kept her busy, busier than she could have imagined, and that had filled the gap in her life.
Until now.
Seeing Chris again had made her realise that she used to have something that she no longer had. In fact, she hadn’t had it in quite some time, and that thought gave her a sudden surge of disquiet. She had so much to be grateful for.
But…
She was lonely.
And not for just any company, but for the man she’d grown up with, a friend who knew her well and whom she shared so many memories with. She missed Roger in some ways, yes – it was inevitable, even with things being as they had at the end – but she couldn’t get him back. However, Chris was here, alive and well, and he’d told her he left because of his feelings for her. Was it possible that he still had some of those feelings? Or was that too much to hope for? After all, she didn’t even know if he was involved with someone. It was a question she’d been too afraid to ask last night, even when he’d walked her back to the cottage and insisted on seeing her inside. He hadn’t come past the threshold, though, just watched as she’d shut the door then told her through the letterbox to make sure she locked it properly. That had made her laugh, especially when he’d stuck his finger through and wiggled it as he said goodnight.
She’d gone to bed with a smile on her face and a sense of lightness in her heart. Feeling like a teenager all over again.
“Mum?”
She blinked, coming back to reality with a jolt.
“I asked if those scones are going to blondie younger and blondie older.”
“Yes they are. And Jordan please don’t refer to our customers by their hair colour. They might be offended if they overhear you.”
“Well what else should I call them?”
“The two ladies? Or just use the table number.”
He grinned at her.
“But hair colour’s much more fun.”
Allie shook her head.
“Yes, take the scones over then come back for the drinks.”
Jordan delivered the scones and drinks then joined her behind the counter.
“Did you have a good time last night, Mum?”
She met his blue eyes.
“Yes, I did.”
“I saw Camilla driving away.”
Allie froze. What should she do? Confess?
“She did go home early. She thought she had a migraine coming on.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “Shame. As long as you had fun.”
“I did.”
“Mum?”
“Yes, darling.”
“I need to tell you something and I never seem to be able to find the right time.”
“Right…” A thousand worries shot through Allie’s mind. Was he ill? Was he leaving Heatherlea? Had he found out about his father – the thing she’d never wanted him to know? Was he in trouble or had he got someone else in trouble? She looked at his sun-kissed hair and the spattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks. He was a man now but in so many ways, he was still her baby boy and always would be.
“Don’t look so worried, Mum. I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s about me… and Max. See—”
“Allie!” Camilla bounded across the café.
“Hi Camilla, I didn’t see you arrive.”
“I got my heel stuck in the welcome mat outside, so it took me a while to free myself. Anyway, Allie, I—”
“One moment.” Allie held up a hand to her friend. “What was it you wanted to tell me, Jordan?”
He opened his mouth then closed it again and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Mum. We can talk about it tonight.”
“Okay, sweetheart. As long as you’re sure it can wait.”
“I’ll just see if blondie… I mean the ladies at table number five want anything else.” As he went over to the table and turned on his youthful charm, Allie hoped he was all right; that whatever it was that he wanted to tell her could wait. She’d spent twenty-three years trying to protect and nurture him; keeping him safe as he crossed the road, as he used the internet, as he negotiated his way through life. She would do anything for him and Mandy, anything at all.
“Allie, I know you’ve been ignoring my calls and text messages but I want all the gossip from last night. Was it a passionate reunion? Did he have to purchase more… protection from the pub toilets? Did you rediscover your sex drive after—”
“Stop!”
“What?”
“That’s enough. You are incorrigible, Camilla. Nothing happened.”
“What? Nothing?” Camilla’s mouth sagged open.
“Well not nothing, because we had a really nice time.”
“Really nice time?” Camilla snorted. “Nice?”
“Yes, nice. We chatted and enjoyed a delicious meal then he walked me home.”
“I’m disappointed.”
“Well don’t be.”
“But I am. I had high hopes for you, darling.”
“I’m happy as I am.”
/>
“Whatever!” Camilla waved a hand in the air, her red shellac nails flawless as always.
“Now what can I get you?”
“Some hope.”
“Hope?”
“Yes. The hope that you’re going to see him again.”
“Ah.” Allie released a sigh. “Well I am actually. Tomorrow, I’m going round to his mother’s house to help him start clearing it out.”
“He’s selling?”
“I would think so.”
“Shame.”
“Well that’s up to him, isn’t it?”
Allie turned away then, to make her friend a cappuccino and to hide her expression from prying eyes. If Chris did sell the house, she would be disappointed too. Because now that he’d returned to Heatherlea, she was starting to realise that she didn’t want him to leave.
6
Mrs Monroe’s old stone cottage was picture-book pretty in the morning sun as Allie opened the garden gate and walked up the path. Ivy climbed the front of the cottage and primrose yellow roses grew around the front door. The shutters around the windows had recently been painted forget-me-not blue to match the small garden bench. The bushes in the garden had been pruned to perfection and Mrs Monroe could still have been there, alive and well. The wiry old woman had kept her path clear of weeds and washed it down at least three times a week and it showed.
Allie found it hard to accept that she was gone. Death was strange like that, taking people away, people who seemed to have plenty of time left ahead of them.
Just like Roger.
She pushed the thought away as she always did, refusing to allow it to cloud her day.
She used the heavy brass knocker and while she waited, she hoped that she looked okay. She didn’t usually dress up on Sundays, unless attending church for a special service like a wedding or Christening, but today she felt particularly underdressed. She’d slung on jeans and an old Guns N’ Roses t-shirt with trainers that had seen a few painting sprees. She’d pulled her hair into a bun and the only makeup she’d bothered with was a flick of powder just to take the shine off her nose.
A Year at The Cosy Cottage Café: A heart-warming feel-good read about life, love, loss, friendship and second chances Page 5
