The New Beginnings Coffee Club

by Samantha Tonge

  The doorbell rang and for the first time this morning April’s eyes shone. She headed out of the kitchen and disappeared into the lounge, which linked into the hallway and the cottage’s own shiny, navy blue front door, with ivy crawling across the top of it. The outside walls were painted cream and the cottage had the cutest thatched roof. Hanging baskets completed the chocolate-box prettiness, along with the leaded windows.

  ‘Good luck,’ whispered Elle.

  I gave her the thumbs-up and nodded at Noah as I left the kitchen.

  ‘Daddy!’ I heard April cry. I entered the lounge and swallowed as I gazed into the hallway, bracing myself to see Zak. He always looked Hollywood gorgeous in a suit. Perhaps Chanelle had picked out that bright turquoise tie for him. I took a tissue from my pocket and pretended to blow my nose.

  ‘Hay fever’s starting early,’ I mumbled and hoped he wouldn’t notice the threatening tears that betrayed my broken heart. I cleared my throat. ‘Go and clean your teeth, April. Your satchel is on your bed and don’t forget to pick up your lunch box. If you’re quick, remember Noah said yesterday that you could choose a piece of cake from the shop to put in it.’

  She gave Zak one last cuddle and then tore off upstairs. Zak bent his head down to come into the lounge and I pointed to the terracotta sofa. He gazed around at the bulging bookshelves and scenic watercolours.

  ‘Looks bigger inside than I expected,’ he said and sat down.

  I sat next to him. ‘Thanks for doing this,’ I said in a tight voice and squashed the words it’s the least you can do. Oh how I worked at trying to be civil – to manage this breakup with the least possible heartache for April.

  He looked at me. ‘Like we agreed, it’s only for one month.’

  I blocked out any thought of April leaving me because if I dwelled on that, my resolve to stay strong would fall apart. Surely no court would approve that? Yet … I bit my lip. Zak had friends in high places and had never been above using his contacts to get what he wanted. Take last year. Zak belonged to a very exclusive golf club and had pulled a few strings to help our – his – solicitor jump the waiting list. Now he could ask his legal friend to show his appreciation of that favour.

  Oh God. I was actually going to be sick. I breathed in and out. Had to change the subject. ‘Sounds like she had a great weekend with you.’

  ‘Sounds like she’s had a crap week with you.’

  ‘Look, Zak, remember, I’m not the one who started all of this.’

  His eyes flashed. ‘Aren’t you? You think I’d have gone elsewhere if I was happy?’

  I turned away and stared hard at a painting of a robin, willing my tear ducts not to open. A large hand curled around my shoulder and Zak sighed.

  ‘Sorry, Jen. That was uncalled for. I just … it’s hard seeing April like this. The constant frown, the pale face. Her living in this dump.’

  ‘You think it’s any easier for me?’ I spat. ‘But I’d have lived in a caravan if it meant saving the business, with you by my side; if you’d have trusted me with the financial problems we could have worked things out together.’ I turned around as his fingers slipped away. ‘And be honest with yourself – could you have stayed in The Willows if I’d shagged someone on every surface?’

  Silence.

  ‘Noah let me have one of those triple chocolate muffins,’ said April as she came in. Great. At least she sounded keen on eating her lunch. And that was the last time – for once – I thought about April in terms of food, as there was so much else to fill my mind. Like the sneer on Zak’s face as we walked into Laventon Primary School and one of the mums was still wearing her pyjamas. Like April’s confused expression as she stood by her teacher before waving us goodbye, looking five instead of ten.

  When I returned to the coffee shop, Noah and Elle clearly had a strategic plan to keep me super busy. I was used to the till by now but still messed up the occasional coffee. I either frothed up the milk too much so that each customer acquired a big foam moustache when they drank, or I made it too tepid. And I was miles away from being able to create the clever patterns on top. So Noah decided I should make most of the coffees all day to practise and Elle challenged me to memorise some details about the different beans.

  ‘The two main types of beans in the world are arabica and robusta. Arabica is more gourmet – it’s high grade and must be grown three thousand feet above sea level, so the yield is lower. The robusta can be grown at any elevation and has a higher amount of caffeine …’ She smiled at me. ‘Noah is something of a geek when it comes to coffee. I’m amazed at what I’ve picked up in the last year.’ She cleared her throat. ‘For example, the bean flavours vary according to where they are grown. Colombian ones have a caramel taste. Java beans are more mellow and smoky. Brazilian’s spicy …’ And so she went on, which meant that the day passed quickly – thanks also to me dealing with curious questions from locals.

  ‘Are you just helping out, dear?’ asked the manager of the local Oxfam shop. She smiled. ‘Such a kind soul you are. I’ll never forget how you dropped off a bag of old clothes last year. We were overrun with donations at the time and you insisted on staying to help sort them all out.’

  Noah glanced at me as I blushed.

  ‘Um, no, I work here now,’ I said and swallowed.

  Postie overheard as he passed a pile of letters to Noah. How he’d guffawed. ‘No. Seriously, Mrs Masters. What are you up to? Are you considering buying a top-of-the-range coffee machine and you’re just getting in some practice?’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ said Noah in his ever-charming voice. ‘Or we’ll grill you about your latest online date. The Laventon grapevine informs me your last one turned out to be, um, a little older than you’d hoped.’

  Postie groaned. ‘Must have been heading for eighty. Photo filters have a lot to answer for, my friend.’

  He left the shop whistling and I breathed out just as Mrs Carlton from the corner shop bobbed in. I braced myself for another interrogation but instead Noah took her out to the back. Elle smiled brightly at me as I raised one eyebrow.

  ‘It’s to do with the surprise tonight,’ she said and tapped her nose. ‘I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you, and I don’t think Laventon could cope with the scandal.’

  I grinned back. Yes, today I’d even managed a few laughs – thanks to Elle who had the best sense of humour. However, I still had to force down a sandwich at midday, stomach cramping at the thought of April sitting alone, the new girl, in the school canteen. And not even Elle’s out-of-tune rendition of ‘Defying Gravity’ from the musical Wicked, could raise my sprits when I thought of my gorgeous girl all alone at break, feeling like the odd one out.

  I felt like the odd one out too, under the gaze of locals wondering what on earth had driven me to get a job. In a coffee shop. Mopping floors. When my husband was Zachary Masters. But I gritted my teeth. Fixed a smile on my face. Said I loved coffee and joked it was my dream job. And whilst that was a lie, serving caffeinated and chocolate drinks all day felt good for the soul. Just the comforting aroma, the warm atmosphere, the background chat and laughs. The frothy milky tops with sprinkled cocoa powder were a feast for the eyes. I could practically hear every customer sigh ‘mmm’ as they took their first sip. And I really enjoyed slicing the cakes and wishing people a nice day. And what a sense of satisfaction when I used the till without making a mistake …

  Back aching and smelling of coffee beans, at three fifteen sharp I stood in the playground. Laventon Primary was grey brick with a red roof and had a huge field with a wooden play area on it. I shuffled from one foot to the other in front of April’s classroom. What a difference to Oakwood Towers, a nineteenth-century building that looked like Hogwarts. I surveyed the playground full of parents who weren’t parading a gamut of designer labels. Nor did all of them wear make-up or carry super trendy handbags.

  I at least fitted in with casual black leggings and a red blouse tied at the hip, with
a chunky black necklace. It somehow felt wrong, dressing up like I used to, just to pick up my daughter from school. Plus, none of my old clothes were suitable for the physical job of working in a coffee shop, so I’d ordered some cheap replacements online. To my surprise, it had been quite a liberating experience, just to buy what I fancied and not worry if it was in vogue.

  You see, before – I guess like April – I’d been hyper aware of what my contemporaries wore. Whereas now, it didn’t seem to matter so much. I fingered the quirky necklace, feeling less like Mrs Zak Masters and more like … like … I wasn’t sure.

  I looked back at the classroom door as it swung open and children strolled out chatting among friends. I strained my eyes. Finally April’s teacher stood alone and beckoned for me to come in.

  ‘Everything all right?’ I said breathlessly after rushing to the door.

  ‘Come in, Mrs Masters. Everything is fine. I just thought you’d appreciate an update on April’s first day.’ She smiled and her long, silver owl earrings swung to and fro.

  I stepped into a square room, its walls covered with artwork and handwritten essays. To the left was a rug, surrounded by cushions, probably for circle time. The rest of the floor space was taken up by tables and chairs, a little ramshackle compared to Oakwood, which somehow always gave the impression of being shiny and new. I stepped forward to hug April but she glared, so I stopped.

  ‘Did you have a good day?’ I said and longed to wrap my arms around her thin limbs.

  She shrugged.

  Her teacher smiled. ‘April was excellent in PE. Great ball-catching skills. And you spent playtime with Lizzie didn’t you?’

  April nodded.

  ‘I think the day went very well,’ she continued. ‘We gave April some timed maths and English assessments to do, as the children are divided into sets for those subjects. And I’ve given April a permission form for you to sign – we have a village woodland walk coming up soon, where we take the children out of school to study the local wildlife. And April has joined the Minecraft club.’

  For a second April’s face lit up.

  ‘April sits next to Lizzie too, in form. I think you know her grandmother, Janet Martin?’

  ‘Martini! I mean, yes …’ My cheeks flushed and the teacher gave the biggest laugh.

  ‘Yes. We all know Martini. She’s a great support to the school. Helps out at all the Parents’ Association events and always has a table full of hand-knitted garments to sell at our summer fair. Lizzie’s a bit like her granny – knows all the children. She’s everyone’s friend.’

  I smiled back warmly, grateful to the teacher for clearly doing what she could to help April settle in.

  Yet it was still very early days, I kept telling myself as we headed back to the cottage with April constantly comparing her new school to Oakwood Towers.

  ‘They only have one computer per classroom unless we’re doing maths.’

  ‘The corridor floors are dirty.’

  ‘They don’t do hockey or badminton.’

  ‘None of the school trips are abroad.’

  ‘The staff don’t wear matching skirts and jackets like my old teachers.’

  Her voice became more and more downbeat.

  ‘But you liked Lizzie?’ I kept my tone bright as we passed the playground where I’d thrown up tiramisu on that terrible night of revelations.

  April shrugged. ‘She says Noah has the best surprise tonight. Her gran told her but made her promise not to say anything to me.’

  ‘That’s the sign of a good friend,’ I said. ‘She can keep a secret.’

  ‘She’s never heard of the Kardashians. And her daddy drives a Lada …’ She squinted at me. ‘Is that a good car? I told her my daddy has a Porsche – or used to, until he sold it last week. She said cars were boring and that her dad was obsessed with Top Gear.’

  I suppressed a welcome chuckle. ‘Why, does it matter if it is bad or good? Were you expecting Lizzie to think more of you, because your father owns – or used to own – an expensive car?’

  April stared at me for a moment and then turned to look ahead. ‘Dunno. Skye always says money and having the best of everything means power.’

  ‘The power to do what?’

  I glanced sideways and saw April suck on her bottom lip, a habit of hers when she was thinking hard about something. ‘The power to … to … I guess be better than other people.’

  ‘Surely being kind to others is the most important thing, rather than judging them on their cars or clothes or holidays?’

  We walked the remainder of the way in silence and a wave of, of … something washed over me. Like a wake-up call. A glimmer of hope that this move might have positives after all. Had April really thought the aim of life was one-upmanship? Was that what our privileged life had taught her? Because if so, however difficult, a change was in order.

  Just as we came to The Coffee Club, April took my hand and we stopped outside the glass door. Her face blotched red. Tears filled her eyes.

  ‘Please tell me I don’t have to go back, Mummy. I hated every minute.’

  ‘Oh, sweetie …’

  Quickly I walked her to the cottage’s navy front door. We went in and I sat in the lounge, pulling her onto my lap.

  ‘Surely it can’t have been all that bad?’ I said as my arms encircled her waist.

  She gulped. ‘All day I’ve had to answer questions. Why am I there? Have I been thrown out of school? Have my mummy and daddy broken up? Then they found out I’d been to Oakwood Towers and wanted to know if we were rich and what my parents did for a living.’ She sniffed. ‘I told them you had a job in the coffee shop and this horrid boy called Tom laughed. He said I must have won the lottery to go to a posh school, as a waitress didn’t earn much. I hate boys! They smell. And pull stupid faces. And Tom sits on my table and keeps flicking balls of paper.’

  Oh, April. I know. My first full day working had had difficult moments too. I’d almost cried when a couple of Oakwood Towers mums came in, faces plastered with pity. Word about me and Zak had clearly spread. One even patted my back. Worst of all, they didn’t say anything but – cringe – left me a generous tip.

  ‘Lizzie told him The Coffee Club sold the yummiest cakes in town and that your job was one of the best in Laventon. But he still didn’t stop laughing all lunch.’ Tears streamed down her cheeks. ‘Please let me go back to my old school.’

  ‘Things will get better,’ I whispered. ‘Promise.’ If only I could wrap my arms around her and, like a sponge, soak up her fear and hurt.

  She jumped up. ‘No they won’t! Everyone has already made their friends. No one wore clear nail varnish like me and Skye did to school, or had a sneaky heel on their shoe. And boys are just mean!’

  ‘You have to make the best of it, sweetheart,’ I said, gently. ‘Me too. I’m having to learn how to make coffees and work a till. It’s not exactly the most glamorous job in the world but what matters is the people and –’

  ‘I’d rather do that than go to school.’ She stamped her foot. ‘You’ve got it easy. And that’s not fair, ’cos if it wasn’t for you, we could have stayed at The Willows a bit longer and … and who knows, maybe Daddy wouldn’t have had to sell after all.’ She bawled, ‘I hope the customers all treat you like a servant, and that you eat so much cake you get fat.’

  ‘April!’ My eyes tingled although I’d happily take any insult if I knew it would make her feel better, just for a second.

  She sobbed and looked away. I looked down. Was it too late to change April’s way of thinking? Would she ever accept a more modest existence? Was the high life inextricably etched into her bones?

  ‘I hate you! Hate you!’ I lifted my head and, eyes blazing, she met my gaze. ‘I’d rather go to boarding school.’

  I gasped. ‘Where has that idea come from?’

  ‘Skye told me Daddy and Chanelle had thought about it but you made him change his mind. But, I’d rather live w
ith my friends in a nice dormitory than in this stupid cottage with you. Noah is a stupid name. Elle sings stupid songs. And the kitchen is smaller than our bathroom back home.’

  She stormed out of the lounge. Footsteps sounded going upstairs. A door slammed. Shaking a little, I left the room, to be confronted by Noah, Elle, and Martini’s dropped jaws.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Come back here this instant!’ I called up the stairs. I went to climb the narrow staircase, to the loft, but gently Martini held my arm.

  ‘I’d leave her, lovey. Let her cool off. How about a nice cup of tea?’ She squeezed my elbow.

  I looked at Noah and Elle. ‘Sorry. You’ve been so good, offering me a job and a place to live. I … I can’t promise that the next few weeks aren’t going to be bumpy. Our life, everything, it’s all so … different.’

  ‘We’re all familiar with “bumpy”,’ said Noah and smiled. ‘Come on. You know how much I enjoy a cup of tea. How about it, whilst Elle takes care of the customers?’

  I bit my lip, hating to inconvenience their charming cottage life – wondering why Noah and Elle had gone out of their way to help me and my little girl. They’d hardly known us before we moved in. Why would they care? How could they open their front door – and their hearts – so selflessly? ‘Honestly. I’ll be all right. You’d both better get back to work. It’s the after-school rush.’

  ‘Jenny and I will put the world to rights over a cuppa,’ said Martini and guided me into the sunny kitchen. Noah and Elle went back into The Coffee Club. Within ten minutes Martini sat opposite me, in front of a steaming cup of tea and plate of chocolate and ginger shortbread biscuits that Elle was trialling in the shop. I glanced out of the window, at the slightly overgrown lawn and curved borders full of an array of blooms – such a contrast to The Willows’ garden with its symmetrical lines and coordinated flower beds.

  ‘Tomorrow will be better. Try not to worry.’ She patted my hand before holding up the plate. ‘And that hot chocolate you made me today was delicious.’