The New Beginnings Coffee Club

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘You will one day, darling. It’s complicated. He thinks he’s doing the right thing for you. Try not to be too hard on him. And, if we can’t live here …’ My heart sank at the thought. ‘We’ll find somewhere just as nice and all our new friends can visit.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Right. Come on, missy. Why don’t you and I play a game and then have some of Martini’s yummy stew?’

  ‘Could we go over to Tom’s instead and look for that hedgehog?’

  ‘Oh … it’s Sunday. I don’t know.’

  ‘I already texted to ask. His mum says it’s fine. She’s made a lemon cake – a new recipe.’

  I laughed. ‘I don’t have much choice, do I? Okay. Why don’t you go ahead and I’ll catch up? I might ask if Noah and Elle want to meet us in The Fig Tree next door to Tom’s, afterwards, for a quick drink before dinner. It is such gorgeous weather. I’ve been busy this weekend, doing lots of sketching. How about when we get back you take a look at my designs and tell me which are your favourites?’

  She nodded. ‘I told Skye all about IndyVidual. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to look like the opposite sex. I tried to explain that wasn’t what it was about but she didn’t get it. I gave up in the end.’ She jumped up. ‘So can I have a fizzy drink at The Fig Tree?’

  I ruffled her hair. ‘I suppose so!’

  It was a cheerful pub. Very modern. Red brick with a shiny door. And a statue of a naked man in the ladies’ toilets with a plastic fig leaf covering his private parts. If a customer tried to lift it up to see underneath, a klaxon went off in the bar and everyone cheered when the embarrassed culprit finally reappeared. A jolly couple, Meg and Mitch, ran the place. It was just what we all needed to help us unwind.

  Noah and Elle were waiting when April and I arrived from Tom’s house. The hedgehog hadn’t made an appearance, so we’d scoffed Susie’s lemon cake and then April and Tom had hunted for four-leaf clovers whilst us mums discussed how we were going to help at the school fair.

  ‘Good time?’ asked Elle, sounding as if her mind was on something else. ‘We’ve only just arrived so haven’t ordered drinks.’

  April sat down and while she told Noah all about the coffee shop she had visited yesterday with Zak, I kissed Elle on the cheek. ‘Phew, fantastic lemon cake. I don’t know if I’m going to have any room for Martini’s stew.’ I shot her a piercing look. ‘Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Elle. Come on. I know you well enough by now. If you aren’t pressing us to get to the bar and order a drink and crisps, something isn’t right.’

  She gave a small smile and spoke in quiet tones. ‘How long have I lived here now, Jenny?’

  ‘Around a year.’

  ‘And how often have you seen me in this pub?’

  ‘Often enough!’

  Her voice wobbled. ‘When I got here, a few minutes ago, I needed to use the toilets. I went to push open the door of the ladies’ and Mrs Fullerton –’

  ‘From the greengrocer’s?’

  Elle nodded. ‘She gave a loud tut. Said it shouldn’t be allowed. Mitch came over. Poor man. It was awkward for him. Mrs Fullerton said in a loud voice that I should only be allowed to use the unisex disabled toilets.’

  ‘Oh, Elle.’ I hugged her tight for a minute, then leant back.

  Her eyes shone. ‘All these months I’ve been living here and now – even though it’s only a few villagers – suspicion has replaced trust.’

  ‘What did Mitch say?’

  Her voice broke. ‘What a guy. He told her that I was a good customer who – so he’d heard – had gone through a process for gender reassignment. So as far as he was concerned that was the end of the matter. And if she couldn’t keep her prejudices to herself in future, she’d be barred.’

  ‘There you go. Not everyone has a view narrower than those new biscotti Noah ordered.’

  She fiddled with her bracelet. ‘I guess it will take time. When I went in I got a couple of stares from the women. They stopped chatting, dried their hands, and left as quickly as possible.’ She sighed. ‘Perhaps I should have stayed in a city – been more anonymous. But then I never thought my secret would come out.’

  ‘Hard as it is, you’ll probably always meet a degree of prejudice. You just have to concentrate on the positives. And all the people who’ve supported you. Like Tom’s mum.’ I reached into my handbag and pulled out a sandwich bag containing a large slice of lemon cake. ‘She said to make sure I gave this to you to try. If you think it’s suitable for The Coffee Club she’ll pass you the recipe.’

  Finally Elle’s face broke into some sort of a smile. I gave her a hug and wished I could squeeze away all of her hurt.

  Since lunch, the July air had become increasingly humid and I wiped my brow. ‘Gosh, I could kill for a refreshing Mojito,’ I said, speaking so that April could hear. ‘And I believe on a Sunday night, Meg and Mitch sell them two for the price of one. And mocktails too … How about I get two real Mojitos for us and two virgin ones for Noah, and …?’

  ‘Me! Me!’ April jumped up to help.

  We arrived back at the table ten minutes later carrying sparkling tall glasses with lashings of mint leaves and straws. April had put straws in the alcoholic ones. When we got outside Elle was across the road by a big oak tree, talking to Steph. After asking permission, April dashed around to the beer garden, where she had spotted Lizzie. Noah was reading his Fitbit.

  ‘So – have you done enough steps today? Is your blood pressure normal?’

  ‘Spot on.’

  ‘Even with me around?’ He ignored the innuendo. I pulled my chair closer. ‘You okay?’ I said, softly. ‘Since Friday I’ve felt a distance between us.’

  He looked up from his wrist and ran a thumb across my cheek. ‘Ignore me. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.’ He picked up his glass and took a large mouthful.

  ‘Christ!’ He spat it out to the side. ‘Is this some sort of joke?’ He stood up. A couple next to us looked over.

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s the alcoholic one.’

  ‘Gosh. Sorry. April must have got the straws mixed up. But you didn’t need to spit it out.’

  ‘You’re right of course,’ rambled Noah. ‘That was out of order.’ He gave a confused look and suddenly headed downhill, in the direction of the park.

  I sat open-mouthed for a moment, then darted across the road, quickly explained to Elle, and asked her to keep an eye out for April and on our drinks. She wanted to go look for Noah herself, but I glanced down at her impractical high heels and raised an eyebrow. She gave a wry smile. Then, in my pumps, I charged downhill.

  Sure enough, I spotted him at the far end of the park, head in his hands, walking up and down. I ran over. The last time I was here had been weeks ago with Zak. In the dark. Me throwing up tiramisu. I almost fell on the uneven tufts of grass and finally reached Noah. I held him with both my arms so that he had to stop.

  ‘Noah? What was all that about?’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘Nothing. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Jenny. Honestly. We men have our hormonal moments as well. Put it down to that.’

  ‘You’re a terrible liar. Try again,’ I said gently and stared at him. ‘That drink. Why did it upset you so much?’ I lifted his chin. ‘Come on, it can’t be that bad. And you know all my secrets, like, how I can’t cook and what a bad jogger I am.’

  His eyes twinkled for a nanosecond before he pulled away and paced up and down again. He looked at his Fitbit. ‘Perhaps I just need to go for a run.’

  I grabbed his hand and unclasped the strap, holding the watch behind me.

  ‘Nope. You aren’t going anywhere. For a while I’ve felt there’s something bugging you. We’re friends, aren’t we? I confide in you? So why don’t you share the problem?’

  What could it be? Did he have money problems? Was he on the run? Had a secret wife? Ridiculous thoughts raced
through my mind, all of which I dismissed immediately.

  ‘You can’t make me,’ he snorted, sounding like a schoolboy as he grabbed the watch from behind my back. And with that, he started running.

  Really?

  I ran too. To my surprise, I almost caught up. All those early morning jogs must have paid off. But then the distance between us lengthened. Until he stumbled and fell over. Chest heaving, I reached him and sat down. I took his hands. Both of us caught our breath.

  ‘Noah. Please.’

  ‘I … I can’t …’ A look of utter despair crossed his face.

  ‘You have to. Otherwise I’m going to –’

  I leant forwards and pressed my lips against his. His responded and he slipped a hand behind my head, before running his fingers through my hair. He fell back and I followed, lying on top of him. We both rolled to the side. Hidden by the long grass we kissed urgently. He pulled my T-shirt out of my skirt and slid it up towards my breasts.

  ‘I need you – now, Noah,’ I whispered.

  ‘Oh, Jenny …’ He lifted my shirt above my head. Gently his mouth plotted a sensuous path down to my hips. In the distance, a car backfired and distracted us both. Noah sat up and breathed heavily. ‘You’re lovely.’ He muttered and gave a crooked smile.

  Pulse racing, I made myself decent and shuffled up to him, wishing we hadn’t been interrupted and could have got insanely indecent. I put my arm around his neck. ‘Tell me, Noah. It can’t be that bad.’

  ‘This reminds me of that scene in Twilight,’ he said, with a slight waver in his voice. ‘When Bella and Edward are lying in the field. And like Bella, you might need protecting from me.’

  I shook my head. ‘I can’t believe that.’

  He turned to face me and bit his lip. ‘It’s true.’

  ‘Look. Whatever it is …’ I cocked my head. ‘Don’t tell me – like vampire Edward refusing to feed off humans, your health kick is just a ruse to mask your true dark desires …’

  He half-smiled. ‘No. You aren’t going to let this go, are you?’

  I shook my head.

  His shoulders slumped. ‘I had … a drink problem.’

  I blinked rapidly for a moment. Silence. Fitness-freak Noah, an alcoholic? But he was obsessed with coffee beans, not barley and hops.

  ‘A really bad one. I lost my family. Lost my pride – although Alcoholics Anonymous has helped me get some of that back. I couldn’t do without my Monday evening meeting.’

  Of course. His weekly trip to the church.

  ‘Laventon has been a fresh start. And I’ve done okay – until recently.’

  I swallowed. Why hadn’t I seen it before? Now it all made sense. His determination to stick to soft drinks – I’d thought that was just part of a fitness regime. But he’d never once broken his teetotal rule. Even top sportsmen had the occasional boozy night out.

  He avoided eye contact. ‘For the last couple of weeks I’ve craved a drink almost as much as I’ve craved your kisses …’ He stood up and, hands shaking, brushed himself down, still not meeting my gaze. ‘I thought those urges had gone, and now I think that perhaps I’ve been selfish these last few weeks, just like I used to be when I was drinking, kidding myself that you and me could work out. With my birthday, the old voices have crept back into my brain – telling me that just one beer won’t hurt. That I’ve done so well. I deserve a treat. That I’ll keep the booze under control this time. That it will help with the disappointment of my parents shunning me for another year.’

  ‘You’re still sober,’ I said.

  ‘But for how long?’ he whispered.

  And with that he was gone. Running again. I sat, open-mouthed for a minute. Staring at him as he legged it after making his confession. Then I stood up and followed him at full pelt. Except he had such a head start that he soon disappeared. Perhaps he’d gone home? Panting, I arrived back at the cottage and, trying to catch my breath, stumbled into the kitchen. Angry swear words came from down the hallway, past the lounge, from his bedroom. I strode to his door and knocked loudly.

  ‘Noah. You aren’t being rational. You’ve managed this long. You’re one of the most solid people I know. Now let me in.’

  ‘It’s open,’ he muttered.

  I went in to find him sitting on his bed, shoes kicked off, hands resting on his lap. I’d been in here a couple of times before, to fetch a book he’d suggested I borrow from his neat shelves, or if Buttercup had snuck in, before she was litter trained. It was the smallest bedroom in the house. Noah had always said he didn’t own much. And indeed the room was bare. No photos. No ornaments. Perhaps he didn’t want to be reminded of a past that was difficult to face. In the corner was a brown leather beanbag, next to a desk. On top of that was a desk lamp. Pinned onto a cork noticeboard hung a couple of medallions, no doubt from races he must have run over the last twelve months.

  My chest heaved up and down and I sat next to him on the bed. He turned to face me, still not meeting my eyes.

  ‘How long since your last drink?’ I said.

  ‘Six hundred and eleven days.’

  ‘Almost two years. And in all that time you haven’t had a single drop of alcohol?’

  ‘Not until today – that cocktail.’ He gulped. ‘Now my record is ruined.’

  ‘Today doesn’t count,’ I said firmly. ‘And you spat it out. Oh, Noah.’ I took his hand. ‘Just think what you have achieved – turning your life around. The cheery demeanour you wear in the café every day – that must have been so hard, all these months. Weeks. Days. But you’ve done it …’

  How difficult it must have been. I found it impossible to give up chocolate just for Lent. I couldn’t imagine giving up something for ever that you were physically addicted to.

  He shrugged.

  ‘Tell me everything. Tell me nothing. I don’t care. All I know is I trust you with my life. With my child’s life.’

  He pulled away his hand. ‘Don’t. I’ve been the worst son. Worst grandson. Worst colleague.’

  ‘But the best friend to Elle,’ I said, gently. ‘And Noah – alcoholism is an illness. It’s not you.’ My eyes filled. ‘I don’t think I can bear living here if we aren’t together. I realize that now.’

  ‘Then leave this room right now, or I won’t be responsible for what happens.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I murmured and slipped one leg across his lap so that my body straddled his. Our noses touched. I pressed my body hard against him and he groaned. Our mouths brushed each other and urgently he forced my lips apart.

  The heat, the wetness, felt and tasted so good. He shuffled back across the bed, me still in his lap and I pulled off my shirt. He did the same with his. Then those strong forearms pulled me tighter and he lay back. I bent down to meet his face and rolled sideways whilst he tugged off my skirt.

  I ran a hand across his solid chest and kissed his stubbly chin, before our lips met once again and the comforting warmth made me feel – ironically – as if I’d downed a hundred whisky shots. Moaning with pleasure, his face moved down my body.

  ‘Oh, Noah …’ I murmured, toes flexing as he found my pleasure spots. And as two became one, dancing stars took over my vision until finally, we reached an almost unbearable, burning, breathless, dizzy climax and fell fast into a delicious puddle of ecstasy.

  Eventually, we lay side by side holding hands. I snuggled up to him, resting my head on his shoulder. I kissed his chest.

  ‘We’re good together, Noah. Don’t fight it. I don’t want to any more.’

  ‘It’s just been a bad week,’ he said, in a firmer voice and ran his fingers through strands of my hair. ‘Foolishly I’ve been getting my hopes up that Mum and Dad would send a card.’

  ‘You’ll get through it, if they don’t. You’ve done it before. And I’m here this time.’

  ‘But you shouldn’t have to be strong for me,’ he said.

  ‘Why not? I didn’t take you for the old-fashioned sort who fe
els he should be the rock for a woman and not the other way around. You’ve been there for me. Now I’m returning the favour. I think it’s called karma.’

  He shot me a boyish smile that melted my heart.

  ‘April wants to throw a party for you. I thought Sunday – after the charity race.’

  His face clouded over. ‘I don’t celebrate my birthdays.’

  ‘Then maybe it’s time you started.’ I nudged him. ‘Come on. Your first birthday in Laventon. New beginnings. We’ll only ask a few friends.’

  He didn’t reply.

  ‘And to be honest, if I’m going to get through this race, I need some incentive, like the promise of party food.’

  His mouth upturned. ‘Okay. Just a small get-together. Nothing more.’

  Um … right. Small get-together. Well, we kind of managed that, although it wasn’t quite the simple affair Noah had probably had in mind. Elle and April took it upon themselves to organise everything, from the colour-coordinated napkins and plates, to the music that should be played. That gave me plenty of time to crack on with my fashion design. It was great, once again, feeling the vibration of the sewing machine under my hand and excitedly holding up a garment after I’d completed the last seam. I’d forgotten the adrenaline rush that a sense of achievement gave. A high like no other. To think that perhaps I could support my daughter and build a future using my own hard work and creativity!

  Elle uploaded a first, basic version of the IndyVidual website. Gosh. That made it so real. Jenny Jarvis was actually going to be selling clothes – once I got a handle on advertising on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter and … okay. I’m a bit overexcited. My brain hadn’t run like this for years!

  Elle understood that Noah would prefer a tiny guest list, so that meant us four, Martini, plus Steph the hairdresser, Postie and his daughter Louise, and Mrs Carlton. Noah suggested that April invite a couple of friends, so she included Martini’s granddaughter Lizzie, plus Tom and his mum.

  And as the week progressed, Noah seemed less shaky. Less on edge. He went back to running just in the mornings. He stopped questioning our relationship, when I discreetly crept into his bed in the middle of the night. He was a secure, sexy, reassuring presence with bear hugs and a listening ear. A man who’d gone from drinking what he loved, to drinking what he hated – tea, to make people feel better. I caught myself staring at him, now and again, in awe of how he’d turned his life around. It inspired me. Gave me hope.