Sarah glanced down at Charlie’s hand, which was trembling on her glass. ‘What’s with the shakes?’
‘Is it that obvious?’ she said, putting the glass down and cradling her hand. ‘Caffeine overdose.’ She laughed. ‘We’re featuring Brooklyn coffee shops in the October edition of the magazine, and with only a couple of days here I had to cram in the cappuccinos today. Good job I’m in the city that never sleeps.’
‘Well, I’m up for an all-nighter if you are,’ Sarah said with a smile. She was elegant in a green halter-neck dress, her red hair clipped up at the side. ‘The two of us have some serious catching up to do, and anyway, I’ve put our names down at a club later.’
‘Great,’ Charlie brightened at the thought. ‘I haven’t been out dancing in ages. I knew I could rely on you.’
‘Yep. Might be past it professionally, but I’ll always be a dancer. It’d take more than a couple of failed auditions to knock that passion out of me.’
A young Latino waiter appeared by their side. ‘Señoritas, allow me to see you to your table.’
He led them to a nearby table and motioned for them to sit down, then placed two menus in front of them. ‘I’ll be back in a moment to take your order.’
‘Wow!’ Charlie said, running her eyes down the menu, her mouth starting to water. ‘Fish tacos, Oaxacan cheese quesadillas… God, I could eat everything on this.’
Sarah called the waiter over.
‘We’ll have a selection of your starters, a chicken burrito and spicy beef tacos to share,’ she said swiftly. ‘With plenty of guacamole.’
He looked from Sarah to Charlie, seeking confirmation that she had nothing to add.
‘If we wait for her to decide, we’ll be here all evening,’ Sarah told him.
‘Hey, that’s not fair!’ Charlie protested.
‘Tell me I haven’t got a point.’
‘OK, OK.’ Charlie held her hands in the air, conceding.
‘You’re off duty tonight, remember?’ Sarah passed the menus back to the waiter with a smile. ‘Two cosmopolitans as well. Thanks.’
‘Have you always been this bossy?’ Charlie said. She took out her phone and checked it for new messages.
‘Yes, I have. Anyone interesting?’ Sarah raised a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Oh, it’s nothing like that.’ Charlie smiled and shook her head. ‘I should be so lucky. My sister’s pregnant again. Due any day.’
‘Again?’
‘Yep. This’ll make three. Another girl this time.’
‘That’s fairly prolific. Are you and Pippa getting on any better these days?’
‘Not really,’ Charlie said, with a shrug. ‘But living in different cities helps. Anyway, let’s not talk about that. Not tonight.’ She put her phone away.
‘No family chat. OK. I can do that. So, work’s going well? I hear you’re making quite a name for yourself. “The female Jay Rayner” – saw that on Twitter.’
‘Hardly,’ Charlie said, wrinkling her nose, but flattered all the same. ‘But yes, it’s going all right. The canalside dining feature I did brought Indulge a lot of new readers – and the restaurants I featured have been packed out all summer.’
‘That’s fantastic.’
‘Thanks. I’ve been there eight years now. Can you believe it?’
‘That long? I can still remember when you got that editorial assistant job after your internship. You were over the moon. Who’d have thought, you’d soon be Features Editor and reviewing the best restaurants all over the world.’
‘It’s not all glamour.’ Charlie smiled. ‘In spite of the perks I’ve been feeling a bit stuck in a rut lately. Jess, the editor, has very strong ideas about how she wants the magazine to be, and so I always have to work to her brief.’
‘So what’s next? Are you thinking of moving on?’
‘Hopefully I’ll be able to move up. Jess is leaving in the new year and she’s hinted I’m in with a good chance of taking over as editor. I’ll be guest-editing the winter edition as a trial.’
‘That sounds like a perfect opportunity,’ Sarah said. ‘You’re bound to get it.’
‘I hope so,’ Charlie said, excited at the thought. ‘I’ll need to come up with a strong concept for the issue, but putting it together should be straightforward, I do a lot of the writing and commissioning these days.’
‘I can picture it,’ Sarah said. ‘You were always destined to get to the top.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Charlie laughed. ‘What about you anyway, how’s the personal training going?’
‘I’m enjoying it,’ Sarah said. ‘A few high-maintenance clients, but most of them are lovely. It pays the bills, and even keeps me in banana pancakes and lattes.’
‘It must be wonderful, living here,’ Charlie said enviously. ‘And it certainly seems to suit you.’
Sarah, who’d been a complete tomboy throughout their teenage years, was sleek and glamorous now – her hair colour deepened with low-lights, and her summer dress showing off perfectly toned arms. Charlie, in indigo jeans and a strapless black top, felt less polished – but she was comfortable, and the jeans were a wardrobe essential, stretching forgivingly when she put on weight. Her straight blonde hair was loose tonight, brushing her shoulders, and she’d dressed the jeans up with gold wedges.
‘Thank you,’ Sarah responded. ‘It’s my kind of town, that’s for sure. Impossible to get bored.’
‘Do you miss anything about home?’
‘What like the King’s Head?’ Sarah said, recalling their South London local. ‘Nope, I don’t miss that leg-humping pub dog one little bit.’
Charlie laughed. ‘OK, perhaps not that. But surely there must be something?’
‘People, obviously. Family. Living with you.’
‘That’s the answer I was looking for,’ Charlie said, smiling.
‘And one other thing…’
‘Yes?’
‘A good cup of tea. I mean a seriously good cup of tea. And a proper scone with cream. The food here is incredible, don’t get me wrong – but a good old-fashioned tea room? They don’t exist.’
‘Do you remember that teashop hidden away behind the train station?’
‘The Rosebud?’ Sarah smiled at the memory. ‘Yes, of course I do. Almost made getting dumped worth it, that cake.’
In Guerrilla Coffee, the aroma of freshly ground Arabica beans fills the air. While the service is brisk to the point of being offhand, the feisty espressos more than make up for it. A mix of early-to-rise city workers, freelance writers and morning-after clubbers congregate around oak banquettes and sip from steaming hot cups…
Charlie rubbed her eyes as she wrote, her MacBook balanced on the tray table in front of her. She would have given anything to have a hot macchiato about now. She checked the corner of her computer screen, still on UK time – four hours till they touched down, and six more reviews to go. She’d finished writing up her notes on two venues – the boutique dog café and the underground iced-coffee bar – typing as the plane flew over the Atlantic.
She and Sarah hadn’t got back till the early hours of the morning. They’d gone out in Greenwich Village with a group of Sarah’s friends, partying like old times, dancing on the bar and laughing until their sides hurt. She’d crashed for a couple of hours on the sofa bed in her friend’s loft apartment, then caught a cab directly to the airport. Saying goodbye to Sarah had been bittersweet; they both knew that it would probably be a year or more until they saw each other again. The trip away had been energising but all too brief, and Charlie was in no hurry to get back. Home meant being reminded of her break-up with Ben.
Hopefully next year would be better than this one. She thought of the old copy of Say I Do magazine that was on the coffee table in her flat. Planning her wedding to Ben earlier that year, she’d turned the corners of certain pages – a backless dress, a tree-house venue, an arrangement of roses and baby’s breath. She needed to throw that out. Ben was out of her life for good, and s
he was a different person now. She recalled the day that they’d met, two years ago.
‘You got time to show a new boy the ropes?’ Ben had asked in the office canteen.
‘OK,’ she answered with a smile. ‘Can’t have you sitting on your own on your first day, I suppose.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, with a mock sigh of relief. ‘It’s like something out of Mean Girls round here. Look at that lot,’ he said, indicating a cluster of immaculately made-up women, and men in dapper clothing, all leaning in towards each other conspiratorially.
‘Cutting Edge Style magazine,’ Charlie said. ‘You should probably steer clear of them.’
Ben looked down at his outfit – pressed chinos and a blue shirt – and raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you saying?’
‘No offence, but they’d eat you for breakfast.’ She laughed. ‘You’d be better off sticking to the foodies.’ She nodded across the room. ‘That’s the Savour publicity and marketing team; they’re pretty friendly… And Indulge are the best of the lot. The only downside is, there’s no such thing as a quick lunch break: every dish has to be dissected and discussed in minute detail.’
‘God. Pass,’ he said. ‘I know hardly anything about food – apart from that I enjoy it.’
‘How did you end up working here, then?’
‘Shameless nepotism. My brother happens to be married to the sales manager. That and I’ve got a sales background. I’ve never worked for a food magazine before though.’
‘OK, well, seeing as you can’t hold your own yet, I’ll ease you in gently. We can sit next to the girls at Brides magazine – they’re usually too wrapped up in flower concepts to give anyone the third degree.’
‘Not bad-looking either,’ he commented, glancing over.
A stab of jealousy surprised her, and she narrowed her eyes.
‘I’m joking,’ he said.
‘Hmmm. Now, be nice to Carol-Anne,’ Charlie said, indicating the eldest of the women serving, ‘and she’ll sort you out with the biggest portions for your whole time here.’
‘Note taken. Let’s get in line, I’m starving.’
They’d chatted easily that day, and before long they were exchanging emails and IMs across the crowded office floor. Ben’s warm humour made even the days leading up to a deadline pleasurable, punctuating her day with laughter and a delicious frisson.
At the office summer party, they’d ended up kissing in the middle of the dance floor, only to be shamed the following day by an Instagrammed shot of the event circulating around the office. But soon they’d become the darlings of the Indulge office, as close as the magazine got to a power couple. When Ben proposed, Charlie said yes, as everyone expected her to.
In the weeks that followed, Ben had looked over at the pages of Say I Do magazine as she showed them to him, but always with a non-committal ‘hmm’ or ‘yeah, nice’. She should have realised earlier that his heart wasn’t in getting married. But they were Charlie and Ben – the couple everyone wanted to invite to their dinner parties – they were meant to be together. Until one day, they weren’t. And it still stung.
She had thought she’d be getting married next spring. Now, with the wedding off, she needed to move on in a different way. To prove to herself she was better alone. And of course it wouldn’t hurt if Ben – still working in the same office as her – realised it too.
‘Tea or coffee?’ The stewardess’s voice cut into her thoughts.
She opened her mouth to order the coffee she’d been craving, then – recalling what Sarah had said – changed her mind. ‘A tea, please.’
She remembered the Sunday afternoons she and Sarah had spent at the Rosebud, catching up over cups of English breakfast and carrot cake. Everyone treasured a unique café, didn’t they? Somewhere special they could call their own.
Getting out her notebook, she jotted down some ideas.
Teacups… history… chat… afternoon tea… tea rooms.
An edition of the magazine that readers could cosy up with, just right for November, when the nights were drawing in. She chewed on her pen, mulling the idea over. Perhaps there was something in it.
‘Sorry, miss, you’re going to have to raise your tray table. We’re coming in to land.’
‘Sure,’ Charlie said, closing her laptop.
She put her computer away and watched as the clouds thinned, allowing glimpses of land as they approached London.
‘We will shortly be arriving at London Heathrow. It’s a pretty grey day down there, a chilly fourteen degrees…’
Charlie looked down at her denim skirt and flip-flops. Back to British summertime, then, she thought gloomily. At least she’d remembered to put a jacket in her hand luggage.
Later, in the taxi rank outside the airport, she switched on her mobile phone again. Missed call: MUM. She pressed the button to return it.
‘Charlie!’
‘Hello, Mum. Just got back. You called, has anything happened?’
‘Yes. Wonderful news: Pippa’s had a healthy baby girl.’
‘That’s great,’ Charlie said, relieved. ‘Have they picked a name yet?’
‘Gracie.’
A kind, friendly face came into Charlie’s mind and she smiled. ‘Granny’s name.’
‘Yes. It was a lovely thought. They’re all doing fine. Jacob and Flo are enjoying meeting their new sister, she says. Your dad and I are going up this weekend.’
‘That’s good. How is Dad?’
‘Oh, you know your father…’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Never easy.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be cheered up by seeing the baby.’
‘Exactly.’
Charlie, now at the front of the queue, manouevred her luggage trolley into position as a black cab drew up.
‘Listen, I can’t chat,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m still at the airport.’
‘OK. But, Charlie —’
‘Mmm-hmm,’ she said, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear as she loaded her bags into the taxi.
‘I know you and your sister don’t always see eye to eye, but you will visit her sooner this time, won’t you?’
Charlie thought of her work schedule – packed solid until January. Then came a flashback of how she and Pippa had argued last time she’d gone to stay in Scarborough. She chewed her lip. Somehow she’d have to find a way to fit in the visit. And this time she’d be more patient.
‘Of course, Mum. I’ll book a train up tonight.’
4
Friday 15 August
Jake leaned in towards Kat and kissed her gently on the cheek, in the hallway of what had once been his flat. The bristle of his stubble against her skin, the smell of his shampoo – it was the tiny things that brought memories back.
‘Bit out of the blue I know, but a friend was driving down from Edinburgh and asked if I wanted a lift…’
‘It’s OK,’ she said, with a smile. ‘I’m used to surprises.’ They walked up the stairs together.
‘Those are new.’ He pointed at the black-and-white photos Kat had taken of the seafront ice-cream shops and put in handmade driftwood frames. ‘Nice.’
‘Thanks. Leo found some of the wood for them. A few things have changed since last time.’
‘Two months is way too long.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve missed Leo loads and he must’ve grown up so much. Where is he?’ He peered down the corridor towards Leo’s room. ‘Can I say hello? I got him something.’ He held up a plastic bag with a wrapped box inside.
‘Sorry, he’s in bed.’
Jake hit his palm gently against his forehead. ‘Oh yeah. Of course.’
‘Come through. I’ll put the kettle on.’
Jake sat down on the sofa, running one hand distractedly over the corduroy material on the arm. ‘So, how’ve you been?’
‘Good,’ Kat said, stepping into the kitchen and getting a mug out of the cupboard, flicking the kettle on. ‘Busy.’ She made Jake’s tea on auto-pilot: milky with two spoonfuls of white sugar.
/> Back in the living room she put Jake’s drink down in front of him and joined him on the sofa. ‘Leo talks about you all the time, you know.’
‘Really? He does?’ Jake glowed. He took a sip of tea, not waiting for it to cool. ‘Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t send any money over this month…’ He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at his feet. ‘I’m doing everything I can, but I’m starting from scratch in Edinburgh and there’s a ton of other painting-and-decorating companies. I’m slowly picking up jobs by word of mouth, but —’
‘I understand,’ Kat said. ‘I’m not going to lie, though – it’s hard covering the bills when I’m not working either.’
‘You haven’t found anything?’
‘Not yet. I’ve been interviewing.’
‘You’ll get something. You’ve always been the brains of the operation.’
‘Ha,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Well, hopefully it’ll be soon. You know how it gets here in winter.’
‘Yep,’ he said, his eyes meeting hers. ‘Absolutely freezing. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I send money next month.’
Kat nodded. ‘OK.’
‘In the meantime, I’ve got a proposition for you.’
‘Hmm?’
‘I’ve barely seen Leo these past few months, and Mum and Dad are desperate to spend some time with him. They haven’t set eyes on him since their last visit down here, and that was…’ His words trailed off.
‘When we were still together.’
‘Yes.’
She remembered the visit clearly. It had been a sunny spring weekend last year. The four of them had taken Leo to the beach, with his kite, and they’d had a picnic on the sand. From the outside it must have looked like the perfect outing.
‘Could I take him back to Edinburgh with me for a couple of weeks – three maybe? Mum and Dad can look after him if and when I get work.’
‘Three weeks?’ she said, feeling winded. She hadn’t been apart from Leo for that long since he was born. ‘But… what about nursery, Jake? His routine…’
The Seafront Tea Rooms Page 3
