‘Come on, Kat. I’m his dad – these are his grandparents. Isn’t it more important that we spend some proper time with him? We’ll make sure we keep things as normal as possible.’
She tried to imagine the flat without Leo; his room, empty. The quiet. ‘I don’t know —’
‘You need to look for a job, to send out CVs – that’s what you keep saying. Don’t tell me you did all that work at uni for nothing. If I had Leo for a few weeks you’d be able to focus on your career.’
A cough came from Leo’s room, and Kat turned towards the sound. Was it selfish to want to keep him with her? The flat fell silent again.
Jake spoke up. ‘We did say we would share looking after him.’
‘You’re right.’
Jake finished his tea. ‘Listen, I should be going. I’m staying at a friend’s tonight. I’ll come back in the morning to see him. Think it over?’
‘OK,’ Kat said, hoping that in the morning the idea of parting with her son would seem easier. ‘Let’s talk then.’
5
Friday 5 September
Scarborough, Peasholm Park
The taxi slowed as it approached the semi-detached house. Over the road, exactly as Adam had described, was a park with a Japanese pagoda, still and mystical in the early evening light.
‘This is it,’ Séraphine said to the driver.
That morning she’d kissed goodbye to her parents and the twins at Bordeaux airport. It felt a world away now.
She could see a girl in the window – brown hair in a ponytail, her nose pressed up against the glass. Séraphine waved at her. Adam opened the door. ‘Hi,’ he said warmly. She recognised him instantly from their chat on Skype – about thirty, with dark hair, a little scruffy at the front, and brown eyes, dressed in a grey jumper and jeans. He stepped forward and held out his hand for her to shake.
‘I’m Adam.’ He shook his head and laughed shyly. ‘But you already know that. Here, let me take your bag for you.’
As he took her suitcase from her, she returned his smile. ‘Thank you.’
She followed him in. Compared to the entrance hall in her family’s chateau, the house seemed cramped and untidy – coats were piled one on top of another and muddy shoes and wellingtons dirtied the carpet by the door. Two empty cat baskets and a hamster cage formed a precarious pile beside them.
‘Excuse the chaos,’ Adam said. ‘You’ll get used to it, I hope.’
‘It’s fine, don’t worry,’ Séraphine assured him. ‘You have pets?’ she asked, peering at the cages.
‘Not at the moment,’ he replied with a smile. ‘But we do have the occasional short-stay guest. I’m a vet – with a weakness for taking in waifs and strays. I probably should have warned you.’
‘That’s OK, I’m fond of animals.’
She looked past Adam to the doorway of the living room, where his daughter was standing. She was wearing jeans and a top with a silver star on it, her gaze fixed on Séraphine.
‘This is Zoe,’ Adam said, putting his arm around the girl and bringing her out into the hallway. He seemed young to have a daughter of ten. ‘Zoe, this is Séraphine, who we talked about. She’s going to be staying with us and teaching you some French.’
‘Hi,’ Zoe said.
‘Hello,’ Séraphine said kindly, bending to her level. ‘Here, I brought you something,’ she said, handing her a present. A notebook with a lock she’d picked out in a hypermarket back home.
‘Thanks.’ Zoe took hold of it.
‘I have a sister a little younger than you. You look quite alike, actually.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Zoe, how about we show Séraphine up to her room?’
They climbed the carpeted stairs together. On the walls were photos of Adam, Zoe and a woman who must have been her mother – she had a kind smile, glasses and long dark hair. They reached a small attic room.
‘This is where you’ll be sleeping,’ Adam said.
In the centre of the room was a single bed with a worn red rug next to it. A dormer window, with a chair next to it, offered a view of the park. In the corner of the room was a sewing table and a machine that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in years.
‘It’s not much,’ Adam said, apologetically.
‘It’s perfect,’ Séraphine replied.
‘Take your time unpacking, and then I hope you’ll join us for dinner at about seven?’
‘That would be great.’
‘It’s cottage pie – an English classic.’
‘Sounds delicious. And tomorrow it’s my turn. Something authentically French.’
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Do you enjoy cooking?’
Séraphine felt instantly at ease. ‘Yes, I love it. Especially baking – pastries and cakes are my speciality.’
‘Did you hear that, Zoe?’ Adam said, squeezing his daughter’s shoulder gently. ‘If we’re nice to Séraphine, perhaps she’ll bake something for us one day.’
He smiled and turned to head back downstairs.
Zoe lingered in the doorway of the small room, toying with the bronze door handle.
‘Have you got a picture of your sister?’ she asked.
Séraphine brought up a photo of Mathilde on her phone and showed it to Zoe. ‘Here she is. Pretty like you. She’s a twin. I have two brothers also.’
‘She doesn’t look much like me,’ Zoe said. ‘Not at all.’
Séraphine showered, called her parents to let them know she’d arrived safely, and then pinned a couple of photos up on the wall by her bedside table. She dressed in jeans and a cream top, and checked her watch: six-thirty – still half an hour till dinner.
She sat down at the chair by the window. She’d done the hardest thing in leaving, but at the same time she knew she’d been a coward, and it nagged at her. On her phone she scrolled down her contacts and started a new message.
I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye…
She bit her lip, trying to fight back the tears. It pained her to think of what she’d lost.
… This is difficult for me.
A moment later, a reply beeped through and her heart leapt.
I know. I was there once too.
6
Saturday 6 September
South Cliff, Scarborough
‘Auntie Charlie’s here,’ Pippa called out into the hallway behind her. Her pale blonde hair was up in a ponytail, and Gracie, the newest addition to the family, was strapped to her chest snugly in a sling.
‘Hi, Luke,’ Charlie said, kissing her brother-in-law on the cheek and stepping into the Edwardian house, putting her small suitcase down in the hall. She’d packed light for the week’s stay. Thankfully, her boss, keen on Charlie’s tea rooms feature idea for the next issue of the magazine, had agreed that she could use the days for research. Charlie had Googled possible places the previous night, some on the coast and others in York and Leeds.
Pippa’s house was exactly as Charlie remembered it: spotless and tidy, with immaculate cream walls and carpets.
‘Good journey?’ Luke asked.
‘Not bad, thanks.’ She looked him up and down. ‘What’s with the suit? It’s Saturday.’
‘I’ve got a big project on. Sorry I can’t stick around but I’m needed in the office today.’
‘Luke works most weekends,’ Pippa said. ‘I’m used to being on my own on Saturdays.’
‘Pip, that’s not tr —’ Luke started, shaking his head.
‘Auntie Charrrrlie!’ The cry was followed by a stampede as Flo and Jacob rushed down the stairs to greet their aunt with hugs and kisses. She bent down to embrace them back.
‘Wow, you two have got so big,’ Charlie said, crouching to take them in. Six-year-old Flo was taller, with long legs in stripy tights and a pinafore dress, and Jacob, who’d recently turned two, was now running around the place rather than tentatively cruising along the furniture as he had been the last time she saw him.
‘They’ve been so looking forward to
your visit,’ Pippa said. ‘We made a cake this morning. Didn’t we, you two?’
‘Yes,’ Flo said proudly. ‘A chocolate one.’
‘Sorry, I have to dash,’ Luke said, giving his wife and kids a hurried kiss goodbye. ‘Have a good day. I’ll be back late, so don’t worry about dinner.’
‘OK, sure,’ Pippa said. Charlie thought she saw a flicker of frustration on her sister’s face.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Charlie,’ Luke added with a polite smile before heading towards the front door. As the door closed, Pippa’s smile returned.
‘Charlie, do you want to come through the kitchen for some cake?’
‘How could I refuse an offer like that?’
Venus, a sleek Prussian blue cat, snaked her way around Pippa’s legs as she walked, leading them all through to the open-plan kitchen. The room was airy and light, with French doors opening on to tidy grass and a weeping willow. On the fridge and walls were pictures the children had drawn, and the bookshelves were filled with the latest cookery books.
‘Take a seat,’ Pippa called over her shoulder while she busied herself taking the cake out the fridge – all without a peep from the baby, who had dropped off in the sling.
‘I got a little something for Gracie,’ Charlie said, as the kids buzzed around the cake adding extra decorations. She passed her sister a turquoise gift bag.
‘Thank you.’ Pippa took the bag and opened the tissue wrapping inside. ‘You shouldn’t have.’ She pulled out a babygro with a picture of the Cat in the Hat on the front, and matching bootees. Charlie had found the clothes in a boutique in Greenwich Village and immediately fallen in love with them.
‘Mum used to read us the books, do you remember?’ she said. ‘Hopefully Gracie will like them too.’
‘How nice,’ Pippa said. She inspected the label. ‘It’s organic cotton, right?’
‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ Charlie said, reading over her shoulder.
‘No, it’s not,’ Pippa said flatly. ‘A lovely thought though. Thank you.’ She put the babygro back in the bag and to one side on the counter. ‘Now, kids, shall we sit down?’
They crowded around the oak dining table and Pippa poured juice for the children and cut the cake, dishing it out on to plates.
‘How’s it been with Gracie?’ Charlie asked.
‘Oh, fine,’ Pippa said. ‘She’s an easy baby, same as the other two. Flo and Jacob are usually off at their music lessons and activities, so I’ve had lots of time with Gracie, the two of us. Mum and baby bonding.’ She smiled lovingly at Gracie’s sleeping face.
‘That’s good.’
‘I’m enjoying it. It’s a very pure kind of happiness,’ Pippa said. ‘The one upside to Luke not being around that much.’ There was a hint of sadness in her voice, but she brightened quickly and continued:
‘Of course it’s fascinating to see the change in these two now they have a little sister.’
Jacob was pulling pink decorations off the cake and scooping off icing with his finger. Pippa seemed not to notice.
‘So, Mum mentioned you’re in line for a promotion.’
‘Hopefully,’ Charlie replied. ‘I’m not the only one they’re considering, but my boss thinks I’m in with a good chance.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Pippa said. ‘You certainly live for your work, don’t you?’
‘I enjoy it, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Pippa said innocently. ‘And you’re so good at it, aren’t you?’
Charlie waited for it. The inevitable dig. She knew how her sister operated.
‘But don’t forget that other things are important too,’ Pippa said, tenderly brushing a hair away from Flo’s face. ‘Life can pass you by when all you’re thinking about is your job.’
‘I do have a life too, Pip.’
‘No need to get touchy,’ Pippa replied.
‘I’m not being touchy.’
‘All I’m saying is, after all that business with Ben… I’d have thought maybe you’d want to reassess…’
Flo looked up from her cake, suddenly interested. ‘Ben?’
Charlie seethed inside but reminded herself of her vow to be patient. Somehow she managed to reply coolly and calmly:
‘No, Pippa. There is absolutely nothing I want to reassess.’
The next day, a Sunday, Charlie left Pippa and Luke’s house and walked into town in bright autumn sunshine, looking for the café her sister had recommended as perfect for her tea-room feature.
In the middle of the High Street, Katie’s Kitchen was impossible to miss – pink-and-white polka-dot curtains were draped in the front window, with a row of teapots on the sill. Charlie stepped inside. The room buzzed with chatter and oversized canvases with pictures of teacups adorned the walls. The counter, covered in a plastic tablecloth with a flowered print, was laden with cupcakes and muffins. Next to them was a large birthday cake with a princess on it.
Charlie spotted an empty table in the corner, and stepped carefully over other customers’ shopping bags to reach it. She picked up the laminated menu and read through the items on offer.
Eventually a teenage girl with her hair in a high ponytail came over to her table. ‘What can I get you?’ she asked, getting out her notebook and not meeting Charlie’s eyes.
‘I’ll have a blueberry muffin, a slice of gingerbread and…’ She looked back at the menu. ‘What flavour are your pink cupcakes?’
‘They’re pink flavour,’ the girl said. ‘Nice, lots of icing.’
‘Oh,’ Charlie replied hesitantly. ‘A chocolate one, please.’
‘That’s a lot of cakes. Are you expecting someone else?’ the girl asked, glancing at the empty chair.
‘No,’ Charlie said, forcing a smile. ‘It’s all for me. And a cup of English breakfast tea too. Thank you.’
As the waitress walked away, Charlie got out her phone and dialled her boss’s number. She had woken up to two answerphone messages asking her to ring Jess urgently, something that wasn’t unusual even on the weekend.
‘Hi, Jess, I just got your messages —’
‘Charlie – thanks for calling back. So, the October edition’s just gone to press, and your Big Apple coffee feature looks amazing.’
‘Great,’ Charlie said, relieved. She looked up and nodded in acknowledgement as the waitress set down the things she’d ordered on her table.
Charlie eyed the chocolate cupcake suspiciously. She poked at it with her fork and dry bits of icing flaked off. The cupcake then crumbled into pieces.
‘The tea-room research is going well, I hope?’ Jess asked.
‘Oh, fine,’ Charlie lied. ‘Plenty of good places to choose from up here.’
She picked up the blueberry muffin and took a tentative bite – it was doughy and flavourless, and she had to resist the temptation to spit it out. A swig of overbrewed tea did nothing to help.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Jess said, ‘because there are a couple of changes I need to update you on.’
‘Changes?’ Charlie put her cup of tea to one side.
‘As you know, sales loved the tea-room concept, so much so that they don’t just want an article – they want a twelve-page pull-out section of reviews. The idea is to tie the release in with the tea exhibition at Earls Court, and distribute the edition early there. So we’ll need more content, and we’re working to a new print deadline.’
‘OK, that’s great.’ Charlie said, excited but feeling slightly panicky at the same time. ‘What dates will we be working to?’
‘We’ll need copies for the exhibition at the end of October, so all the content from you will have to be delivered, ready for editing, by early October.’
Charlie bit her lip. She relished a challenge, but this was pushing it.
‘That gives me just over three weeks.’ Her mind raced. It was twice as much content as she normally put together for the magazine. ‘Could I have Nicky to help me out with the research?’
‘Sorry, she�
��s busy helping Marcus at the moment.’ The line went quiet. ‘You can still deliver this though – right? This is a real opportunity to prove yourself, Charlie. Don’t let me down.’
‘I won’t,’ she said confidently. ‘I can do it.’
Charlie hung up and looked at her diary. Three weeks! She would have to pull out all the stops on the research, compiling a list of tea rooms and then visiting them all. And one thing was for sure, she thought, eyeing the sorrowful cakes in front of her. They’d have to be a lot better than Katie’s Kitchen.
‘Are you OK with lentil casserole?’ Pippa asked her sister in the kitchen that evening, clicking the oven on to preheat.
After a day walking around the town, trying and failing to find a tea room worth reviewing, Charlie was looking forward to eating something heartier than a cupcake. She’d already planned that night’s dinner, though – stopping by a supermarket on the way home and buying ingredients for a lasagne.
‘Pip, I thought we agreed I’d cook tonight? You can put your feet up for once.’
‘Oh, it’s no trouble, honestly.’ Pippa batted away her words with a French-manicured hand. ‘I whipped it up this morning, it only needs warming up.’ She removed a dish from the fridge and set it on the counter.
‘OK, well… thank you.’ There was no point arguing about it. ‘I’ll pour the wine, in that case.’ She took two glasses out of the kitchen cabinet. Most things can be improved with a glass of Rioja – it was the closest thing Charlie had to a motto.
‘Say when,’ she said as she poured the wine.
‘Oh, none for me, I’m breastfeeding,’ Pippa replied. She tilted her head slightly. ‘Did you forget?’
‘Oh, sorry. I thought you could still have a little bit?’
‘I suppose some people do.’ Pippa shrugged. ‘If I wanted to put my own pleasure ahead of the future wellbeing of my child, I guess I would too.’ She laughed hollowly.
Charlie silently returned the second glass to the cupboard, and filled her own. ‘Is Luke going to be in tonight?
The Seafront Tea Rooms Page 4
