A Year at The Cosy Cottage Café_A heart-warming feel-good read about life, love, loss, friendship and second chances

by Rachel Griffiths

  To her horror, tears rolled down her cheeks and a sob burst from her.

  “Oh my girl.”

  Laurence jumped up and rushed around the table. He knelt next to Camilla and took her hands. She screwed her eyes shut, afraid to look at him, afraid to show him how much she was hurting. This wasn’t like her; she was strong, firm, and unemotional. Camilla wasn’t weak, tearful and vulnerable. She just didn’t do all that.

  But now she did. Apparently. And all because a sixty-five-year-old man had turned up on her mother’s doorstep and told her he was sorry.

  “Do you have any idea how many times I wished you’d turn up when I was a child?” she asked as she peered at him from behind her wet lashes.

  “I thought about it so many times, too, Camilla. I swear it to you.”

  “Why didn’t you phone more than once or twice a year?”

  He frowned. “I did.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “I did. At first. I rang every day then every week and every month and I sent you cards and letters but your mother…” He bit his bottom lip.

  “My mother what?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes it does. What…” A horrible thought crashed through Camilla’s mind. “Are you saying that you did ring and send us letters but Mum didn’t tell us?”

  His cheeks coloured. “It’s all in the past now.”

  “Evidently it isn’t or I wouldn’t be so upset.”

  “Look… I was in the wrong. I left your mum and you two girls. I should have stayed around. It was my fault and I am so, so sorry.” He grimaced. “I’d better get up or my knees will stick like this.” He pushed himself up slowly then hobbled back to his seat.

  “So why now? Why come back now?”

  He sipped his pint then wiped his moustache. “It was time. High time, I mean. There are lots of reasons and I’d been thinking about it for a while but then I caught my wife… my third wife, with someone else.”

  “You did?”

  Camilla recalled Dawn forwarding her an email from Laurence about his third wedding. He’d written to Dawn presumably because she’d be less likely to reply negatively than Camilla would. There was a photo attached, taken on a mobile phone, of Laurence in shorts and t-shirt with his arm around a much younger woman. The woman had been extremely thin and tanned with sleek blonde extensions and large cobweb tattoos that covered her chest and disappeared below the neckline of her very low-cut white top.

  “You mean the one with the cobweb tattoos on her—”

  “Boobs?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s right. Beautiful girl she was… is… but she was way too young for me. I should’ve known she only wanted me for the bar.”

  “She took your bar?”

  He sighed. “I signed half of it over to her as a wedding gift. Then a month ago, I caught her shagging a tourist behind the barrels out back.”

  Camilla shook her head.

  “So now she’s running the bar for you?”

  “Uh… no. I sold her my share.”

  “You’ve sold your livelihood? I hope she gave you a good price for it?”

  “Wrong again.” He blinked. “And I had some… urrrr… debts.”

  “You mean to tell me you have nothing left, Dad?”

  “Nothing at all. Kind of like retribution, right? No less than I deserve.”

  “Oh Dad…”

  Camilla was overwhelmed with tiredness. There was so much to take in and she’d been through so many emotions. But as she sat there, listening to him, she realised that the blockage in her chest had shrunk a bit. This man did have feelings and he had been through some tough times too. He was in a bad place and as much as he’d hurt her and her family, he had nowhere else to turn.

  “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. Are you… okay?”

  He nodded. “I wasn’t that surprised she cheated to be honest. I had my suspicions that monogamy wasn’t her thing when we married.”

  “Why did you marry her then?”

  He shrugged. “I’m an old fool. I wanted one last shot at youth. I don’t know really, Camilla. I’ve made so many mistakes along the way. I wish I could have my time over but no one can turn that bloody clock back.”

  “No they can’t.”

  “I’m not here to hurt anyone, Camilla. Please know that. I came back because I felt this was where I should be. If you want me to leave… if you think that’s best, then I’ll go.” He looked down at his shoes and Camilla followed his gaze. He was wearing shoddy brown brogues that she suspected he’d bought before he moved to Benidorm. Her heart squeezed and something rushed through her. Was it pity? Love? Misplaced loyalty? She didn’t know. She needed time to think about everything he’d told her, time to digest what he’d said.

  “What do you want then, Dad?”

  “To spend some time with you all over Christmas. If that’s okay? Then, if you can’t stand me…” He gave a small laugh but his eyes were cloudy. “I’ll go again.”

  “Where would you go?”

  “Wherever. It won’t matter if I leave here. There’s nothing left…” He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not about to indulge in self-pity now. You take your time and make your decision and I’ll do my best to make it up to you. Or, if I can’t make it up to you because it’s been so long and because I’m such an idiot, then I’ll leave you in peace.”

  Camilla sighed. “Are you going to speak to Dawn too?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “She’s sweet and soft. She’s not like me.”

  “You’re softer than you think.”

  “No I’m not. This has just…” She threw her hands up. “This has rocked me.”

  “I’ll go and see her this week and speak to her. Try to explain.”

  “Well make sure Rick’s there when you do. She’s not had an easy pregnancy so far.”

  “A third baby on the way.” His lips curved slightly and he nodded.

  “Yes. So be gentle with her.”

  “I will.”

  “I take it you’ve told Mum all this?”

  “Your mum and I had a good long talk last night.”

  “And how does she feel about it?”

  “Who knows? She’s a strong woman your mother. She’s sensible too.”

  “You broke her heart.”

  He hung his head.

  “I don’t meant to be hard but you did. I thought she’d never recover and she’s never found anyone else.”

  “I promise I’m not here to hurt her.”

  “You better not be.”

  Movement at the bar caught Camilla’s eye and she looked over to see Tom smiling over at her. Heat rushed into her cheeks. How long had he been there? Watching? Trying to catch her attention.

  “Look Dad, it’s five-forty and I’m meeting someone else.”

  Laurence followed her gaze. “The handsome guy at the bar?”

  “Yes. Tom Stone. He’s the new vet.”

  “Vet eh? Good for you.”

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “I’d say the way he’s looking at you that he wants more than friendship. That’s the look of a man who’s smitten.”

  “Don’t be silly.” She waved Tom over. “Let me introduce you. And we’ll speak again soon?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Hi Tom.” Camilla stood up. “This is my father, Laurence.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  Tom and Laurence shook hands.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “No thanks, I was just leaving.” Laurence walked around to Camilla and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Have a lovely evening, sweetheart.”

  “Thank you.”

  Camilla watched as he put on his hat and coat then left the pub. Through the window, she saw him pause then smoke billowed around him as he lit a cigarette. She was suddenly so tired she could have curled up under the table and gone straight to sleep.

  “Everythin
g all right?” Tom asked.

  “Oh… yes. Yes, thank you.”

  “Can I get you another drink?”

  “What’re you having?”

  “Well I wasn’t sure what to order so I told the barman I’d see what you wanted. Do you fancy sharing a bottle of wine?”

  “I could use a glass of red right now.”

  “Red it is then.”

  Tom draped his wax jacket over the back of the chair that her father had recently vacated then went back to the bar. Camilla took the time to gather her thoughts. She wasn’t entirely sure what she’d been expecting her father to say but she didn’t think she’d end up getting emotional. His third wife had basically cheated then taken his bar, he’d lost all his money and he’d come back because it was time. Or was it just because he had nowhere else to go? Did he think they were needy fools who’d believe everything he told them? Or did he genuinely want to make amends? They could turn him away or they could give him a chance. The question was, did Camilla want to give him a chance, or would it be easier to send him packing?

  When Tom returned with a bottle of Shiraz and two glasses that he filled, she accepted hers gratefully.

  “I’m a good listener.”

  “Pardon?”

  “If you want to talk about it.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  “Try the beginning. I’m in no rush. I’ve got a casserole in the slow cooker and I popped home to feed HP after work, so he’s snoring his head off in front of the log burner. I have all the time in the world.”

  Camilla eyed him over her glass. Could she really discuss her innermost feelings, doubts and fears with this man?

  “Look… in my profession, I hear everything and I never repeat a word. People just like to talk to me, kind of like their GP or their beautician. Cross my heart, I won’t tell a soul what you say and if you need some advice, I might be able to help.”

  His eyes were so warm and friendly, that she felt her resolve not to share her feelings with anyone waning. She could talk to him, couldn’t she? Get an impartial opinion. If she spoke to Allie or Honey, they’d be too involved to be objective. And she couldn’t expect her mother or Dawn to weigh it all up rationally either. So speaking to Tom seemed like her best option. She could get a male perspective on it.

  “Okay then. Thank you.” She sipped her wine. “I hope you like sad stories.”

  He smiled at her, leaned forwards and clinked his glass against hers.

  “I have a few of my own, believe me.”

  “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

  “Sounds like a plan!”

  7

  Over a bottle of very nice wine, Camilla gave Tom the potted version of her father’s explanation, as well as filling him in about when Laurence had left and how they’d rarely heard from him over the years. Tom listened carefully, his brown eyes fixed on hers as Camilla relayed the details as calmly and clearly as she could. Twice, she became a bit emotional, and had to pause, but Tom waited quietly and she found his presence soothing and reassuring. It was strange, to feel so comfortable with a man, and when she hardly knew him, but she also didn’t feel under any pressure to impress him. Camilla had never felt like that with a man before, except for Rick and Chris, and one was her brother-in-law, the other her best friend’s partner.

  “And that’s my life story.”

  Tom nodded. “Quite a story too.”

  “What do you think?”

  He sighed. “I think that you lost your father when you were very young and that’s got to be hard for any child. The fact that he left, rather than passed away, must have been difficult because he was still out there somewhere. You, Dawn and your mum have had it rough but you’ve done amazingly.”

  “Amazingly?”

  “You have a great job, you’re independent, you clearly love your family and now… you have some difficult decisions to make.”

  “What would you do?”

  “I have no idea, Camilla. I’ve been very lucky in that my parents are still together. They get on well, they’re both retired and still live in Brighton where I grew up. They were strict when I was younger but not ridiculously so and they always made me feel secure. They were there when I needed them. I hope I never took that for granted but I don’t think I did because I had friends whose parents divorced and I saw how difficult it could be for them, although having said that, for some it was a blessing.”

  “How so?”

  “Well if two people are together and they’re making each other unhappy, then surely it’s better to separate? Not all marriages work out.” He winced and reached for his glass.

  “Do you have first hand experience of that or are you talking about a friend?”

  He shook his head. “We’re still talking about you.”

  She glanced at his left hand but he wasn’t wearing a ring.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving.” She placed a hand over her belly and it grumbled. “I think it’s all the emotion.”

  “That casserole will be ready soon and it goes very well with fluffy mashed potato. How’d you fancy that?”

  “It sounds so good.”

  “And I popped into The Cosy Cottage Café at lunch time and picked up some mince pies.”

  “Now you’re torturing me.”

  “Would you like to come to mine for dinner?”

  Camilla finished her wine. “That would be very nice indeed. Oh…”

  “Are you thinking about HP?”

  She nodded.

  “He’ll be on his best behaviour, I promise. I’ll warn him when we get there that if there’s any nonsense, he’ll be sent straight to his room.”

  “He has his own room?”

  “Not really, the daft dog has the run of the downstairs but I can close the kitchen door if he’s bothering you. He has a bed in there and one in the lounge and one in the office.”

  “Doesn’t he go upstairs then?”

  “No. I don’t let him because he’d struggled to come down without help and I worry that he’d hurt himself in the day when I’m at work. With his huge shoulders, he’s a bit top heavy, and he’d come down too quickly.”

  “Of course.”

  Tom stood up. “You coming then?”

  “I am.”

  Camilla and Tom made their way to his cottage. It was one of the largest in the village and had been renovated recently by the previous owner’s son before it was put up for sale. Tom had paid a hefty price for it, Camilla knew because news travelled fast in the village, but it was a fantastic property and she hoped he’d be happy in Heatherlea.

  As they walked, he asked about life in the village and about the locals he’d met already and Camilla was grateful to have her attention diverted from her own worries. At one point, Tom took her arm to guide her over a patch of black ice that she hadn’t even noticed, and she found herself comforted by his consideration. Not only was he incredibly handsome but he was kind, considerate and funny. And he was, as he had told her, a very good listener.

  They soon reached his cottage and as they walked up the path to the front door, she heard a loud bark from inside.

  “The sleeping prince awakens.” Tom grinned as he unlocked the door. “Just let me go in and speak to him for a moment so I can calm him down.”

  Camilla nodded and stood on the step, gazing at the small front garden. In the warm glow from the streetlight, she could see that it had been cut back for the winter months and the flowerbeds were dark and bare. Ivy climbed the front of the cottage, its dark green foliage neatly trimmed, and the rose that wound its way around the front door was bereft of flowers. Camilla knew that in the summer months, the plants would flourish with gorgeous scents and colours, and she wondered if she’d come here to see Tom then. But that was a foolish thought. Unless they stayed friends, of course. Although by then, Tom might well be involved with someone and who knew what situation Camilla would be in? If Laurence proved to be a rogue, she might we
ll have packed her bags and set off around the world herself.

  The door opened and Tom peered out. “You can come in now. HP promises he’ll behave. He’ll just want to sniff you a bit.”

  “Okay.”

  Camilla entered the dark hallway and the mouth-watering aroma of chicken casserole met her nostrils. It was a comforting, homely smell and one that made her empty stomach rumble.

  “HP, say hello to Camilla.”

  The dog waggled his bottom as he approached Camilla and she tensed.

  “Hello HP. How are you?”

  “It’s okay, he won’t jump up.”

  Camilla nodded and leaned over to stroke the dog but he moved sideways and sniffed her hand then her wrist before giving her hand a gentle lick.

  “There… see. He knows you now. Shall I take your coat?”

  Camilla shrugged out of her jacket and Tom hung it under the stairs.

  “Come on through to the kitchen.”

  “Shall I take my boots off?”

  “No, don’t worry the floors are all wood or tiled so you’ll have cold feet if you do.”

  Camilla followed him and HP trotted at her side like an escort, or as if he was keeping an eye on her, she wasn’t sure which. Everything looked different than it had on Halloween, but that could be because then it had been full of people and decorated with pumpkins, skeletons and cobwebs, whereas now, it was just the two of them and the big British bulldog.

  The spotlights were on in the kitchen and Camilla was struck by how warm and cosy it was with the Aga set against the chimney wall and the limed oak units.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Yes please.”

  “More wine?”

  “Lovely.”

  “Take a seat.”

  He gestured at the table near the French doors that overlooked the garden. Camilla sat down, conscious of the fact that her reflection in the glass doors was pale and dark eyed. She hoped she didn’t look that bad but then she had been through an emotional afternoon.

  Tom handed her a glass of wine and HP sniffed her boots then plonked himself on her feet.

  “You have the official HP seal of approval there.”