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

by Rachel Griffiths

  “What his bum on my toes?”

  Tom nodded. “He trusts you enough to sit on you.”

  “Or he doesn’t trust me so he’s keeping me pinned in one place.”

  Tom laughed.

  “I’ll peel some potatoes then we can go and sit in the lounge while they cook.”

  “I’ll do them if you want?”

  “Absolutely not. You’re my guest. In fact, why don’t you go into the lounge and sit on the sofa and I’ll come on through in a bit?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll sit here and wait. Your kitchen is lovely.”

  “You’re the guest.”

  Tom went to the dresser at the side of the table and music filled the kitchen. Camilla realised that what she had thought was a small radio was actually an iPhone dock. As Michael Bublé’s Christmas album played, Tom pottered about the kitchen and HP warmed her feet, and she felt herself begin to relax.

  And she was glad that she’d agreed to meet Tom that afternoon, because if she’d gone home alone after meeting her father, she’d have been lost in introspection and loneliness. Instead, she had someone to talk to and he was even making her dinner.

  They didn’t make it to the lounge because once the water in the saucepan of potatoes was bubbling, Tom sat at the table and they started talking.

  “Camilla… I know you’ve had a difficult day with the arrival of your father in the village, but apart from that, what can you tell me about you?” His hands were resting on the table next to his wine glass and Camilla looked at his short clean nails and long slim fingers.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Well… more about you. Likes and dislikes, that kind of stuff.”

  “Kind of like speed dating?”

  “Sorry?” He tilted his head.

  “Well, we only have until the potatoes are cooked, so whatever I tell you won’t be particularly detailed. When you go speed dating, you have a limited amount of time to tell someone about you.”

  “I’ve never done any of that stuff.”

  “Speed dating?”

  “And the rest. I have friends who’ve done it but I just couldn’t bring myself to try it.”

  “What, no Tinder or Match or any of those?”

  “Never.”

  She nodded. “I can understand that. I’ve only tried speed dating once, but it was all so fast that I kept giggling and that didn’t go down well, and I tried Tinder.”

  “Did you actually date anyone you met because of it?”

  Camilla paused, not sure how much she should tell him because if this was kind of like a date, then the wrong thing to do would be to tell him about her exes. But then, if it wasn’t a date and they were just friends, it would be fine. But which was it? After all, Tom was from the village and Camilla had a rule about that. Yet, with him it seemed like a rule she could break. He’d been so kind to her today and she was so comfortable with him that she wanted to get to know him better.

  “Camilla?”

  “Yes?”

  “You drifted off.”

  “Sorry… I was just wondering if I should tell you about past dates, really.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because…”

  “Because?”

  “Nothing.” She worried her bottom lip.

  “No, you have to tell me now.”

  She sighed. “Tom, I really like you. But I’m not used to this.” She waved at the air between them. “At being friends with guys that I… I’m attracted to. Usually, not that I date a lot, you understand, but I do have friends who are guys and guys who are, well, dates, I guess, but the lines don’t get blurred. No, that’s not right because the guys I date… well sometimes they’re friends. I’m making a right mess of trying to explain myself here aren’t I?”

  “I think I understand your point. Are you talking about friends with benefits?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”

  He held up his hands. “Hey, I’m not judging anyone here. If you have male friends you can call on to take you out and make you feel special then good for you. Although, I have to admit that I’m a teensy bit jealous of them.”

  She smiled. “You’re jealous?”

  He nodded and spots of colour appeared on his cheeks. “I am. I really like you, Camilla. You’re smart, funny, pretty and you smell good.”

  “I am? And I do?”

  “I fancied you the moment I saw you walking through the village.”

  “You did? I had no idea.”

  “I’m also kind of… shy.” He lowered his gaze to his wine and swirled it around in the glass. “I don’t find talking to attractive women easy at all, yet with you, I’m fairly relaxed. And, of course, the wine is helping to loosen my tongue.”

  “Mine too, I think.”

  “I’m also excited. If that makes sense. By being around you. I want to make you smile and to impress you but I also feel that I don’t have to.” He rubbed his eyes. “Look at me spouting nonsense now. I bet I don’t make sense either.”

  He smiled.

  “It’s not nonsense and I know exactly what you mean. I feel at ease around you. I’ve told you more today than I’ve ever told any of my dates.” She used her fingers to air quote dates. “But because I like you, I’d prefer not to analyse my past… encounters, except to say that there’s never been anyone serious.”

  “What? Never?”

  “Nope. I never met anyone I wanted to settle down with.” She held back the fact that she’d never let herself get involved in case he thought that was strange. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with brutal honesty or to seem totally screwed up. “And I’m thirty-five, so that’s quite a long time to be single.”

  He shook his head. “No point rushing into anything if it’s not right.”

  “And what about you? I’m not asking for an analysis.” She ran her finger around the bottom of her wine glass. “I just meant, has there been anyone significant?”

  He took a sip of his wine and swallowed then placed his glass back on the table. “There was someone, yes. She was a vet too, from Peckham originally, and we met at university then got jobs in Brighton. We’ve been separated for two years.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s okay. It happens. We were young when we met and we grew apart. It hurt but that’s life.”

  Camilla finished her wine then returned her glass to the table.

  “And are you all right about it all?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Is that why you moved?”

  He met her eyes and she saw sadness in his, even though he’d claimed that he was fine.

  “Yes. I needed a fresh start. It was too difficult bumping into her around our old haunts in Brighton and supermarket trips just became a nightmare.”

  “She couldn’t have shopped elsewhere?”

  “She should have, really. It was my supermarket first.” He laughed. “It wasn’t an easy time but it’s all over now.”

  “Life and relationships can be difficult.”

  “Sad but true. That’s life though, eh?”

  He got up and went to check the bubbling pan.

  Camilla cringed inwardly. Had she just said completely the wrong thing? Had she pried too much? Tom might well have more secrets in his past and that was fine; it was his prerogative to tell her or not, as he wished. The last thing she wanted to do was to upset him and ruin what had been a lovely evening so far. She’d do her best to make him smile again, because he had the loveliest smile she’d seen in what felt like a lifetime.

  8

  After they’d eaten, Camilla helped Tom to tidy the dinner things away. The casserole had been as delicious as it had smelt, Tom’s mashed potatoes had been fluffy and creamy and she was now fit to burst.

  “My belly is straining against my jeans, Tom.” She patted it gently.

  “Mine too. But I can’t resist mashed potato.”

  “Me either. Thank you for
dinner. It was wonderful.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “I suppose I should get going.” She glanced at the clock on the dresser.

  “You don’t have to go yet.” Tom leaned against the worktop. “We could finish the wine.”

  “Okay then.”

  “Let’s go into the lounge now, shall we?”

  “What about HP?”

  “He’ll come on through if he wants to.”

  HP was snoring loudly in his bed next to the dresser and every so often, his eyebrows wiggled up and down. He didn’t look as if he’d be moving for the rest of the evening.

  “Is he dreaming?”

  “Probably. Sometimes we have full on whimpering and leg movements that suggest he could be running in his dream. For a dog that doesn’t like walks, he gets a lot of exercise when he’s asleep.”

  Tom handed her a fresh glass of wine then held out his arm to indicate that Camilla should go in front of him, and they made their way through the hallway that was now rather chilly compared to the cosy kitchen, and into the lounge.

  Two lamps at either end of the room gave it a warm glow. There was a large squishy red sofa and a matching chair that was positioned next to the hearth where a fire burned in the grate. The room smelt of cinnamon and pine and the real Christmas tree – in front of the French doors that led into the garden – was lit with red orb fairy lights that matched the room’s décor.

  “It’s a non-drop Norwegian Spruce.” He nodded at the tree. “I always get the tree up early or December just flies past and it’s time to take it down again.”

  “I have my tree up too. It seems sad not to make an effort, even though it’s just me.”

  “I know what you mean. Take a seat.”

  Camilla sat on one end of the sofa and expected him to take the chair but he sat on the sofa too. They sat there in silence for a few moments, gazing into the fire. Camilla wondered if he could see the same things she could in the flames that licked at the logs.

  “I’m sorry if I said the wrong thing in the kitchen.”

  “In what way?”

  “About life and relationships.”

  “We were talking openly. You didn’t say the wrong thing at all.” He turned on the sofa so he was facing her and rested his left arm along the back. His fingers were just a few centimetres from her shoulder. “Tell me more about you, Camilla. Why did you become an accountant?”

  “I’ve always loved numbers. I like how they make sense, how they work together and there’s always a right answer.”

  “Unlike life?”

  “Exactly. You can’t always predict how people will act or how circumstances will pan out but numbers won’t let you down. Well, having said that, they do let some of my clients down but that’s more to do with the success or failure of their ventures, savings and so on. But numbers are numbers and there’s always a clear solution.”

  He nodded. “I get that. You never wanted to be anything else?”

  “I went through some of the usual dream careers when I was younger. At one point, I think I wanted to act and at another I wanted to be a dancer but after Dad left, all that faded away and I became more practical and focused. I wanted a career that I could control, hence working for myself, and that would always earn for me. I’ve worked hard to build my own business and I’m proud of what I’ve achieved.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Thank you. Did you always want to be a vet?”

  “Yes. Bit of a cliché I guess, but from about six, I knew how much I loved animals and wanted to work with them. I was a bit of a geek growing up. I studied hard, wasn’t big on partying or drinking. I like beer, wine and a good whisky but while the lads in uni were big on going out and drinking until they could barely stand, I preferred to go for a meal or to the cinema. Don’t get me wrong, I did go out and drink but not as much as them and if I could avoid it or persuade them to try something else, I did. We were in London, after all. We had so many things on our doorstep to see and do, and drinking wasn’t the most exciting one I could think of. Then I met Danni – she was a year behind me – and life changed anyway. I don’t regret being with her because there’s no point, is there? It’s just a waste of emotion and I don’t want to waste any time on it. I try to live in the present and to plan for the future.”

  “What plans do you have?”

  “I have places I’d like to visit. I want to go to New York, China, Italy…”

  “New York is incredible.”

  “You’ve been?”

  “Twice.”

  “Recently?”

  “Two years ago. I went with a friend who was out there for a business trip and wanted some company and I went on a hen weekend with a girl, or woman now, from school. I didn’t know her really well but she wanted to make up the numbers. To be honest, while they were getting drunk, I sneaked off for cheesecake at Times Square and went to Central Park to see all the landmarks.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Why haven’t you been?”

  “Never the right time.”

  “Well we must go!” Camilla’s eyes widened as she realised what she’d said.

  “We?”

  “Oh… I wasn’t presuming anything there, Tom. It’s the wine.” She put her glass on the table. “It’s making me say way too much.”

  “I’d love to go to New York with you. When were you thinking?”

  “Uh…”

  “I’ll just get my diary.” He made to get up then slouched back down again. “You should see your face.”

  Camilla covered her cheeks with her hands. They were scorching.

  “I’m not backtracking. I’d love to go again and if you haven’t been then I know my way around. I could show you the sights… sometime.” She added the extra word just to offer him a get out clause, in case he was feeling a bit trapped.

  “Sometime… that would be lovely.”

  A snuffling from the doorway diverted their attention and Camilla looked up to see HP shuffling in, his ears slouching and his eyes half-closed.

  “Hello, boy. Did you have a good nap?” Tom asked.

  HP responded by stretching and yawning, then he approached the sofa and stared at the space between Camilla and Tom.

  “He wants to come up.”

  “He comes on the sofa?”

  “It’s why I bought a low one. So he can get on and off without hurting himself. I always put a blanket down for him though, to save the material from his fur. He moults a lot.”

  Tom reached down next to the sofa and produce a grey faux fur throw that he draped over the cushion then HP jumped up next to him and sat between them, alternately staring at Tom then at Camilla.

  “He’s funny isn’t he? It’s like he knows what we’ve been talking about.”

  “He’s an intelligent dog. He’s been great company and I’m really glad I adopted him.”

  “How did you end up homing him?”

  “An elderly client passed away. His son bought HP for him but never helped train him. When the old fella died, HP was a bit overweight and under-exercised. The son brought HP into the surgery and asked if I knew anyone who’d want him. I just couldn’t see him go anywhere else. Bulldogs take quite a lot of daily maintenance with their nose rolls and skin conditions and although HP has been lucky in that respect, he still has to be properly cleaned and I keep an eye on his diet too. He’s a greedy sod and would keep eating until he burst.”

  Camilla rubbed HP’s ears and his thick neck and his tongue slipped out the side of his mouth as he gazed at her with his big brown eyes.

  “He’s lovely.”

  “I think so. And it seems he likes you too. Let me get some more wine.”

  They spent the next hour laughing and chatting and Camilla slipped into an even more relaxed state than she’d thought possible when HP snuggled down with his large head on her lap. He was soft and warm, his gentle snoring almost hypnotic, and all her previous wariness of him drifted away. HP was a big and powerfu
l dog, but he was also a total softy and his approval made her feel kind of special, as if the fact that he trusted her enough to sleep on her showed that she was a good person.

  When Tom leaned forwards to put his empty glass on the table then took Camilla’s from her hand, she had to swallow her disappointment.

  “It’s getting late,” she said, wanting to say it first so he didn’t have to, although the thought of returning home alone now didn’t seem at all pleasant.

  “I’ve had a lovely time.”

  “Me too.” She looked down at HP. “I hate to move him.”

  “He’d sleep there all night if you let him.”

  “I think I might lose all feeling in my leg though.”

  “You would.”

  Tom gently shifted HP so Camilla could move but as she did so, the dog opened his eyes.

  “Sorry, boy, but I have to go home. See you soon.” She pressed a kiss on his head and he closed his eyes again.

  “Thanks for a lovely evening, Tom.”

  “And thank you. It was great to have some human company.”

  They walked through the cool hallway to the front door and Tom helped her into her coat then he leaned forwards and he seemed to be about to kiss her. Camilla instinctively closed her eyes and pursed her lips but the kiss didn’t come. Instead, she realised as she opened her eyes, that he had, in fact, just been reaching around her to open the door.

  She coughed and stretched to hide her embarrassment. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed though? Perhaps…

  “Good night then.” She turned to step outside but felt his hand on her shoulder.

  “Camilla.”

  “Yes?”

  “Turn around.”

  She did so slowly, willing herself to stay calm.

  Tom’s eyes were dark as they roamed her face, his lips slightly parted. He reached out and stroked her cheek gently. The moment was filled with tension and electricity and every fibre of Camilla’s body was alert, her heart was pounding and she longed for him to pull her close and kiss her.

  But he didn’t.

  His touch on her cheek was soft as a butterfly’s wings and he was close enough that she could feel his heat, yet he wasn’t quite pressed against her. His scent was of ginger and sandalwood, mellow yet spicy, and she breathed it in, wanting to carry it home with her.