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 did you say Tom was doing again?”

  “He’s gone to see his parents for the weekend. He tries to get back to Brighton at least once every six weeks, although it’s not always possible with the surgery… and the fact that he wants to spend time with me.”

  Honey nodded. Camilla and the local vet, Tom, had been together since Christmas and although Camilla had told her friends that they were taking it slowly, it was evident that they were very much in love.

  “And you got to look after Mr Squidgeyface.”

  “I did.” Camilla leant forwards and rubbed the head of the large British bulldog. “HP is a good boy, aren’t you?”

  The dog glanced over his shoulder at Camilla and Honey, his pink tongue dangling from the side of his mouth.

  “It still makes me laugh every time I hear his name.”

  “Hairy Pawter?”

  Honey nodded. “It’s brilliant.”

  As they strolled past the church, Honey admired the architecture of the old stone building. It hinted at the village’s history and strong sense of community. She found the worn headstones in the graveyard fascinating because they dated back hundreds of years and some of them belonged to ancestors of people who still lived in the village today.

  “HP was named by the man who owned him before Tom adopted him. It suits him and I can’t imagine him being called anything else.”

  “Is HP all right staying with you when Tom’s away?”

  Camilla nodded. “He’s happy to snore his head off in front of the fire and the TV while I work, and I have a key to Tom’s place, so I can take him home for a bit too.”

  “I see… swapping keys now and what…” Honey counted on her fingers, deliberately exaggerating each one, “you’re only around three months in?”

  Camilla’s cheeks coloured.

  “Camilla, I’m teasing. I really am so happy for you. Tom’s such a great guy.”

  “I know. I just never thought I’d get involved with someone. Let alone end up almost living with him.”

  “So you’re staying over more often than not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you sell your cottage and move in properly?”

  Camilla chewed her bottom lip. “I might, but not just yet. I need to be sure.”

  “You have doubts?”

  Camilla met Honey’s gaze and her bright green eyes shone. “No. Not at all.”

  “Then why wait?”

  “He hasn’t asked me to move in.”

  “Well you could ask him.”

  “I could. But I don’t want to push him if he’s not ready. I figure he’ll ask when he feels the time is right.”

  Honey shook her head. “You’re such a bright and confident woman, Camilla, but when it comes to affairs of the heart…”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Camilla squeezed Honey’s arm.

  “Anyway, what about you and Dane? Any news there? I know you said he’s busy today because he has a pile of books to mark, and that he’s quite often got things on in the evenings, but how are things going between you?”

  Honey pressed her lips together. “All right, I guess. I mean… we’ve been seeing each other in a kind of… relaxed manner for a few months now. We’ve been out for a few meals and joined you all at the pub quiz, but we’re—”

  Camilla waved a hand. “I know all that! I’ve heard that at the café when you’re deliberately trying to be vague about how things are going between you, but don’t you want more? How do you feel about him?”

  Honey shrugged. “I like him. He’s smart, handsome, funny and a great cook but for some reason, we’re just… more like friends.”

  “Friends?” Camilla frowned, a line marring the porcelain skin between her eyebrows.

  “Well, yes.”

  “Hey, that’s okay. Perhaps it’s just too early for you to feel anything else… yet.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m confused about him. A few times, he’s walked me home and I’ve invited him in, and I’ve gone back to his house but… nothing ever happens. I’m too embarrassed to ask him if he likes me enough to want more.”

  “So you’re both a bit shy. It could be that.”

  “I don’t know… maybe. I’m just afraid to push for more in case it ruins what we have. Although, I’m not certain that we have anything at all.” She pushed her light-blue hair with its pink streaks back from her face.

  “And how does he feel about it?”

  Honey shrugged. “Dane seems fine. He’s never tried to do more than give me a quick kiss and has never asked me to stay over. He seems happy being friends.”

  “It could be that he’s just taking it slowly and that there are reasons why. Maybe he’s been hurt in the past or he doesn’t want to push you in case he scares you away.”

  “He could be gay.” Honey chewed her bottom lip. Now she’d actually said it out loud to someone, she realised it was a very real possibility. Not that he had to be gay not to fancy her, of course, but there was a very real possibility that she’d misread the early signals she’d thought she was getting from him, and he really didn’t fancy her at all.

  “Do you think he is?” Camilla’s eyes widened. “I didn’t see any signs.”

  “It’s not like a flashing light above someone’s head, you know, Camilla.”

  “I know that, Honey.” Camilla shook her head. “What I meant was that the way he looks at you… it just suggests that he’s into you.”

  “Or he’s very short sighted and he’s staring really hard.”

  Camilla giggled. “I’m convinced it was the look of a man who’s falling for a woman.”

  “I’d like to think so. You know, I’m probably just as much to blame for holding back as he is.”

  Honey suspected that she knew why she hadn’t been able to progress her relationship with Dane, but hadn’t admitted it to anyone, not even her closest friends when they met up on Tuesdays at The Cosy Cottage Café for food and drinks. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Allie, Dawn and Camilla, because she did; she’d trust them with her life. It was more that she didn’t trust herself. Honey was aware that if she started trying to explain why she felt the way she did, why she couldn’t let go and fully commit to a relationship with Dane, then she knew she wouldn’t stop and her whole life story would come pouring out. Then her friends would wonder why she’d kept it from them for so long and the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt or offend them. They’d been so good to her since she’d moved to Heatherlea; she’d never had friends like them before, and she would be devastated to lose them. So she’d kept her true feelings about Dane and their romance and her past to herself, buried deeply inside. Only now… Camilla was gently probing and Honey had already admitted more than she’d wanted to say.

  “Shall we go back to mine and have a drink? I’ve got some chocolate muffins there and that coffee machine Tom got me for Christmas makes the best lattes. Not better than Allie’s at the café, of course, but pretty close.”

  “That would be lovely.”

  “Come on then.”

  They turned and made their way back to Camilla’s pretty little cottage, and Camilla chatted as they walked, about the weather, about her latest trip into London to meet a very wealthy and rather famous client, and about anything other than Honey and Dane. And Honey was grateful to her friend for understanding that she needed to change the subject, because it was making her head hurt. Honey needed time to think but she also needed time to take some head space away from it all.

  Besides, Dane didn’t seem in any rush with their relationship either, and Honey wondered if he had secrets of his own. If only she could ask him openly, and find out. But that would mean opening up to him too, and she didn’t know if she was ready for that, or if she ever would be.

  2

  Honey closed her front door behind her and kicked off her shoes then pushed her feet into her battered old slippers. She tucked her shoes under the bench that had sat there for as long as she co
uld remember. The old stone cottage had belonged to her aunt, and when she’d passed away over two years ago, she’d left everything to Honey. Honey’s aunt hadn’t had any children of her own and Honey was an only child, so she’d inherited everything.

  She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she shrugged out of her coat. Sometimes, she wondered what other people thought of her with her blue and pink hair and her tiny sparkling diamond nose stud. The residents of Heatherlea weren’t hugely conservative, but apart from the local hairdresser and beautician Jenny Talbot, she was the only person she knew who had hair that would make a unicorn or mermaid proud. But Honey liked her dyed hair; it lifted her, whereas her natural straw-blonde shade had seemed to drain her face of all colour. The nose stud had replaced a hoop that she’d worn for several years and she liked the sparkle of the tiny diamond that caught her eye whenever she looked in the mirror. Dane had told her that he liked it too, and described it as cute. Honey had no idea whether that meant he fancied her or just thought she was cute like a puppy or a kitten.

  She sighed as she hung her coat on the peg and trudged through to the kitchen where she opened the door of the bright red Smeg fridge and gazed at its contents. She didn’t feel hungry, as she had eaten two chocolate muffins and drunk three coffees at Camilla’s, so she could probably wait until later to eat a proper meal.

  “Saturday afternoon,” she said to her kitchen, turning around and gazing at the solid oak units and the granite surfaces. All of it was her aunt’s choice of décor – except the fridge, which Honey had ordered to replace the old one when it had conked out last summer – but she didn’t mind because her aunt had had great taste and the things she’d bought were quality and meant to last. Even the old fridge had had a good run, but Honey had been glad to have the excuse to buy a new one, as she liked how the red fridge brightened the kitchen. “Now, what shall I do?”

  Movement from outside the kitchen window, that overlooked the back garden caught her eye, so she peered through the glass. It was just her chickens moving around in their enclosure, their heads bobbing as they pecked at the ground, eager to find tasty morsels. She loved her chickens and she’d had the enclosure built in the extensive back garden to provide extra protection from foxes. She could have just had a small pen built and put in a hen house but the thought of her girls being attacked one night was more than she could bear, so she’d sought out a local carpenter and gone for a more secure construction. And so far, so good.

  The garden was a combination of neatly mown grass and wildflowers. Either side of the lawn ran hedges and in front of them, the flowerbeds were awash with the colour of spring flowers. The first part of the garden led to a wooden archway abundant with spring-flowering alpine clematis, and beyond that were her raised beds where she grew herbs and vegetables, then her greenhouse where she grew tomatoes and peppers in the summer months. Past this was the third section of the garden where she had her studio. In the studio, she kept her kiln and her easel; it was the sanctuary where she let her creativity flow. Honey sold some of her pottery and paintings locally – under a company name and not her own, because she liked the air of mystery this brought – and some on Etsy, and she even took commissions when she was approached via email. Her aunt had left her a generous inheritance, but Honey liked working and earning her own money from her artwork, her pottery, and the yoga classes she taught. And a percentage of it went to a special charity.

  One in four women…

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that, especially not when she had a whole Saturday afternoon and evening stretching out ahead of her. If she sank into dwelling on that now, then…

  No, she would change into her yoga gear and work through her routine. The familiar stretches and poses would soon transport her to a positive mindset and relax her, then she could take a long hot bubble bath and watch some TV.

  She headed for the stairs and emptied her mind as she climbed them, focusing instead on her breathing and the way her muscles yearned to form the yoga poses that had become her salvation over the past few years.

  “Okay, great. See you tomorrow.” Honey ended the call and flopped back on the sofa. When she’d seen Dane’s name on the caller ID, she’d hoped he was ringing to invite her over for an impromptu dinner, but no. He was just calling to see how she was and to tell her that he’d finished marking his pupils’ maths books but now needed to move on to the history work. However, he had invited her out for Sunday lunch tomorrow, so that was something.

  Just as well that she’d put her pyjamas on after her bath and not bothered to get dressed again. She put her mobile on the side table and switched on the lamp that instantly bathed the corner of her lounge in a golden glow. Outside the French doors, the shadows were deepening in the back garden and the beautiful spring day was giving way to twilight. At least the evenings were getting lighter. It could be difficult through the winter months when the nights were so long. Not that Honey allowed herself to wallow in despair, but sometimes she did get lonely and it was always worse in the winter months. That was why meeting Dane and sensing a mutual attraction had been so exciting; it had been years since Honey had even looked at a man but something about Dane had been different. Although as the months had passed, she’d begun to wonder if there was a physical attraction there or if Dane was just lonely too. If he only wanted her companionship, then Honey would be disappointed, yes, but she’d also be happy to have him as a friend. Dane was a great guy and friends were so important. She’d just have to push all thoughts of tearing off his clothes and admiring his rugby-player physique, the physique she’d been up close to when she’d helped him to master some of the more challenging yoga poses at her classes, from her mind…

  Pizza!

  Pizza would help her to think of something else. She’d picked up a sundried tomato and mozzarella pizza when she’d done her weekly shop, so she’d pop that in the oven, throw together a green salad and maybe even open a bottle of wine. It was Saturday, after all.

  An hour later, Honey sat cross-legged on her big squishy dark-green sofa, a plate of pizza balanced on her knees and a glass of ice-cold sauvignon blanc on the side table, the droplets of condensation on its surface glowing in the warm lamplight. Honey took a bite of pizza then washed it down with a sip of cool wine, savouring the aroma of apricots and the crisp dry finish. And as the opening music of her new favourite show Peaky Blinders filled her lounge, she smiled to herself.

  “See Honey, who needs Dane Ackerman when you have Thomas Shelby, pizza and wine? Not you, that’s for sure.”

  As she took another bite of pizza, she almost believed it.

  3

  The next morning, Honey was pottering around in her kitchen when her mobile buzzed on the counter. She took a deep breath before picking up her mobile, steeling herself in case it was Dane cancelling their lunch date, but when she swiped the screen, she found a brief message from Camilla.

  Hey Honey,

  Hope you’re okay this morning. Saw Dane running past my cottage earlier. He’s a hottie! Get in there, girl! Nothing to lose…

  Speak soon, C x

  Honey sighed as she placed her mobile back on the counter. Camilla was right; Dane was a hottie but he certainly wasn’t warming Honey up at the moment. However, that was fine… she could settle for friendship.

  Friendship was good, right?

  She filled the kettle and switched it on, then slid her feet into the wellies that she kept by the back door and headed out into the slightly misty morning to check on her chickens. She let herself into the enclosure then did a quick clean around, picking up any mess she’d missed last night and disposing of it.

  After refreshing their water dispensers, she filled the feeders with pellets, before lifting the wooden hatch that led into the chicken coop. One by one, her girls made their way out into the daylight, and she watched them carefully to ensure that each one looked fit and healthy. As they bobbed around her ankles, she scanned the enclosure for stray eggs t
hen did a check of the nesting boxes, where she found five fresh eggs that she deposited into the basket she’d brought with her.

  The eight Bantam Welsummer chickens always made Honey smile. With their beautiful golden brown feathers – that glowed amber in the sunlight – and their easy-going natures, they laid enough eggs for her, as well as some for the café, and their unique personalities meant that she had named each one accordingly. She ran through their names as she watched them enjoying their breakfast: Princess Lay-a, Hen-solo, Cluck Rogers, Albert Eggstein, Mary Poopins, Maid Marihen, Henifer Aniston and Tyrannosaurus Pecks.

  “Looks like it’s eggs for breakfast then,” Honey said, as she let herself out of the wire enclosure and made her way back to the cottage.

  She left her wellies just outside the backdoor, where she could wash them off later with the garden hose, and took the basket of eggs inside. Initially, she’d decided to get some chickens as a kind of hobby, but their egg laying had been a bonus. She’d done her research and knew that Bantams weren’t always the friendliest breed and that they didn’t always lay the most eggs, but her girls (as she liked to think of them) were as good a reason as any for getting out of bed in the morning. She had time to run through a yoga routine before taking a shower and eating some scrambled eggs, then she could spend the morning reading a good book and looking forward to her lunch at the local pub with Dane.

  Honey walked through the village at just after one o’clock and was surprised to find that her stomach was full of butterflies. And why? She’d been out with Dane on several occasions, been to his house and he’d been to hers, but for some reason this felt like a first date all over again. If dating was what they’d been doing… Otherwise, she might have got the wrong end of the stick and would need to adjust her mindset about the handsome teacher. It was possible that she had been wrong about him, wasn’t it?