The Café at Seashell Cove_A heart-warming laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

by Karen Clarke

  ‘Hey, you are OK with this, aren’t you?’ He rested a hand on my arm, his fingers long and elegant. Piano player’s fingers, Nan would have said. When I didn’t reply right away, he added, ‘It just felt like there was unfinished business between us.’

  His sentiments echoed the feelings I’d had while looking at his picture on my phone, and it was as if my thoughts had transmitted themselves to him. ‘Of course it’s fine, it’s just a surprise, that’s all.’ It was starting to feel as if I was starring in my own rom-com, or creating a ‘how we met’ story to tell our children one day. Incredibly good-looking children, providing they took after him. Things like this just didn’t happen to people like me.

  ‘I don’t normally do this sort of thing.’ Slowing, Adam pushed his palm over his hair. ‘To tell you the truth, I feel a bit of an idiot.’

  His honesty was endearing. ‘You’re not.’ I touched his sleeve. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

  We stopped walking and looked at each other, then burst out laughing. His laugh was nice, confident sounding, and revealed his straight, white teeth. I hoped I didn’t have cake crumbs stuck between mine.

  ‘Shall we walk on a bit further, or go back?’ he said. ‘It’s chillier than I thought.’

  I remembered Danny giving me his jacket the evening before, but although I was a bit shivery – from nerves and excitement more than anything – I wouldn’t have expected Adam to hand over his designer coat.

  ‘We could walk a bit more, if you like.’ I felt suddenly shy – almost as if we were meeting for the first time, and that I hadn’t once imagined us locking lips (and more) in his apartment to mellow music. ‘Are you driving home?’

  ‘God no, I’ve booked into a hotel in Kingsbridge.’

  ‘Ah.’ Sensible, really. And at least I didn’t have to offer him a bed at home. That would have been a bit awkward.

  He cast his eyes around, and I was wondering whether he was building up to asking me back to his room, and what I would say if he did, when he said, ‘Once I retire, I’d quite like to move to the seaside. Somewhere with clean air.’ He breathed deeply, inflating his lungs to maximum capacity.

  ‘That won’t be for a while yet,’ I said, shivering slightly.

  ‘I’m hoping it’ll be when I’m forty-five, so not that far away.’

  I’d almost forgotten he earned the sort of salary most people only dreamt of. ‘Wouldn’t you be bored?’

  ‘I’m sure I’d find plenty do, with the right person by my side.’ His light-hearted tone was undercut with sincerity.

  Was he talking about me? Rubbing my upper arms, I said quickly, ‘That unfinished business you mentioned. What if it’s actually finished?’

  ‘I guess that’s what I’m here to find out.’ He stopped, and we turned to face each other once more. The breeze tugged at my hair, and the tip of my nose felt frozen. Behind Adam, the sea glittered like mercury beneath the moonlight. ‘I never said it before, but when you pushed your card in my pocket that day and asked me to call you, and gave me that cute little wink, it was like a breath of fresh air.’

  Wow! I’d never been called a breath of fresh air before. Or cute.

  ‘No one does things like that, especially on the Underground. And I only took the train that day because the Alfa was in for a service.’ He was talking about his Alfa Romeo, which he’d seemed inordinately fond of. ‘It felt then like it might mean something, and I know you felt it too.’ His gaze sought mine. ‘You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.’

  My mind flashed back to our first date.

  It isn’t only old men who carry wallets, he’d said, rummaging in his jacket pocket and pulling one out.

  Nice, I’d said, hoping the pinkish lighting in the restaurant would hide the worst of my blushes. I bet you own some sheepskin slippers too.

  He’d laughed at that. Seriously, he’d said. Don’t ever become a pickpocket, you’d be terrible at it.

  He was smiling affectionately at me now, as if reliving the same moment.

  ‘We don’t really know each other,’ I said. ‘Not properly.’

  He spread his arms wide, his coat gaping to reveal his crisp white shirt underneath. ‘Like I said, that’s why I’m here. Oh, and to tell you about a job you might be interested in.’

  My head jerked up. ‘What?’

  He planted his hands in his pockets. ‘My sister has this friend, she’s a luxury wedding planner, expanding into corporate and private events, and she’s looking for someone to take over the wedding side of things.’ He paused. ‘I know you’ve said you’d like to be your own boss, but you’d have an assistant, and you’d be the one in charge,’ he said, as if that might be the reason I hadn’t already snapped his arm off or started doing star jumps.

  The truth was, I’d always found weddings the most stressful of all events. Nina had enjoyed them, but being responsible for arranging the happiest day of someone’s life had given me violent headaches. I’d even thrown up on a couple of occasions.

  ‘You’d be earning fifty grand a year, at least, though obviously you’d need to discuss that with Grace, but I’ve told her you’d be perfect for the job.’

  Fifty grand a year? I felt like my heart was going to fly out of my throat.

  ‘And there’s an apartment that goes with the job; it’s above the premises in Mayfair so you’d be on site, as it were.’

  Accommodation? I must be dreaming. ‘I’m, er, that’s… that’s a very generous offer.’

  ‘The company’s doing incredibly well,’ said Adam. ‘It’s been featured in Bride and Hello magazine and the Sunday Times.’

  ‘Gosh, that’s amazing.’ I’d never said gosh before. But then, I’d never had such an extraordinary offer. On that salary, I’d be able to afford my own place, never mind live in an ‘on site’ apartment. And I’d have an assistant, so I could take time off now and then. Go on holiday. A proper holiday, that didn’t involve work, so I could sightsee properly and not have to keep my phone switched on. I’d be able to update my wardrobe, and buy a new Kindle and smartphone. Treat my family. Buy tons of baby things for my unborn niece or nephew.

  ‘She specialises in destination weddings, so there’d be plenty of opportunities to travel abroad.’

  A thought sliced through a swirling image of me in Tahiti, beaming with pride as a beautiful bride swayed down a petal-strewn aisle. ‘Your sister’s friend is Grace Dewsbury?’

  He nodded. ‘You’ve met her?’

  ‘No, but we lost a client to her once,’ I said. ‘My boss was furious.’ I didn’t add it was because of me. That I hadn’t been able to secure the venue the client had wanted, because it was private property and not available for weddings.

  ‘I’ll take my business elsewhere then,’ she’d said, as if we hadn’t already sourced loads of suppliers, which I’d had to cancel, creating a tidal wave of venom from Carlotta.

  ‘She’s gone straight to the competition,’ she’d spat. ‘Grace whatsername in Mayfair.’ I had no idea how she’d found out. ‘You’re on a final warning, Cassie, I mean it this time.’ Even Nina had tried to tell her it wasn’t my fault, but she hadn’t listened.

  I realised I was staring at Adam, who was looking at me with his nicely shaped eyebrows up, clearly wondering when the hugging and thanking was going to start, and excitement began to rise as I pictured being back in London – all those possibilities I’d once imagined would be a reality this time. And Adam – who thought we had unfinished business – would be there, too. ‘It sounds like an amazing opportunity,’ I said, a grin spreading over my face. ‘Can I think about it?’ A bead of sweat trickled down my back, even though it was cold.

  ‘Of course.’ If he was surprised, he was too polite to show it. ‘I imagine you’ll have plenty of other offers, after working at Five Star.’

  I nodded. He obviously had a very good imagination.

  Finally, he turned back in the direction we’d come. The café was in darkness now, etched black against the s
ky. ‘Hey, look at that.’ He was gazing off to the side, and I moved over to see him pointing at the cove below. Picked out in moonlight was a message in the sand, written with loops and embellishments inside an extravagant love-heart.

  D likes C. Will you go out with me?

  My heart gave a crazy thud. Danny likes Cassie. This was what he’d wanted me to see – why he’d wanted us to go for a walk.

  ‘Teenagers messing about,’ said Adam, sounding entertained, as though it had been written for his benefit. ‘Nice gesture though, for some lucky girl.’

  ‘Yes,’ I murmured. Soft waves were lapping up the beach, closing in on the loopy writing. Soon the words would be washed away, and the sand would be smooth again. Teenagers. Adam was right. It was a childish gesture, designed to pull at my heartstrings – the sort of thing a fifteen-year-old boy would do.

  ‘It looked like everyone was having fun up there.’ Adam was back on the path and I dragged my eyes from the beach, glad to be able to reference something ordinary. It was starting to feel like I was living someone else’s life.

  ‘It was fun,’ I said, patting my hair down and trying to appear normal. My nose was in danger of running and I gave a tiny sniff. ‘Small scale, obviously. Just keeping my hand in, really.’ Danny likes Cassie. I couldn’t get the image out of my head.

  ‘I admire that.’ Adam gave me a sideways look as we traced our footsteps back to the café. ‘I could tell when we met that you’re someone who knows what they wants and goes for it. In case you hadn’t guessed, I like that in a woman.’

  I felt a knee-jerk irritation that he’d read me all wrong. I’d acted on impulse that morning on the train, which wasn’t like me at all. Or was it? Maybe that was the real me.

  ‘How long are you staying for?’ I said, as we reached the car park and he stopped by a low-slung silver car with narrow windows.

  ‘I’ve a family party in London to get back for on Saturday evening, so I’ve got a couple of days.’ He smiled. ‘I can pop by tomorrow and see you in action.’

  ‘Action?’

  ‘Your cat day.’

  ‘Ah, yes.’ The bloody cats. I’d almost forgotten about them. Cats versus destination weddings. Tough choice. Hysterical laughter threatened, but I managed to swallow it down.

  ‘We’ll have forty-eight hours to get to know each other better,’ he said, and it was hard not to feel flattered by how delighted he sounded at the prospect. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘Me neither,’ I said, swept along by the heat in his eyes, and the touch of his fingers on my hand. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Adam.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘We’ll put them in the office,’ I said, flattening myself to the wall as Danny squeezed past, holding a sturdy, plastic cat carrier. ‘I hope they’re friendly.’

  ‘This one’s fast asleep, so it’s hard to tell.’ He placed the contraption on the floor, and went back to the van for another one. This contained a cat of such enormous proportions, it looked like she’d swallowed a magic potion and doubled in size on the journey. I felt an overwhelming urge to sketch her.

  ‘This is Tabitha, and she’s a great big softie,’ said Danny. All the carriers bore a passport-style photo of the cat inside, as well as a name tag.

  ‘She’s certainly big,’ I said. ‘Lovely markings though, like a leopard.’ I was trying to make Danny smile, but his eyes roved over my face as though trying to glean something.

  ‘Her owner died recently,’ he said, and returned to the van before I could apologise for not knowing that the cat was eating her emotions.

  He hadn’t yet mentioned the night before, which I was cautiously thankful for. I had no idea how to explain Adam Conway to him. I hadn’t even been able to explain him to Mum and Dad. They’d waited up especially, their faces avid in the lamplight, but my tired brain had struggled to compute what had happened – culminating in the press of Adam’s warm lips on my frozen cheek before he gave Sir Lancelot’s bonnet an admiring pat (‘Your grandmother has great taste.’) and waved me off. I’d merely said, ‘You’ll see him tomorrow at the café,’ before hastening to bed.

  ‘I really appreciate this,’ I said, when Danny strode back with a carrier that appeared to be empty. I bent and peered inside to see a pair of startled eyes in a bundle of soft black fur at the back.

  ‘Conrad’s a bit shy,’ Danny said. ‘Liz says that’s why he hasn’t been adopted yet.’ Liz was supposed to have come too but, according to Danny, her mother had been taken ill and they were desperately short-staffed at the shelter, so he’d done two journeys himself to get the cats over. ‘He loves children though.’

  I wondered whether to mention that I’d seen his message in the sand, but couldn’t find the words. He might not like that I’d been with Adam at the time. And anyway, it seemed a bit trivial when we were surrounded by needy cats.

  ‘I’d stay and help, but I’ve a gardening job in Ivybridge today,’ said Danny, after he’d deposited the final two cats. There was some alarming mewling emerging from the office, which was making me nervous, and I didn’t dare to ask about the scratch on Danny’s forearm.

  ‘What about Nan?’

  ‘She’s done with me for the time being,’ he said. He was framed in the doorway, the early sunshine polishing his hair and throwing his face into shadow. His eyes still sparkled – it was clearly something beyond his control – but they weren’t as smiley as usual.

  ‘It was nice to meet your mum,’ I said, trying to get us back on a friendly footing – and to delay the moment I had to face a dozen cats of varying dispositions.

  ‘She liked you,’ he said, and this time he did smile, and the swoop of relief I felt seemed disproportionate. I was glad that, in spite of his ‘win you over’ nonsense, he wasn’t the type to get all jealous because a man had turned up out of the blue and whisked me on a moonlit walk. Not that he had any right to be jealous. Or anything to be jealous of. Yet.

  Wondering what time Adam was going to turn up, I felt a prickle of anticipation, and, as if sensing my attention had wandered, Danny backed away. ‘Remember the rules and you’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back to pick them up around four.’ I watched as he jogged to his van and drove off, feeling as if I’d lost something without knowing what it was.

  Sighing, I approached the office, which already had a tang of litter trays – probably because there were several of them lined up – and anticipation gave way to a more familiar feeling of panic and apprehension.

  The rules.

  What were they again?

  * * *

  ‘He’s a little coochy-coochy-coo, isn’t he? Yes he is. He’s mummy’s little fluffy, wuffy darling boy. He’s wuvveryly, yes he is, he wants cuddles and snuggles and he’s going to get them, if I don’t gobble him up, ’cos he’s gorgeous, yes he is.’

  Mum and I gaped in astonishment as Gwen babbled baby talk to a one-eyed, black and white tomcat, pausing only to lavish him with noisy, wet kisses. He was clearly loving the attention, purring like a generator in her arms, where he lay like a furry baby while Gwen’s glowering face transformed into one of gooey-eyed adoration.

  ‘I had no idea she was so fond of cats,’ Mum whispered.

  ‘Fond?’ I whispered back. ‘She looks like she’s just birthed him.’

  Mum stifled a snorting laugh with the back of her hand, but Gwen didn’t even look up. She was so rapt by Dickens (strange choice of name for a cat) that she wouldn’t have noticed if we’d burst into song.

  ‘I think she’s in love,’ Mum murmured, and I was suddenly grateful to Gwen for creating a welcome diversion. It was obvious, from the moment we’d arrived at the café, that Mum wasn’t sure about the cats, viewing them gingerly, as though they were ancient artefacts that might be cursed. ‘Maybe she’ll adopt one.’

  ‘Oh, I think that’s a given.’ I reached for the checklist that Danny had left on top of one of the carriers, and we crept out of the office and through to the café, leaving Gwen in her elev
ated state – probably making the other cats wild with jealousy. ‘It’s mostly common sense,’ I said, skimming the list of rules. At the top the words THERE ARE NO OFFICIAL GUIDELINES SO USE COMMON SENSE had been typed in big, bold capitals. ‘Make sure they’ve access to food and water, which the shelter has supplied, make sure they don’t escape, supervise the animals around children, etc. etc.’ They’d also listed the cats by name, as well as their breed ‘where known’, or their colours and markings, and reiterated that they were all ‘well-trained and friendly’.

  I glanced around. It was still early, so not very busy yet, just a few people reading newspapers with toast and coffee, and several more on the terrace, enjoying the sunshine. ‘We should keep the doors closed, just in case,’ I said. ‘The cats might smell fresh air and make a bid for freedom.’

  The image of them bolting out was inexplicably funny, and Mum joined in when I started giggling.

  ‘I think this might be fun,’ she said, wiping her eyes, and relief made me feel giddy. She kept glancing at the entrance, and I guessed she wasn’t so much checking it for safety as wondering when Adam would appear – just as I was. I could tell she was dying to ask more about him. She’d held back over breakfast, flashing a warning look at Dad when he’d said, ‘So, why didn’t you invite your fella to stay the night here?’ He’d mimed zipping his mouth shut, and I was glad that Rob hadn’t come home the night before. The teasing would have been endless.

  ‘We don’t want cats prowling near the food,’ Mum said, moving behind the counter. ‘We can’t serve hairy muffins.’

  This set us off again, and it was several moments before I regained control. ‘We should make this the cat area.’ I swept my arm towards the back wall, pausing briefly to look at my paintings. Had I really sold a couple? It felt dreamlike now, as did most of the previous day’s events. ‘If someone wants to sit and cuddle one, they have to do it here.’