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

by Karen Clarke

  Mum sniffed and hiccupped, and said, ‘Aw, now, isn’t that lovely?’ and I had to blink a few times to clear my vision.

  ‘It’s like a Hallmark movie,’ said Rob, now he’d stopped eating, a big smile puffing up his cheeks. Then I realised it wasn’t the smile; his cheeks were stuffed with food.

  ‘Sylvia, we’re not happy about you slaughtering chickens,’ Mum burst out.

  Nan reached over and patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry, Lydia,’ she said. ‘Danny’s had no luck finding me a coq.’ Rob sniggered. ‘I’m going to stick with some laying hens, for eggs.’

  After we’d finished dessert – I wanted to marry my melt-on-the-tongue chocolate fondant – Danny appeared, his face pink from the heat of the kitchen. ‘Everything OK?’

  Everyone spoke at once, about the deliciousness of the food and how clever he was (‘Your parents must be so proud of you,’ Mum gushed), and as he deflected their praise, saying, ‘I’m sure any one of you could have thrown it together,’ and ‘Did you know the heritage carrots were from Sylvia’s garden?’ it hit me just how badly I’d underestimated him. I’d presumed he was going to try to win me over with a flashy show of his cooking skills but, instead, he’d given me an evening to treasure with my family.

  ‘How did you know they’d be hungry?’ I said, when our plates had been cleared by the quietly efficient waiter, and Dad had been told to put his wallet away, and everyone was gathering up bags and jackets, ready to head home for a nightcap.

  ‘I didn’t,’ he said with a relaxed grin, as if he hadn’t been slaving in the kitchen for the past two hours. ‘But I knew they’d want to see you.’

  Not sure how to deal with the surge of clashing emotions his words had aroused, I stood up and said reached for my purse. ‘I’d like to pay,’ I said. ‘I don’t think it’s right that Adam should foot the bill for my family’s greed.’

  ‘It’s on the house.’ Danny grabbed my credit card and pretended to snap it in two, before passing it back. ‘I’ve been wanting to practise that hare recipe for ages, and I can’t claim credit for the desserts. They were made by the chef I job share with.’

  ‘Seems an odd kind of job share,’ I said, when I should have been thanking him from the bottom of my heart, like any civilised person would have. ‘Don’t you ever think about doing it full time?’

  He pulled his head back. ‘I’ve already told you my work philosophy, Cassie.’ His eyebrows rose. ‘I can always pick up more hours if I need to, and I’ve got a good pension plan, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘Why would I be worried?’ I rubbed my wrist, which was starting to itch again. ‘You can do whatever you like.’

  ‘We all can,’ he said, smoothing a hand around his jaw. ‘It’s not that difficult, really.’ When I rolled my eyes, he grinned. ‘Have a nice time at your party in London tomorrow night.’

  So, he had been listening. ‘Thanks,’ I mumbled, bending to pick up my napkin which had slid to the floor.

  ‘You coming, Cassie?’ Mum called.

  I straightened to see everyone waiting for me by the door. ‘On my way,’ I said, waving the napkin. ‘Listen, Danny…’ I turned, ready to thank him properly, but he’d already gone and the door to the kitchen was swinging softly shut.

  * * *

  Back home, we assembled in the living room. Dad, in a celebratory mood, opened the bottle of whisky that normally only came out at Christmas. ‘I think a toast is in order,’ he said, pouring out generous measures – and an orange juice for Emma and Rob – and we toasted the parents-to-be.

  ‘I’ve said Rob can move in with me now,’ she said. ‘At least that way, I can keep an eye on him, and he gets to see what morning sickness really looks like.’

  ‘Yay!’ Rob, oddly delighted by this unsavoury scenario, cuffed her shoulder and she grabbed his hand and kissed it and, seeing them together, it suddenly made sense why he’d chosen to be with her. Emma was ‘home’, and that’s what he’d craved more than anything while he was drinking in anonymous hotel rooms. It’s what I’d craved at times, too, only I’d been far too busy working to do anything about it, and had ignored any pangs of loneliness I’d felt, putting it down to not having time for a relationship.

  ‘Isn’t this lovely?’ Nan said, settling herself on the sofa where, a mere two weeks ago, I’d walked in on Mum and Dad… smooching was the only word my brain would allow. ‘I’d like to invite you all to mine on Sunday for home-grown vegetable soup.’

  ‘You haven’t got any furniture,’ I pointed out, easing my shoes off and raking my fingers through my hair. ‘Where are we supposed to sit?’ Then I remembered, I probably wouldn’t be there. If I was going to Adam’s party on Saturday night, there was no way I’d be back in Seashell Cove in time for Sunday lunch. ‘Oh, I’ll ask Danny to bring some of it back,’ Nan said breezily, as though he was a genie she could summon with a rub of a lamp. ‘Que sera, sera.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ Dad smiled at Mum, who nodded.

  ‘We’ll be there.’

  ‘I’ll be using water from my butt,’ Nan said.

  A horrified silence rang out, which I allowed to stretch to snapping point, before saying, ‘She means her water butt.’

  ‘Thank Christ for that,’ said Rob, through his fingers.

  ‘Oh, Cassie, I had another enquiry at the café today, about your drawings,’ Mum said. ‘The vicar’s wife is throwing a garden party on the May Bank Holiday, and wondered how much you’d charge to draw the guests. Not all of them, but some. Oh, and we sold another of your paintings. Gwen charged nearly two hundred pounds and they didn’t even blink.’

  ‘I’m not surprised, they’re wonderful,’ Nan cried, looking delighted as she raised her whisky glass again. ‘I’m so glad I kept one,’ she added. ‘It was the one of your parents in the café.’

  Dad’s smile was a bit tearful and he cleared his throat a couple of times. I noticed the photo album on the arm of the chair, and guessed he would probably look through it later, with Mum. ‘You’re going to have to do some new ones, or the wall will be bare again,’ he said.

  ’Will you be home by then?’ Mum tugged me down next to her on the sofa, where she was squashed next to Nan.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I was saying, you’ll pop back for the May Bank Holiday, won’t you?’

  ‘Back?’

  ‘From London?’

  ‘Remember to take plenty of breaks in this new job of yours,’ Dad said, going a bit red at his unaccustomed sternness. Or maybe it was the whisky. He’d already emptied his glass. ‘You won’t be able to do much painting, otherwise.’

  Why were they all talking about painting, instead of asking me about my new job? I fixed my eyes on Emma’s round-toed shoes, which would have made the feet of someone with less slender ankles look like hooves. ‘I will,’ I said, discreetly chafing my wrist against my thigh.

  ‘Look at us, we’re turning into the Waltons.’ Rob leaned his head on Emma’s shoulder. They were nestled so close in the armchair, they looked like they were zipped together. ‘You’re going to miss this, Sandra.’

  There appeared to be a tennis ball lodged in my throat, blocking normal speech.

  ‘She knows where we are, Rob, and I’m sure she’ll be back whenever she can, won’t you, love?’ said Mum.

  As I nodded mutely, my phone vibrated.

  It was a text from Adam.

  Home, at last. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, my little pickpocket. A X

  He had a nickname for me. One with criminal connotations, but still. I’d never had a nickname before (Sandra didn’t count). Even Danny called me by my actual name.

  I imagined Adam meeting me at King’s Cross tomorrow, and us falling into each other’s arms, and suddenly everything fell into place and I knew what I had to do.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I said, standing up. ‘I just need to make a call.’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Everything felt different when I woke the following mornin
g. It took a moment to realise that the strange lightness in my body wasn’t a sign of illness – it was a lack of tension. While I knew it wouldn’t last (I wasn’t insane) I prolonged the sensation by soaking in a bath piled high with bubbles, instead of taking my usual five-minute shower, and read a Sweet Valley High book of Meg’s that I’d never got around to returning. The main characters, the Wakefield twins, were more her than me, with their ‘shoulder-length blonde hair and green-blue eyes’ and it was unlikely Scotland Yard would have taken them on as interns, but I found myself engrossed.

  When a rap sounded on the door, the book slid through my fingers and plopped into the water. ‘Just to say, there’s a suitcase on top of our wardrobe if you want to take it,’ Mum said, sticking her head round the door. ‘Cassie, where are you?’ I bobbed up, cradling a pulpy mass in my hands. ‘Is it papier mâché?’ She edged in for a closer look, smiling when I shook with laughter. ‘You’re in a good mood,’ she approved, taking the soggy mess and depositing it in the bin. I resolved to order Meg a new copy – and maybe a couple more in the series for myself. ‘Your wrist looks a bit better.’

  ‘It’s not itching,’ I said, studying the livid patch. ‘I’ll keep using the cream though.’

  ‘We’ll miss you, you know.’ Mum perched on the side of the bath. She’d pinned her hair at the sides, revealing her dainty ears, and her eyes had gone a bit misty. ‘It’s been so nice, having you here.’

  I flicked some bubbles at her. ‘It’s not like I’ll be a million miles away.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ Her smile bounced back. ‘Your dad and I are off to the café now,’ she said. ‘We’re going to talk to Gwen about, you know.’ Her eyes expanded. ‘Being our new manager.’

  ‘That’s great, Mum. Just make sure she knows she has to keep her cat in the office, and not in the café.’

  ‘She doesn’t have a cat.’ Mum rose, brushing at a damp patch on her trousers.

  ‘She will, soon.’ I blew her a soapy kiss as she backed out of the bathroom, and she pretended to catch, then drop it, then pick it up and put in her cardigan pocket.

  ‘Too much, Mum,’ I said, laughing.

  I looked at the door for a few seconds when she’d gone, glad that I’d decided not to come clean in the end. The temptation to confess that I’d been fired, and that my job hadn’t always been the glamorous and exciting roller coaster I’d made it out to be had been overwhelming after I’d talked to Adam. But looking at their happy, expectant faces when I’d returned to the living room, I’d wondered what it would achieve; other than getting it off my chest. Things still felt a bit fragile between us, and I knew Mum and Dad would end up blaming themselves. They’d only just come to terms with Rob’s full disclosure about how miserable he’d been. It would have felt selfish to tell them I hadn’t been happy at Five Star, especially as I hadn’t fully realised it myself. I had assumed that the stress and Carlotta’s outbursts were simply part of the job. The sort of thing employees everywhere had to put up with. Maybe, one day, when everything had settled down – perhaps in twenty years – I’d tell them and we could laugh about it, and reflect how it didn’t matter any more, because I’d eventually got to where I wanted to be.

  I started when a fist pounded the door. ‘Hurry up, Sandra, I need a sh—’

  ‘God’s sake Rob, I’ll be out in a minute.’

  ‘I was going to say shave.’

  It was the first time I’d heard Emma giggle, and the sound was oddly encouraging. She’d stayed over in the end, after driving a tipsy Nan back to her cottage, and I’d fallen asleep to a soundtrack of her and Rob’s low-voiced murmurs in the room next door.

  ‘And Em might need to throw up.’

  I clambered out and, swaddled in a towel, returned to my bedroom to dress and pack, which wouldn’t take long, considering a lot of my stuff was still in my suitcase.

  ‘Call us later, Cassie,’ Dad shouted up the stairs. ‘Love you.’

  ‘Love you more,’ I shouted back.

  ‘Love you to the moon and back,’ Rob called from the bathroom.

  There was the sound of thundering feet on the landing and Emma’s panicked voice yelled, ‘Get out of the way, Rob, I’m going to be—’

  I winced at the sounds that followed, and hoped Rob was holding her hair back. It was a far cry from his life as a musician, even though that had probably involved a fair bit of sick as well.

  When I’d finished packing, I dressed in the outfit I’d left out, and loaded my hair in a messy bun before clunking my bags and suitcase downstairs.

  There was a plate of fresh croissants in the kitchen, but my stomach was fluttering with nerves as I thought about what lay ahead, so I poured some coffee and sipped it slowly at the table, before pulling my sketch pad over and taking out my pencils.

  ‘We’re going to the café for breakfast,’ Rob said, appearing freshly shaved, with his hair flattened down and a newly ironed T-shirt over his jeans. ‘It’s going to be our new Saturday-morning thing.’

  ‘It’s good to have a thing,’ I said, smiling when Emma appeared at his side, pale but smiling, in her outfit from the night before. ‘Try some ginger tea, Emma, it might settle your stomach.’

  ‘It won’t,’ she said, not breaking her smile. ‘But, thanks.’

  ‘What are you drawing?’ Rob strained to look, but I covered the sheet with my arm. ‘Please yourself.’ He tugged a strand of hair out of my bun.

  ‘You’re such a pain,’ I said, trying to stuff it back in.

  ‘And what the hell are you wearing?’ He looked at my old trainers.

  I jigged my feet at him. ‘Shouldn’t you be going?’

  ‘Shouldn’t you?’

  I glanced at the clock, feeling my heart speed up. ‘Soon,’ I said.

  ‘Do you want us all to wave you off, or something?’

  ‘I think I’ll be OK, thanks.’ I made a shooing motion. ‘No offence, but I’m busy.’

  ‘Stop being a pain, Rob.’ Emma rolled her eyes and dragged him away. I was warming to her by the minute.

  Although my drawing was simple, I wanted it to be perfect, and spent ages going over the lines, taking care with the shading and detail, smudging in delicate colours here and there and, when I was satisfied, I rolled it up and slotted it carefully into my bag.

  It was time to go.

  * * *

  Nan was in her living room when I arrived, arranging some of her knick-knacks on the windowsill. ‘I thought you were staying minimalist?’ I said, looking at the boxes scattered around.

  ‘That was before I knew I was going to have a great-grandchild.’ She stepped nimbly over a bag to give me a hug. She was wearing one of her robes again, but her hair was in a neat chignon and her mouth bore a trace of lipstick. ‘Everything outside is staying, after all Danny’s hard work.’

  ‘Even the compost toilet?’

  ‘Mon dieu.’ She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘I only used it once and that was enough.’ She shuddered. ‘I’m all for being environmentally friendly, but I want to do my business where I won’t get my bottom stung.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t?’ I said. ‘You can still do your bit for the environment, without peeing outdoors.’

  ‘I’ll carry on using recycled loo paper.’

  ‘Good,’ seemed to be the only response to that. A movement by the window caught my eye. ‘Is Danny here?’ I said, though it was obvious he was. I’d recognised his shape. ‘I need a word, if you can spare him.’

  ‘Have as many as you like, chérie. I told him he didn’t need to stay once he’d dropped off this lot, but he insisted on fixing the wobbly hinge on the gate.’ She pulled some thickly lined curtains from a bag. ‘I don’t like bare windows at night,’ she announced, throwing them over her shoulder. ‘They’re going back up.’

  Danny was putting his tools away when I entered the garden, and didn’t look particularly surprised to see me. ‘Couldn’t stay away?’ He grinned, and my heart tripped. ‘Nice outfit
,’ he said, eyes sweeping my top and trousers.

  ‘Wish I could say the same.’ He was wearing a creased pink polo-shirt with the collar flicked up, his jeans were covered in oil stains, and his hair was all over the place. ‘You’re looking at my mouth again,’ he observed. ‘Is that why you’re here and not in London?’

  ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ I hitched my bag onto my shoulder. ‘I just wondered whether you’d like to come for a walk.’

  He swiped his forearm across his forehead. ‘Better late than never,’ he said, eyes scrunched against the sun. April was going overboard on the sunny weather. ‘As long as you’re not going to try and kiss me again.’

  My face felt like it had been microwaved. ‘Are you coming, or not?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ He saluted and leapt over his toolbox, pausing for a moment to give me a searching stare. ‘Let me just say cheerio to Sylvia.’

  * * *

  We didn’t say much on the way to the coastal path, where he’d invited me to walk with him the evening Adam had turned up. It was as if he sensed I had something important I was working up to saying, and was trying to make it easy by sticking to easy topics, like work – he had more gardening jobs than he could handle – and his sister, Louise, who was taking a trip to Japan with her partner, and how he was planning to watch Breaking Bad even though he was years behind everyone else.

  ‘I hope you’re not going to push me off,’ he said, when we’d reached the spot where I’d stood with Adam on games night, and read Danny’s message in the sand. ‘It’s not actually that high, so I’ll probably land on my feet.’ He turned to face me, eyes twinkling like the sea behind him, a quizzical smile on his handsome face.

  I took a deep, quivering breath. ‘I saw it,’ I said, flinging my arm in the direction of the beach. ‘What you wrote, that night.’

  His smile faded like the sun going in. ‘I did wonder.’ He glanced over his shoulder, as if it might still be there. ‘But when you didn’t mention it…’