The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea

by Jennifer Joyce

  Opening the door, slightly out of breath from the dash down from the attic, Melody was surprised to see Hugo on the doorstep and not a postman halfway through filling out a ‘sorry you were out’ card.

  ‘Oh. Hello.’ Melody hoped she didn’t look flustered after the exertion of the stairs. She casually placed a hand on her cheek to check for any untoward heat or clamminess. ‘Are you here for Mae or…?’ She didn’t want to presume he was here to see her, but Hugo hadn’t mentioned he knew Mae when he’d walked her back to the bed and breakfast the previous evening.

  ‘I was at a loose end so I thought I’d come and see if you needed a tour guide,’ Hugo said. ‘We could go down to the pier, or the beach. It’s going to be a scorcher, so it’ll be a good photo opportunity.’

  ‘I’ve already been to the pier this morning,’ Melody said. ‘But I haven’t seen the beach properly yet. I’ve only been as far as the railings.’

  ‘You’ve already been to the pier today?’

  Melody nodded. ‘I went to the pier and the arcades and had a walk back down past the shops.’

  Hugo’s brow furrowed. ‘But it isn’t even ten o’clock. How did you do all that already?’

  Melody shrugged. ‘I just did.’

  Hugo shook his head. ‘You obviously didn’t do it properly. Come on.’ He cocked his head and started to back away from the doorstep. ‘Let’s go and do it right.’

  Melody’s mouth gaped open. The cheeky sod! ‘I did do it right. I took some pretty decent shots, if you must know.’ Melody wasn’t one for blowing her own trumpet, but she was happy with her morning’s work and there were a couple of strong contenders for the photo festival in there.

  ‘I’m sure you did,’ Hugo said. ‘But that’s not what I’m talking about. Why don’t you leave your camera behind for an hour – two, tops – and experience the town through your actual eyes rather than a lens?’

  Melody folded her arms, remembering how irritating she found this man. ‘Because that’s not what I’m here for.’

  ‘You can’t take a couple of hours off?’

  Melody didn’t have an answer. She’d never considered having an actual jolly. She was here to take photos. For Ollie. Enjoying a day at the beach rather than capturing other people’s joy wasn’t part of the plan.

  ‘Come on,’ Hugo coaxed, reaching a hand out towards her. ‘Come and have some fun.’

  Melody glanced at the hand before turning towards the staircase that led up towards her room and her camera. Fun. Could she do it? Could she leave her camera behind and forget about her promise? Forget about Ollie, even if it was only for an hour – two, tops? It had never occurred to her experience the seaside towns for herself. It didn’t feel right, not without Ollie there to enjoy it with her.

  It suddenly seemed like a long, long time since she’d let go and allowed herself to have fun. Last night, at the harbour, she’d briefly felt a fluttering of her old self, the Melody she’d been before her safe, happy little bubble of life had burst. But that had crept up on her unexpectedly. Could she do it now, purposefully? Could she allow herself to be swept up by this man’s enthusiasm? Would she be betraying Ollie if she stepped over the threshold with him now? It wasn’t as though it would last; Melody was leaving in the morning, heading on to a new town, with new beaches and new moments to catch and savour. She could go with Hugo now, just for the tiniest amount of time, and see what Clifton-on-Sea had to offer. Ollie wouldn’t object, wouldn’t hold her back from clutching a little pocket of happiness, surely.

  ‘Come on, Melody.’ Hugo took a step closer, that hand just inches away from her now. ‘Stop capturing moments with your camera and seize some for yourself.’

  Melody pressed her lips together, her fingers clutching the doorframe, her head preparing to shake. She couldn’t do this. It wasn’t right.

  But then, quite unexpectedly, her foot was on the doorstep, her hand was in Hugo’s and the door was closing behind her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Willow

  Gary was waiting outside the shop when Willow turned onto Thorpe Lane, perched on the tiny doorstep, his long legs folded so his knees reached up to his chin. Despite his height and the fluff on his chin attempting to be facial hair, he looked like a lost little boy, waiting for someone to find him and take him home. Mind you, he sometimes had that look about him when he wasn’t huddled on doorsteps. It had been his naive qualities that had endeared Willow to him when he’d answered the ad for the assistant’s job. Fresh out of college and with no idea which direction to take now his education was over, Gary seemed to be floundering. He wasn’t simply waiting to be nudged towards the next chapter of his life – he wanted a guided tour. And while Willow wasn’t about to hold his hand and tell him what to do with his life, she did offer him the job. It was working out well so far: Gary was growing in confidence with the customers and his help was invaluable.

  Willow eased the van into the lane beside the shop and headed round to let him inside.

  ‘You’re early,’ she said when he jumped up from the doorstep so she could unlock the door. The shop wasn’t due to open for another forty-five minutes and although Willow usually arrived early to set up and make an early start in the workroom, Gary wasn’t expected to follow suit.

  ‘I wanted to make up for yesterday,’ he said as he followed Willow into the shop. She flicked on the lights, illuminating her collection of repurposed pieces.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. You can’t help being ill.’

  Gary scratched the back of his neck, turning to close the door as he mumbled, ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘I take it you’re feeling better now?’ Willow asked as she moved across the shop to the counter, taking her notebook out of the drawer to check when her next commission was due. She had a client who wanted some unique, stylish storage for her kitchen and she’d finally sourced the perfect dresser, which was screaming out for a makeover. It needed picking up ASAP, so with Gary back in action, she could arrange to pop over that morning.

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Gary shuffled towards the back of the shop. ‘Shall I put the kettle on?’

  ‘Ooh, yes please.’ Willow had already had a cup of coffee just before she set out, but she couldn’t really get going until she’d gulped down her second cup of the day. She closed the notebook and headed into the workroom. There were three rooms beyond the shop: a tiny room Willow suspected had once been a cupboard but which now housed a loo and sink with minimal floor space to manoeuvre, a little kitchen, and the workroom, which was large enough for her to work on her more substantial pieces and store her supplies. She moved over to her paint supplies, running a finger along the tins as she searched for the shade she hoped to have in stock so she could start working on the dresser as soon as she had it in the workroom. She was thinking duck-egg blue for the dresser, with pretty vintage paper behind the shelving unit, and luckily, as she’d thought, there was a tin containing the perfect shade. Grabbing a screwdriver, she eased the tin open and was pleased to see it was almost full. She should have more than enough for a couple of coats on the dresser, saving her a trip to the big out-of-town DIY store.

  ‘I might need your help with a dresser later,’ she said as Gary brought her coffee into the workroom. He nodded before a frown creased his face.

  ‘Where did the boat go?’

  It was difficult not to miss its presence. It had taken up most of the available space, resulting in awkward shuffles and sidestepping whenever they needed to use the room.

  ‘The guy I’ve been emailing about it came to pick it up yesterday.’ Willow rolled her eyes. ‘Completely out of the blue, but it’s a sale – and quite a big one too – so I can’t complain too much.’

  Gary’s frown deepened. ‘I’m so sorry. How did you manage that on your own?’

  Willow blew on her coffee before taking a tentative sip. Yep, still volcano-hot. She placed the cup on the side. ‘Don’t worry, one of the neighbours gave me a hand. An
d stop apologising – like I said, you can’t help being ill.’

  Gary nodded, scuffing his trainer on the floor, looking lost once more.

  ‘Shall we get the planters outside?’ Willow asked. Gary was a good worker, but he needed prodding into action at times. They hefted the planters out onto the pavement before Gary set to work getting the shop prepared for opening, sweeping and dusting and making sure the displays were looking their best, while Willow made a start on a chest of drawers waiting to be sanded. There was no commission for this piece, so Willow would be free to let her imagination run wild once it was primed. She loved this aspect of her job and couldn’t imagine being satisfied doing anything else.

  At just after nine o’clock, she rang the current owner of the dresser, who said the piece would be available for pick-up in an hour. In the meantime, she continued her sanding until Liam rang with news about the house.

  ‘I’ve arranged for a surveyor to come out, but he can’t get here until Friday,’ Liam said, his tone cautious in case Willow took the delay badly.

  ‘It’s three days,’ she said with a resigned sigh. ‘It could be worse. Thanks for letting me know.’

  ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I have any updates,’ Liam said

  Not wanting to disturb Ethan with a phone call at work, she sent a quick text to update him. Three days didn’t seem like a particularly long time, but it would be three days full of worry, doubt and stress, and if Ethan didn’t come home before then, she’d have to deal with it all on her own.

  ‘If we’re quiet later on, you can help me with the painting if you like,’ Willow said as they set off to pick up the dresser. She didn’t like to close the shop during the day unless absolutely necessary, but she wasn’t sure she’d have any help once she arrived at the house, and there was no way she’d be able to manage such a hefty piece of furniture on her own.

  ‘Are you sure you trust me after last time?’ Gary asked, and Willow had to press her lips together to stop herself from giggling at the memory of Gary tripping backwards over a tin of red paint, landing on his arse in the puddle he’d created when he’d upended the tin. Covered in the gloopy red paint, Gary looked like his rear had been on the receiving end of a savage attack.

  ‘It could have happened to anyone,’ Willow said, her voice cracking only slightly as she fought against the humour of the memory. ‘And it’s all practice. You’ll be creating your own pieces soon.’

  Before working in the shop, Gary hadn’t had much creative or DIY experience, but he was learning new skills under Willow’s guidance. He liked getting his hands dirty with the painting and varnishing, and he was getting pretty good at using the scroll saw to make intricate cuts. He’d been a little wary of using the power tool to begin with, but Willow was proud of the progress he was making, how much more confident he was working with his hands, and the artistic side she’d unleashed in him. Becoming a mentor to Gary had been unexpected, but it was a joy seeing him grow and she hoped he was getting as much out of their working relationship as she was.

  ‘Okay,’ Gary said with a shrug. ‘But only because I’m wearing my scruffiest jeans. I learned my lesson last time.’

  The house wasn’t far and they were back at the shop within half an hour, manoeuvring the bulky piece around the back of the shop so it could go straight into the workroom. It was a beautiful dresser, with three small cupboards and drawers below a unit of four shelves. There were a few scratches and scuff marks, but Willow could easily fix those before she applied the duck-egg paint and decorative paper. She wasn’t too keen on the brass handles on the cupboards, but after a rummage in her collection of salvaged handles, she found three heart-shaped wooden knobs that would be perfect once she’d painted them the same shade.

  ‘Coffee?’

  Gary stood in the doorway of the workroom, Willow’s favourite mug held aloft. The mug was chipped on one side and there was a worrying crack along the top rim of the handle, but it was an old mug of Ethan’s, one she’d somehow ended up keeping during their university days. He must have loaned her the mug, because it had ended up in her cupboard, moving with her when she returned home after graduation. She’d still had the mug when she and Ethan started dating years later and he’d recognised it as she was making coffee for them both in her flat.

  ‘My Kenny mug!’ She’d been pulling a couple of mugs out of the cupboard when Ethan appeared behind her, reaching to pluck the mug from the shelf. ‘I forgot all about this. I can’t believe you still have it.’

  ‘It’s yours?’ Willow hadn’t had a clue about the origin of the mug with the orange guy from South Park on it. She’d rarely used it, to be honest.

  ‘Did you keep it as a memento of me?’ Ethan asked, and Willow had rolled her eyes.

  ‘As if.’

  ‘You did.’ Ethan folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the kitchen counter. ‘You knew, even back then, that we’d end up falling in love.’

  Willow had been about to scoff when the words hit her. They hadn’t used that word before. Hadn’t even hinted at it. They’d had a laugh. Had sex. Lots and lots of it. But they hadn’t spoken of feelings.

  ‘Have we? Fallen in love?’ She waited for Ethan to retract his words, to get flustered and explain he hadn’t meant it like that. He was messing around. Fallen in love? Pah! Was she making that brew or not?

  ‘I have,’ Ethan said, matter-of-fact. Willow expected his face to crack, for him to nudge her with his elbow and tell her to get a grip. But his brow furrowed, his eyes darting, trying to read hers.

  He’s nervous, she’d realised. He isn’t sure I feel the same way.

  But of course she did. She counted down the hours, the minutes, until she could see him again, dreaded the moment they parted, already counting down to the next time. She grinned like a loon whenever she thought about him, prompting questions from her colleagues about what she was thinking about – or who she was thinking about. She’d had constant butterflies, whether she was with him or waiting to be with him, since the night of the reunion.

  She couldn’t imagine her life without Ethan in it.

  ‘I have too,’ she said, and Ethan exhaled loudly, the creases disappearing from his brow and being replaced by the tiny crinkles around his eyes as he grinned at her.

  ‘You can keep the mug then,’ he said before taking her face in his hands and showering her with kisses.

  Willow took hold of the mug now, wrapping her hands around the porcelain and feeling the warmth from both the drink inside and the memory. How easy life had been back then. How simple their relationship. Had she known back then how much heartache was on the cards, would she have continued along the path with Ethan? Or would she have got out relatively unscathed while she could?

  Willow placed the mug on the side, keeping it in sight as she resumed her work on the dresser. Of course she knew the answer. She didn’t even need to consider her options. Life with Ethan had become complicated, but she wouldn’t throw away her marriage, the life they’d created, no matter how tough the road ahead might be. They’d stumble over this latest obstacle somehow and find their way again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Melody

  Melody’s grip on the golden pole tightened instinctively as the ride started with a slight jerk, the horse rising slowly as the tinkly music grew louder, reaching its maximum height before dipping again and repeating the process. The rise and fall of the horse reached a rhythm as the carousel turned until Melody felt as though she was gliding through the air. Up and down, up and down, the salty breeze whipping at her hair as she whizzed past the helter-skelter, the dodgems, the Ferris wheel, the ticket booth, the fairground games and concession stands until she reached the helter-skelter again. She turned to Hugo on the neighbouring horse and held out her hand, giggling and whooping as they twirled hand-in-hand on the pier. She was a child again, giddy and joyous and living life in the moment instead of feeling the pain of the past and worrying about the f
uture.

  She was glad Hugo had managed to talk her into leaving her camera behind so she could concentrate on feeling this experience instead of simply seeing it. Her visit to the pier earlier couldn’t compare to this. Earlier, she’d been too busy searching for moments to capture rather than creating any of her own. Too busy to let go and have fun. But now she felt free and foolish and cheered all at once, the mixture of emotions bubbling just below the surface, ready to burst, filling her with a jittery sense that something was about to happen; something good, something terrible, she didn’t know, just something, and she was half afraid and half exhilarated to find out which it would be. Either way, she felt alive, and that she, Melody Rosewood, was still here, still going despite the pain of the past year.

  ‘What next?’ she asked once they emerged from the ride, somehow finding her hand still in Hugo’s. She should remove it, gently, without causing offence. But she didn’t. She held on, ignoring the guilt gnawing at her gut.

  ‘What would you like to do?’ Hugo asked.

  Melody, wide-eyed, took in the pier. They’d already chased one another on the dodgems, roaring with laughter as their bodies were catapulted forwards, backwards and sideways in quick succession, they’d raced down the helter-skelter on scratchy rugs, and attempted to win prizes at the hoopla and coconut shy (but had walked away with nothing at all but a sense of fun).

  ‘The Ferris wheel?’ Melody had been on the Ferris wheel earlier, but she knew that without her camera – and with Hugo – it would be like experiencing it anew.

  ‘Let’s go.’ Hugo led the way, purchasing tickets (and refusing absolutely when Melody attempted to pay) and joining the queue. They had to wait a few minutes as the wheel was mid ride, but the time passed quickly as they chatted and picked at a bag of candyfloss bought from one of the stands. The fuzzy pink clump melted on her tongue and she closed her eyes, savouring the sugary hit and the nostalgia it brought with it, opening them again as she was hit with a thousand memories, emotions and regrets.