New Beginnings at Rose Cottage

by Erin Green

  ‘Cards mainly.’

  ‘Back to square one then, my lovely, as home obviously won’t cloud your decision.’

  ‘Nope, and given the surprise arrival of my dad, who knows how they’ll react? Especially when I keep in touch with him.’

  ‘What qualifications have you got?’

  I squirm. This is the precise reason why I work in a factory.

  ‘Stop worrying. You can’t have any less than I have,’ says Ziggy, reaching across the table to clasp my hand. I release the beer mat.

  ‘I have nothing of use.’ There, I’ve admitted it. ‘They’re not worth the paper they are written on, so I’m starting from scratch in every sense. Twenty-five years old and yet no further on than when I was sixteen.’

  Ziggy squeezes my hand in his giant paw.

  ‘Any chance you’ve a hidden talent for hauling fishing nets on to a rusty trawler?’

  I burst out laughing and Ziggy rocks his head back to empty his beer bottle in one deep swig. His hair falls back and then forward, covering his healthy glow; his dark eyes peer through his fringe.

  ‘I haven’t a clue,’ I say. ‘I’ve never tried.’

  ‘Well, maybe you should.’

  Emma

  ‘Forget them, they’re jealous,’ says Martin as I explain my housemates’ reaction to my fabulous news.

  ‘Don’t say that. We’ve had such a fun time. I’ll put it down to their insecurities about their own futures. Neither of them is happy and so it’s difficult for them to accept that some of us are slightly bolder and I’ve accepted an unforeseen opportunity.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ says Martin, holding his pint glass aloft as if making a toast.

  ‘They’ll know how good it feels when it happens to them,’ I say, tapping the rim of my wine glass against his.

  ‘Or will they? From what you’ve said, they’ll both end up slipping back into the usual routine once they’re home and then – probably this time next year when they are booking their summer holiday – they’ll think about missed opportun­ities and end up wishing they’d had the courage to follow their own dreams.’

  I nod in agreement. I’m slightly uncomfortable talking nega­tively about Ruth and Benni, as we’ve enjoyed a good week together, but still, I can’t understand why they couldn’t be happy for me. If I can take the plunge and be bold, why can’t they? You only get one chance to live a purposeful life, so why not go for it?

  ‘Live each day as if it were your last!’ says Martin cheerily, squeezing my hand in his.

  ‘I agree. Here’s to us.’ I raise my glass and take a sip before continuing. ‘Let’s not focus on them any more. I think you’ll be impressed by the smoothness of the goat’s cheese and beetroot sample I made this afternoon. I’ve surprised myself, given that my initial idea was to accompany it with caramelised onion, but at the last minute I changed my mind when I spotted fresh beetroots on sale. Tomorrow I’m planning to blend sweetcorn and salted butter to create a chunky rather than a smooth texture.’

  ‘It sounds so tempting. I can’t wait for you to begin production on a larger scale – we sold out of everything you produced within a few hours. Our customers can’t get enough of your unique flavours.’

  We chat eagerly, making plans for the next few months. Now that my decision is made, it’s full steam ahead for a refurbishment of the seating area and a rebranding before next spring.

  ‘Did you tell them about the flat?’ asks Martin, finishing his pint of Guinness.

  ‘Not once I’d seen their faces. I’ll mention it in the next few days.’

  ‘It’s unfurnished, bijou by anyone’s standards, but it’s above the parlour and it’ll be perfect for you over the coming months. I’m sure you’ll make it feel like home with a fresh lick of paint and a few pieces of furniture.’

  ‘And I’ll wake to such a gorgeous view, with the herring gulls gliding past my window,’ I say dreamily. ‘I can’t wait. Who’d have thought that on the back of one summer holiday my life could change so dramatically?’

  ‘This world favours the brave. Don’t ever forget that, my love.’ He gives my hand a squeeze.

  This is what I love about spending time with Martin. He’s warm, tactile and open. How many times have I wished that I could share my life with a man who knows instantly what he wants when he sees it? My experience of dating is a string of men who show some interest at first; they enjoy the chase and the flirtation, only for their affections to fade over time.

  ‘Come on, let’s split from here. A change of scenery will help to lift your mood,’ he says, breaking into my thoughts.

  I don’t really mind if we remain here all evening or take a walk to view the setting sun. The only place I don’t want to be this evening is Rose Cottage, especially if Ruth and Benni are still wittering on about my new venture.

  I drink up and we leave the Sprat and Mackerel.

  The sun is almost lost from view, but its warm golden tones linger for a final few minutes as we stand in an embrace at the lighthouse railings, looking out across the sea.

  I sense that Martin loves the fact that his favourite view has suddenly become special to me too. It sounds childish, but I want to recapture the essence of our first visit a few nights ago.

  ‘I can’t wait for you to visit the Midlands and meet my family and friends,’ I say, my back nestling into his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder, his breath tickling my right ear.

  ‘Nor me. I hope I don’t disappoint anyone by being just an ice cream seller.’

  ‘Hey, don’t put yourself down. You’ve worked day and night to build your empire. From what you’ve said it hasn’t been easy, but you’ve made it work, and now, together, we’ll build on the foundation that you started.’

  ‘It’s been tough at times, but you’re right – together we can do so much to improve the parlour. The business will go from strength to strength,’ he whispers, before his mouth lowers to my neck and begins touching my skin in the gentlest way.

  A tingle runs the length of my spine. My chin lowers, lengthening and tilting my neck, as I enjoy the sensation of being held tightly and kissed so tenderly. I have no intention of resisting him, no thought of pulling away; instead I’ll revel in these delights in such a beautiful setting. This is proving to be the best holiday I have ever experienced in my life. Martin continues to cover my neck in tiny kisses, and nuzzles his nose behind my right ear. His touch is intoxicating and difficult to resist when it’s all I truly want. I feel like a schoolgirl again; I want to giggle with the excitement of a new love, the prospect of sharing and exploring together. When you’re older, new relationships progress so quickly. There’s more honesty, more understanding; you appreciate life for what it is.

  ‘Just be careful, you’ve known him less than a week,’ warns a voice inside my head that sounds remarkably like Ruth.

  Seriously, how can that be?

  Chapter Nine

  Sunday 26 August

  Ruth

  ‘La, la, la, la, laaaaaaa,’ sings Emma, as I enter the kitchen a little after seven o’clock, to find her in full production mode. Every surface is covered, with ingredients, mixing bowls and cooking utensils scattered far and wide. There’s no point asking what she’s doing; it’s bloody obvious.

  ‘When did you buy new catering whites?’ I ask.

  ‘Yesterday. They’re only cheap ones from the local kitchen store, but still, they’ll do.’

  I want to ask about health and hygiene certificates, but daren’t; she doesn’t need me raining on her parade again. I’ll mention them another time.

  ‘Tea?’ I ask, attempting to grab for the kettle amongst her debris.

  ‘Nope.’ Her reply is curt but pleasant as she peers at her weighing scales to read a measurement. She’s a woman on a mission and obviously hasn’t a moment to lose given the manner in which her hands snat
ch and grab at various items within arm’s reach.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Gin? Wine? Ice cream?’

  ‘Nope, nah, and yes please!’ she laughs, squinting to view the tiny LED display before spooning a minuscule amount of sugar out of the bowl. She stands straight, nodding at her own accuracy. ‘Any chance you can make your tea in the dining room? I’m a tad busy in here.’

  ‘You don’t say!’ I accidentally-on-purpose slam the cupboard door, having taken a tea bag from the box. ‘Would you like me to make my toast outside on the patio too?’

  ‘Ha, ha, so bloody funny. I’ll be finished in an hour, so if you want to wait, then please yourself . . . Oh great!’ Emma shakes her head as Benni appears in the doorway in search of her breakfast.

  ‘Thanks for the warm welcome, Emma. I’ll “oh great” you one of these mornings and see how you like it,’ says Benni, her blonde eyebrows high, blue eyes wide in surprise. ‘Morning, Ruth, this one’s dishing out the compliments, is she?’

  ‘Can’t you see how busy I am?’ growls Emma, her eyebrows knitting tight.

  ‘It would be easier if you moved production to the parlour, given that you now own part of the sodding business,’ retorts Benni. ‘They’ll have a catering freezer too, which might prove handy.’

  ‘No can do, sweetie. Martin’s ordering a whole new set-up so we can infuse and blend flavours on a much bigger scale, so there’s no point moving production until after its arrival and installation.’

  ‘In the meantime, you’re going to continue with your cottage industry here?’

  ‘Yep, there’s no strength without a struggle.’

  ‘A true entrepreneur, too busy for the likes of us, given the ground-breaking work that’s being undertaken,’ I say, avoiding Emma’s glare. ‘So the kitchen is out of bounds.’

  ‘That’s very considerate, given that we’re supposed to be sharing,’ mutters Benni, before turning to me. ‘Has Jack left?’

  Emma ceases her measuring to turn and stare at me, a look of surprise on her face.

  ‘Yes, Benni, he left about ten minutes ago, though some people probably didn’t notice,’ I say, swallowing hard to suppress a wave of emotion.

  ‘He didn’t say goodbye to me!’ spits Emma, looking quite indignant.

  ‘I wonder why?’ I retort. ‘Benni, we thought you might be asleep and didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘That’s fine. I hope he sorts things out one way or the other,’ she says, watching my reaction.

  I agree, though deep down I know what his decision will be. I need a cup of tea more than ever now, as my composure begins to wane. I held it together as I waved from the doorstep, but now, with Benni’s kindness, I fear I might cry.

  ‘Ruth, do you fancy joining me on the harbour front for breakfast?’ Benni says, her sassy attitude reawakening in an instant.

  Emma sucks in her cheeks and returns to weighing sugar.

  ‘Don’t mind if I do. Something a little fancy and out of the ordinary, perhaps.’

  ‘Great idea. I might even treat you to a glass of bubbles as a holiday treat – I’ve always fancied finding out how the other half live,’ jokes Benni.

  ‘Count me in.’ I throw down my tea bag, push aside my waiting mug and flick the kettle off. ‘Excuse me, can I get past?’ I say, nudging Emma’s backside out of my way. I can see the excitement bubbling behind Benni’s gaze, and irritation in Emma’s, though she refrains from commenting.

  Benni grabs my arm and quickly links it through hers. ‘Come on, Ruth, we know when we’re not wanted,’ she says. As we turn and walk towards the doorway, where we need to separate in order to go through the architrave, Benni suddenly stops and turns and addresses Emma, who is watching our departure. ‘I expect you’re too busy to join the likes of us. Ciao!’

  I want to laugh at the expression on Emma’s face; she is utterly shocked by Benni’s outspokenness.

  We grab our handbags from the lounge, stifling our giggles until the front door is firmly closed behind us. Then we let them spill loud and proud as we go through the garden gate.

  ‘We shouldn’t laugh,’ I say eventually. ‘But she’s almost manic at times about this ice cream idea.’

  ‘The ice cream industry will be awash with her unique flavours,’ says Benni, cupping a hand to her ear. ‘If you listen carefully you can hear Ben and Jerry quaking in their boots whilst sobbing in fear.’

  ‘You’re too cruel,’ I say, playfully slapping her wrist like a naughty child.

  ‘Cruel, but honest.’

  Benjamina

  I have no idea where we’re heading or where we might find a champagne breakfast in Brixham; I haven’t seen any advertised whilst I’ve been here. But surely any chic café with a bar licence isn’t going to say no to two ladies ordering a full English and requesting two glasses of bubbles. Their manager needs firing if they do.

  ‘Come on, best foot forward,’ I say. ‘We’ll need to work off the calories before we arrive to enjoy this as a guilt-free treat!’ I’m feeling ridiculously proud of myself for having the gall to do exactly as I please. On waking, I never dreamt that within thirty minutes I’d be leading Ruth towards the quayside in search of alcoholic beverages.

  We find the perfect establishment without any trouble, situated on the quayside. Just two other customers are sitting on the oversized cream leather padded seats, enjoying plates of waffles, surrounded by stylish décor.

  ‘Good morning, ladies, table for two?’ asks the young waitress, flipping to the next page of her serving pad.

  We follow the slender young woman, her spritely step leading us across the polished floor towards a window table with a stunning view of the harbour. She pulls out our chairs and invites us to sit, then offers us each a small leather-bound breakfast menu. ‘Can I fetch you any drinks?’

  ‘A pot of tea for two, and two glasses of champagne, please,’ I announce for the first time in my life. It’s naughty, but the impulsiveness of our decision simply adds to the enjoyment.

  ‘Benni!’ exclaims Ruth, glancing up from her menu.

  I wave a hand in her direction, dismissing her reservations.

  ‘Isn’t this what holidays are about? Doing the things we’re not supposed to do every other day of the year? Anyway, we’re celebrating your success. It’s not every week that you get your artwork displayed in a gallery!’

  Ruth smiles and visibly relaxes into her plush seat.

  I stare at the breakfast delights listed on the menu.

  ‘You have the devil in you today,’ says Ruth, reading her menu.

  ‘Possibly. And do you know what . . . I don’t care.’

  Her eyebrows lift.

  ‘Seriously, Ruth, I can’t explain it, but I feel as if I’ve been released into a brand-new life. I don’t know if it’s the location, the people or even just spending time with the horses. Something deep inside me has changed and I love it.’

  Ruth lowers her menu.

  ‘Wow, that is a huge statement to make.’

  ‘It sounds like something a life coach would say, doesn’t it? But it’s as if blinkers have been removed from my eyes, and I’m seeing the world in a new light for the first time. I want a fitter, healthier me who welcomes interesting people into my life whilst doing all the things I’ve shied away from in the past. I’m sick of sitting on the subs bench . . . I want my slice of happiness.’

  ‘I know how you feel,’ Ruth says. ‘I’ve realised my path too. I have an urge to quit my job as soon as I arrive home and do as I please with my life. It sounds ridiculous, but I’ve found a renewed energy. I feel like one of those Icelandic geysers that simply bubble and gush with energy at random moments. I want to paint everything I see, to capture the light, that precise moment in time and the essence of an emotion.’

  ‘Here we are, ladies,�
� says the waitress, carefully delivering two glasses of champagne on to our table. She swiftly departs after taking our order for two full English breakfasts, with fried bread and additional black pudding.

  ‘I’ve never done this before,’ says Ruth, a slight blush rushing to her cheeks as she lifts her glass.

  ‘Me neither,’ I say, raising my elegant glass towards hers. ‘Cheers, and here’s to new beginnings.’ The bubbles dance upon my tongue; it feels wonderful and slightly naughty given the time of day.

  ‘Cheers, Benni . . . Absolutely, new beginnings.’

  ‘Can you believe Emma’s signed a contract already?’ I ask as Ruth cuts energetically into her crispy bacon. ‘She hardly knows the guy.’

  ‘Mmm, it’s a bit quick for my liking. How does an impromptu drink to discuss ice cream blending turn into a dreamy sunset walk and a hasty appointment with a solicitor? There’s more to this than she’s letting on.’

  ‘I agree. She walks down to the quayside each night to meet him; why won’t he pick her up or send a taxi if he’s paving the way for something more personal than business?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want a stake in a business venture that I wasn’t actively involved in each day, would you?’

  ‘It certainly isn’t a viable arrangement with her living in Rugeley; surely she’s taking a huge risk by investing in the business.’

  Ruth nods whilst chewing her bacon, before answering.

  ‘Exactly. She’s making out they’d been flirting before the business deal, but when? I thought her main focus was to experiment with fabulous flavours, using this opportunity in Brixham like a taste test to benefit her own venture once she’s home.’

  I feel Ruth’s missing my point, so I spit it out.

  ‘She must have mentioned her redundancy money pretty early on in their discussions. I think he’s feathering his own nest with her cash.’

  ‘Do you think?’ Ruth’s emerald eyes are wide with shock.

  ‘She told us about it on our first evening in the Queen’s Arms, don’t you remember? She didn’t hold back about her redundancy money. If she said the same to him . . . well, bingo!’