The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea
Jennifer Joyce
‘A charming and delightful read!’ Pretty Little Book ReviewsOne summer can change everything…Mae has no time for men in her life! Local vet Alfie might be totally gorgeous but she’s far too busy looking after her young daughter and running her little bed & breakfast by the sea.Willow is in the middle of building her dream home with her husband, Ethan, when disaster strikes. And with every month that passes she secretly worries that her happy ever after will never come true…Melody only intended to stay in the bustling seaside town for a few days. But when she meets Hugo – the charming man in the ice cream van – she decides to stay a little longer.It seems the little bed & breakfast is full of surprises!A cosy and charming romance set in an English seaside town, perfect for fans of Trisha Ashley and Caroline Roberts.Praise for The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea:‘A really cute, uplifting read and absolutely perfect for summer!’ The Genre Reader‘ easy, warm summer read. Perfect for by the pool!’ Little Novelist‘An easy summer read which will have you smiling and laughing!’ The Reading Shed‘A charming and delightful read!’ Pretty Little Book Reviews‘A sweet summer tale. Entertaining from beginning to end.’ Urban Book Reviews‘A lovely story, heartwarming and a perfect holiday read.’ Books4BookWorms
Escape to the seaside this summer!
Mae loves running her little Bed & Breakfast, it’s the perfect place to raise her adorable four-year-old daughter! And no matter how persistently local vet, Alfie, chases her, she just doesn’t have time for men in her life.
Willow is busy building her dream home with her husband, Ethan, but with every month that passes she secretly worries that her happy ever after will never come true…
Melody only intended to stay in the bustling seaside town for a few days to capture the perfect photo. But when she meets Hugo – the charming man in the ice cream van – she decides to stay a little longer!
One thing is for sure, summer at the little Bed & Breakfast by the sea certainly has a few surprises in store…
Also by Jennifer Joyce (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
The Mince Pie Mix-Up
The Wedding Date
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts
The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea
Jennifer Joyce
Contents
Cover (#ub4e583fe-4bf3-5d91-b0c5-f9815c8618e1)
Blurb (#ueb855979-5dd8-5dbd-9515-7624cf43c449)
Book List (#u7c82c7b7-093d-5b18-b4ef-c2927a60aac7)
Title Page (#u19f9da91-8491-56c3-a4ab-285d09059138)
Author Bio (#u4993af60-7dcc-5f60-b2ca-d25a45da2218)
Acknowledgements (#ue11f52fc-347d-5bb4-b148-9bf558809cc3)
Dedication (#u03592077-a461-5071-9484-a0cd07dc2507)
Chapter One (#ucb2bbce8-4ff0-55e9-85d0-f1d54847cf9a)
Chapter Two (#u1dc35525-b80a-5b7b-9696-917179d02e22)
Chapter Three (#u1d2dfd80-1833-52c7-941c-27923498f135)
Chapter Four (#u47087b50-b582-5889-bff4-cb3163b079e3)
Chapter Five (#u7df2bc91-ef42-5a22-b746-d8ca04537870)
Chapter Six (#uef2d9864-4a62-50d5-b27a-f6260317488f)
Chapter Seven (#u81bfce77-1b78-5f24-aa27-9baf7f1678c2)
Chapter Eight (#u5196de87-3da2-545d-8af8-a82f726bfbe5)
Chapter Nine (#u99eaa31a-83cc-51ec-acb4-daa5eb33da04)
Chapter Ten (#u4ae481fd-9402-5064-9a35-2c5158a75ae9)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
JENNIFER JOYCE
is a writer of romantic comedies. She’s been scribbling down bits of stories for as long as she can remember, graduating from a pen to a typewriter and then an electronic typewriter. And she felt like the bee’s knees typing on that. She now writes her books on a laptop (which has a proper delete button and everything). Jennifer lives in Oldham, Greater Manchester, with her husband Chris and their two daughters, Rianne and Isobel, plus their bunnies Cinnamon and Leah, and Jack Russell Luna. When she isn’t writing, Jennifer likes to make things – she’ll use any excuse to get her craft box out! She spends far too much time on Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram.
You can find out more about Jennifer on her blog at jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk (http://www.jenniferjoycewrites.co.uk/), on Twitter at @writer_jenn (https://twitter.com/writer_jenn) and on Facebook at facebook.com/jenniferjoycewrites (https://www.facebook.com/JenniferJoyceWrites/)
Thank you to the amazing book-blogging community, especially Kaisha (The Writing Garnett), Laura (Laura Patricia Rose), Shaz (Shaz’s Book Blog, plus guest reviewer Emma), Rachel (Rachel’s Random Reads), Laura (Laura Bambrey Books), Simona (Simona’s Corner of Dreams), Sophie (Book Drunk), Kelly and Lucy (The Blossom Twins), Becca (Hummingbird Reviews), Laura (Lozza’s Book Corner) and Alba (Alba In Bookland). Definitely go and check out their wonderful blogs!
Thank you to the SCWG for the advice, book talk, encouragement. This writing lark wouldn’t be half as much fun without you! Also thanks to Beth Cahill and Ann Coggan for talking books with me.
Thank you to the HQ Digital team, especially my editor Charlotte Mursell.
A special thanks to Andrew Cahill for the songs. When I was putting together a playlist of summery songs to write the book to, I asked for suggestions on Twitter and Facebook. Andrew provided me with a million songs to add – this is only a slight exaggeration. Special thanks must also go to Louise Wykes – the Minion is for you!
Finally, thank you to my family, who continue to support me and my books, with extra special thanks to my husband, Chris, and our daughters, Rianne and Isobel.
For Chris, Rianne and Isobel
Chapter One (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Mae
Mae was in a mad rush that morning as she flitted from room to room, eyes flicking to whichever clock happened to be nearest every thirty seconds. Right now, it was the digital display on the microwave that made her eyes widen in panic as she trundled into the kitchen, dumping the armful of goodies she’d collected onto the breakfast bar. Where had the morning gone? She could have sworn it was only five minutes since she’d dragged her weary body from beneath her sheets, forcing it in the direction of the coffee machine. And now it was almost time to go and she wasn’t even ready. The caffeine hadn’t had chance to work its way into her system, even after her second giant mug, gulped down between bites of toast.
Taking a calming breath, Mae added the goodies to the baskets she’d set out on the breakfast bar with a practised hand, arranging the mini bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body lotion to the bed of scrunched-up tissue paper among the bottled water, individually wrapped teabags and sachets of coffee. The bar of chocolate, cellophane-wrapped biscuits and stick of rock added a sweet touch. Mae prided herself on attention to detail; it was the little things that stuck with guests long after they’d packed their suitcases and returned home, the unexpected touches they gushed over with their friends and family or added to their TripAdvisor review. Although the welcome baskets she left in the rooms of her bed and breakfast took time, effort and extra cost, Mae knew they could tempt a guest to leave a sparkling, five-star review instead of a four-star, and entice them back next year – and the year after that. Mae had dreamed of running her own bed and breakfast since she was a little girl. Now her wish had come true, she would put her all into the venture and make it the best bed and breakfast she possibly could.
‘Hannah!’ she called as she popped the final item – a note for her guests written on a postcard with a photo of the seaside town on the front – into the basket. ‘Have you got your shoes on yet?’
She grabbed the baskets – one each for the two rooms she had available in the house she’d inherited from her grandmother four years ago – and headed towards the stairs, stopping outside the family room where she spotted her four-year-old daughter still glued to the television. Shoeless.
‘Excuse me, little lady, but aren’t you supposed to be putting your shoes on?’ Mae arched an eyebrow at her daughter. ‘We need to set off for Nanny’s in two minutes.’
‘It only takes me one minute to put my shoes on,’ Hannah said, eyes travelling back to the screen.
Mae’s eyebrow arched further. ‘And how long does it take you to walk up the stairs to grab them?’
Hannah scrunched up her nose, eyes still on the television, as she calculated. ‘Ten seconds?’
‘And do you know where your shoes are?’
Technically, Hannah’s shoes should be lined up at the bottom of the wardrobe with her other shoes, but Mae knew her daughter too well. Mae might be a stickler for the little details, but her daughter was not. In Hannah’s world, there was a place for everything, but nothing was in its place.
‘One of them is under my bed,’ Hannah said. ‘I kicked it under there this morning when I tripped over it.’
Mae closed her eyes, briefly. ‘And the other?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘In my room?’
Mae hoped the shoe was in Hannah’s bedroom. They had guests arriving later and Mae lived in fear of the day one of them would trip over an abandoned shoe or toy. She did her best to keep the house in pristine condition, but it wasn’t always easy with a four-year-old tearing about the place.
‘So, actually finding the other shoe could take you more than the fifty seconds you have left. Plus, we’ve been discussing this for…’ Mae scrunched up her own nose as she calculated the wasted time. ‘Twenty seconds? So, really, you only have thirty seconds to find your shoe. Probably twenty-five by now. So do you think you should turn the telly off and go and put them on?’
Hannah sighed, her little chest heaving dramatically. ‘Fine.’
Mae watched as her daughter wriggled off the sofa and turned the television off before shuffling out of the family room and up the stairs. Hannah was four and already behaving like a teenager – how would Mae cope when hormones set up camp? But Mae didn’t have time to ponder. She had welcome baskets to set out and less than two minutes to do so. She followed Hannah up the stairs, pushing open the guest room they had on that floor, and placed the basket on the end of the bed, smoothing the bedspread with the palm of her hand. The left curtain wasn’t quite even so she moved across the room to open it a little more, smiling at the view as she did so. With the bed and breakfast on the seafront, Mae had the perfect view of the beach, with the pier in the distance, the Ferris wheel already turning slowly. The school summer holidays had started the previous week, so Clifton-on-Sea was jam-packed with holidaymakers hopeful of a warm and dry British summer. Growing up in Clifton-on-Sea, Mae hadn’t always appreciated the beauty of her little town. Building sandcastles with her grandpa, the delicious scent of sweet candyfloss and hot doughnuts mingling with the sea air, eating fish and chips from the paper with her feet dangling over the harbour walls – these were ordinary occurrences for Mae as a little girl, and it wasn’t until she left the town in her late teens, eager to see a bit more of the country, of the world, that she realised what a special place she’d left behind. Or how privileged she’d been to have such an idyllic childhood by the sea. She couldn’t imagine a better place to raise her daughter.
‘Mummy!’
Hannah’s voice broke Mae’s reverie and she backed away from the window, smoothing the bedspread one last time as she passed.
‘I can’t find my shoes,’ Hannah said, poking her head out of her bedroom.
‘What about the one under the bed?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘It’s not there any more.’
Mae pressed her lips together. She didn’t have time to hunt for misplaced shoes. She still had to take the second basket of goodies up to the little room in the attic and drop the keys with Mrs Hornchurch next door (where she would no doubt get caught up in a ten-minute chat while she did her best to politely escape) before ferrying Hannah across town. They were already cutting it fine.
‘You’ll have to wear a different pair.’ Mae was already shuffling backwards towards the narrow staircase that led to the fourth bedroom. ‘Your sandals. Or your trainers if you really must.’ Trainers wouldn’t really go with the red gingham summer dress Hannah was wearing, but desperate times called for mismatched outfits.
Mae scurried up the stairs as Hannah’s head disappeared back into her bedroom. Placing the basket on the end of the bed, she gave the pillows a fluff before heading back down to check on Hannah’s shoe status.
‘Wellies?’
Hannah looked down at the Doc McStuffins wellies and shrugged. ‘They’re all I could find.’
Mae could have made many arguments against the wellies – not least the ridiculous mismatching and the fact it was a glorious summer’s day – but she really, really didn’t have time to discuss the matter, nor locate more suitable footwear.
‘They’ll do.’ With a decisive nod, Mae led the way down the stairs, heading for her desk to grab the keys for today’s guests from the drawer. With her car keys, handbag and sunglasses in hand, she was ready to go.
‘Hannah?’ The girl had disappeared. ‘Hannah! We need to go!’
Mae scurried through the rooms of the house, finding Hannah crouched in the kitchen, her outstretched palm full of Frosties.
‘Hannah,’ Mae groaned as the cat nibbled at the proffered cereal. ‘I’ve told you not to feed him. And especially not Frosties. Come on, cat. Out!’
‘But he’s hungry,’ Hannah said, hand still outstretched.
‘And we’ll be hungry if I’m late for work again and lose my job. Come on.’ Mae swung the back door open and nudged the cat gently with her foot until it slunk away into the back garden. ‘Please stop feeding him. It’ll only encourage him to come back.’
‘But I want him to come back,’ Hannah said as Mae closed the door. ‘I love him.’
‘He isn’t our cat.’ Mae wasn’t sure he was anybody’s cat, judging by the state of his matted fur and lack of collar. The jagged ears from ancient fights gave him a definite alley cat vibe. ‘Now, let’s go, little lady. Nanny will be wondering where you are.’
As lovely as the Seafront Bed and Breakfast was, and as busy as it kept Mae, the profits generated from the small establishment weren’t enough to pay the bills, so Mae topped up her income by working part-time at one of Clifton-on-Sea’s pubs. The Fisherman sat opposite the harbour, in the quieter part of town away from the beach, but it was popular with the locals and the holidaymakers who liked to venture a little further afield. Mae had known the owners – Frank and Corinne Navasky – for as long as she could remember, as Frank and her grandpa had been friends since childhood. Mae had fond memories of sitting by the open fire in the pub with a glass of lemonade and packet of crisps while Frank, her grandpa and their friends played dominoes on chilly Saturday afternoons.
‘Ah, she’s here. I was about to send out a search party.’ Frank winked at Mae as she burst through the doors of the pub, breathless from the dash from the car. As predicted, she’d ended up chatting with Mrs Hornchurch for a good ten minutes when she’d dropped off the keys, plus she’d had to deal with a lady who wanted to book a room on her way out of the house, meaning she was even later for her shift. But she couldn’t complain too much about Mrs Hornchurch as her neighbour was doing her a massive favour. As Mae needed to work, Mrs Hornchurch often stepped in to help, keeping watch for any guests and showing them to their rooms when they arrived. Mrs Hornchurch was a godsend, so Mae could forgive her chatterbox nature.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Mae threw her handbag onto one of the shelves under the bar and rolled the sleeves of her cardigan up. ‘I’ll work through my break to make it up to you.’
‘You will not,’ Frank said. ‘There’s no harm done. It isn’t like I’m rushed off my feet.’
It wasn’t yet lunchtime so the pub was pretty much deserted, with only Tom Byrne, a permanent fixture in the Fisherman, sitting with his pint of bitter. Soon, however, the place would be filled with patrons wanting a pint to go with their fish and chips from the chip shop next door.
‘Do you need me to do anything before we get busy?’ Mae asked Frank. ‘Any glasses need washing? Barrels need changing? Do the loos need cleaning?’
Frank raised his eyebrows at the last suggestion. ‘You must be feeling guilty. But no, love, everything’s in hand. Why don’t we put the kettle on and have a quick game of dominoes before the rabble descends?’
Mae had learned to play dominoes by watching her grandpa play in the Fisherman, and the clatter as the pieces tumbled from the box onto the table always reminded her of him. Her dad hadn’t been around much when she was growing up, so it had been her grandpa who’d been the father figure in Mae’s life. She’d loved staying with her grandparents by the beach, going for a paddle with her grandpa, their skirts and trousers lifted or rolled up to their knees as the cold water washed over their feet, or sneaking off to the Fisherman with him when it was too cold to build sandcastles. Double trouble, that’s what her granny had called them.
Mae missed her grandparents, but she cherished the memories she had of them and smiled now as she picked up a cool tile.
‘So, how’s that goddaughter of mine?’ Frank asked as they set the dominoes out facedown on the table. ‘Enjoying the school holidays?’
‘She’s enjoying too much TV.’ Mae had lost count of the number of hours Hannah had sat in front of the box over the past few days, but Mae had been so busy with the B&B – preparing rooms, looking after guests and taking bookings – and the television provided an easy distraction. Though Mae felt guilty, the school summer holidays were the busiest time of year for Clifton-on-Sea, and Mae couldn’t afford to turn business away. She was fully booked from now until early September, with her largest booking due to arrive later that afternoon. Mae’s B&B only had two rooms to let, but as well as a double bed, the attic room had a sofa bed, which her latest guests would be making use of. The Robertsons – made up of grandparents Shirley and Len, plus their daughter, son-in-law and two young grandchildren – had stayed at the Seafront B&B for two weeks every summer since Mae had opened for business three years ago, and although Mae was looking forward to their stay, she knew looking after six guests – plus Hannah and her part-time bar work – was going to be a tough juggling act.
‘Why don’t you bring her over in the morning?’ Frank asked. ‘Corinne and I are popping into Preston to do a bit of shopping. Hannah can come with us on the train and we’ll take her for a burger for lunch. We might even throw in a trip to the cinema.’
Mae started to shuffle the tiles around the table to mix them up. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
Frank joined in the shuffling. ‘I know that, but we love taking Hannah out. What are godparents for?’ He gathered the tiles into the centre and, with a flick of his hand, invited Mae to choose a tile.
‘She’d love that, thank you.’ Mae plucked a tile and turned it over so they could both see it. ‘One-Three.’
Frank chose his own tile and turned it over, giving a little whoop of victory when he saw the pips he’d uncovered. ‘Five-Six. Me first.’ They both returned their tiles to the collection on the table and gave them another quick shuffle.
‘The vet was in here last night,’ Frank said as they drew their tiles from the collection and placed them in front of themselves, balancing them on their edges so only they could see the value of their own tiles.
‘Frank…’ Mae said with a heavy sigh.
‘What?’ Frank’s bushy eyebrows lifted and his mouth was agape. ‘I was only saying.’
‘Hmm.’ Mae rearranged the tiles in front of her, mostly so she didn’t have to make eye contact with her opponent.
‘He’s a fine young fella,’ Tom Byrne piped up, his voice making Mae jump. He’d been so quiet in his little corner of the bar, she’d forgotten he was there. ‘Our Tiddles had a tumour last winter. Thought she was a goner, but Alfie sorted her out. She’s got a new lease of life. She’s like a kitten again.’
‘Maybe I should take a trip to see our vet,’ Frank said as he placed his first tile face up on the table. ‘I could do with a new lease of life with all these barrels needing to be lugged around the cellar. I feel like I’m ready for the knacker’s yard some days.’
‘Rubbish.’ Mae selected a tile and joined it onto Frank’s. ‘You’ve got more energy than anybody I know, including Hannah. I hope I’m as fit and energetic as you when I’m in my seventies.’
‘Ssh!’ Frank’s eyes roamed the near-empty pub. ‘Will you keep it down? As far as everybody else is concerned, I’m not a day over fifty.’
‘Tom won’t spill the beans, will you?’ Mae asked and he shook his head.
‘What happens in the Fisherman stays in the Fisherman. Ain’t that right, Frank?’
Frank chuckled. ‘Sure is. The tales I could tell…’ Frank chuckled again and shook his head. ‘It’s like being in a confessional some days.’
‘I hardly think you can compare yourself to a holy man, Frank Navasky,’ his wife said, appearing in the doorway that led to the living quarters of the pub. Corinne joined them at the table and dropped a kiss on Mae’s cheek. ‘And I don’t think priests make a habit of mopping up vomit from their confessionals.’ Corinne pulled a face and turned to Mae. ‘Gary King, pissed as a newt, again. I’ve told him he’s on his last warning. Once more and he’s barred.’
‘He’s already barred from the Old Coach and the Lion,’ Tom said.
‘And no wonder. He’ll be barred from here in no time, no doubt.’ Corinne Navasky was short and slim with delicate features, but she was a no-nonsense kind of woman who had no qualms about chucking even the biggest, roughest blokes from her pub. She was so different from Mae’s granny, who would weep over sentimental films and always, always gave somebody the benefit of the doubt, but they’d become as close as their husbands despite their differences. Corinne and Frank were like family to Mae, almost filling the gap her grandparents had left.
‘That vet of yours was in here last night,’ Corinne told Mae. Mae groaned and fought the urge to drop her head onto the tile-covered table.
Chapter Two (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Willow
The morning hadn’t started out as a usual Monday for Willow. Her husband usually caught the train from Clifton-on-Sea to Preston for his job and, as Willow worked a couple of streets away from the station, they’d walk together most mornings. But Willow had woken alone that morning and had to follow their routine by herself. She’d popped into the bakery opposite the pier as usual for a takeaway breakfast, munching on a cherry pinwheel and sipping a coffee as she walked to work, but it felt odd without Ethan there to chat to. With her mind free to roam, she found herself latching on to the memory of their argument the previous evening, the air thick with frustration and unspoken accusation and blame. Willow’s hand reached for her phone, her finger hovering over the contact list, but she shoved it back into her handbag without making the call. Ethan would call her when he was ready.
There was nothing left of Willow’s breakfast by the time she reached her shop, bar a few flaky crumbs she quickly brushed away before she unlocked the door. Willow’s shop was a treasure trove of other people’s junk: furniture and household items rescued from skips, junkyards, charity shops and the local tip, all lovingly restored or upcycled to breathe new life into the once-loved items. Willow’s eye was immediately drawn to the dining table and chairs she’d finished the previous day. The piece had been commissioned by a local family who’d wanted a fun and quirky table for their playroom and Willow had risen to the challenge, decoupaging the tabletop with banknotes from old, unusable Monopoly sets and adding shallow drawers underneath that were perfect for storing board games and jigsaws without getting in the way of knees and legs while sitting down. The chairs had been painted in vibrant colours, with each of the children’s names – plus Mum and Dad, of course – spelled out in old Scrabble tiles on the backs. Willow was proud of the effect and couldn’t wait to see the reaction from the family when she dropped it off later that day.
Closing the door behind her, Willow switched on the lights and moved across to the shop’s counter, which had been recrafted from an old oak sideboard. Her assistant would be there soon, allowing Willow to get creative in the workroom, but until then she would remain in the shop, catching up with admin and smaller jobs between customers.
The morning’s second irregularity occurred when nine o’clock rolled around and there was no sign of her assistant. Gary didn’t have Willow’s eye for detail, but he was handy with a paintbrush and always willing to help her shift hefty items. Plus, he made a cracking cup of coffee, perfecting the milk-to-coffee ratio like an experienced barista. He’d been working with Willow since leaving college a few weeks ago and hadn’t been late once in that time.
Another hour passed and there was still no sign of Gary. Willow had sold a pack of mini, spiral-bound notebooks she’d made using the property cards from the Monopoly sets as covers to a tourist looking for gifts for her grandchildren, and had arranged a house clearance for the following week, but her assistant hadn’t arrived. She dragged the planters she’d made from wooden pallets, which were filled with a rainbow of fragrant blooms, out onto the pavement in front of the shop to attract passing trade and ran a duster over the furniture, but still there was no sign of Gary.
Her phone beeped with a new message mid morning as she was painting jam-jar lids at the counter. Wiping her hands on the apron she’d thrown over her dungarees, Willow grabbed her phone from her handbag, expecting it to be an explanation from Gary. But it was a message from Ethan. While Willow had been hoping for a phone call, desperate to hear her husband’s voice, she was relieved he’d got in touch to let her know he was okay. She replied to the message, asking him to phone her as soon as he was able to.
While she had her phone in hand, she scrolled through her contacts and called Gary’s number. The phone rang and rang until Willow was about to give up and return to her jam-jar lids.
‘Hello?’ Gary’s muffled voice said as she moved the phone away from her ear.
‘Gary? It’s Willow. I was just wondering where you are as you haven’t turned up for work.’
‘What time is it?’ Gary asked, his voice raspy and sluggish.
Willow glanced at the clock she’d created using driftwood and shells from the beach. ‘It’s after ten. Are you okay? You sound terrible.’
‘I feel even worse,’ Gary said. ‘I must have slept through my alarm. Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Willow pulled her diary from one of the counter’s drawers and flicked through it until she found that day’s page. ‘You don’t sound well at all. Go back to sleep – I can manage on my own for the day.’ She was due to deliver the Monopoly table that evening, but it wouldn’t be too much of a problem closing half an hour earlier just this once. Moving the table from the shop to the van solo would be a challenge, but she’d faced bigger obstacles before.
‘Are you sure?’ Gary asked.
‘Of course. Rest up and I hope you feel better soon.’
Willow said goodbye and hung up the phone, but it beeped almost immediately, alerting her to a voicemail. She pounced, pressing to listen to the message and placing the phone against her ear, anticipating the sound of her husband’s voice.
But it wasn’t Ethan at all.
‘We have a problem. A pretty major one. Call me back as soon as possible.’
Willow and Ethan had spent the first five years of their marriage renting a sweet but tiny cottage on the outskirts of town, but when the opportunity had come up to buy one of the Georgian, three-storey houses on the seafront, right in the heart of their seaside town, they’d jumped at the chance. From the outside, the house was beautifully grand with a dove-grey rendering and rows of tall windows either side of a porched front door. Yes, the rendering was starting to crumble, the windows needed a restorative touch and the front door looked as though it would fall off its hinges in a gentle breeze, but the asking price had been an unbelievable bargain and Willow was used to making neglected things shine again.
The inside of the house had been much worse, with rotting floorboards in every room, warped doorframes and damp throughout, but still Willow and Ethan had been undeterred. They’d gutted the house and started again with a clean slate. This way, at least, they could put their own stamp on the place and make it their own.
‘What is it?’ Willow asked now as she returned her builder’s call, the jam-jar lids still abandoned on the counter. ‘What’s happened?’
Willow was thinking the worst: a burst pipe flooding the house, or the foot of one of the builders coming through a newly plastered ceiling, or, most heartbreaking of all, the bathroom tiles she’d sourced online from a reclamation yard being dropped from the van and shattering on the pavement.
Willow’s worst wasn’t even close.
‘There’s a problem with the foundations. I think you’d better come down here.’
‘I can’t,’ Willow said. ‘I’m in the shop on my own today so there’s nobody to cover for me.’
‘What about Ethan? Can he get over here?’
Willow scratched at a small, still-wet blob of pastel-pink paint that had splashed onto the counter. ‘He’s gone away for a few days. Working. I’m not sure for how long.’ She wiped the paint from her thumb nail onto her apron. ‘Can’t it wait until this evening?’
‘Willow…’ The builder’s tone was firm. ‘You need to come down here. We can’t carry on with the refurb until this is sorted.’
Willow straightened, the fingers on her free hand moving to rest on her chin. ‘What exactly is the problem with the foundations?’
‘We’re not entirely sure yet. It needs investigating properly. But what I can tell you is that the whole structure of the house is unsafe.’
Willow’s eyes widened and she had to put a hand down on the counter to steady herself. ‘It’s that serious?’
‘It’s that serious.’
Willow snapped her diary shut and shoved it roughly into the nearest drawer. ‘I’m on my way.’
This was bad. Very bad. Willow and Ethan had sunk their savings into this house, had taken out a massive mortgage and loans for the refurbishment. If this went wrong, they’d be up to their eyeballs in debt. And worse – they’d be homeless. Although the house was nowhere near finished, Willow and Ethan had already moved in, living among the rubble as best as they could. Living onsite while the work was being carried out wasn’t ideal, but at least the money that would normally pay their rent could be redistributed towards the refurb. But there was no backup plan. If the house was unsafe, where would they live?
Her quarrel with Ethan the previous evening filtered into her head.
Maybe we shouldn’t have bought this house. We should have thought about it more. Thought about us, our future.
But that’s what we were doing. This house is part of our future.
Is it? At the moment, we don’t even know what’s in the future for us.
Willow pushed the memory away and scuttled out from behind the counter, throwing her apron in the general area of a chair and grabbing her keys from the pocket of her dungarees as she barrelled towards the door. The house was only a ten-minute walk away, so Willow usually walked to and from the shop, leaving her van parked on the side street next to the shop, but she jumped inside now, slamming the door shut, tugging on her seatbelt and starting the engine in quick succession. The van rumbled into life and she pulled out of the side street and headed down towards the seafront, her heart hammering above the hum of the engine. Within minutes, she was pulling up outside the house. You couldn’t miss it, trussed up with scaffolding as it was, but Willow was glad it was still standing upright. Part of her was expecting to see the house in a heap, bricks tumbling out of the garden and towards the promenade, her hopes and dreams of her future with Ethan buried beneath the rubble.
‘I’m here!’ she called as she sprinted across the garden. The front door was open and she found the builders milling around the foyer, sipping cups of tea and working their way through a packet of custard creams. ‘What’s going on? I need to know everything.’
‘Everything’ turned out to be devastating. Willow didn’t understand a lot of what the builder was telling her, but the gist of it wasn’t promising. The foundations were no longer secure and the house might need underpinning. Willow wasn’t entirely sure what underpinning a house involved, but the builder warned her it could take several weeks to do, eating severely into their budget and extending their timeframe.
‘I’d strongly advise you to find somewhere else to live until we’ve made the foundations safe again,’ he told Willow. ‘I wouldn’t stay and, if you were my daughter…’ He shook his head. ‘There’s no way I’d let you either.’
The problem was, Willow didn’t have anywhere else to stay in the meantime. They’d already given up their rented cottage when they’d moved into the new house, and both sets of parents lived over fifty miles away, which was impractical both for getting to and from work and overseeing the refurb.
But it would be okay. They would work something out. At least that’s what Willow told herself as she walked away from the house and climbed back into her van. She sat in the immobile vehicle for a few minutes, staring out of the open window at the pier and the sea beyond, listening to the cacophony of seagulls, holidaymakers and crashing waves she’d been drawn to. Pulling out her phone, she dialled Ethan’s number but it went straight to voicemail, as she suspected it would.
‘What are you going to do?’ Liam asked, wandering towards the van. Her builder’s face was creased with concern, and Willow was pretty sure it mirrored her own.
‘I don’t know.’ Willow shrugged and started the engine. ‘But I’ll figure something out.’
She had to. With Ethan’s absence even more noticeable now, it was down to Willow to sort this mess out. It wasn’t in her nature to crumble, no matter how tempting it was, and she wasn’t about to let herself – and Ethan – down now. She set off in the van, eyes peeled for the nearest B&B. She knew there were several in the seaside town and she managed to locate one easily, further along the seafront. She parked the van, jumping out and rushing along the pavement when she saw a woman and her child leaving the property. She didn’t know whether the woman was the proprietor of the B&B or a guest, but she didn’t have time to pop inside first. If this woman was in charge, she couldn’t miss her.
‘Excuse me…’ Willow was breathless from her dashes that morning. ‘Is this your B&B?’
The woman was in her late twenties but looked as though she’d been plucked from the wrong decade. She wore a red-and-white polka-dot dress, cinched in at the waist, with matching heeled, peep-toe slingbacks, and her dark hair was pinned back in victory rolls. The style suited her, though, and Willow suddenly felt frumpy in her striped T-shirt and dungarees.
The woman slipped the quirky red, heart-shaped sunglasses from her eyes. ‘It is, but I’m afraid we’re fully booked for the next few weeks if you’re looking for a room.’
Willow’s shoulders slumped. ‘Oh.’ Maybe finding alternative accommodation at a B&B wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought. ‘It’s just I’m refurbishing a house up the road.’ Willow pointed further up the seafront towards the pier. ‘But there’s a problem with the foundations and it isn’t safe to stay there.’
The woman’s face softened and she patted Willow’s arm briefly. ‘I’m sorry. That sounds terrible.’ She bit her lip, which was a glossy pillar-box red, and shook her head. ‘But I’m afraid I can’t fit you in. Have you tried any of the other B&Bs? There’s a lovely little one in the harbour that’s a little quieter, being away from the beach and everything, so you might have better luck there. Or there’s the hotel up by the pier, but that’s a little more expensive, or you could try the caravan site?’
‘Nanny says we can stay in a caravan when Mummy isn’t so busy,’ the little girl standing with the woman piped up, squinting in the sun as she looked up at Willow. She was cute and had a rather more relaxed look than her mother with her sundress and wellies combo.
Willow crouched down to the little girl’s level. ‘That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? I’ve never stayed in a caravan before but it sounds fun.’
The girl nodded. ‘You get to sleep in a little room in a little bed and watch a little telly.’
Willow gasped and widened her eyes. ‘That sounds amazing! I hope you get to stay in your caravan soon.’ Willow stood up again. The woman had returned the heart-shaped sunglasses to her face. ‘Thank you for your help.’
The woman nodded. ‘Good luck.’ She turned to her daughter and took her hand. ‘We’d better get going. I need to drop the keys with Mrs Hornchurch and then get you to Nanny’s.’
Willow watched as the woman and her daughter disappeared into the neighbouring house before climbing back into her van. She’d work her way through town and try the other B&Bs, the hotel and caravan site. There had to be a room available somewhere.
Chapter Three (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Melody
The train was packed with bodies, heat and noise as Melody crab-walked down the aisle in search of a seat, battling with the hefty rucksack and laptop bag she held in her hands, tucked in tight to her body so she didn’t bash anybody about the head with them. Melody was thankful she’d decided to travel light during her trip, packing only the essentials: a handful of outfits she could chuck into a washing machine at a laundrette every few days, her washbag with the necessities, a couple of pairs of pyjamas, her laptop, and her camera. Okay, the laptop was hardly light, and her rucksack was cumbersome, but it would have been much worse if she hadn’t been so strict with her packing. She was hoping to find a seat so she wouldn’t be forced to hold on to her bags for the duration of the journey, but it wasn’t proving an easy task.
‘Excuse me.’ She flicked the corners of her mouth up into an apologetic smile as she attempted to squeeze past elbows and shoulders. ‘Sorry. Can I just…’ She managed to shuffle past without knocking anybody out cold with her rucksack and then she saw it, just ahead. An empty seat! Or rather a seat empty of a human bottom. She waddled towards it sideways, resting against the headrest with a relieved sigh when she finally reached the seat without somebody else nabbing it first. She looked down at the laptop bag currently sitting there and then over to its owner in the neighbouring seat. The owner – a suited man in his mid-to-late twenties, currently tapping away at the laptop in front of him – glanced in her direction briefly before returning to his screen.
‘Excuse me,’ Melody said, using her most polite voice. ‘Is this seat taken?’
By anything other than a bag? she silently added.
The man sighed heavily and turned away from his laptop, performing an elaborate eye-roll as he moved his face towards Melody.
‘I need to keep my bag close by.’
Melody nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ The man shifted his gaze back to his screen. ‘I assume you’ve bought an extra ticket for your bag, though.’
The man frowned, sighing again as he snapped his head back up to Melody. ‘What?’
‘I assumed you’ve purchased two tickets, since you’re taking up two seats.’
‘Obviously I haven’t bought a ticket for my bloody bag.’ The man rolled his eyes again and, shaking his head, resumed tapping at his keyboard.
‘In that case…’ Melody reached up to push her rucksack into the overhead storage rack. ‘I’m taking this seat. You can move the bag if you want to, but I don’t mind either way. I’m sitting whether it’s there or not.’
Melody eyed the man. He eyed Melody. Melody pushed her own laptop bag under the table and lowered herself onto the seat, pressing her lips together so she didn’t display a smug grin as the man’s laptop bag was whipped away at the very last second. The bag was shoved under the table, wedged between the wall of the train and the man’s feet. She could feel the glare from her neighbour as she unlooped her camera from around her neck and switched it on. She looked up, smiling sweetly at him.
‘I’m Melody, by the way.’ She thrust a hand out towards him, but he made no move to shake it.
‘And I’m very busy.’ With one last glare, he turned back to his laptop, tapping furiously.
And very rude, Melody thought, but she didn’t dwell on her neighbour for too long. She’d met lots of different people on her recent travels – some lovely, some not so much – but she didn’t hang around for long enough to let the negative ones impact her life. In fifteen minutes, she’d shuffle off the train and wouldn’t see this dude again.
Melody clicked through the menu on her camera, loading up her latest photos to scrutinise. Some of the photos were good – she particularly liked the snap of Blackpool Tower at dawn – but some weren’t so great. The composition was wrong, or the lighting didn’t quite work, so she deleted those she definitely wouldn’t be using. She’d take a closer look once she had her laptop set up, but for now she’d weed out the obvious duds – she’d taken hundreds of better photos over the past three weeks so they wouldn’t be missed.
Melody’s plan was to spend a chunk of the summer visiting as many seaside towns and villages in northern England as she could and was currently working her way along the Lancashire coast. Clifton-on-Sea was her next destination and she’d already looked the town up online beforehand. She knew there was a mile-long beach surrounded by cliffs, with a pier at one end and a harbour at the other, and she was hoping to capture some magical seaside moments there on camera over the next day or two.
The train came to a stop at a rather rustic-looking but quaint station. She’d visited many train stations lately, some large and filled with shops and kiosks, while others were more basic and little more than a platform with a ticket booth. Today, the train had pulled up alongside a single-storey stone building with a row of small, arched windows and an open, bottle-green door. The outside was decorated with wooden planters bursting with a rainbow of flowers, sitting either side of a couple of wrought-iron benches, and a sign welcomed those disembarking to Clifton-on-Sea. A ginger cat lay stretched out on one of the benches, basking in the sun.
Melody grabbed her bags and made her way to the nearest exit, hopping down onto the platform and following the crowd through the green door. Inside was as quaint as the outside, with a traditional tearoom staffed by two little old ladies, an information booth manned by a man in a smart uniform, and a little shop selling souvenirs. Melody hadn’t eaten since early that morning and, as it was now almost lunchtime, she was tempted to sit down with a cup of tea and a slab of lemon drizzle cake. But she should be getting on. She’d had a laissez-faire attitude to her travels so far, hopping on trains and travelling to her next destination when she fancied, so she hadn’t booked any accommodation in advance. So far, it had worked out, but she didn’t want to leave her lodgings until the last minute and run into trouble.
Reaching into the back pocket of her cut-off shorts, she pulled out the photograph she’d carried throughout her travels, smoothing down its slightly crumpled corners. She studied the familiar image for a moment before returning the photo to her pocket. Hitching her rucksack onto her back, she headed out of the station to see what Clifton-on-Sea had to offer.
Chapter Four (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Mae
As predicted, the Fisherman had burst into life around lunchtime. It was a tradition for those working nearby to buy their lunch from the fish and chip shop along the harbour and, as Frank didn’t serve food himself, he didn’t mind when they migrated into the pub with their parcels of hot, delicious-smelling food, unwrapping them after ordering drinks at the bar. No, Frank didn’t mind at all – profits soared as soon as the chip shop opened its doors. The dominoes had been packed up in preparation (Frank had won, though he hadn’t gloated too much) and it was all hands to the pumps as Mae, Frank and Corinne served the customers as quickly as they could before their food grew cold. Mae chatted as she worked, enquiring about husbands, wives and children as she filled glasses and took payment. She knew most of the customers well, though there was the odd less familiar face too.
Her latest customer, who technically should have been served by Corinne, was very familiar. The landlady had not-very-mysteriously vanished as soon as it was Alfie’s turn to be served.
‘What can I get you?’ she asked, while secretly plotting ways to torture her boss.
‘Would you judge me if I ordered an extremely large Jack Daniels and Coke?’
‘That depends.’ Mae leaned across the bar towards the local vet. ‘Are you going to be operating on any unsuspecting creatures this afternoon?’
‘Good point. I’ll just have the Coke then, thanks.’
Mae grabbed a glass and started to fill it. ‘Stressful morning?’
Alfie gave a long, loud sigh. ‘Very. We’re still without a vet nurse until tomorrow and the one the agency sent is…’ Alfie tilted his head to one side, trying to conjure the right words. ‘Incompetent seems like such a harsh word.’
‘But she is,’ Mae said and Alfie nodded.
‘I’m afraid so.’ He grinned as Mae placed the glass of Coke on the bar. ‘But do you know what would cheer me up?’
Mae placed a finger into the corner of her mouth, her eyes wandering to the ceiling as though she were deep in thought. ‘Hmm, let me think… A date with me?’
Alfie puffed his cheeks out before letting the air seep slowly from them as he shook his head. ‘Blimey, Mae, that’s one hell of an ego you’ve got there. I was going to say a bag of cheese and onion.’ He looked past Mae, at the boxes of crisps stacked against the wall.
‘Oh.’ Mae could feel her brow furrowing into a frown, so she fought against it, keeping her features as neutral as possible. ‘Right. Yes. Cheese and onion.’ She turned to grab a packet of the desired crisps, but a hand pulled her back. Alfie was leaning across the bar, his hand on her arm.
‘I’m kidding about the crisps. Of course I was going to ask you out. It’s what we do, isn’t it?’ He let go of her arm and straightened, reaching into his pocket for some loose change. ‘I ask you out, and you cruelly turn me down.’ He shook his head as he grabbed a few coins from the palm of his hand. ‘Every. Time.’
‘I’m not being cruel,’ Mae said as she took the money. ‘We’re mates. Good mates.’
‘It’s okay. I get it.’ Alfie held his hands up, palms facing out. ‘You don’t fancy me.’
Mae felt her stomach tie itself in a knot, tightening as she looked at poor Alfie’s downturned mouth. It wasn’t that she didn’t fancy Alfie. He was a very attractive man and a few years ago she’d have agreed to a date the first time he’d asked instead of dodging his requests time after time. But a lot had happened in that time. Dating men – even fun, caring and handsome men – wasn’t an option.
‘Are you fishing for compliments again?’ she asked to lighten the mood, and Alfie’s mouth curved into a smile that loosened the knot in her stomach.
‘Am I that obvious?’
‘You’re about as subtle as Hannah when she’s hinting for ice cream before dinner.’
Alfie’s entire face seemed to crinkle as he smiled, the areas around his eyes and mouth most prominently. ‘How are the summer holidays treating you? As stressful as you feared?’
Mae made a seesaw motion with her hand. ‘At times. She’s a good kid, but it’s hard on my own.’
‘I often wonder how Mum coped on her own with the four of us.’ Alfie shook his head. ‘We could be terrors. I should visit her more, make up for it.’
‘Your dad wasn’t around?’ Mae asked and Alfie gave a humourless laugh.
‘When he wanted to be, which wasn’t that often, and only when he wasn’t busy wooing his women. He was pretty useless, actually.’
Mae gave an understanding nod. ‘Sounds familiar.’
‘Hannah’s dad?’
‘Hannah’s dad has never even met her. He wasn’t interested beyond conception.’ She wiped at an imaginary smear on the beer pump, just to avoid eye contact. ‘My dad, however, stuck around for a while, just to make sure I was truly screwed up.’
‘Some of us men are decent.’ Alfie smiled weakly.
‘I know you’re one of the good ones,’ Mae said, and Alfie’s smile strengthened. He grabbed his drink and the bag of chips he’d brought into the pub with him and winked at Mae.
‘You still won’t join me for dinner, though?’
Mae rolled her eyes. ‘Not a chance, mate.’
Alfie shrugged. ‘Worth a shot, I suppose. I’d better get on with my lunch. I’m half expecting to go back to the surgery to find all the animals have escaped under Anna’s supervision.’
‘She can’t be that bad,’ Mae said and Alfie pulled a face.
‘She really, really can.’
Mae laughed as Alfie backed away, still pulling the face.
‘I don’t know why you won’t just put the guy out of his misery and agree to a date,’ Corinne said, miraculously appearing as Alfie sat down at one of the tables and unwrapped his chips.
‘We’re just friends.’ Mae busied herself with the till, sorting through Alfie’s coins and placing them into the relevant tray. ‘And he isn’t my type.’
‘Nah,’ Corinne said, wrinkling her nose. ‘Smart, caring, cute blokes aren’t my type either.’ She gave Mae a pointed look before heading for the customers still waiting to be served. Mae closed the till and plastered on a smile as she too returned to the small gathering at the bar.
‘Any luck with the B&Bs?’ she asked as she filled a glass with lemonade. She’d recognised the woman immediately as she’d shuffled into the pub, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her dungarees. Clearly the instant recognition wasn’t mutual as the woman frowned at Mae. The confusion didn’t last, however, as there weren’t many twenty-somethings who dressed like they were from a bygone era in Clifton-on-Sea. It had been Mae’s granny who’d taught her the vintage hairstyles she herself had worn as a young woman, curling, waving and rolling Mae’s hair for fun as they waited for her mum to return home from work. Mae had adopted the look full-time a few years ago, complete with vintage fashion choices, and she couldn’t imagine looking in the mirror and not seeing the woman she chose to present to the world.
‘No luck at all,’ the woman said, shaking her head. ‘I’ve tried every B&B I could find, plus the hotel, but there aren’t any rooms available anywhere. I feel like a non-pregnant Mary in Bethlehem. You don’t happen to know if there’s a stable around here, do you?’
‘If you’re looking for a stable, you’re better off talking to our local vet.’ Mae nodded in the direction of Alfie, who smiled as he caught Mae’s gaze and gave a little wave. ‘Seriously, though…’ Mae gave a sympathetic smile as she placed the glass of lemonade on the bar. ‘Did you try the caravan site?’
The woman nodded and handed over a five-pound note. ‘Fully booked too. There’s room in the campsite, which I may have to take. The problem is, I don’t have much in the way of camping gear. I have a little stove but no tent. I guess I’m going to have to buy one, which means more money from the budget.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry for boring you with this. I haven’t been able to get hold of my husband and I’m in a bit of a flap.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Mae reached across the bar and gave the woman’s arm a squeeze. ‘I just wish there was more I could do to help. If I had a tent, I’d lend it to you. But I’m kinda too high-maintenance for camping.’ She flicked her hands towards her face and hair. The woman laughed and Mae was pleased to see the harassed look melt away, if only for a moment.
‘You look fabulous, though. Look at the state of me – I have paint under my nails!’
‘Are you serving or what?’ a gruff voice asked as a pair of elbows rested on the bar. ‘Or are you going to start comparing beauty tips?’
Mae flashed the woman an apologetic smile before turning to the till, returning with the change before moving on to the next (impatient) customer in line. By the time she’d managed to clear the bar, the woman had wandered across the pub and nabbed a vacant seat. Mae was contemplating heading over, to see if there was anything else she could do to help, when her phone started to buzz from her handbag. Although she was working, she always kept her phone switched on in case Hannah or the B&B needed her.
‘Do you mind if I take my break?’ she asked Corinne after fishing the phone out of her handbag and seeing her mother’s name on the display.
‘Of course not,’ Corinne said. ‘We’ve got through the worst of it. Frank and I can manage now.’
‘Thanks.’ Mae accepted the call and pressed the phone against her ear as she moved through to the back of the pub. ‘Hello?’
‘Mummy!’ It was Hannah, rather than Mae’s mum, who answered, her voice happy and high. ‘We went to the beach!’
‘Wow. Did you build sandcastles?’ Mae moved through to the small yard at the back of the pub, heading for an old crate to perch on in the shade of the tall walls.
‘Yes! Mine was the biggest! Nanny bought me sandals!’
‘Did she?’
‘Yup. They’re pink with yellow butterflies.’ There was a whistle of air down the line as Hannah sighed. ‘Nanny had to help me with the buckles.’
‘It just takes practice, sweetie,’ Mae told her. ‘You’ll get it. Do you think I could speak to Nanny for a minute?’
‘Yup, yup!’ Mae heard a faint giggle before the phone was switched and she heard her mother’s voice.
‘You didn’t have to buy her new shoes, Mum. She has sandals at home but we were in a rush.’ Mae needed her mum to know this, to know she didn’t need help providing her daughter with clothing. Money could be a little tight at times, but they were coping.
‘I know that, darling, but we were passing the shop and I saw the sweetest little sandals. I couldn’t resist.’
Mae wasn’t sure how true this was. She knew her mum worried about her; she’d brought Mae up pretty much without any help from Mae’s father, so she knew how tough single parenthood could be. Eloise couldn’t have coped without her own parents’ help so she was always on hand for Mae and Hannah, whether that was for babysitting duties or buying footwear.
‘Well, thank you,’ Mae said, swallowing her pride painfully. ‘I appreciate it. We both do.’
‘I know, sweetie. Hannah certainly does – I think she’ll try sleeping in them tonight.’
‘Great.’ Mae laughed softly. ‘I know who I’ll be ringing when I have a battle on my hands at bedtime.’
‘You only have to say the word and I’ll come round.’
Mae had only been joking, but her mum was serious. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine. I should go now, though. I’m on my break and I’m gasping for a cup of tea before I go back behind the bar.’
‘Okay, sweetie. Give my love to Frank and Corinne. I’ll see you later.’
‘Bye, Mum. Kisses and squishes for Hannah.’
Mae ended the call and heaved herself up from the crate. She really didn’t know where she’d be without her mum. She’d been there from the start, when Mae had returned to Clifton-on-Sea with a badly bruised heart and a twelve-week scan photo. The father – Mae’s boyfriend of eight months – had bailed upon the news of her pregnancy, and though Mae had been determined to stand on her own two feet, she’d soon realised she needed her family and had returned to the town she’d been desperate to escape since her teens. It was only upon her return that she’d realised how special Clifton-on-Sea was and just how lucky she was to have Eloise Wright as a mother.
Mae was halfway across the yard when her phone started to ring again. She paused and, answering the call, headed back towards the crate.
‘Mae? It’s Shirley. Shirley Robertson.’
Mae reached the crate, but didn’t sit. ‘Shirley? Is everything okay?’ Shirley and her family were due to arrive for their stay later that afternoon, but had they arrived early? Mrs Hornchurch knew they were due, but Mae’s neighbour couldn’t be expected to wait in all day on the off-chance they’d show up a few hours sooner than anticipated, so perhaps the family were camped out on the B&B’s doorstep, waiting to be let in.
‘Oh, love, no,’ Shirley wailed. ‘It’s my Len. He had a bit of a stumble lugging the suitcase downstairs this morning so we’ve been stuck in A&E ever since.’
Mae gasped. ‘Is he okay?’ She was fond of the Robertson family – they’d been among her first paying customers when she’d turned her grandparents’ house into a bed and breakfast and she looked forward to their annual visit.
‘Nothing a plaster cast and rest won’t sort out,’ Shirley said. ‘He finally got an X-ray and he’s broken his ankle. The rest is just superficial cuts and bruises.’
Mae sank onto the crate now and placed a hand on her chest. ‘That’s a relief.’
‘Yes,’ Shirley agreed. ‘But the thing is, we’re having to cancel our holiday. I’m so sorry to do this at the last minute. I feel so terrible. We all do.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Mae said. ‘The important part is that Len gets better. You’ll give him my love, won’t you?’
‘Of course. And we’ll be back next year, for sure. I’ll bring the cases down myself!’
‘Take care of Len – and yourself, of course. I’ll see you next summer, fit and well.’
Mae sat for a moment after she’d ended the call. She was glad Len was okay – broken bone and bruising aside – but she couldn’t help worrying about the empty rooms she was now left with, which left her with an icky feeling of guilt that she could have such selfish thoughts when a lovely man like Len Robertson had taken a tumble down a flight of stairs. But those unoccupied rooms represented lost earnings. She’d had to turn people away because she was fully booked and now she wasn’t.
Mae’s eyes widened as she realised all was not lost. There was a woman sitting in the pub who was in desperate need of a room and Mae now had two going spare for a couple of weeks. Gasping, she shot up from the crate and scuttled back into the pub, scanning the room as she propelled herself behind the bar.
‘Where is she?’ she wailed, eyes darting around the room. The seat the woman had nabbed earlier was now vacated.
‘Who?’ Corinne asked as she popped behind the bar with an armful of empty glasses.
‘The woman in the dungarees.’ Mae pointed at the empty seat.
‘Oh, her.’ Corinne slipped the glasses onto the side and bent to open the dishwasher. ‘She left a few minutes ago.’
‘Do you know who she is?’ Mae asked, already trying to work out how to track the woman down before she set up camp with a newly purchased tent.
Corinne shook her head. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her around town but I don’t know her name.’
Bollocks, Mae thought as she scurried towards the pub’s door. Big, sodding hairy bollocks!
Chapter Five (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Willow
Willow took her change from the bed and breakfast lady/barmaid and wandered over to an empty seat, placing her glass down on the table and taking out her phone to check for any messages from either the builders or Ethan. There was an uncomfortable feeling in her gut, as though there was a small but hefty bowling ball in there, clogging and silently damaging her insides. She tried to ignore the feeling, knowing if she paid it too much attention it would take over completely and send her into a panic. So far, with the distraction of her mission to find accommodation, she was coping with the catastrophe, but she knew once she stopped and really thought about the situation she and her husband were now in, she would fall to pieces.
Falling to pieces wasn’t usually Willow’s style. She could be cool, calm and collected at the worst of times, thinking rationally about the bigger picture instead of giving in to dread. When her caterers had cancelled at the very last minute on her wedding day, phoning just minutes before she was due to have her hair and make-up done with news of a faulty fridge and ruined food, Willow hadn’t flapped. She’d been momentarily disappointed she wouldn’t get to enjoy the menu she’d planned weeks in advance, but she knew it was only food. Good food, but food all the same. Marrying Ethan was the important part, the part making her heart race and her hands jitter, so she’d let the lack of catered food slide as she slipped her phone into her pocket and sat on the hairdresser’s chair. Later, once she was Mrs St Clair, Willow led her guests to the seafront, where she and Ethan bought them the most delicious fish and chips, which they ate on the beach. It had been a chilly evening, but everyone said it was the best fish and chips they’d ever eaten and Willow remembered the day with fondness. The smell of battered fish and salt and vinegar-drenched chips filling the pub now reminded her of that day. Everything will be okay, the aroma reminded her. She and Ethan would sort everything out. This was a tiny blip they’d maybe laugh about one day.
Or maybe not. Only time would tell.
She checked her phone again. Still no word from Ethan. She wasn’t too surprised or worried about the lack of contact under the circumstances, but hearing from him would have offered a little bit of comfort and gone a long way in preventing her from teetering over the edge.
Placing the phone on the table, she took a sip of her drink, swallowing hard against the miniature bowling ball, which had crawled stealthily to sit in her throat.
‘Fancy a chip?’
Willow placed her glass back down on the table and glanced first at the bag of chips being proffered and then its owner sitting at the neighbouring table. He was perhaps in his early thirties, with smooth, brown skin and closely cropped black hair, and when he smiled – as he did now, while pushing the bag of chips ever so slightly closer to Willow – he displayed an enviable row of neat, white teeth.
‘No, but thank you.’ Willow didn’t think she could manage it. The lemonade had been battle enough.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, removing the chips – and the strong vinegar scent that tickled Willow’s nose – and placing the bag on his own table. ‘You look… sort of stressed.’
Understatement! Willow was this close to weeping, right there with a pub full of witnesses.
But no. Deep breaths. Deep, calming breaths.
Everything will be okay.
‘Are you a doctor or something?’ Willow asked, and he smiled again.
‘Not for humans.’ He wiped his hand down the thigh of his jeans to rid it of any grease and held it out to Willow. ‘I’m Alfie Michaels, the local vet.’
‘Ah.’ Willow shook the hand. ‘You’re the one I need to speak to about a stable.’
‘Sorry?’
Willow laughed. ‘Sorry, bit of an in-joke. There’s no room at the inn – or the local B&Bs – so I was hoping a stable would be free. Oh, excuse me…’ She pounced on her phone as it sprang into life, but it was neither Ethan nor the builder and she didn’t recognise the number on the screen.
‘Hello? Is that Re-Create?’ a male voice asked once she answered.
Willow pushed the bowling ball to the very back of her mind as she switched to business gear. ‘It is. This is Willow speaking. How may I help you?’
‘It’s Malcolm Kershaw?’ The man on the other end of the line posed the name as a question, as though Willow might be familiar with it. ‘We’ve been exchanging emails about the bed?’
Ah! Willow recognised the name now. She and Malcolm had been communicating about one of the old, disused rowing boats she’d rescued from the harbour, upcycling her treasure into a bed that hung from the ceiling, creating a gentle rocking motion for the sleeper. Malcolm had spotted the bed on her website and was keen to buy it.
‘I’ve got a van,’ Malcolm said now. ‘I’m about ten minutes away from Clifton-on-Sea.’
‘You’re on your way?’ Willow knew from their exchanges over the past couple of weeks that Malcolm lived in Huddersfield, which was around seventy miles away. This was not a quick trip and he’d be disappointed – to say the least – if he arrived to find an empty shop.
‘Yep. Won’t be long. You still have the bed?’
The bed was currently taking up a huge chunk of her workroom at the back of the shop, and the prospect of finally having that space back almost made her lightheaded with relief. The bed was quite a niche piece, and she’d been worried she wouldn’t find a new owner for it. On the other hand, she was in the middle of a crisis here and – it had just occurred to her – she could use the rowing boat bed if she failed to come up with another solution.
But no. Malcolm had been so excited about the bed, which he’d told Willow he wanted for his son as part of a sea-themed bedroom makeover. She couldn’t deny it him – especially when he’d travelled so far to pick it up.
‘I do have it,’ Willow confirmed. ‘But I’m not at the shop right now. I can be there in…’ She calculated the distance between the Fisherman and her shop. ‘Twenty minutes?’
‘Great. I don’t mind hanging around for a few minutes. It might take me that long to find your shop. Where exactly is it? I’ve just got off the motorway and pulled over. I can see a sign for the train station.’
‘Head that way.’ Willow stood up and headed for the pub’s door. ‘My shop is just around the corner from the station. It’s your first left. Thorpe Lane.’ She reached the door and pushed her way through it, saying goodbye to Malcolm as she reached her van and hopped inside. A text message beeped through to her phone as she dragged her seatbelt across her chest.
Sorry, only just got your message about the house! Can’t talk now – will phone in about an hour.
Slotting the key in the ignition, she left it to dangle for a moment while she tapped out a reply. Slipping her phone into the pocket of her dungarees, she started the van and pulled away from the Fisherman, heading back towards the station, her shop and the rowing-boat bed. Behind her, just as she turned away from the harbour, the doors of the pub flew open, a pair of red, peep-toe slingbacks clattering onto the pavement.
Chapter Six (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Mae
She threw herself out of the pub, eyes darting left and right as they hunted the dungaree-clad woman, a hand held against her forehead to shield her eyes from the bright midday sun. She was greeted by the familiar line of wooden benches opposite the Fisherman, their backs against the seagull-lined harbour wall, but the only people around were a young couple wandering hand-in-hand, a bag of chips held between them, a mother holding her toddler son up to the harbour wall, pointing out the boats bobbing up and down on the water beyond, and the owner of the B&B a couple of doors down watering her hanging baskets. The woman had vanished.
‘Everything okay?’ Alfie asked as, shoulders slumped in defeat, Mae made her way back into the pub. She held in a sigh and headed back towards the bar, where Alfie followed.
‘Yes. It’s just…’ She shook her head. ‘I was looking for someone. She needs a room and I’ve just had a cancellation. It would have helped us both out.’
Mae could have kicked herself. Those rooms being empty for two weeks was a massive blow for her business. She relied on the money the bed and breakfast took in over the summer as it made up the bulk of her earnings for the entire year. During off-peak times, she rented out her rooms to students from nearby colleges and universities, but that didn’t bring in anywhere near the revenue the summer holidays did, so every booking was crucial. She needed to fill those rooms as quickly as possible, otherwise she’d be in trouble further down the line.
‘Do you mean Willow?’ Alfie asked. Mae’s brow crinkled. She didn’t actually know the woman’s name. ‘The woman in the dungarees?’ Alfie turned to look at the now-empty seat at the table with the abandoned glass of lemonade.
‘Yes!’ Mae reached forward, grasping hold of Alfie’s forearm. ‘Do you know her?’ Her grip relaxed as Alfie shook his head, her shoulders slumping once again.
‘But I know where she was heading, if it helps?’
Mae’s fingers curled around Alfie’s forearms again. ‘It does. It really, really does.’
Alfie dropped his gaze down to his arm and Mae snatched her fingers away. There was enough gossip about her and the vet around here without her fanning the flames.
‘She was meeting someone at her shop. It’s on Thorpe Lane, near the station. I didn’t catch which shop it was, but it’s a start.’
‘Thank you!’ Mae would have happily leapt across the bar and planted a kiss on Alfie’s cheek in return for his help, but that really would have set tongues wagging in overdrive. Instead she gave his arm another quick squeeze. ‘I owe you a pint!’
‘Only if you’ll join me,’ Alfie said, flashing the grin most women found irresistible. ‘How about tonight? After work? I could pick you up, or meet you back here?’
Mae was shaking her head before Alfie could finish his request. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so busy right now, especially now it’s the summer. I’ve got the B&B, Hannah…’ Mae trailed off as Alfie nodded and started to back away. He’d heard it all before, many times. ‘I still owe you that pint, though. I’ll get it for you now.’
‘It’s okay. Another time.’ Alfie grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘I should be getting back, make sure Anna hasn’t wrecked the joint in my absence. I hope you find Willow.’
Mae pushed her mouth into a brief smile as she lifted a hand. ‘Thanks again. And sorry about… Well, you know.’
‘No worries.’ With a wave of his own, Alfie ducked out of the pub and, although Mae was relieved she’d sidestepped the messy date request, she couldn’t help the feeling of dread worming its way into her stomach. Alfie was a good bloke and for most women he’d be perfect with his unquestionable good looks and caring profession, but dating him was out of the question for Mae. Dating anyone was out of the question for Mae. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Alfie she was incredibly busy – between the B&B, her bar work and Hannah, she simply didn’t have any time left over for romance.
Or so she told herself on a regular basis. She was almost starting to believe it.
‘Did you manage to catch up with her?’ Corinne asked, nodding at Willow’s vacated table.
‘No, but I know where she’s gone.’ Mae looked up at the clock hanging on one of the pub’s low beams. ‘Hopefully she’ll still be there when my shift’s over.’
Corinne grabbed a pint glass and started to fill it with bitter from the pump. ‘What did you need her for?’
Mae explained about Willow’s situation and her own sudden vacancy.
‘You’d better get off now then.’ Corinne placed the filled glass on the bar and accepted the money from her customer, thanking him before turning back to Mae. ‘Hurry, before you miss her. You don’t know how long she’ll be hanging around this shop for. If she leaves, you might not find her again and then you’ll both be screwed.’
‘I can’t leave now.’ Mae looked at the clock again. She still had a couple of hours left of her shift.
‘You can.’ Corinne tapped at the till and plonked the coins into the tray. ‘I’m the boss and what I say goes. So go.’
‘But…’
Corinne held up a silencing finger. ‘We’ll be fine, honestly. And think of that poor woman having to kip in a bloody tent on her own. Think of the cold, the spiders.’ She shuddered. ‘Plus, you’ll be losing out on money if you leave that room empty. Think of Hannah – your granny would never forgive me if I let her great-grandchild starve.’
‘I hardly think Hannah is going to starve,’ Mae started to protest, but Corinne was already guiding her out of the pub and pressing her handbag into her hands.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Corinne said as she nudged Mae towards her car. ‘Frank says you’re letting us have Hannah for the day. You’re not down on the rota so we’ll pick her up from yours in the morning, give you a bit of time to yourself.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Mae said, but Corinne rolled her eyes.
‘No, we don’t have to, but we don’t get the chance to spoil our goddaughter often enough.’
‘You spoil us both too much,’ Mae said, but Corinne gave a dismissive wave of her hand.
‘Nonsense.’ She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss Mae on the cheek. ‘Now, go on, before it’s too late.’
Mae knew Frank and Corinne didn’t necessarily need her help in the bar as much as they claimed to, that the offer of the job at the Fisherman had been nothing less than a charitable act. They’d have simply handed over a sum of money every month to help her out if Mae hadn’t been too proud to accept it, but at least with the bar work she could feel independent. She hadn’t returned to Clifton-on-Sea to sponge off her loved ones, though she knew she was incredibly lucky to have the support of her mum, Frank and Corinne.
Climbing into her car, she blew a kiss through the window and headed towards the station, hoping it wasn’t too late for either her or Willow.
Thorpe Lane was short and narrow, with a row of little cottages on one side of the cobbled road and a row of shops on the opposite side. Just six houses and six shops made up the lane, but even if the lane had stretched further across the town, Willow and her shop wouldn’t have been too difficult to spot. You could hardly miss the rowing boat, which had been stripped and polished and now appeared to contain a custom-made mattress, being lugged from the shop to a waiting van squeezed between the two pavements. Willow was at one end, her head poking around the side to guide the boat towards the van, with a couple of blokes taking up the opposite end and the middle. Together, the trio staggered from the shop, with Willow calling out directions.
‘Do you need a hand?’ Mae asked as she climbed out of her car and scurried towards the rowing boat party.
‘From you?’ one of the blokes asked before snorting unattractively. ‘No offence, love, but we wouldn’t want you breaking a nail.’
Mae looked down at her hands, fingers splayed and nails facing upwards. The pillar-box red was stark against her pale skin, but she wasn’t about to apologise for painting her nails. These nails never got in the way when she was changing barrels at the pub, and if one did happen to break or chip, it was no big deal. She liked to make an effort with her appearance, but she had no qualms about rolling up her sleeves and getting stuck into a task.
‘Take no notice of this plonker,’ Willow said between puffs and groans as she navigated the kerb. ‘We’d love a hand, thank you.’
‘Plonker?’ the bloke spluttered, either through indignation or the fact he was manoeuvring a rowing boat through the street. ‘That’s the last time I offer to help you.’
‘This is the first time you’ve offered to help me,’ Willowed huffed. ‘And, if I recall, you didn’t actually offer to help out at all. Your mam threatened to whack you with her rolling pin if you didn’t – and I quote – “get off your fat arse for one day in your life”.’
‘I could have said no,’ he muttered as Mae reached the middle of the boat and took some of the weight.
‘You bloody well try, lad,’ a voice, which Mae presumed belonged to the bloke’s mum, called out from one of the houses across the street. ‘This is the most work I’ve seen you do in the last thirty-six years. And no, playing on that Playstation-Cube-whatsit doesn’t count.’
‘What is this, anyway?’ Mae asked as they reached the van and jostled the tip of the boat inside.
‘It used to be a boat.’ Mae gave the boat a shove and it began to slide across the van’s floor. ‘But now it’s a bed. I upcycled it and Malcolm’s just bought it for his son.’
The other bloke, who had yet to speak, gave a nod.
‘You made this into a bed?’ Mae stepped aside as the boat was completely swallowed by the van. ‘Wow.’
Willow wiped her hands down the sides of her dungarees. ‘It’s what I do. I have a shop.’ She indicated the premises behind her. ‘You can go in and have a look if you’d like, though I’m not technically open at the moment.’
Leaving Willow to talk business with Malcolm, Mae wandered into the shop, her eyes widening as she took in the assortment of products on offer. There were larger items of furniture, all given new and vibrant leases of life, smaller household objects transformed into beautiful, decorative items, and things that might have been thought useless given a new purpose. Old light bulbs had been filled with small, delicate flowers and hung from a chandelier, mismatched glass goblets and flutes had been turned into stylish candles with white, fragranced wax, and old jars had been scrubbed, their lids painted in pastel shades, ready to be filled with sweets, buttons, cotton buds – anything small that was looking for a new, chic home. Mae could picture the jars in her bathroom or the guest bedrooms, and the champagne-flute candles would look divine on top of the chests of drawers in the rooms.
‘This is all amazing,’ she told Willow when she returned a few minutes later. The van trundled past, its horn beeping, and Willow waved through the open door.
‘Thank you. It all started off as a hobby, but it’s really taken off.’ She looked around her shop, a contented smile on her lips. ‘I love it.’
‘I feel the same about my bed and breakfast,’ Mae said. ‘Which is what I’m here about. I’ve had a cancellation, so if you’re still looking for a room…’
Willow threw her hand up to her mouth to catch a gasp. ‘Oh my God. Are you serious?’
Mae nodded. ‘The call came through while I was on my break. By the time I came back through to the pub, you’d gone. The room’s only available for two weeks, but it’ll give you a bit of breathing space to find somewhere more permanent until the work on your house is done.’
‘Thank you!’ Willow launched herself at Mae, throwing her arms around the woman and squeezing hard before she got a grip of herself and let go. She giggled, her cheeks turning pink. ‘Sorry. I’m just so relieved.’
Mae laughed. ‘I bet you are. I hope you haven’t bought a tent since I last saw you?’
‘Thankfully not.’ Mae giggled and did a little jig on the spot. ‘I should let my husband know I’ve found somewhere. He isn’t here at the moment. He’s working away, but should be back in a few days. Will it be a problem if I’m still at the B&B when he returns?’
Mae shook her head. ‘No problem at all. The room’s a double.’
‘Brilliant.’ Willow heaved a huge sigh of relief. ‘I could do with moving some things over to my room. Luckily most of our stuff is in storage, but I need clothes and my essentials. When would be okay to drop them off?’
‘Whenever you’re ready. If I’m not there, my neighbour can let you in and show you where everything is.’
‘Thanks again.’ Willow paused in thought before she shrugged and threw herself at Mae for another squeeze.
Chapter Seven (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Melody
Melody took her time as she wandered towards the seafront, her rucksack on her back, her laptop bag looped across her chest and her camera dangling from its strap around her neck. She’d been dipping into little cobbled side streets, taking photos of anything that caught her eye: a seagull perched on a garden wall with a pretty cottage and flower-filled hanging baskets in the background, a family loaded with buckets and spades and folded deckchairs on their way down to the beach, a little shop with its window full of quirky seaside treasures: tealights made from shells, driftwood wreaths to hang on doors, and a mirror beautifully surrounded by smooth pebbles in shades of blue and grey. Melody had been particularly taken with the seashell tealights, but the door had been locked and there didn’t appear to be anybody inside.
Melody had continued on her way, the tang of salt and seaweed growing stronger as she made her way through the town, until she found herself on the promenade. The noise was incredible: waves sloshing, children playing, music blaring from the pier and the nearby arcade, seagulls crying out as they swooped along the beach in search of food. Melody closed her eyes and allowed the music of the seaside to wash over her. This was what she was searching for. The heart of the British seaside beating loud and clear. It was everywhere; the joyous sounds of nature and humankind combined, the smell of the sea and fried food mingling to create the distinct scent that took Melody back to her carefree childhood, the crunch of sand underfoot, swept up onto the promenade. Melody made her way to the railing and looked down at the beach, at the happiness sand and sunshine created. Families, couples, dog-walkers, all enjoying this bright, hot day on the stretch of beach. To her right and stretching out into the water was the wooden pier and its fairground-style amusements, and to the left, about half a mile away, were the cliffs that cut off the beach. She’d like to climb to the top of the cliffs and take a photo of the beach from there, but first she needed to find somewhere to stay. The straps of her rucksack were digging into her shoulders, the movement as she walked causing them to rub at the flesh. She’d find somewhere to stay, freshen up, and head back out to discover Clifton-on-Sea’s hidden delights.
Her stomach rumbled as she pushed away from the railing, reminding her she had yet to eat lunch. She’d been so caught up in her new surroundings that she hadn’t thought about eating since she’d clapped eyes on the cakes at the train station’s tearoom.
Food first, she decided, then accommodation.
Turning, she could already see several options before her: a pub – the Red Lion – with a chalkboard outside, claiming great food and a family atmosphere; a restaurant with black paintwork and matching awning stark against its creamy rendering; a bakery with its window crammed with tempting sweet treats; and a fish and chip shop that made Melody’s stomach grumble even louder at the mere sight. That was settled then.
The delicious smell wafting from the fish and chip shop made her stomach growl again as she crossed the road but, hungry as she clearly was, she didn’t step inside straight away and join the queue. There were a few things Melody couldn’t resist, and adorable dogs was one of them.
‘Hello, little guy.’ Crouching, Melody held out a hand for the dog to sniff. His lead was tied around a lamppost, but he stood, his tail swishing from side to side like windscreen wipers in heavy rainfall, and gave Melody’s palm a thorough investigation with his wet nose. Finding the hand disappointingly empty, he sat down again, his head on one side as he observed his new friend.
‘Aren’t you a cutie?’ Melody cooed, stroking the dog’s head. ‘Yes, you are. You are lovely.’
The dog closed his eyes as Melody started to scratch his ears, enjoying the fuss. He was quite a small dog, with scraggly golden fur on his body, legs and head, with a darker, greyish shade on his muzzle and ears.
‘And smartly dressed too.’ The dog was wearing a red tartan bandana around his neck, which Melody reached out to touch. ‘So handsome. Who’s a handsome boy then?’
‘The ladies often tell me I am.’
Melody twisted away from the dog, looking up as the owner of the voice swaggered out of the fish and chip shop. Perhaps ‘swaggered’ was too strong a word. Perhaps he’d simply exited the shop in a normal fashion, but Melody was annoyed and flustered he’d caught her baby-talking to a dog.
‘Is that so?’ She stood up, readjusting the rucksack on her back.
He grinned at her, which only infuriated her further. Smug bastard. ‘Not as handsome as this fella, obviously.’ He indicated the dog and Melody felt her cheeks burn.
‘Obviously,’ she said, trying to subtly swish her blonde hair so it would cover her hot cheeks. ‘No contest.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of trying to compete against this little dude.’ The door behind him opened as another customer was exiting, so he stepped out of the way. Before the door could swing closed again, Melody stepped forward and reached out a hand to stop it. ‘See you around!’ he called as Melody stepped into the shop, but she didn’t turn around.
The fish and chips had been as delicious as the enticing aroma had promised. Melody ate her lunch on the beach, her rucksack and laptop bag wedged into the sand next to her, as she people-watched. She took a couple of photos between bites of food, but there’d be plenty of time for more later. For now, she was happy soaking up the blissful atmosphere of this particular beach, absorbing the happy vibes and feeling the sun on her skin. British summers didn’t always deliver and she was usually stuck in a stuffy office even if they did, so she was determined to make the most of the sunshine.
She’d visited lots of beaches over the past few weeks; some had been large expanses of sand sweeping along the perimeter of bustling towns, others tiny strips and coves, but they’d all had one thing in common for Melody: they were idyllic spaces offering a sense of freedom, of possibility. Clifton-on-Sea was no different. The beach was smaller than that of nearby Blackpool, and the town wasn’t as busy, but Melody felt a similar carefree atmosphere, the same sense of fun and adventure. She liked it here already, and she was sure she’d find exactly what she was looking for.
Scrunching up the greasy paper, now devoid of fish and chips, Melody picked up her bags, brushed down her shorts, and headed up the sand-brushed steps towards the promenade. There was a bed and breakfast across the road from the pier and she headed towards it, popping her rubbish in a bin on the way. Unfortunately, before she’d even reached it, she saw the ‘No Vacancies’ sign propped up in one of the windows.
Damn. It looked as though finding accommodation wasn’t going to be as easy as Melody had thought, but she wasn’t worried as there were no doubt several more B&Bs in town. Taking out her phone, she tapped on the Project: Planet app she’d been using during her travels, typing her location into the accommodation search bar and waiting for the results. As predicted, a list appeared, though it wasn’t quite as extensive as she’d hoped. The app provided phone numbers for each establishment, but Melody decided to walk to the nearest on the list as it was a good opportunity to explore the town.
The nearest bed and breakfast was a couple of streets back from the beach, on a tree-lined street filled with a jumble of mismatched houses of varying sizes, colours and periods, which somehow gave it a charming feel. The bed and breakfast was a short walk away and was one of the larger properties, set back from the road with a sizeable drive. Melody couldn’t see a ‘No Vacancies’ sign as she made her way to the stone steps leading up to the entrance, which was promising. A couple of minutes later, however, after a short conversation with a bored teenager behind the reception desk, Melody trudged back down the steps, the Project: Planet app open on her phone again.
There was a similar story at the next two B&Bs and Melody found herself back on the seafront, heading away from the pier in search of the next one on the app’s list. Her hope of finding accommodation in Clifton-on-Sea was dwindling. If she couldn’t find lodgings, she’d have to hop on a train and search elsewhere, which wasn’t too much of a problem, but not ideal when she was so keen to explore the town. Still, she could always return if she had time to spare before she returned home.
Thinking of home, she took a quick selfie of herself in front of the red railings of the promenade, the gorgeous view of the beach and sea behind her, and sent it to her mum with a quick message to let her know she was safe and enjoying her trip.
See you soon, she ended the text. Love to you, Dad and Brett xxx
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and shrugged her rucksack off her shoulders for a minute’s reprieve. Rummaging inside, she found a hairband and pulled her hair off her neck, securing it in a high ponytail. The afternoon was growing hotter and the walk through town was proving to be more arduous than she’d thought it would be, with unexpectedly steep streets and an even more unexpected scorcher of a day. There was a bottle of water in her rucksack, which she drank from gratefully before fastening the bag and hitching it onto her back. There was another bed and breakfast just up the road, but if that was also full, she’d have to reconsider her plan of action as she was quickly running out of options.
She set off again, sticking to the promenade so she could watch the action on the beach as she walked. There was a game of volleyball going on using an inflatable beachball, a couple of Frisbees were zipping through the air, and there were sandcastles galore. Melody stopped for a moment to take a couple of shots before moving on, but she hadn’t got very far when she stopped again, gasping as she spotted a couple of donkeys, a child on each of their backs, plodding along the sand towards her. She froze for a moment, just watching, as the donkeys placed careful hooves on the sand, the giggling children – a boy and a girl – jostling gently as they clung tightly to bright red reins. The donkeys had almost passed by the time she’d pulled herself together enough to grab her camera. Jogging back up the promenade, Melody leaned over the railing, lining up the perfect shot, clicking several times as the donkeys plodded on.
Lowering her camera and taking a small step back from the rail, Melody continued to watch as the donkeys continued up the beach, tails swishing lazily behind them, her mind wandering back to a different time, a different beach.
Finally, the spell broken, she set off again, adjusting the rucksack on her tired shoulders. Ahead, the promenade widened, but the space was currently being filled with little bodies and their parents as they sat in a haphazard semicircle in front of a vintage, red-and-white-striped Punch and Judy booth. Melody navigated the crowd but hesitated as she made it to the other side of the booth, glancing at the ice-cream van that had conveniently parked close to the show. The van was sky-blue and white, with a giant, plastic ice-cream cone – complete with Flake and dripping strawberry sauce – on the roof, while large lettering identified the van as belonging to the Marsland Brothers with their homemade ice cream. An ice cream in the hot weather did seem appealing, especially as she drew closer and saw the delicious flavours on offer. Toffee fudge, orange chocolate chip, bubble gum, passion fruit, banoffee pie, cappuccino, as well as the more traditional vanilla, strawberry and raspberry ripple. She’d already decided on a banoffee pie cone by the time she reached the van, but the serving hatch was empty. Never one to miss a photo opportunity, Melody grabbed her camera and aimed, taking a step back so she could line up the perfect shot. A figure suddenly appeared in the hatch, making her jump.
‘I’m ready for my close-up,’ he said and Melody groaned, seeing the bloke she’d encountered outside the fish and chip shop earlier. ‘How do you want me?’
‘You really don’t want me to answer that one, pal.’ Dropping her camera so it hung from its strap around her neck, she stepped forward. ‘Can I get a banoffee pie ice cream?’
‘Cone or pot?’
‘Cone, please.’ She shrugged her rucksack off her shoulders and rummaged inside for her purse. ‘And can I get a Flake too?’
‘Anything for you,’ he replied with a wink before turning to prepare her ice cream. Melody fought the urge to gag. Was he this cheesy with all his customers?
‘One scoop or two?’ he called over his shoulder.
‘Just one.’ Melody located her purse and unzipped it, grabbing the appropriate coins. The ice-cream-van man reappeared at the hatch, the delicious-looking cone outstretched. Melody made the switch, unable to resist licking the toffee sauce that was already starting to drip down onto the cone.
‘See you around!’ he called as she wandered off, mentally in heaven as her tongue lapped at the ice cream. It was truly amazing and so refreshing in the heat. She raised a hand in lieu of a goodbye, already knowing she would re-enter the cheese zone tomorrow for another go at one of his ice creams.
Chapter Eight (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Mae
‘Mummy!’
Mae hadn’t even swung the gate open at her mum’s house and Hannah was already hurtling towards her, her new sandals slapping noisily against the garden path as she propelled her little body forward. Moments earlier, Hannah had been playing with her dolls on the small patch of grass in front of the house while her grandmother relaxed with a book in a deckchair.
‘Hello, little lady.’ Mae opened the gate quickly and scooped her daughter into her arms, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek and making her giggle. ‘I hope you’ve been behaving for Nanny.’
‘She’s been an angel,’ Eloise said from the deckchair. She twisted her wrist to check the time. ‘You’re early, aren’t you?’
‘There was a bit of a problem with the B&B, so Corinne sent me home early.’
‘Typical Corinne,’ Eloise said as she placed her book facedown on the grass. ‘Is everything okay with the B&B now?’
Mae shifted Hannah onto her hip and made her way across to her mum. ‘It’s all sorted. I’ve had a cancellation on both of my rooms, but I’ve managed to fill one of them already.’ Mae placed Hannah back down on the grass in front of her dolls. ‘Hopefully I’ll be able to fill the other quickly and won’t miss out on too many days.’
‘It’s high season, so I’m sure it won’t be a problem.’ Eloise slotted a bookmark between the pages of her book and closed it. ‘So, this guest. Is it a female guest? Or male?’ She’d adopted a casual tone as she enquired, but she was fooling no one. Though single herself, Eloise was desperate to see her daughter coupled with a man – any man, it sometimes seemed to Mae.
‘It’s a woman,’ Mae said, trying not to smile when she saw the clear disappointment on her mother’s face. ‘She’s married, but her husband’s working away or something.’
‘Working away, eh?’ Eloise said. ‘That’s what I used to tell people whenever your father buggered off with one of his floozies.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing like that,’ Mae said, though her voice was filled with little conviction. In her experience, men and relationships usually came hand-in-hand with heartache.
Eloise shrugged. ‘Maybe not. There are some decent fellas out there, if you look hard enough. Or look at all in your case.’
‘Mum…’ Mae groaned.
Eloise held her hands up in surrender. ‘I’m just saying.’
‘Well, don’t just say anything.’
‘Sorry. I just worry about you being on your own.’ Eloise battled with the deckchair to get her feet on solid ground. ‘Are you staying for a cup of tea?’
‘I shouldn’t, really. My new guest is picking some things up and I’d like to be there to settle her in. You know how grateful I am having Mrs Hornchurch on hand, but she does like to chew people’s ears off.’
‘She’s lonely,’ Eloise said. ‘That house used to be full to the brim with people when I was growing up next door. There were Mr and Mrs Hornchurch, their three children, Mrs Hornchurch’s parents and an aunt or cousin – I can’t remember which now. It was bedlam! Now there’s just poor Mrs Hornchurch rattling around the old place with only the dog for company.’
‘I do try to stop and chat when I can.’ Mae felt bad now. She knew how much loneliness could bite.
‘I know you do.’ Eloise, having freed herself from the deckchair, gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek. ‘Now, are you sure I can’t tempt you with a cuppa? I’m parched in this heat.’
‘I really should be getting back. I’m not sure how long it’ll take Willow to pack her things. She said she won’t be bringing much.’ Crouching on the grass, Mae started to gather the dolls and place them in the plastic box that housed them and their accessories.
‘Okay, darling.’ Eloise took the box of dolls and tucked it under one arm before leaning in to kiss Mae’s cheek. ‘Take care – and don’t work too hard.’ She stooped down to kiss her granddaughter. ‘Bye, sweetheart. Be good!’
Taking Hannah’s hand, Mae made her way to the car, strapping Hannah into her seat at the back before climbing in herself. She waved to her mum – who had returned to the deckchair and her book – before driving back to the bed and breakfast.
The house Mae had grown up in – and which Eloise still occupied – was only a few minutes’ drive from the seafront, but it had always felt like a big adventure whenever Mae had visited her grandparents as a child. It felt different at Granny and Grandpa’s, as though the town was more alive down by the seafront, and it was certainly more fun with the beach, pier and arcade within easy reach. She’d loved the house as a little girl, with its three floors of rooms to explore and the large garden at the back with a rope swing and slide. It hadn’t been a bed and breakfast back then – it had simply been Granny and Grandpa’s house, almost a second home for Mae growing up. It had been a happy place, away from the drama of her parents’ often turbulent relationship, and she hoped she’d created an equally happy home for her daughter.
‘Can I watch telly?’ Hannah asked as soon as they arrived home, sliding her new sandals off her feet without unbuckling them and kicking them onto the hallway floor.
‘Don’t you think you should put these away first?’ Mae scooped the sandals up from the floor and handed them to her daughter. ‘Before our guest arrives and breaks her neck before she’s even unpacked?’
‘Who’s coming to stay today?’ Hannah asked as she and Mae climbed the stairs. Mae was about to tell her about Willow when the doorbell rang, the sudden and piercing sound making her jump.
‘Make sure you put those in the bottom of the wardrobe,’ she said, pointing at the sandals before scurrying back down the stairs again. She opened the door, expecting to see Willow on the doorstep, but it was a young woman, blonde rather than brunette like Willow, wearing cut-off denim shorts and a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt. She had a hefty-looking rucksack slung over her shoulders, the strap of a laptop-style bag crossing her chest, and a camera looped around her neck. How she was still standing under the weight of it all was a mystery to Mae.
‘I don’t suppose you have a room free?’ she asked. She bit her lip as she waited for an answer, her eyebrows inching slowly up her weary-looking face.
‘You’re in luck,’ Mae said, opening the door wider and stepping aside. ‘I’ve had a cancellation this afternoon and the room’s still free. Come in and I’ll get you booked in.’
‘Really?’ She smiled now, her lips stretching wide across her face. She had such a pretty face, with rosy, defined cheeks and blue eyes that sparkled now she was no longer grimacing. ‘Thank you so much. I’ve been wandering around for ages. I couldn’t find a room anywhere! I thought I was going to have to move on, which is a shame as this seems like such a lovely town. I’m sorry, I’m babbling.’
Mae laughed as she led the way into the living room. ‘Don’t worry about it, and I’m glad you’ve found somewhere to stay. I’m Mae Wright, by the way.’
‘Melody Rosewood.’ The woman held her hand out and Mae shook it. ‘This is a gorgeous house. I’ve stayed in some pretty grotty places over the past couple of weeks, but this is not one of them.’
‘Thanks.’ Mae looked around her living room, which, she had to admit, she loved. There was the original fireplace in the centre of the room, with bookcases built into the alcoves either side, and although she’d painted the whole room a warm cream shade, she’d brightened the space with splashes of colour, from the teal sofa and its lime-green and fuchsia scatter cushions, to the yellow tub chairs either side of the bay window and the vases and trinkets dispersed around the room. It was an inviting, comfortable space for Mae and she hoped her guests felt the same.
‘Take a seat.’ Mae indicated the sofa, which, she now noticed, had a light film of short, dark hairs in one corner. That bloody cat! ‘I won’t be a minute.’
As much as the cat hairs bugged Mae, their removal would have to wait a moment as whipping the cushion away would only draw more attention to them. Instead, while Melody settled herself, Mae dashed into the family room to grab her laptop. The family room had once been her grandparents’ dining room, but when Mae opened the bed and breakfast, she’d wanted a space for herself and Hannah, a place separate from the guests, for them to relax in without having to share with strangers. As the kitchen was large enough to dine in, this seemed like the perfect solution. This room was smaller than the living room (and seemed smaller still as Mae’s desk was squeezed into an alcove), but she’d made it a cosy space for them both. An old but sigh-inducing sofa took up the bulk of the space, with hand-knitted patchwork blankets draped over the back for chilly nights curled up in front of the telly.
‘Here we go,’ Mae said as she returned to the living room with her laptop. Thankfully, Melody had chosen the side of the sofa that hadn’t been abused by the feline intruder, and Mae sat there now, cringing inwardly about the state her dress was going to be in when she stood up. ‘I’ll just take a few details and tell you a little bit about our bed and breakfast, and then I’ll give you a quick tour and show you to your room.’ Mae opened her laptop, which she’d already turned on at her desk, and clicked on her bookings file, deleting the Robertsons’ data so she could add Melody’s details instead. ‘We’re a small bed and breakfast – there are just two rooms available – and I live here with my four-year-old daughter, Hannah. She’s upstairs, but I’m sure she’ll make her presence known soon.’ Luckily, Melody laughed and didn’t run for the hills (or cliffs) at the prospect of cohabiting with a small child. ‘Breakfast is available from seven, and there’ll be a selection of fresh pastries, cereal, toast and fruit to help yourself to. There’s a kettle in your room, but feel free to make tea or coffee in the kitchen too. I’ll take you through in a moment and show you where everything is.’
Mae continued with the bed and breakfast details, making sure to include vital information such as the price per night, before taking down Melody’s details and booking her in.
‘How many nights were you planning on staying in Clifton-on-Sea?’ she asked. ‘The room is available for the next two weeks.’
‘I’ll only need a couple of nights,’ Melody said. ‘I’m sort of flitting from one town to the next.’
‘Oh? Sounds interesting.’
‘It’s for a photography project.’ Melody held up the camera dangling from the strap around her neck. ‘I’m visiting as many coastal towns in the north as I can and capturing moments of the great British seaside.’
‘That sounds wonderful. I’d love to see your photos so far.’
Melody’s gaze dropped to her camera, her hair falling in front of her pink-tinged cheeks as she fiddled with the buttons. ‘Um, maybe. I’m not sure if they’re any good. I’m not a professional photographer or anything.’
‘I’m sure they’re amazing.’ Mae smiled at Melody before closing the laptop and shifting it onto the coffee table. ‘Shall I give you the brief but grand tour?’
Mae led Melody through the house, starting with the kitchen, which Mae adored. The room was large, with a light and airy feel due to the high ceilings and French doors that led to the garden at the back of the house. A long breakfast bar separated the kitchen and dining area, with four tall stools lined up along it.
‘The breakfast things will be set out here,’ Mae said, indicating the breakfast bar. ‘But, like I said, feel free to make yourself a drink in here whenever you want. Make yourself at home, in here and the living room. There’s just one room that’s private down here.’ Mae led the way out of the kitchen and indicated the family room. ‘There’s a bathroom upstairs, but your room is up in the attic and has its own shower room. Come up and have a look.’
Mae led the way up the stairs, pointing out the main bathroom before continuing up to the attic room. The room was gorgeous and cosy, with dove-grey walls and soft-blue furnishings. She’d managed to fit a double bed in the middle of the room, with built-in storage on one side and an en-suite shower room on the other. There was a dormer window at the back, with a sofa pushed along the wall, invitingly dressed with fluffy scatter cushions in shades of blue, pink and grey.
‘I’ll leave you to get settled in,’ Mae said after the tour. ‘Give me a shout if you need anything.’
Climbing down the attic stairs, Mae checked on Hannah, who had forgotten about the telly and was busy playing with her Shopkins figures in her bedroom. Mae had just returned to the kitchen and was about to put the kettle on when the doorbell rang and the bed and breakfast tour started all over again.
Chapter Nine (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Melody
Melody hadn’t been kidding when she told the landlady of the bed and breakfast she’d stayed in some grotty places over the last couple of weeks; there had been gloomy rooms, questionable stains on sheets, clogged plugholes and drains, and a general air of ickiness. But the Seafront Bed and Breakfast was truly beautiful. The rooms looked like lifestyle-magazine spreads come to life, but they had a homely, lived-in feel too. She’d been a bit apprehensive to begin with, stepping into such a luxurious home when she was feeling dishevelled – and, let’s be honest, a bit sweaty – after her train journey and trek through town in the heat. But then she’d spotted the cat hairs on the sofa and felt more at ease. Any home owner who allowed their cat to laze on their posh sofa couldn’t be too precious, so she’d been able to relax and sink into the sofa herself.
Melody’s room was just as beautiful as the rest of the property. The room was tastefully – and thoughtfully – kitted out and the welcoming basket of goodies she found on the bed was a nice touch, as was the private shower room, which Melody made use of as soon as she’d unpacked her rucksack. She felt much better as she emerged from her room in a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Heading downstairs, she found the landlady sitting in the kitchen with another woman. Both were perched at the breakfast bar with cups of tea and coffee in front of them.
‘Melody, come and meet Willow,’ Mae said, twisting on her stool to face her. ‘She’s just arrived too.’
‘Hello.’ Melody stepped towards the pair, holding out a hand for the new arrival to shake. But, completely ignoring the proffered hand, the woman hopped off her stool and threw her arms around Melody for a quick hug.
‘It’s lovely to meet you! Where are you from? How long are staying?’ Willow hopped back up onto her stool and patted the empty seat next to her. ‘Come and sit with us and tell us everything.’
Melody hesitated. She’d been planning on heading out into town again, perhaps heading up the cliffs to take some photos of the town from up there. There were so many towns to visit, so many views and moments to capture, that she didn’t really have time to sit and chat. She’d be returning home – and to her day job – in less than a week, so she had to squeeze every precious moment out of the next few days.
‘I’ll pop the kettle back on,’ Mae said, sliding off her stool. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
The cliffs could wait a few more minutes, Melody decided as she climbed up onto the stool. She was suddenly gasping for a cup of tea now the offer had been made. She hadn’t had a cup since early that morning, before she’d checked out of the last bed and breakfast and hopped onto the train to Clifton-on-Sea.
‘Tea would be great, thanks. Milk, no sugar.’
‘Did you find everything you needed in your room?’ Mae asked as she flicked the kettle on.
‘Yes, thanks. The room’s great – much better than all the others I’ve stayed in.’
A cautious smile teased the corners of Mae’s pillar-box-red lips. ‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. You wouldn’t believe some of the dumps I’ve stayed in. This place is amazing.’
‘It really is,’ Willow agreed. ‘And I’m not just saying that because I’ve been living in a work site.’ She explained about the work-in-progress state of her new house and the disastrous turn of events that day. ‘I hope my house is half as nice as this place once we’ve finished.’
‘I’ve seen some of your creations,’ Mae said, placing a cup of tea in front of Melody and joining the ladies at the breakfast bar. ‘Your house is going to beautiful.’
‘Creations?’ Melody asked.
‘I upcycle,’ Willow explained. ‘I take old, unloved objects and breathe new life into them.’
‘She made a boat into a bed,’ Mae said. ‘It was incredible!’
‘Incredibly heavy,’ Willow said. ‘Thanks for your help at the shop earlier, by the way. I don’t know how Malcolm’s going to manage once he gets it home.’ Willow drained her cup of coffee. ‘Speaking of the shop, I really should be getting back. It’s been closed all day and I’ve got a delivery later.’
‘I think I passed your shop earlier,’ Melody said as Willow hopped off her stool. ‘Up by the station?’
‘That’s it,’ Willow said with a nod. ‘I usually have an assistant, but he’s not well so I had to close when the builder phoned with the impending doom news.’
‘I’ll try and pop in before I move on,’ Melody said. ‘Buy a souvenir or two, though perhaps not a boat bed. It might be a bit of a squeeze on the train.’
‘I’m not sure it’d fit in the overhead compartment,’ Willow agreed as she looped her handbag over her shoulder. She checked the time on the kitchen clock and pulled a face. ‘Really sorry. Must dash, but we’ll have a proper chat later.’
Melody nodded as she picked up her cup of tea, though she didn’t commit verbally. She didn’t want to appear rude, but she really was pushed for time and had a lot of work to do. She drank her tea quickly and then she, too, was on her way, her camera around her neck at the ready. The sun wasn’t quite as intense now the afternoon was pushing on, but it was still hot as she made her way towards the cliffs. She found the path easily and followed it to the top, gulping down water due to the heat and steepness, until she reached the top.
The clifftop was covered in a carpet of grass, thistles and wild flowers, with a path worn through to the cliff’s edge. As predicted, the view from was amazing as she looked down onto the beach and the sea, with its frothy waves lolling towards the sand. The stretch of sand wasn’t as busy now, but there were still plenty of families making the most of the good weather. She couldn’t see the donkeys from earlier, but took a few shots of the beach, capturing the pier in the distance, before turning her attention to the town, snapping the rooftops, clusters of trees and cobbled streets. Once she felt she’d caught the essence of Clifton-on-Sea on a sunny late afternoon, she wandered to a bench set a safe distance from the cliff’s edge and flicked through the photos, deleting any obvious duds before moving on to the next. There were some pretty decent shots already, but Melody knew she’d have to return to the clifftop to see the view at nighttime or before dawn. A shot at sunrise would be incredible and might be just the moment she was hoping to catch.
She’d scrolled back through her photos of Fleetwood a few days earlier, scrutinising the shots as best she could on the small screen of her camera, when a dog’s bark made her look up. The clifftop had been deserted since her arrival but it seemed she now had company.
The bark came again before a small body bounded into view, the small golden ball of fluff hurtling towards her. It barked when it saw her – twice, in quick succession – and picked up speed until it stopped suddenly, plonking itself at her feet and giving a quieter woof of greeting.
‘Hello again.’ Melody reached down to stroke the dog on the head, giggling as he twisted his head so he could lick her hand. She recognised the dog from outside the fish and chip shop earlier, though he’d swapped his red tartan bandana for a bright yellow one. ‘Aren’t you a friendly chap?’
‘He loves the ladies, the old charmer,’ a voice said and, when Melody looked up, she groaned inwardly. It was the bloke from the ice-cream van. The bloke she’d spoken to briefly outside the fish and chip shop. The one who’d caught her talking to a dog. His dog, it transpired, judging by the lead dangling from his fingers. His dirty blond hair had been tied back earlier, but now the longish curls were free and dancing around in the breeze.
‘Don’t fall for it, though. He looks all adorable and sweet now, but wait until you find him with your favourite, expensive trainers in his gob.’ He gave the dog a reproachful look before sitting down on the opposite end of the bench to Melody. ‘Taking photos again? How do you want me?’ He flicked one long leg up onto the bench and leaned back, pouting at her and, though she tried hard not to, Melody heard a giggle escape.
‘You’re not quite what I’m looking for,’ she said.
‘No?’ He righted himself and leaned down to scratch the dog’s ear. ‘What are you looking for?’
‘Just this.’ She swept a hand out to indicate the view. ‘The town. The seaside. The Britishness, I guess.’
‘Got anything good?’ he asked, nodding towards the camera, and she shrugged. ‘Can I see?’
Melody switched the camera off and pulled it closer towards her body. ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
He gave a lazy, one-shouldered shrug and leaned back against the bench. ‘Fair enough.’
‘It’s just…’ She frowned, wondering why she was explaining herself to this stranger who was managing to get on her nerves despite doing very little to justify it. ‘I don’t really show my photos to people.’
‘Blimey, what kind of photos do you have on there?’ He grinned at her, still lounging against the back of the bench. ‘Now I’m even more intrigued.’
‘Get stuffed.’
‘Hey, I was only kidding,’ he said as Melody rose from the bench. ‘Don’t go. I’ll shut up, I promise. I won’t say another word.’ He mimed zipping his lips and Melody was annoyed further as she felt her lips pull up into a hint of a smile.
‘Sorry, I’m not usually this touchy. It’s just…’ Melody lowered herself back onto the bench, her fingers fiddling with the camera as she tried to find the right words to excuse her grouchiness. ‘My photos are sort of private. Not in that way. I just find it difficult to show people. It’s daft, I know, and I’m working on it, but…’ She shrugged. ‘It isn’t easy.’
She dragged her gaze from her camera to look at her bench companion, but while he was watching her intently, he was true to his word and didn’t open his mouth.
‘Your dog’s very cute,’ she said, blatantly changing the subject. She reached down to stroke him again and he sneaked another doggy kiss onto her hand. ‘What’s his name?’ She scratched behind his ear, but looked up when she received no reply. Her companion raised an eyebrow at her and pointed at his closed mouth.
Crossing her arms, Melody sighed. ‘Are you telling me your lips are still zipped?’ He nodded and Melody rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. You can unzip them now.’
Giving a closed-mouth smile, he reached for the corner of his mouth with a pinched-together thumb and index finger, but instead of sliding the fingers across his mouth, he gave a couple of short tugs before widening his eyes at Melody. He gave a few more tugs before he gave up and threw his hands up into the air.
‘The zip’s stuck, isn’t it?’ Melody asked, suppressing a sigh. He nodded before pointing first at Melody’s hand and then at his mouth. ‘You want me to help?’ He nodded again and so, giving another eye-roll, Melody reached towards the guy’s mouth, feeling like the biggest fool as she made a pincer movement with her finger and thumb. Grabbing her hand, he helped ‘tug’ the zip back across his mouth.
‘Thank you,’ he gasped, slumping against the bench.
‘You’re an idiot,’ Melody said, but she was smiling.
‘You’re not the first to make that observation,’ he said with a grin. ‘Luckily, I’m also thick-skinned.’ He reached down to give the dog some fuss. ‘His name’s Scoop Dog, in case you’re still wondering.’
The giggle erupted without warning and Melody pushed a hand to her mouth to muffle it. ‘Scoop Dog?’
‘Scoop to his friends. He seems to like you, so Scoop it is.’
‘Scoop as in ice-cream scoop?’ Melody asked.
‘We’ve found ourselves a clever one here, boy,’ he told the dog, giving his head a good scratch.
‘Hey.’ Melody folded her arms across her chest. ‘I could always zip you back up, you know.’
‘Sorry.’ He picked the dog up and sat him on his lap, giving his head another scratch. ‘Let’s start again. Meet Scoop, the bravest dog in Clifton-on-Sea, perhaps even the world.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Scoop.’ Melody gave the dog a stroke and received a lick in return. ‘What makes him so brave, other than being seen out in public with a madman?’
‘I’ll ignore that last comment,’ Scoop’s owner said. ‘And launch straight into the story of how Hugo – that’s me – met Scoop Dog.’
Scoop, Melody learned, was a rescue dog who’d been found cowering in a bush, bloody and collarless, five months ago. He’d been savaged so badly by another dog – perhaps more than one – the vet wasn’t sure the poor fella would make it. But after lots and lots of TLC – plus surgery and numerous stitches – Scoop had surprised the vet by making a full recovery.
‘He has a bit of scarring,’ Hugo said, lifting Scoop to show his underside. ‘And his fur is only just starting to grow back on his neck.’ He popped the dog back down and lifted the yellow bandana to show the patchy fur underneath. ‘But other than that, he’s on top physical form.’
‘So how did you come to own him?’ Melody asked.
‘The vet’s a mate of mine from the pub,’ Hugo said. ‘Scoop wasn’t tagged and nobody came forward to claim him, so once he was ready to be rehoused, I asked to meet the little guy and that’s how we became buddies.’
‘You are brave,’ Melody told the dog, stroking his golden fur. ‘And lucky to have found a good bloke to look after you.’
‘I thought I was an idiot,’ Hugo said.
Melody shrugged. ‘Against all the odds, you seem to have redeemed yourself.’
Chapter Ten (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Willow
Willow had been eighteen when she met Ethan in a bar close to the university where they were both studying. She was in her first year, Ethan in his second, and they’d hit it off immediately, though just as friends. Willow had a boyfriend back home and Ethan was seeing a girl on his course, but even when she split up with Alex, the boyfriend from back home, it was Ethan’s housemate she started seeing, beginning a not-very-serious five-month relationship. Through the relationship and subsequent break-up, Willow and Ethan remained good friends, and the friendship lasted until they went their separate ways after university. It was four or five years later that they met up again after one of the guys from their group of uni mates set up a reunion on Facebook. Willow hadn’t really thought about Ethan all that much, to be honest, but as soon as she saw him again in the arranged bar, she knew they were meant to be together.
It was supposed to be simple from that moment on. Both single this time round, they started dating, fell in love and got married. But fairy tales were for children’s books, and real life didn’t have a guaranteed happy ending. Willow was painfully aware of this fact as she looked up at her poor, scaffold-clad house, its fate unknown. They’d had such high hopes when they’d bought the house, when they’d moved their essential possessions into the little room at the back, the one requiring the least work that would become their living and sleeping quarters during the renovation. The little room Willow couldn’t wait to decorate and fill with furniture she’d lovingly upcycled.
But now?
Maybe we shouldn’t have bought this house. We should have thought about it more. Thought about us, our future.
Willow didn’t know what was in their future now. She’d been so sure, naive perhaps, but she’d assumed their wedding day was the start of the life they both wanted, this house the setting, the anchor, a place to fill with beautiful memories.
At the moment, we don’t even know what’s in the future for us.
Pushing Ethan’s words from her mind, Willow pulled away from the house, moving away from the dream home that was turning into a nightmare, and drove towards the harbour, where the new owners of the Monopoly table lived.
The shop had been pretty quiet for the rest of the afternoon, so Willow had managed to finish off her repurposed jam jars, though she’d really wanted to get stuck into the chest of drawers she was planning to update, as sanding it down would have been a great stress reliever. However, she couldn’t commit to any of the bigger jobs without Gary around to keep an eye on the shop. She’d also used the quiet time to scour the local newspaper for any houses – or even single rooms – up for a short-term lease in the next couple of weeks but hadn’t had any luck. She’d keep looking – she had little choice as she couldn’t stay at the bed and breakfast long-term. She’d been lucky to secure the room for a couple of weeks in the first place.
Once she’d closed up at the end of the day, she’d loaded the Monopoly table and chairs into the van with the reluctant help of the bloke from across the road (who’d complained about missing his gaming time non-stop, right up until the moment Willow handed over a fiver for his help). She’d taken a massive detour to catch a glimpse of the house, desperate to cling on to a tiny shred of hope, to feel the same elation as when they’d bought the property. Instead, she’d been left feeling lost, confused and slightly sick.
The family were delighted with their new purchase and the children set up a game of Kerplunk as soon as the table was set down in the playroom. A smile twitched at Willow’s mouth as she watched them thread the straws through the holes, little tongues poking out from their lips in concentration, the smile spreading slowly across her face until her cheeks started to ache.
‘I think they approve,’ the mum said, also smiling as she watched her children. ‘Thank you so much.’
Willow cleared her throat and nodded, already backing out of the room. ‘It was a pleasure. I hope you have lots of fun with it.’
Saying goodbye to the family, Willow hopped back into the van and headed to the bed and breakfast. She usually kept the van near the shop, preferring to walk to and from work, but she was tired after a day of running around, and the thought of trekking through town didn’t fill her with any sort of enthusiasm. She’d go back to the B&B, enjoy a soak in the bath, phone Ethan and then have an early night. She yawned at the thought of crawling into the sumptuous bed at Mae’s place, at snuggling beneath the smooth sheets and sinking into the soft pillows.
Mae was in the kitchen, singing quietly to the radio as she stirred a pan of something delicious-smelling on the stove, when Willow arrived back at the bed and breakfast. Willow’s stomach growled at the hint of food and she suddenly realised she was ravenous. When was the last time she’d eaten? She’d had a pastry that morning during her walk to work, but had she eaten since? She thought back over the day and realised she hadn’t, so it was no wonder her stomach was protesting.
‘Oh, hello.’ Mae stopped stirring and placed a hand on her chest. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump,’ Willow said. ‘I was just wondering if it was okay to commandeer the bathroom? I could do with a soak after the stressful day I’ve had. I won’t hog it for too long, I promise.’
‘Of course,’ Mae said. ‘Would you like to join us for dinner first? It’ll be ready in a few minutes.’
‘That’s really kind, but I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.’ Willow ignored her stomach as it roared in protest.
‘It’s no trouble at all. It’s only spaghetti Bolognese and I always end up making way too much. I don’t know how it happens: I put the right amount of spaghetti in the pan, yet enough comes out to feed Italy.’ She shrugged and picked up the spoon to give the sauce another stir. ‘It’ll be nice to have some adult company, actually. That’s if you don’t mind eating with me and Hannah. I must warn you – she can be a bit of a chatterbox at times.’
‘I wouldn’t mind at all. It sounds lovely.’
‘Then sit down and relax.’ Mae indicated the table. ‘Shall I open a bottle?’ She grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack integrated into the kitchen units and held it up.
Willow waved her hands in front of her. ‘Not for me, thanks. Red wine always gives me a terrible headache.’
‘I can open white instead,’ Mae said, already slotting the red back into place.
‘I’m fine with water, really.’ Willow sat down at the table. ‘You go ahead, though. Don’t let me spoil your evening.’
‘I’m probably better sticking to water too, actually.’ Instead of reaching for the bottle of white, Mae moved across the kitchen and grabbed three plates from a cupboard. ‘A hangover with a child who seems to think jumping on your bed before dawn is acceptable isn’t such a good idea.’
‘No, I’d imagine not.’
‘She’s great, though,’ Mae said, opening a drawer and grabbing three sets of cutlery. ‘Drives me up the wall sometimes, but I wouldn’t be without her.’ She placed the cutlery on top of the plates and carried them over to the table.
‘Let me do that,’ Willow said, rising from her seat. She took the plates and cutlery and set them out on the table while Mae grabbed glasses and filled them with water, still chatting away.
‘I never really thought about having kids before Hannah came along. I was happy being free to go out there and do what I wanted, when I wanted. I suppose I thought I’d have a family one day, just so far into the future I didn’t have to think about it. I never thought for one minute I’d end up having a baby, on my own, at twenty-six.’
‘So Hannah’s dad isn’t around?’ Willow asked and Mae shook her head.
‘I haven’t heard from him since I broke the news I was pregnant.’
‘What a tosser,’ Willow said. She didn’t know the man, but she despised him immediately. How dare he leave Mae – or any woman for that matter – to shoulder sole responsibility for a child he helped to create. And what sort of scumbag abandons their child?
‘I’m probably better off without him,’ Mae said as she added the glasses of water to the table. ‘But it isn’t fair on Hannah. She doesn’t really understand why some of her friends live with their dad and she doesn’t.’
‘You’re doing a great job, though.’ Willow didn’t really know Mae, but she seemed to have her life sorted. Her house was immaculate, her little girl was delightful, judging from the brief encounter they’d had earlier, and Mae herself was so poised and polished.
‘I have a great support network,’ Mae said as she returned to the stove. ‘My mum is fantastic. I don’t know what I’d do without her, to be honest. She’s a school librarian, so luckily she can look after Hannah for me during the school holidays and at weekends. And then there are Hannah’s godparents, who are amazing, and Mrs Hornchurch from next door is happy to step in and help in an emergency. I’m so lucky to have them.’
Mae did sound lucky, despite her useless ex. For a moment, Willow imagined what it would be like switching places. Would she be happier in Mae’s shoes? Her slingbacks didn’t look particularly comfy, but then Willow was more used to ballet pumps and trainers. She wasn’t glamorous like Mae – the lovely dress she was wearing now would be ruined after a day in Willow’s workroom – but there were aspects of Mae’s life that Willow was sure would be a perfect fit.
The doorbell ringing nudged her out of her musings. Mae headed for the door while Willow took a sip of her water. She didn’t really want to switch lives with Mae, but sometimes the grass did seem lush and green on the other side, especially when you were feeling low.
‘Hello again.’
Mae had returned to the kitchen with a man in tow. Willow frowned at him, wondering why he looked vaguely familiar. Had he been in the shop recently?
‘Sorry, we met in the pub earlier. Local vet, bloke with a bag of chips?’
Ah, yes. Willow remembered now.
‘This is Alfie,’ Mae said. ‘He helped me track you down this afternoon.’
Willow flashed a grateful smile. ‘Thanks for that. I don’t know what I would have done if Mae hadn’t offered me the room. I’d probably be staring at a pile of canvas and poles, wondering why they didn’t look like a tent.’
Alfie laughed. ‘I have to admit, erecting tents isn’t really my thing either. Camping in general has little appeal, actually.’
Willow shuddered. ‘Just think of the bugs. Ugh.’ She shuddered again before turning to Mae. ‘I really can’t thank you enough.’
Mae gave a wave of her hand. ‘There’s really no need. It’s what I’m here for.’
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