Chapter 5
5
The Hideaway, St Aidan
Dancing queens and breakfast telly
Thursday
‘I f you’re barking at the sea again, it’s too early.’
It’s the next morning, and my shout is muffled by the duvet clamped over my head to keep out the morning light that floods in through the windows in the sloping ceiling above the double bed. I’m puzzling because I usually have to prise Shadow out; our mutual love of cosy mornings is another reason we’re so in sync.
When his noise doesn’t stop, I stagger across the living area, rub my eyes awake and hope his wave-chasing will subside before it becomes a habit. It’s only when I reach Shadow, his tail wagging furiously by the French window, and pull back the white muslin curtains to look out that I understand.
‘Sorry.’ I pat his head. ‘Good boy for letting me know we have visitors.’
Except the people I’m looking out at seem more permanent than that. Two women in puffer jackets are outside on the deck, their knees already firmly under a table, ankles crossed under their chairs. When they notice me, one raises a hand and the other gets up and comes towards me.
I open the door a crack. ‘Can I help you?’
‘We saw the sign and came to see if you were up and running.’ She’s looking achingly expectant. ‘We rather hoped we might be your first customers.’
At seven-thirty my groan is entirely justified. ‘I’m still in my pyjamas.’
Which is shorthand for fully shut, do not disturb.
It’s my own fault. A ‘Closed’ sign across the blackboard was all it needed. I add it to the top of my mental to-do list, which I’m much less on top of now than when I was working.
She studies the palm trees on my PJ bottoms. ‘They’re very pretty for nightwear, we’d never have guessed.’
It’s not as if I’m wearing one of those swanky satin sets the fashion editors are already pushing to double up as office-wear in summer. A chrysanthemum-print top with a starry sweatshirt added at midnight to keep out the chill wouldn’t make it into Cosmopolitan , but in Cornwall at dawn I’m warming to the compliment. Which I shouldn’t be at all when I brought them up as my excuse for closing the door immediately and diving back into bed.
‘So what were you hoping to order?’
Her eyes brighten. ‘What have you got?’ As I hesitate, she comes closer. ‘So long as we get a pic for the socials, we’re happy to make do.’
Her friend calls from the table. ‘Before you say it, old people do Insta too now.’
They remind me a lot of my mum, with their early-morning lippy and their buttery blonde balayages. ‘You both look in great shape. Definitely not old.’
The one at the table carries on. ‘That’s thanks to the 5:2 diet, and lots of walking. We never say “no” to puddings though.’
I have to tell them. ‘You do know our Seaspray Cottage branch is serving a very wide menu only a short walk along the beach?’ As well as doing functions, lately Clemmie’s place is open from early ’til midday.
‘But we’re here .’ They sound as determined as my mum. ‘We’re Jean and Shirley, by the way. It’s lovely to meet you, Florence.’ Just as clever as Mum too, using my name off the sign so I feel more obligated.
I lay down some ground rules as I try to think what I’ve got inside. ‘ My Little Cornish Kitchen branch will usually be open by prior arrangement only, with occasional takeaway cake days, and it’ll never serve drinks.’ There’s not enough milk for tea, no bread for eggs on toast, I don’t have bacon. Then it hits me that Clemmie began by serving desserts, and I have my solution. ‘It’s never too early for chocolate, so today – as a very special concession – how about a lucky-dip medley?’ I’m thinking cheesecake cubes and mini scoops of vanilla ice cream all topped off with a Coco Pop garnish. If I give them my left-over slice from tea and the last of my cereal, that’s breakfast and lunch gone, but at least I’ll get my deck back.
Their smiles widen. ‘We’ll have two of those please.’
‘They’ll be eight pounds each.’ The price I pull out of the air is to scare them from ever coming back. Then I remember most of my dishes are dirty. ‘This particular sweet comes in a cup.’
Their eyes brighten. ‘Better and better.’
It’s so unbelievable, it’s surreal. I murmur down at Shadow as I pull the door closed behind me and head to the kitchen area, ‘I promise this is a one-off.’
Even I can do this. I push the boat out with a couple of cocktail umbrellas of Ivy’s I find in the drawer and a slurp of carton custard, and I’m back out in no time. With a tray in my hand I even manage a flourish as I deliver the pieces of kitchen roll I have to run back for.
We get as far as their teaspoons being poised over Ivy’s mismatched cups, then they pause and look up.
‘Yes?’ I should have known it was a big mistake to start this, I only hope I can save myself before I trash Clemmie’s reputation completely.
Shirley coughs. ‘Do you have a card reader?’
Jean joins in. ‘We only have plastic, and we’d hate to start if we couldn’t pay.’
‘Is that all?’ My relief whooshes out of me. ‘You’re my first-ever customers. Even if you did have cash, I don’t have any change. Have these on the house!’ As if I’d argue over a handful of Coco Pops, when all I want to do is wave them on their way.
Twenty minutes later, I’ve managed to let Shadow out for a wee by the door at the back, and then he’s joined us on the deck for ear scratches, and we’ve got all the way to our goodbyes.
Jean squeezes my arm as she heads for the steps. ‘Thank you for opening for us, the sweets were delicious.’
Shirley looks up from the dune. ‘Much too tasty to be free. We’ll drop in when we’re passing and pay for them.’
I have to be firm about this. ‘Really, you don’t have to.’
Jean turns as she reaches the sand. ‘No time to argue, there’s another customer arriving. We may be the wrong side of seventy, but we can still appreciate pecs in a wetsuit fresh from the waves.’
I glimpse what they’re talking about, die of a small heart attack and still manage to reply. ‘That’s my neighbour, I’d better see what he wants.’
I watch them head off along the beach towards St Aidan. When I turn to look the other way again Kit’s stubble shadow is close enough to snag my gaze. When he smiles, the bottom falls out of my stomach. Then Shadow yelps and rushes down off the deck, and as he leans in for another round of head-scratching, I get a grip of myself.
My commitment to staying solo isn’t only because of getting over Dillon. Dating is bad enough if you’re well, having had cancer adds in a million other complications. I mean, why would anyone choose someone who’s been ill when there are so many healthy people out there? If you do happen to get a guy as far as a date, the quandaries begin… Do you drop in the C-word on the first outing and watch them run? Or do you save it until the twenty-first and risk a broken heart when they ghost you? When your confidence is already in tatters, the rejections are especially hard to take. Add in explaining about the scars and the infertility, and it’s easier to forget it altogether.
I don’t even know why I’m obsessing over this now when I’m ninety-nine per cent certain, despite the still-missing wedding ring, that the guy next to me is already spoken for.
I glance at my watch and see it’s barely eight. ‘Does everyone in St Aidan get up before they go to bed?’
Kit rubs his fingers through his damp hair which tousles it even more. ‘It’s hard to sleep with the noise of the sea. Do you find that too?’
I half wish I did. ‘I’m not having any trouble.’ It may change if the weather is more stormy, but as it is the constant roll of the falling waves lulls me. ‘Sleeping was what I found hard in Stoke Newington. The sirens on the High Street would always wake me.’
‘This London refugee is a lot more out of his comfort zone than you are,’ he says, gesturing at Shadow.
It already feels like another lifetime. ‘Shadow is from Hackney. He’s doing it tough.’
Kit smiles at him. ‘I thought I recognised his accent.’
‘You’ve heard him barking?’ The last thing I want is to be a local nuisance.
‘Now and again.’ Kit’s lips are twitching. ‘He’s a dog, it goes with the territory.’ Then his smile breaks free. ‘You’ve got your legs covered up today.’
I’m blinking. ‘For someone wearing neck-to-toe neoprene, that’s a strange observation. Seriously though, the water must be arctic out there?’
‘I’m here so I figure I may as well make the most of it.’ He pulls a face. ‘I’m told it gets easier when you get used to it.’
I laugh. ‘The first lesson of living in St Aidan – don’t believe everything the locals say.’
The corners of his mouth pull downwards. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ Then he grins again. ‘Every other time I’ve seen you recently, you’ve been wearing shorts.’
I have to tell him. ‘If you’re only here to diss my PJs, I’m going back to bed.’
His hand is on the deck rail. ‘There is something else…’ His pause is so long and ominous there’s time for us both to listen to my heart as it bangs against my chest. ‘I recognised you straight away on the roadside – you and Dillon came to me for your rings…?’
‘That’s right. We did.’ The question is hanging in the air like a lead weight. ‘Dillon’s not here. We didn’t get to use them.’ I’m astonished by his powers of recall, but this works two ways. ‘We aren’t the best advert for your brand, but don’t worry, it’s not a thing I broadcast.’
His eyebrows rise. ‘Say no more. Your secret’s safe with me.’
I twist the hem of my starry top around my waist and pull hard. ‘Tip number one for living your best life – leave the past behind and make a new start.’
Seeing he’s taken the similarly extreme step of abandoning the city for a beach hut, I’d expected this to resonate enough to get a come-back. Not that I have any interest in his situation at all , which is good because his attention has moved to the china stacked on the table. ‘Are you serving breakfast? ’
I hesitate. ‘I had a special request.’ Then I remember I’m charging so much it’s worth giving up my own serving. ‘There’s one portion left if you’re interested?’
‘I have clients due very soon, so I’d need that to take away. I’m also swimming without cash.’ He slaps the non-existent pocket on his buttock, then smiles hopefully. ‘I could pay when I returned the dish.’ My eyes sting as I watch his palm collide with the place where his back pocket should be.
‘Cup. It comes in a cup.’ It’s well worth me being hungry if I can wave him off and get on with the rest of my day. ‘And it costs ten pounds.’ It’s not just inflation due to being the High Tides end of the beach. This really has to be a one-off. ‘ I’ll get it now.’
And as I press the orange and brown cup into his hand and watch him dash across the dune a few minutes later, I promise myself this is my last-ever transaction.
Then my phone pings, and the message from Nell takes my mind to another level entirely.
Singles club pub and pie ramble tomorrow night! 7.30 at the Yellow Canary! I’ve told Kit about it!
When it comes to singles events, Nell doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. How the hell can I get out of this?
A fake business, customers at dawn, a smoking-hot neighbour, and singles club to dodge – I’d have had more peace if I’d set up camp in Trafalgar Square.