CHAPTER TWO
Seeing me shivering in my wet clothes, my boss Ellie listened open-mouthed to my explanation of why I was so drenched.
Laughing with me at the ridiculousness of it all, she revealed that she, too, had fallen into the duck pond on her very first visit to Sunnybrook.
She quickly produced a towel, plus some oversized grey jogger bottoms and a skimpy pink T-shirt from the lost property box, and pushed me in the direction of the Ladies to get out of my wet clothes.
‘The clothes are clean. I washed them,’ she called through the door.
‘Thanks!’ I yelled back, as I struggled to peel off my wet shirt.
She sent me home to have a hot bath, although it took me the rest of the day to feel properly warm again after my impromptu, ice-cold dip.
The following morning, I arrived for my shift, having just about got over the shame of being sighted floundering in the pond by that awful couple.
But as soon as I walked in, Margaret Thomson – one of our regular customers – grinned at me and said, ‘I’ve got a wet suit you can borrow next time you fancy a swim. ’
The story of my duck pond disaster had clearly spread like wildfire.
But I had to admit it was funny.
Chuckling, I looked over at Ellie and Maddy behind the counter, who were having a good old chortle themselves.
I loved working in the café. I’d been there less than a year but I’d got to know my colleagues and the regular customers really well.
It felt like a little community – a home from home – and I was especially fond of Fen, who shared my love of reading, especially historical romances.
We’d both been in the same book group years ago and it had been lovely to find we’d be working together occasionally.
My boyfriend Wyatt never read books, which I found quite surprising.
He studied scripts for auditions, of course, but he always said he didn’t have the time to read anything else.
I was quite sad about that because reading a book and then talking about it together had been one of my favourite things to do when I was with my previous boyfriend.
But we were all different. And at least Wyatt shared my love of visiting big country houses – although not for the same reasons as me . . .
History had been my best subject at school and one of my all-time favourite things to do at weekends was to explore a big country house.
I’d wander around the grand drawing rooms and visit the kitchens below stairs in a little daze of joy, my imagination firing on all cylinders as I thought about what it would have been like to live there, at a time when the house was bustling with servants, and the wealthy landowner’s family would be driving around in an elegant horse-drawn barouche!
Wyatt was happy to indulge me with these visits.
An actor, he jumped on any opportunity he could find to showcase his talent.
He was tall and rather handsome (I thought) with his mop of unruly, straw-coloured hair and infectious smile.
I was always telling him he’d be great on children’s TV with his boundless energy, extrovert personality and talent for engaging his audience.
He’d embraced the advent of TikTok with such enthusiasm, he now had thousands of followers on that platform and he uploaded material almost every day to keep them hooked.
So far, his acting work had been mainly in commercial videos – advertising for businesses –although several years before we met, he’d won a small speaking part in a well-known TV soap.
He’d lost both his parents a few years ago, which was really sad, but they’d left him a substantial inheritance, including their house in Guildford.
It meant he didn’t have to worry about money and could concentrate solely on his acting ambitions.
I really admired Wyatt’s dogged persistence. I realised how tough it was to make it in the entertainment industry, but in my opinion, he deserved to succeed.
His latest thing was to kit himself out in historical costume and perform a bite-sized, well-known quote from a Shakespeare play on the lawns in front of the country estate we were exploring.
That made it sound quite boring but it wasn’t because Wyatt always put a clever twist on it, translating the archaic language of the Bard into modern slang.
It was all very tongue in cheek and funny, too – although there was a chance I was biased, of course.
As for my career, after leaving school I’d got a job at the Swan Hotel in Sunnybrook and I’d worked my way up to management level, but I’d always wanted to study English Literature.
So at the ‘mature’ age of thirty-three, I’d applied and was accepted to study English and history at Newcastle University.
I’d enjoyed the student life but I’d been quite happy in the end to leave the city and return to the much quieter pace of village life.
I’d moved back last year, and was now living in my old family home on the outskirts of Sunnybrook with Mum and my two younger sisters, Kitty and Blaize.
I’d managed to land a job at the Little Duck Pond Café, and since baking was one of my favourite ways to relax, I considered this the icing on the cake – quite literally!
This morning, after spending the first few hours of my shift in the kitchen, icing Victoria sandwich cakes and baking scones, I was about to go out to clear tables in the café when I glanced out of the window and my heart sank.
The annoying couple from yesterday were standing on the green, apparently having another disagreement. He was looking over at the café but she was shaking her head and pointing in the direction of the high street.
I held my breath.
Please don’t come in here again!
I could cope with the haughty Arabella and her sly, cutting wit. But there was something about that man that had made me feel . . . weirdly self-conscious. Yes, okay, I’d been flailing about in the duck pond at the time, which was bound to make anyone feel a little . . . embarrassed.
But it was more than that.
Those dark eyes of his had seemed to be boring right into me as if he could read my mind and observe just what a mess my thoughts really were! It was hard to explain. But I really couldn’t face seeing him right now.
They turned and started to walk away, and I felt my shoulders relax.
Arabella had clearly won the argument about where to take their coffee break this morning.
Maybe they were heading for the rather fancier, more up-market café on the high street, where they ground their own specially-selected coffee.
It was owned by my friend Jaz’s partner, Milo, and I had a feeling a sophisticated place like that would be far more to the haughty Arabella’s taste!
Relieved to see the back of them, quite literally, I went out onto the café floor, and I noticed one of my favourite customers sitting at a table by the window. He was staring gloomily out of the window.
‘Leonard looks a bit out of sorts today,’ I murmured to Maddy.
She nodded. ‘He’s having a bad day, bless him. He’s trying to get a doctor’s appointment but I don’t think he’s quite got the hang of the online booking system.’
‘Oh, no!’ I looked over at Leonard. A lovely gentleman in his seventies, he came in most mornings and he always had a cheery word and a smile for me when I brought over his scone and his pot of tea.
I glanced at my watch. ‘Would it be okay if I took my lunch break early?’ I asked Ellie, who was standing at the coffee machine, frothing a jug of milk. ‘I’d like to help Leonard if I can.’
Ellie glanced back at him, and I quickly explained.
‘The poor man. Yes, of course you can take your break. It’s lovely of you to help him.’ She smiled. ‘Actually, it would be a big help to me as well if you took your break soon. You’ll be back in time for the big lunchtime rush.’
I nodded, and as I cleared a few tables, I kept an eye on Leonard as he ate his scone. Eventually, I went over and smiled down at him. ‘I hope you don’t mind but Maddy was saying you’re finding it hard to work out that complicated medical online booking system?’
He sighed. ‘Ah, yes. I’m pretty rubbish at all things technical, I’m afraid.’
I chuckled. ‘You’re not the only one. I always get my sisters to help when I can’t do something on my phone. They’re much younger than me and much more tech-savvy.’
Leonard nodded sagely. ‘My arthritis has been worse than usual so I thought I’d better speak to a doctor about it. But it’s not as simple as it was in my younger day. Back then, you could speak to a real person at the doctor’s reception desk and they’d arrange an appointment for you.’
‘In some ways, life was a lot simpler back then. But you can still do that, you know. Ask the receptionist to organise an appointment for you?’
‘Can I?’ He looked doubtful. ‘I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself.’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t! Look, I’m on my break just now and I was heading out to the supermarket, which is right next door to the medical centre. How about we go along there together and get that appointment booked for you?’
‘You’d come with me?’ There was hope in his eyes now, but also worry.
‘Absolutely.’
‘But are you sure?’
I smiled. ‘Of course. It would be no bother at all. Honestly.’
‘Oh, I’d be so grateful to you, my dear. I know there are people in much worse pain than me, but it’s just I’m waking up in the night all the time now and I just don’t seem to have any energy these days.’
I nodded. ‘You definitely need to see a doctor. Wait there and I’ll just grab my coat and bag, okay?’
I drove Leonard to the medical centre, which was on the edge of the small industrial estate on the outskirts of the village, and the receptionist was lovely.
She made a note of Leonard’s details and said he’d receive a phone call soon from one of the doctors – and when we left the surgery, I could see that a lot of the stress had melted away from Leonard’s face.