Chapter Twenty Eight
When Poppy woke up the next morning she felt as though she’d been run over by a steamroller. Everything that had happened over the last few days came rushing back at her, and she didn’t know which disaster to work through first.
She hauled herself out of bed, pulled back the curtains, and spent a few moments staring at the familiar sight of her mother’s beloved garden, the place she had spent decades coaxing into horticultural perfection with neat, weed-free flower beds, clipped hedges, serpentine pathways bordered by aromatic herbs and even a small pond complete with a brigade of goldfish. It was the original inspiration for Poppy’s English Garden Café, but that day it felt like her dream was further away than ever.
However, that didn’t mean she couldn’t continue to build on what she had learned in Paris, so that when she could go ahead, she would be ready. All she needed to do was keep busy, so as well as creating a kaleidoscope of new pastries, she would tidy up the house for her parents’ return, scribble a few more chapters of her book, and look into signing up for fencing classes.
After a thankfully piping hot shower, she dressed quickly, then steeled herself to switch on her phone that had been on charge overnight. As expected, there were more than a dozen messages from Camille, Hélène and Fabien, but she couldn’t face dealing with them.
One thing at a time.
She had the get-together with Kath and Beckie, and Holly and Rachel, at the Boathouse Bistro in an hour’s time, and she was anxious to glean as much information about the circumstances surrounding Dexter’s sad passing as possible. She wondered briefly whether Kath would postpone the re-opening of the bistro beyond the beginning of December, until after the funeral, as a mark of respect.
She grabbed her satchel, found her car keys, and was about to leave the house when her phone buzzed with a text from Jamie. It was the third one she’d received from him that morning, checking she was okay, and asking if she wanted a lift over to the bistro as it was his day off. She sent him a text back, reassuring him that she was fine, if a little tired, and promising to call him when she was back home later that afternoon. A whoosh of affection flooded her heart when Jamie asked her what time that would be so that he and Alicia could have dinner ready for her when she arrived.
She pulled on an old wax jacket that had once belonged to Bart, and one of her dad’s quirky tweed caps, and stepped outside, her breath floating in delicate wisps on the cold, crisp early morning air. As she reversed her Mini from the driveway, she almost collided with a bright green transit van with the words Flower Fairies and a scattering of daisies emblazoned on the side, and – as she hadn’t driven for over three weeks – she resolved to take more care as she headed along the coast towards Blossomwood Bay.
When she arrived on the outskirts of the seaside town, she experienced an unexpected surge of optimism for the future; even though her dream would take longer to come to fruition, she was further along the path to its achievement than she had been before going to Paris. From now on, she was determined to focus solely on the road ahead, instead of constantly glancing in the rear-view mirror, and that was something to celebrate.
She drew up outside the Boathouse Bistro and parked in the car park, deserted except for Holly and Oscar’s old silver Volvo, Rachel and Leo’s bright yellow camper van, and Kath’s sensible dark blue estate car.She hurried towards the door, smiling as she stepped over the threshold and was immediately enveloped in the café’s warm, friendly ambiance. It was like being wrapped in a much-needed hug.
‘Poppy, over here!’ Beckie called.
She made her way to the table in the cosy book nook where the big brown teapot and a large cafetière took pride of place, alongside a plate of homemade Christmas cookies. They appeared to be made from the recipe that Poppy and Beckie had been experimenting with before Kath had decided to close the bistro. Seeing the place without customers didn’t feel right, and even Ariel must have sensed that something was wrong as she barely acknowledged the new arrival when Poppy dropped down in a chair between Holly and Rachel.
‘Coffee?’ asked Kath, her neat bob tucked behind her ears, her eyes ringed with smudges of tiredness.
‘Yes, please.’
Poppy waited for Kath to pour her drink, noticing the worried glances she cast surreptitiously towards Beckie, who also looked exhausted from their earlier-than-expected return journey from Edinburgh to Devon the previous day.
‘Thanks, Kath.’
‘You’re welcome. How was Paris?’
‘It was amazing. I can’t wait to tell you about all the fabulous patisserie I watched Olivier and his brother Alain create, and to show you the new French cookery books I’ve bought, but that can wait until later. Have you heard anything else from Andrew?’
After making doubly sure that everyone’s drinks were topped up, Kath took a seat at the head of the table and inhaled a breath to corral her thoughts before she spoke.
‘Yes. He called again this morning to bring me up to date with what’s been happening. He’s spoken at length to Dexter’s solicitor – James Cosgrove – and James confirmed that Andrew has been appointed as one of the executors of Dexter’s will, along with himself. In accordance with Dexter’s wishes, arrangements are currently being made for his funeral to take place at St Peter’s church here in Blossomwood Bay, and there’ll be a formal will-reading meeting at the manor a few days later.’
‘Does Andrew know who’ll inherit Blossomwood Manor?’ asked Rachel, clearly anxious to find out whether the new owner was likely to keep the estate or put it up for sale immediately.
‘He wouldn’t be drawn on that, which is fair enough.’
‘Do you know if Dexter had anyone special in his life?’
‘No, I don’t,’ said Kath with a shrug.
‘What about children?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
Poppy saw Kath avert her eyes away from Rachel’s persistent questioning on the pretext of refilling her coffee mug, which was already full to the brim, which made Poppy think Kath knew more than she was letting on. However, she realised that what looked to her like evasion could also be a product of how difficult it was for Kath to talk about the things Rachel had raised.
Unlike Holly, Rachel, Beckie and herself, Kath had known Dexter personally. As the owner of the boathouse and the boardwalk, she had been in regular contact with him since she’d opened the Boathouse Bistro over twenty years ago, shortly after the untimely death of Beckie’s mother, when Beckie was only two years old. Poppy knew that setting up and running the bistro had been a lifeline, both emotionally and financially, as Kath struggled to come to terms with the loss of her younger sister and the challenge of raising the daughter she’d left behind.
As she watched Beckie reach out and give her aunt’s hand a squeeze, she knew Kath had done a great job on both counts. Still, given their history, it must have been a huge shock to hear that Dexter had died in such upsetting circumstances. No wonder her face was pale, her hands were jittery, and her eyes watery as she smiled at Beckie, obviously grateful for her solicitude and support.
‘I know we shouldn’t believe what we read in the media,’ Rachel continued. ‘Because most of what is written is probably untrue, but I did read in one of the celebrity magazines my mum likes to read that the reason Dexter had a long string of girlfriends rather than settling down was because there was someone special in his life a long time ago and for whatever reason it didn’t work out. Perhaps she decided she didn’t want the crazy life of a rockstar’s wife. Can’t say I blame her for that. Maybe he left his estate to her?’
‘Well, I hope whoever it is decides to keep Blossomwood Manor and its grounds,’ said Holly, removing a home-made doggie biscuit from her pocket and offering it to Ariel, receiving a lick of thanks for her thoughtfulness. ‘Blossomwood Kennels and the Fox Fiddle back onto the rear entrance of the estate, so Oscar and I are worried about what will happen if it’s turned into anything other than a private residence.’
‘I agree,’ said Beckie. ‘Aunt Kath and I are also really keen for the new owner to rebuild the boardwalk; it’s part of Blossomwood Bay’s charm, and it would be devastating if it’s not reinstated to its former glory.’
Poppy saw tears glistening in Beckie’s eyes and decided it was time to change the subject to something a little more cheerful.
‘Did you enjoy your trip to Edinburgh?’
‘Oh, it was fantastic.’ Beckie grinned, her mood lifting immediately. ‘Aunt Kath and I did all the usual touristy things, like visiting the castle, walking up to Arthur’s Seat, and sauntering down the Royal Mile where we sampled a “wee dram of Scotch whisky”. We tried on kilts, took classes in haggis-making, and even had a go at playing the bagpipes, which I have to say is harder than it looks. We also spent a morning at the National Gallery – there was a Van Gogh, a Monet and a Constable! – and an afternoon looking round the Palace of Holyroodhouse. It was the best trip ever.’
‘Wasn’t it your first trip out of Devon?’ said Rachel, smiling.
‘Yes, and it’s really whetted my appetite for expanding my horizons.’
Beckie glanced over her shoulder to the book nook’s wooden shelves where she had collected over two hundred travel memoirs written by people who had abandoned the nine-to-five treadmill for a more adventurous or fulfilling life renovating crumbling old villas, chateaux and water mills, or who had hopped on their bicycle and pedalled around the world, or ridden their motorbike from the top to the bottom of the Pacific Coast Highway, or walked the Camino de Santiago, or hiked this Pacific Crest Trail where Dexter had sadly lost his life.
‘Maybe you can close the bistro each November and go off on a different adventure every year.’
‘I think that’s a great idea!’ Beckie’s face lit up with the possibility as she looked across the table to gauge her aunt’s reaction. ‘All we have to do is start saving up.’
‘Talking about finances, or lack of them,’ said Holly. ‘Did Andrew say anything about sorting out the insurance on the beach huts? If he’s Dexter’s legally appointed executor, does that mean he can sign all the paperwork on his behalf now?’
‘I did ask him that question and he promised to speak to James about it as soon as possible,’ said Kath, exhaling a long sigh. ‘He knows how long we’ve been waiting, but he has a long list of more pressing matters to deal with first, like arranging for Dexter’s body to be flown home to the UK as soon as possible, as well as dealing with the increasing interest from the media as news of his death spreads around the world.’
Poppy leaned back in her chair, trying to work out how to tell her friends that she had decided not to relaunch her artisan chocolate-making business, even if Blossomwood Manor’s new owner decided to reinstate the boardwalk. After a few moments of hesitation, she knew that the best way to break the news was to just come out and say it.
‘I’ve decided not to continue with my chocolate-making business. When the money for the beach huts finally comes through, I’m going to focus all my energy on getting my dream of opening an English Garden Café off the ground. Don’t worry, Kath, I probably won’t be able to afford a place in Blossomwood Bay, so I won’t be in competition with the bistro.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that, Poppy. I think your English Garden Café sounds like the perfect addition to the community of eateries on the Devonshire coast. If you need any guidance, please let me know, although from everything I’ve seen you create while you’ve been here with us at the Boathouse Bistro, I know it’ll be an instant success.’
‘Thanks, Kath. I have to admit that for the first time since the fire I’m excited about the future. I have lots of ideas about the kind of venue I want – a larger version of Mum’s fantastic garden would be perfect – and about the things I want to have on the menu. I’m also planning to chat to Tilly about her mum’s Orange Blossom Café, as well as her teashop in Tuscany. I learned a lot while I was in Paris, not just about patisserie, but about how I want to live my life going forward.’
‘Go for it, Poppy. Your café sounds wonderful, and if the English garden location you decide on has a spare piece of lawn where Leo and I can build a sizeable wooden lodge to use for our retreat business, that would be amazing.’ Rachel laughed, her high ponytail swinging like a pendulum as she helped herself to a second cookie. ‘Oh, and if there could also be a small woodland or paddock where Leo can set up his archery range, that would be even better.’
‘You know where would be perfect for your café,’ Holly mused, fondling Ariel’s silky ears, her eyes narrowed as she contemplated her idea.
‘Where?’
‘Blossomwood Manor’s garden.’
‘Really?’
‘I know I shouldn’t have, but I took Ariel and Max for a walk around the grounds last weekend. I didn’t intend to trespass. I was just wandering aimlessly in the woods where the Fox Fiddle borders the estate, headphones on, completely in the zone, and I ended up on the front lawn of the manor house. It’s absolutely the perfect location for your English Garden Café. Okay, so there are no flowers out at the moment – it is November – but I reckon that come the spring, the garden will be exactly how you’ve just described your new venture. Maybe when we find out who the new owner is, you can ask them to rent you a section of the grounds. All you have to do is install a fancy summerhouse, and you’re ready to go.’
Poppy smiled at Holly. ‘That does sound amazing.’
‘Want to see the photos I took of the house?’
‘You took photos?’ Rachel gaped.
‘Of course. There was no one there, so I figured what’s the harm?’ Holly scrolled through her phone then turned the screen towards Poppy. ‘That’s the manor house – isn’t it magnificent? – and this is the garden, with a wide sweeping lawn, lots of trees and shrubs and flower beds, and look, there’s even a cute stone fountain that would be ideal as the centrepiece of your café.’
Poppy could envisage exactly what Holly was suggesting, and she was right, it really was the perfect place for a garden café, but she knew it was unlikely to happen. However, she didn’t want to burst Holly’s enthusiasm balloon.
‘I’ll add it to the list of potential venues. Thanks, Holly.’
‘No problem.’
She took a sip of her coffee and over the rim of her mug, she saw Holly cast a glance in Rachel’s direction and Rachel give an almost imperceptible nod of affirmation. Her heart gave an uncomfortable squeeze, especially when Kath excused herself to prepare lunch for them and asked Beckie to join her.
‘So, what really happened between you and Fabien?’ asked Holly, her bright blue eyes filled with compassion as they bore into Poppy’s. ‘I know you said it didn’t work out, but I sense there’s more to it than that. Do you want to talk about it?’
Poppy was about to bat the enquiry away as just another one of her dates falling by the wayside, but Fabien wasn’t some random guy Jamie or one of her other brothers had set her up with. He was more than that, much more, and she needed to acknowledge the fact.
‘His ex-girlfriend, Léa, turned up in Paris and, well, he decided to go back home to Nice with her. I admit I was shocked, and a little hurt by his decision because we had so many things in common, not least a mutual love of all-things patisserie. But it’s fine; I loved spending time with him while I was there, and he helped me to realise that I need to move on from what happened with Drew.’
Holly gasped. ‘You told him about Drew?!’
‘I did. And you know what? It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, and he didn’t think I was stupid or na?ve or gullible.’
‘No one thought you were stupid or na?ve or gullible, Popps,’ said Holly, shaking her head emphatically. ‘What happened with Drew wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know he was living a double life, or lives. It was Drew we all thought – still think – was a monster.’
‘I realised that now, and it’s as though a load has been lifted from my shoulders. I finally feel free, and ready to embark on a new chapter.’ Poppy smiled, her mood suddenly elevated. ‘And talking of new chapters, I’ve made a start on my book.’
‘Your romcom novel?’ asked Holly.
‘Yes.’
‘Is it set in Paris?’ asked Rachel.
‘It might be.’
‘Is there a charming, charismatic Frenchman with a sexy swoonworthy accent in it?’
‘I’m not writing an autobiography, Rach!’ Poppy laughed. ‘But, if you want to know, there is a drop-dead gorgeous guy called Frédéric as the love interest.’
‘Can we read it?’
‘Of course, but only when it’s finished, which will be next year at the earliest.’
‘Well, when you do eventually type “The End”, I promise to show it to Kaitlyn.’
‘Oh, no, I—’ Poppy stopped and reminded herself of her decision to be less self-deprecating when it came to her talents and her dreams. If Holly was offering to show her manuscript to Oscar’s agent, she should grasp the offer with both hands. ‘Thanks, Holly, that would be great.’
Holly laughed. ‘She’s going to be very busy over the next few months.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Rachel.
‘Oscar and I had dinner with her when we were in London last week, and she was keen to talk again about Oscar doing a Dash, Dollop, Drizzle cookery book. He’s still resistant, so to take the pressure off him, I told Kaitlyn about Tilly’s mum’s Orange Blossom Café recipe journal and Freya’s Uncle Toby’s memoir, and she was actually quite interested to take a look at them both.’ Holly paused, glancing across the table to Rachel.
‘Go on, tell Poppy,’ said Rachel.
‘Tell me what?’
‘Kaitlyn also said she’d read my children’s book – Ariel’s Dogtastic Adventures. I think she was just being kind, though. However, she was really interested in Suzie’s story and said it would make a great psychological crime thriller.’
‘Is Suzie thinking of writing a book?’
‘Not on her own. She might collaborate with Nathan, but it’s a long way in the future. She’s got a lot to go through with the run-up to the trial and the trial itself, but putting her thoughts down on paper will give her something to focus on, maybe help her to make sense of what happened.’
‘Is that your phone ringing, Poppy?’ asked Rachel.
‘Oh, yes, sorry.’
Poppy fished her phone out of her satchel, glanced at the screen, and denied the call.
‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’ said Holly.
‘No, I…’
Heat flooded her cheeks as she saw her two friends stare at her with curiosity. It seemed so childish to be avoiding calls, especially after promising herself that from now on she would be a more assertive person, and not someone who shied away from a difficult situation or conversation she was presented with.
‘Who was it?’ asked Holly.
‘Fabien.’
Just saying his name caused a sharp spasm of desire to shoot down Poppy’s spine and, to her embarrassment, Holly had noticed her reaction.
‘Come on, Rach, let’s give Poppy some privacy.’
Poppy watched her friends saunter towards the kitchen, chatting animatedly about books as they disappeared through the door, and a couple of seconds later her phone started to buzz again. This time, she reminded herself that it was one thing to say she would be open and honest in her future relationships, and another thing to actually do that. So, with a surge of determination, she swiped her finger across the screen.