Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
‘A lice, I have good and bad news.’ Ronald’s serious tone makes my neck and shoulders become rigid.
It’s not been a great day so whatever he’s about to tell me is going to be the cherry on top of my naff workday cake. The day took a downward trajectory the second I woke up and found myself lying in my crumpled wedding dress on the camp bed with a throbbing purplish bump on my head. Last night, Frankie came over to Dad’s with several bottles of wine.
Dad and Lucas went to bed early leaving Frankie and me to talk about Rose, her cancer treatment, and his ideas on what to do with The Little Love Café.
A few hours later, our evening had got messy. Frankie had invited Jake over and they were cuddling in the garden, and I was sat inside, on the sofa, feeling like a third wheel and wearing my wedding dress. I’d put it on in a drunken state after Frankie had suggested we do a few vodka shots. An hour later and he was feeling romantic towards Jake and I was sat alone holding a half-full bottle of wine and sobbing about how I no longer believed in true love.
Frankie and Jake went home in the early hours, and I staggered upstairs. If you’ve ever tried to sleep on an old metal camp bed from the 1970s, you will know that these contraptions are not forgiving and can snap shut, at any point, like a Venus fly trap plant. As I was very drunk and emotional when I came to bed, I ended up having a fight with the camp bed. I admitted defeat after it sprang up and thumped me on the forehead. In the end I lay down on it and went to sleep… still in my wedding dress.
To my dismay, at breakfast, I was greeted by chaos. A Batman pyjama-clad Lucas was stood on a chair shouting for his cereal, Bean had left a puddle of dog wee in the hallway and a torrent of water was coming through the kitchen ceiling. Dad was running about with a mop and bucket. ‘Lucas decided to run Bean an early morning bath,’ gasped Dad. ‘It’s flooded the kitchen. I’ve just turned the taps off upstairs.’
With a thumping headache I helped Dad clean up the mess and offered to pay for the ceiling to be repaired. He refused my offer. I made Lucas his breakfast and told him not to run Bean a bath ever again.
My hangover has been brutal. I have spent much of the day on the doorstep of the tea shop getting some much-needed fresh air, feeling nauseous and telling the three customers who had come into the café that I would never drink wine again.
Ronald’s arrival had made me so dizzy and I had to sit down.
‘Alice, who have you been brawling with?’ Ronald peers at my forehead. ‘As you know, I don’t like to date local women as they do like a punch-up. Seeing you in this state proves my point. Were you fighting over a fella?’
I glare at him. ‘No, I had a row with a camp bed.’
Ronald shakes his head with disapproval. ‘Anyway, I have come here with good news – Denise has asked me to join her in Marbella for an extra-long holiday. Alice, things have got serious between us.’
My heart thuds. ‘You’ve only been dating her for a few weeks.’
He chuckles. ‘Alice, you know I don’t mess about when dating a beautiful woman.’
I roll my eyes. ‘What does this mean for The Starfish Tea Shop?’
He clears his throat. ‘Ah, the bad news. Business has not been that great. I know you have been working hard but I am afraid I am closing down.’
‘Oh.’ My fingers are gripping the shell-encrusted counter so hard I have white knuckles.
‘I know this news will be a big loss for the town,’ he says, staring into space with a dreamy expression on his face. ‘Also, I think it will break some hearts when some of the females here in Blue Cove Bay hear I am no longer available.’ He turns to me. ‘I’ll be closing Friday.’
He must have heard my loud gulp. What the hell am I going to do now?
Dad is stood by the mantelpiece. He’s been quiet ever since I told him my job at the tea shop is ending on Friday. We’ve also both been struggling with the news of Rose’s cancer, so it’s been a tough time. ‘Alice, I’ll go full-time at the supermarket. You don’t need to worry about finding another job.’
Scrambling off the sofa, I rush over to him. ‘No, Dad, I’ll get another job. You retired from your bakery as the long hours were exhausting you. I don’t want you to work full time. I don’t care what I have to do.’
He rescues his reading glasses which are hanging precariously off his head. ‘You said yourself there wasn’t much in the job centre when you asked on your way home.’
‘I’ll travel further afield then to find work.’
Turning, he cups my face. ‘You’ve been through enough lately, my sweet girl.’ Placing his hands on my shoulders, he ushers me towards the sofa. ‘Sit down. You look tired and that bruise on your head should be looked at by a doctor.’
‘Dad, I’m fine and I’m not lying on that sofa again. For the millionth time, I’m thirty-six, not eight. I don’t need to lie down.’ Batting his hands away, I go to stand by the window. There must be something I can do. If there’s one thing I hate in life, it’s not being able to pay my own way and the thought of my dad being worried about money is painful. He doesn’t have much these days after retiring.
Our old living room still looks the same with its huge stone fireplace and walls adorned with photos of Lucas and me.
Tucked away on a shelf opposite me is a single photo of Mum laughing into the camera. It’s easy to miss. Even after all these years Dad still finds her photo a painful reminder. In the photo Mum’s stood next to her best mate Rose outside a white-washed Greek villa. Rays of golden light are reflecting off Mum’s blonde hair and her blue eyes are twinkling like crazy. Rose is trying to tame her mass of wild red curls, which look like they are having a party of their own, while hanging on to Mum’s arm. They were on a girlie holiday to Greece which had been Mum’s idea after Frankie’s father had walked out. She and Rose had a great time and they came home with sunburnt shoulders, lots of photos and tales of drunken dancing in a little beach bar.
Wiping my face, I stare at Mum’s lovely kind face and the worst idea ever pings into my head. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright and a sinking feeling take hold of my gut. I’m sure Mum’s smile just got a little wider. Dad’s living room sways. ‘I’ll manage The Little Love Café.’
‘ You want to manage The Little Love Café?’ Dad is staring at me in horror.
The idea takes shape in my mind. ‘I will manage it.’ Turning my head, I catch sight of a photo of Frankie, Lucas and me standing on London Bridge, beaming into the camera. We’d been on one of Frankie’s fabulous day trips during one of his visits to where we used to live. My best mate needs my help. A memory from last night’s drinking session rushes back: Frankie crying on my shoulder because he wanted to be with his mum when she started chemo. My chest aches as my mind replays the sound of Frankie’s sobs. ‘If I manage it, Frankie can go to Sydney.’
Dad touches my arm. ‘Absolutely ridiculous. You can’t manage that place, Alice.’
‘Why not?’
‘Your emotions are in a mess. That place would be torturous. All I hear in the supermarket are tales of Frankie’s customers proposing to each other. Some days I wonder what Frankie is putting into their drinks. I can’t let you do this.’ Pointing me in the direction of the sofa, he steers me towards it. ‘Right, sit down. I didn’t tell you; I’ve subscribed to Netflix, and they have all your old favourite films.’
‘What films?’
Dad points the TV controller and searches for romcoms .
My reply is shrill and instantaneous. ‘I am NOT watching bloody romcoms!’ Oh my goodness, has Dad lost his mind? Seeing everyone fall in love on screen will have me blubbing over Scott again in no time.
Studying my face, Dad’s sea-grey eyes narrow. ‘If you want to manage Frankie’s café then I think you should watch these films.’
‘Dad, those films will make me depressed.’
A frustrated wail shoots out of Dad’s mouth. ‘Listen to yourself.’
‘Dad, I’m not a child anymore.’
He rushes over to me, clasping my hands. ‘I’ve only got you and Lucas, so it’s my job to look out for you. All those romantic couples will make you think about all that happened with your wedding, and you’ll get upset.’
Dad is right. I can’t stomach watching romcoms, so how the hell am I going to manage a romance-themed café ?
Mum’s face finds me again. I stare at her photo. She’d want me to help Frankie and Rose and she’d also want me to make sure Dad’s finances are put right.
‘Alice, don’t do this. There are other jobs.’
Taking his hands in mine, I shake my head. ‘Dad, do you think I can lie here knowing you took out a loan to pay for my wedding reception which never happened and now you’re having to work extra hours to make ends meet? I also have a son who needs supporting and a best mate who is desperate to go be with his sick mum. I have work to do.’
I grab my coat.
‘Where the hell are you going?’ Dad’s voice is exasperated.
‘To tell Frankie I will manage his café.’ My legs feel like they are made of heavy stone once I am out of the door, but I manage to rotate them. If I’m quick, Frankie will still be open.
Taking a deep breath, I tell myself that the café will not be empty like it was the other morning when I consoled Frankie. Pulling open the doors of The Little Love Café I gasp and stand with a heaving chest. It takes only a few seconds for me to realise Dad was right. My eyes are met by couples holding hands across the table, couples giggling and couples whispering sweet nothings to each other.
At one booth, I notice the butcher’s son, Vince, with a woman I recognise from school, but I’m struggling to remember her name. Vince used to sit next to me in history. His dinner plate sized hands are tenderly cupping the woman’s face and she’s wetting her lips in anticipation of a kiss.
Noah used to do that with me. Hot tears build up in my eyes. Before they have a chance to fall down my cheeks, Sandra, who used to work in one of the clothes shops on the high street in town, taps me on the shoulder. ‘Alice, here, take a photo of us?’
‘Huh?’ I glance at her sitting on the lap of a man with a huge grin plastered over his face.
‘Alice – meet my new Tinder date. He’s called Chris,’ she gushes. She turns back to the man and they both erupt into a fit of giggles.
I feel sick. Handing Sandra her phone, I catch sight of Frankie at the baby pink counter, talking to a man with his back to me. My best mate is wearing a bright pink apron with the words Little Love Café emblazoned across the front. He’s running a hand through his short blond hair whilst deep in conversation. Frankie lifts his head and catches sight of me. His mouth falls ajar with what looks like shock.
Ignoring his expression, I race over. If I delay volunteering to manage this place any longer, I won’t do it. ‘Frankie,’ I gasp, ‘I’ll manage this place.’
Frankie stares at me. ‘Eh? What did you say… Alice ?’
The man’s head flicks towards me, but I keep my attention on Frankie. ‘Let me look after this place for you while you go to Australia. I’ve been thinking about it and…’
Frankie points at the man. ‘Funny you should say that as… Noah … has offered to manage it as well.’
His words ping around my head as I turn and find myself face to face with Noah Coombes. It’s him. Noah Coombes. The boy who once asked me to marry him and organised a makeshift wedding on the beach, with cheap silver rings from the gift shop, a dress, flowers in my long hair, and a suit from the charity shop, all our school friends stood around us holding bottles of cider as gifts. The boy who asked Frankie to marry us and crafted our own vows.
The boy who promised me on the day he left for Ireland that we would one day ‘meet again down by our rock in Blue Cove Bay’.