Chapter Four
‘Two flat whites to go, please.’
‘More new customers,’ says Jill under her breath, leaning over my shoulder as I make the coffee order. ‘Has anyone sent in a photo yet?’
‘No. At least I don’t think so. Reeni is keeping an eye on that for me.’ I screw up my nose. I did think that we’d have had at least one entry by now, but maybe I was being too optimistic. I move the full cup and place an empty one in its place on the coffee machine drip tray.
‘Don’t give up. It’s only been four or five days,’ says Jill with an encouraging nudge.
I take the fulfilled order and hand it to the young couple at the till.
‘I don’t know if you’ve heard. We’re running a competition for the rest of June.
’ I gesture to the A4 laminated sheet printed out with the photo competition details taped to the countertop.
‘Free coffees and a chance to have your photo on the walls for the winner.’ I exaggerate my smile.
Overtly selling has never been my strong point.
‘Yeah. It came up on our Insta feed,’ says the lad. ‘Look out for our photo.’ He raises his cup and they both wander back out into the sunshine.
‘See.’ Jill is doing little bunny-hops on the spot. ‘It’s working.’
‘Six new customers in a week are hardly mind blowing.’ I plonk myself down on the till stool.
The envelope addressed to the council in my handwriting is poking out from under the till, waiting for a stamp.
I ignore the niggling guilt that I should try to talk to Milo again and push the envelope back out of sight.
‘Stop being a negative Nelly. It’s six new customers we didn’t have last week. And our coffee is the best around. Word will spread. The camper coffee is rank.’
I shoot her a look. ‘And you would know this how?’
‘Ted wanted to try out their waffle cone sundaes.’ She looks a bit sheepish. ‘But I did think it was a good chance to suss out the competition.’
‘Was it still busy?’
Jill winces. ‘It always seems to be when I walk past.’
I already knew the answer to that question, seeing as I’ve ventured to the library twice this week with my baseball cap pulled low over my face. Milo has always been too busy serving to see me and thankfully Jackson had been nowhere in sight.
I walk over to the corner of the café to get one last look at the table I’ve set up for my parents’ wedding anniversary afternoon tea.
They’re coming down from their home in the Lake District to spend a couple of nights in a hotel on the coast and they’re calling in to say hi on the way. This is my surprise for them.
It looks beautiful. The table is set with my prettiest floral mismatched china cups, saucers and plates along with crisp white linen napkins and a lit tealight glowing in a petite green glass lantern.
To finish it off, I’ve picked some wildflowers and put them in a tiny, ribbed glass vase.
I know Mum will love it and I’m hoping Dad will too, although I doubt it.
Half of me is gutted that the café is still empty after our social media ‘campaign’.
If it was busy, Dad might not have found anything to complain about and might even have thought I was doing a good job.
The other half of me is relieved it’s empty.
At least that way when I get the inevitable criticism, my customers won’t be able to hear me get an embarrassing dressing-down.
Bang on time, as I knew Dad would be, they walk through the door.
‘Oh Ellie, it’s so lovely to see you.’ Mum envelops me in a hug, her sickly sweet perfume filling the room. Dad buys her the same one every year, his only Christmas present to her, and it immediately transports me back to living at home and the unhappy memories that are tethered to that time.
I try not to breathe in as I squeeze her back.
‘Not very busy in here, is it?’ Dad says, a line deepening between his bushy grey eyebrows.
Great, it’s taken him all of 3.2 seconds to find fault.
‘I thought you’d prefer exclusive use of the facilities,’ I joke, giving him my best sparkly smile.
‘Hmm.’ He’s still looking around him, disapproval written all over his features.
‘It’s the late afternoon slump, Dad. Anyway …’ I swing around, flying my arms in the direction of their table. ‘Ta-dah. Happy anniversary.’ I look at Mum and to her credit, her whole face lights up.
‘Oh, this is wonderful, love. Isn’t it, John?’
Dad grunts under his breath and tension bites into my shoulders. Why can I never do anything right?
‘I kept it inside, Dad. I know you don’t like eating outside because of the flies.
’ There’s a needy pitch to my voice like a child seeking approval.
‘And I made your favourite sandwiches. Roast beef, English mustard and no butter.’ I pull out a chair from the table to encourage them to sit. ‘Tuna and cucumber for you, Mum.’
‘Oo. Smashing.’ She sits in the offered seat and Dad noisily drags out the chair opposite and slumps into it.
I force myself to give them a bright smile and turn to go and set up the tiered cake stand with the sandwiches, mini scones, brownies, and cupcakes I have ready.
‘This had better not take too long. It wasn’t on our schedule.’ I can hear Dad muttering to Mum. ‘We’re only supposed to be calling in for ten minutes because you wanted to say hello.’
The tips of my ears are red hot as Jill and I load the goodies onto the cake stand.
‘I can’t believe he speaks to you both like that,’ says Jill as she glances back at my parents where Dad is still grumbling away. ‘My mum’d have a fit if Dad spoke to her like that.’
I speed up placing the brownies on the bottom tier of the cake stand and blink my eyes fast to keep focused.
‘Sorry.’ Jill squeezes my arm. ‘None of my business. I should keep my bloody mouth shut.’
‘It’s fine. He’s a bit grumpy from the drive.’ I know Jill doesn’t believe me, but to her credit she keeps quiet. Dad is still bending Mum’s ear when I reappear with the food and she’s rubbing the bottom of her T-shirt between her fingers.
‘It all looks nice, but we’ll have a plain pot of tea and none of that floral rubbish. Your mum and I have a meal booked when we get to the hotel, and it cost a fortune. I don’t want to ruin my appetite.’
I rub my nose hard to keep my composure. ‘I’ll go and get you a pot.’
When I get back with the tea, Dad’s gone to the toilet.
‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I didn’t realise you were doing this or I’d have told you we had an early meal booked. Dad’s just anxious to get to the hotel. I’m sure he thinks this is wonderful.’
I wish with all my heart that I believed her. When The Beach House was thriving, with queues out of the door, Dad conveniently couldn’t find any time to visit, even though Mum kept promising they would. Now he’s chosen to visit at the worst possible time.
Mum pours the English Breakfast tea into her cup though I know she would have preferred Earl Grey. ‘This looks lovely. I’ll have a little before John says we’ve got to go.’ And to demonstrate her willingness, she picks up a triangular tuna sandwich and takes a bird-sized bite.
‘Can’t you put off the meal until later?’ I say, pulling out a chair to sit next to her. ‘Then you could enjoy it properly. I made the brownies with the chopped walnuts just like you like them.’
She gives a tight smile. ‘Your dad’s golfing with Terry and Ray tomorrow morning, so he doesn’t want to be up late.’
An angry pain zigzags between my temples. Why on earth can’t she stand up to him? She surely can’t enjoy being a doormat. Just because Dad doesn’t want to stay and eat, why shouldn’t she, especially after all the effort I’ve put in.
I frown. ‘I thought this was your weekend away together? What are you doing if he’s playing golf?’
‘I’ll try to meet Sandra for lunch or I’ll read. I brought a couple of books.’
Dad comes back to the table just as Greg breezes in through the door. He sees I’m with customers, so gives me a nod and walks straight up to the counter.
‘Try a sandwich, Dad. They’re lovely and they’re only tiny, you won’t ruin your appetite,’ I say, getting to my feet.
Dad peels back the corner of one of his sandwiches and glares at it as if it’s insulted him. ‘Is this packet roast beef?’
I wrinkle my nose in a wince. ‘Well, yes. But I got the best stuff.’
‘She couldn’t roast a whole joint to make you sandwiches,’ Mum says with a forced laugh.
‘Humph.’ Dad lets go of the bread and pushes the sandwich away from him.
‘What about a scone? They’re homemade.’ I’m almost pleading with him. ‘There’s local blackberry jam to go with it.’
Dad takes the napkin off his plate and there’s a flutter in my tummy at the hope he’s going to give something a try. He reaches across and picks up the scone nearest to him, examining it from all angles before putting it on his plate. ‘This does look alright. I suppose eating one thing won’t hurt.’
Mum gives me an encouraging smile and I give her a relieved one back. I leave them to it and go to Greg and Jill, who are chatting at the counter.
‘I’ll get off now,’ says Jill, with a glance at the clock.
She grabs her things and without Greg asking, I set to making him a coffee. Even though it’s lovely to see him, my smiled greeting is muted.
‘What’s up?’ he asks as I stare at the brown stream of liquid pouring into the takeaway cup.
‘All good,’ I say, moving my mouth as little as possible, almost as if talking will release a flood of emotion.
I put his drink in front of him and he cocks his head to the side. ‘It’s not. Tell me?’
I glance towards my parents, who are eating in silence, and then nod towards the kitchen. When we’re in there, he leans against the countertop waiting for me to speak.
‘I surprised my parents with afternoon tea.’