The Seafront Tea Rooms (13 page)

‘I need you in the office, Charlie. That’s why you’re employed to work
in the office
.’

‘I can’t leave right now. I’m sorry, but I have to stay another week at least.’

Overnight, it seemed as if Pippa had got worse instead of better. She’d sat up sobbing for hours, barely saying a word. Luke had called a few times but she’d refused to speak to him; she was convinced that he was only calling to tell her it was all over, that she’d ruined things between them.

‘How am I supposed to trust you with the next edition? We’re due to go to print in a few weeks and we have no articles or reviews yet – you do realise that, don’t you?’ Jess said sternly.

‘Yes, I do,’ Charlie said, lowering her voice so that Pippa and the children wouldn’t hear her. ‘And I’m working on it. But I’ll have to do it from here. I’m sorry, Jess, but this is a family emergency.’

Jess sighed. ‘I took a leap of faith allowing you to guest-edit this issue, and now I’m having to make excuses for you. I thought you were serious about this.’

‘I am,’ Charlie said, trying to keep her voice calm despite the mounting sense of desperation. ‘I’ll do most of the reviews while I’m here and have them edited ready for when I get back.’

‘You’re going to do all that on your own, while dealing with your “family emergency”?’

‘Yes. I am.’

‘Fine…’ Jess paused. ‘OK, I hope I don’t end up regretting this, but let’s talk next Wednesday. You need to have most of the content ready for subbing by then, and the absolute outside date I can give you for the rest is Monday the twenty-ninth. And that’s it, Charlie. If you let me down, there is no way I will be able to recommend you to take over as my replacement.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll have everything done. Thank you.’ Charlie felt a wave of relief wash over her. ‘I won’t let you down, Jess. I promise. This is going to be the best edition of the magazine yet.’

‘I certainly hope so.’

17

Wednesday 17 September

Charlie had had it all planned out – she’d pick Jacob up from nursery, then Flo up from school and they’d all go to the playground together. That would keep them occupied for at least an hour, giving Pippa some relative peace at home with Gracie.

‘It’s raining!’ Flo protested, covering her head with her hands theatrically. ‘We can’t play. The swings are all wet.’

‘It’s
raining
,’ Jacob said, echoing his sister’s whine. ‘We can’t play.’

For once, Charlie had to admit that her niece and nephew had a point. Storm clouds were thick in the sky, and the current drizzle looked like it was only going to get worse. She looked around for other options, and with delight and relief, caught sight of the Seafront.

Inside, at Letty’s stool by the till, there was a man about Charlie’s age. Broad-shouldered with dark-blond hair – the kind of guy Charlie might look twice at if she didn’t have other things to think about right now.

Flo rammed her scooter into the glass cabinet, shaking the cake stands. A couple of customers looked over and Charlie cringed.

‘Flo, Jacob – see that table by the window? Let’s see who can get there fastest, shall we?’

Her niece and nephew skidded across the floorboards, and then clambered on to chairs.

‘Sorry about them,’ she said to the man. ‘I promised them we’d go and play but then the heavens opened.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘It’s fine.’

‘Is Letty not here today?’

‘She’s had to go out, but she’ll be back later this afternoon.’

‘And you are…’

‘Euan,’ he said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

‘Letty’s son?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Has my reputation preceded me?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘It’s just… You look like her. Your eyes.’ They were a striking light blue.

He smiled. ‘Yep, people sometimes say that.’

‘She mentioned you to me. Said you were the real self-starter in the family.’

‘I keep myself busy, I suppose,’ he said. ‘Although I kind of enjoy it when Mum asks me to help out here. Time seems to go slowly. And the Seafront is my second home – I practically grew up in these four walls, after all.’

‘You’re lucky.’

‘So, what can I get you?’

‘Could I have a cup of…’ She looked at the jars on the wall, recalled the distinct aroma of each one when the lid was opened. ‘I think I’ll go for the jasmine tea today, please.’

‘And for the kids?’

‘Two of your finest gingerbread men, please.’ She pointed at them in the glass cabinet.

‘Three, did you say?’ Euan said, a glint in his eye as he brought the plate out.

‘Three would be even better. Rainy-day rules, right?’

‘Absolutely. These are freshly made, too. Busy day?’

‘You could say that. Up at six, and yet I still didn’t have time to eat anything.’

Euan arranged the gingerbread men on a tray.

‘And could you do a couple of babyccinos?’

‘Baby whats?’ Euan wrinkled his nose and laughed.

‘You know. Mini cappuccinos, for kids. Frothy milk, chocolate sprinkles?’

‘Sure,’ he said, getting some cups down. ‘Babyccinos, eh? And I thought I’d heard it all.’

When Charlie went up to pay, Euan was serving a middle-aged couple. He chatted easily with them. Laughter-lines formed at the corner of his eyes as he smiled. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing strong, tanned forearms and hands, as if he worked outside. He glanced over at Charlie fleetingly and caught her eye.

As she waited, she noticed a scrapbook lying on the counter. On the front were the words:
The Seafront: 1913 to the present day.

She opened it – inside were newspaper cuttings dating back to the early days of the tea rooms. The first photo showed men and women constructing the building.

‘Sorry to keep you,’ he said. ‘Is it the bill you’re after?’

She nodded. ‘This is fascinating stuff,’ she said, pointing to the scrapbook.

‘Oh yeah. The whole history’s in there,’ Euan said. ‘This place has stood through two world wars.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yes. The year after my grandparents opened the tea rooms, the town was bombarded by German warships. Nineteen people died, the lighthouse was destroyed – but the tea rooms survived.’

‘Impressive,’ Charlie said, continuing to browse through the pictures.

She turned the page, and saw a photo of Letty when she was young, in a pair of flares and a flowery blouse, a man with a moustache by her side.

‘He’s handsome,’ Charlie said, pointing at the man.

‘That’s my dad, John.’

‘Is he still around?’

‘Very much so.’ Euan smiled cheekily. ‘Why, are you interested?’

Charlie laughed. ‘I’m surprised I haven’t seen him in here, that’s all.’

‘He and Mum are separated. He doesn’t come here. Hasn’t for years.’

‘Oh, I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,’ she said, sensing that she’d touched on a sensitive subject. She closed the scrapbook and rummaged in her handbag for her purse.

‘It’s OK,’ Euan reassured her. ‘I’ve never believed in having secrets – but Mum, well, she’s different in that way. You won’t find the personal side of the story in that scrapbook.’

Charlie heard a hammering on the window and looked around to see Flo’s face, mouthing demands for her to come out.

‘I’d better be going.’

‘What was your name?’ Euan asked. ‘So I can tell my mum you dropped by.’

‘Charlotte – Charlie.’ She smiled. As she turned to leave, she found herself wondering if he might still be watching her.

To: Kat

From: Charlie

Hi Kat,

Please tell me you have some free time? The reviews you sent over are fantastic – you’re a natural. I knew you would be.

The deadline is approaching so quickly and I need to have all the content ready soon, but things are still crazy over here. School runs. Glitter. Mud. I’m struggling to get anywhere further than the Seafront at the moment.

Any chance you could get out and see some of the other tea rooms on our list? Maybe Séraphine could join you? We still have some room in the budget, so I’ll make it worth your while, I promise!

Charlie x

To: Charlie

From: Kat

Hey Charlie,

Of course! It would be a pleasure. Call me when you get a minute and we can talk it through. I’ll have a word with Séraphine in the meantime.

Kx

18

Wednesday 17 September

‘My mum painted these for me,’ Zoe said, pointing to two square canvases. One painting was of an elephant, the other of a little house, in yellow, pink and purple. ‘She used to paint all kinds of things. Mostly from her imagination.’

‘
Ils sont très beaux,’
Séraphine said. She picked up the elephant canvas and took a closer look. ‘She’s chosen some lovely colours, hasn’t she?’

‘
Oui – violet, rose et jaune
…’ Zoe switched effortlessly between English and French as she spoke, describing the painting, not even seeming to notice when Séraphine spoke to her in her native language.

‘Where did your mother do her painting?’

‘She had a room, it was next to the stables – she said the light there was good. That’s what she’d say, but me and Dad both knew it was because she could see the horses from there. She was happiest when she was near them…’

Zoe paused, and then continued.

‘
Maman
would paint when Dad was looking after me. Sometimes she’d go to that room after I’d gone to sleep. I could see from my bedroom that the light was still on in her window.’

‘Where did you find these paintings?’

‘In a box under my bed. I didn’t want to put them up when we got here. But maybe now…’ She glanced down and Séraphine thought for a moment that she might cry. Instead, she looked back up and nodded her head determinedly. ‘I think I’m ready.’

‘Right. Well, why don’t we do it then?’

‘OK,’ Zoe said, getting up. ‘Will you help me? Dad keeps the hammer under the sink.’

‘Let’s go.’

An hour later, the two pictures were up on Zoe’s wall, the little house hanging over her dressing table and the elephant by her bed. After their first conversation about Marianne, it had taken Séraphine aback how quickly Zoe’s attitude has changed. It was as if there was a reservoir of emotion that had been waiting for the right person to tap into it. The frostiness had disappeared and made way for warmth. Something had happened that she’d never imagined could – Zoe was opening up to her.

‘It’s quite babyish, isn’t it?’ Zoe said, touching the painted elephant’s trunk. ‘But I don’t care.’

‘I think it looks lovely,’ Séraphine said, straightening it slightly.

‘I was smaller when she painted it.’

Zoe sat back on her bed, and pulled one of the purple satin cushions on to her lap.

‘Do you enjoy painting?’ Séraphine asked.

‘Yes.’ Zoe shrugged. ‘I’m not very good though.’

‘I bet you are. Did you see that there’s one space left?’ She pointed to a blank area of wall by the door.

‘Do you think I should paint something?’

‘Yes. You’ve got some paints, haven’t you?’

Zoe nodded.

‘Paint anything you’d like.’

‘I want to do a picture of my mum. How I remember her.’

19

Thursday 18 September

At eight in the morning, the sky lightening to a grey-blue, the South Bay was quiet. The shutters on the shops and restaurants were down, and the only sound was the gulls overhead.

Charlie needed a run to clear her head. How Pippa did it, she had no idea; the last few days had left her completely exhausted. Back in London she would put her iPod in and jog by the canal before work, dance music prepping her for the day ahead. She hadn’t wanted to run with music today, though. Up here, away from the city, it was quieter. She didn’t want to block out the world and create a bubble, as she usually did.

Thud, thud, thud
– it felt good to hear her feet on the tarmac, the sound of her efforts. After a few hundred metres, her skin grew warm.

Thud, thud, thud
 

Sweat began to trickle down her back, but with each step she took, calm returned.

Thud, thud —
 

BAM.

Charlie’s body buckled.

Something had knocked the backs of her knees sharply, pushing her legs out from under her and knocking her hard on to her lycra-clad side. She grazed her elbows as she hit the floor.

‘HEY,’ she called out, shocked, her elbows and hip stinging and sore.

She looked around, dazed, and was met by a furry muzzle and a pink tongue licking her shoulder.

‘Wha —’ she began, pushing the animal away.

‘Bagel! Bagel! Get off her!’ Euan grabbed the dog by its collar. ‘Charlie, I’m so sorry, are you OK?’ He helped her to her feet.

Her shorts had a rip at the side, and there was grit in the scratches on her elbow and thigh. ‘Just about.’

‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Then, turning to the dog: ‘Sit, Bagel. SIT.’ Reluctantly, the dog sat down, its tongue still lolling.

‘What happened?’ She leaned against the sea wall, trying to get her breath back.

‘He ran into you. I’ve only had him a week and I haven’t quite worked out this extendable lead yet. Well, I’ve worked out how to extend it, but not how to… Again, I’m so sorry.’

Charlie looked at the dog suspiciously.

‘He’s on probation,’ Euan explained. ‘He’s a rescue. My friend Adam is a vet and took him in. I’m up for a challenge, but I have to say I’m wondering whether I’ve bitten off more than I can chew this time. So to speak.’

The dog whined and tilted its head.