The Seafront Tea Rooms (4 page)

Charlie laughed. ‘OK, perhaps not that. But surely there must be something?’

‘People, obviously. Family. Living with you.’

‘
That’s
the answer I was looking for,’ Charlie said, smiling.

‘And one other thing…’

‘Yes?’

‘A good cup of tea. I mean a seriously good cup of tea. And a proper scone with cream. The food here is incredible, don’t get me wrong – but a good old-fashioned tea room? They don’t exist.’

‘Do you remember that teashop hidden away behind the train station?’

‘The Rosebud?’ Sarah smiled at the memory. ‘Yes, of course I do. Almost made getting dumped worth it, that cake.’

In Guerrilla Coffee, the aroma of freshly ground Arabica beans fills the air. While the service is brisk to the point of being offhand, the feisty espressos more than make up for it. A mix of early-to-rise city workers, freelance writers and morning-after clubbers congregate around oak banquettes and sip from steaming hot cups…
 

Charlie rubbed her eyes as she wrote, her MacBook balanced on the tray table in front of her. She would have given anything to have a hot macchiato about now. She checked the corner of her computer screen, still on UK time – four hours till they touched down, and six more reviews to go. She’d finished writing up her notes on two venues – the boutique dog café and the underground iced-coffee bar – typing as the plane flew over the Atlantic.

She and Sarah hadn’t got back till the early hours of the morning. They’d gone out in Greenwich Village with a group of Sarah’s friends, partying like old times, dancing on the bar and laughing until their sides hurt. She’d crashed for a couple of hours on the sofa bed in her friend’s loft apartment, then caught a cab directly to the airport. Saying goodbye to Sarah had been bittersweet; they both knew that it would probably be a year or more until they saw each other again. The trip away had been energising but all too brief, and Charlie was in no hurry to get back. Home meant being reminded of her break-up with Ben.

Hopefully next year would be better than this one. She thought of the old copy of
Say I Do
magazine that was on the coffee table in her flat. Planning her wedding to Ben earlier that year, she’d turned the corners of certain pages – a backless dress, a tree-house venue, an arrangement of roses and baby’s breath. She needed to throw that out. Ben was out of her life for good, and she was a different person now. She recalled the day that they’d met, two years ago.

‘You got time to show a new boy the ropes?’ Ben had asked in the office canteen.

‘OK,’ she answered with a smile. ‘Can’t have you sitting on your own on your first day, I suppose.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, with a mock sigh of relief. ‘It’s like something out of
Mean Girls
round here. Look at that lot,’ he said, indicating a cluster of immaculately made-up women, and men in dapper clothing, all leaning in towards each other conspiratorially.

‘
Cutting Edge Style
magazine,’ Charlie said. ‘You should probably steer clear of them.’

Ben looked down at his outfit – pressed chinos and a blue shirt – and raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you saying?’

‘No offence, but they’d eat you for breakfast.’ She laughed. ‘You’d be better off sticking to the foodies.’ She nodded across the room. ‘That’s the
Savour
publicity and marketing team; they’re pretty friendly… And
Indulge
are the best of the lot. The only downside is, there’s no such thing as a quick lunch break: every dish has to be dissected and discussed in minute detail.’

‘God. Pass,’ he said. ‘I know hardly anything about food – apart from that I enjoy it.’

‘How did you end up working here, then?’

‘Shameless nepotism. My brother happens to be married to the sales manager. That and I’ve got a sales background. I’ve never worked for a food magazine before though.’

‘OK, well, seeing as you can’t hold your own yet, I’ll ease you in gently. We can sit next to the girls at
Brides
magazine – they’re usually too wrapped up in flower concepts to give anyone the third degree.’

‘Not bad-looking either,’ he commented, glancing over.

A stab of jealousy surprised her, and she narrowed her eyes.

‘I’m joking,’ he said.

‘Hmmm. Now, be nice to Carol-Anne,’ Charlie said, indicating the eldest of the women serving, ‘and she’ll sort you out with the biggest portions for your whole time here.’

‘Note taken. Let’s get in line, I’m starving.’

They’d chatted easily that day, and before long they were exchanging emails and IMs across the crowded office floor. Ben’s warm humour made even the days leading up to a deadline pleasurable, punctuating her day with laughter and a delicious frisson.

At the office summer party, they’d ended up kissing in the middle of the dance floor, only to be shamed the following day by an Instagrammed shot of the event circulating around the office. But soon they’d become the darlings of the
Indulge
office, as close as the magazine got to a power couple. When Ben proposed, Charlie said yes, as everyone expected her to.

In the weeks that followed, Ben had looked over at the pages of
Say I Do
magazine as she showed them to him, but always with a non-committal ‘hmm’ or ‘yeah, nice’. She should have realised earlier that his heart wasn’t in getting married. But they were Charlie and Ben – the couple everyone wanted to invite to their dinner parties – they were meant to be together. Until one day, they weren’t. And it still stung.

She had thought she’d be getting married next spring. Now, with the wedding off, she needed to move on in a different way. To prove to herself she was better alone. And of course it wouldn’t hurt if Ben – still working in the same office as her – realised it too.

‘Tea or coffee?’ The stewardess’s voice cut into her thoughts.

She opened her mouth to order the coffee she’d been craving, then – recalling what Sarah had said – changed her mind. ‘A tea, please.’

She remembered the Sunday afternoons she and Sarah had spent at the Rosebud, catching up over cups of English breakfast and carrot cake. Everyone treasured a unique café, didn’t they? Somewhere special they could call their own.

Getting out her notebook, she jotted down some ideas.

Teacups… history… chat… afternoon tea… tea rooms.
 

An edition of the magazine that readers could cosy up with, just right for November, when the nights were drawing in. She chewed on her pen, mulling the idea over. Perhaps there was something in it.

‘Sorry, miss, you’re going to have to raise your tray table. We’re coming in to land.’

‘Sure,’ Charlie said, closing her laptop.

She put her computer away and watched as the clouds thinned, allowing glimpses of land as they approached London.

‘We will shortly be arriving at London Heathrow. It’s a pretty grey day down there, a chilly fourteen degrees…’
 

Charlie looked down at her denim skirt and flip-flops. Back to British summertime, then, she thought gloomily. At least she’d remembered to put a jacket in her hand luggage.

Later, in the taxi rank outside the airport, she switched on her mobile phone again. Missed call:
MUM
. She pressed the button to return it.

‘Charlie!’

‘Hello, Mum. Just got back. You called, has anything happened?’

‘Yes. Wonderful news: Pippa’s had a healthy baby girl.’

‘That’s great,’ Charlie said, relieved. ‘Have they picked a name yet?’

‘Gracie.’

A kind, friendly face came into Charlie’s mind and she smiled. ‘Granny’s name.’

‘Yes. It was a lovely thought. They’re all doing fine. Jacob and Flo are enjoying meeting their new sister, she says. Your dad and I are going up this weekend.’

‘That’s good. How is Dad?’

‘Oh, you know your father…’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Never easy.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be cheered up by seeing the baby.’

‘Exactly.’

Charlie, now at the front of the queue, manouevred her luggage trolley into position as a black cab drew up.

‘Listen, I can’t chat,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m still at the airport.’

‘OK. But, Charlie —’

‘Mmm-hmm,’ she said, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear as she loaded her bags into the taxi.

‘I know you and your sister don’t always see eye to eye, but you will visit her sooner this time, won’t you?’

Charlie thought of her work schedule – packed solid until January. Then came a flashback of how she and Pippa had argued last time she’d gone to stay in Scarborough. She chewed her lip. Somehow she’d have to find a way to fit in the visit. And this time she’d be more patient.

‘Of course, Mum. I’ll book a train up tonight.’

4

Friday 15 August

Jake leaned in towards Kat and kissed her gently on the cheek, in the hallway of what had once been his flat. The bristle of his stubble against her skin, the smell of his shampoo – it was the tiny things that brought memories back.

‘Bit out of the blue I know, but a friend was driving down from Edinburgh and asked if I wanted a lift…’

‘It’s OK,’ she said, with a smile. ‘I’m used to surprises.’ They walked up the stairs together.

‘Those are new.’ He pointed at the black-and-white photos Kat had taken of the seafront ice-cream shops and put in handmade driftwood frames. ‘Nice.’

‘Thanks. Leo found some of the wood for them. A few things have changed since last time.’

‘Two months is way too long.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve missed Leo loads and he must’ve grown up so much. Where is he?’ He peered down the corridor towards Leo’s room. ‘Can I say hello? I got him something.’ He held up a plastic bag with a wrapped box inside.

‘Sorry, he’s in bed.’

Jake hit his palm gently against his forehead. ‘Oh yeah. Of course.’

‘Come through. I’ll put the kettle on.’

Jake sat down on the sofa, running one hand distractedly over the corduroy material on the arm. ‘So, how’ve you been?’

‘Good,’ Kat said, stepping into the kitchen and getting a mug out of the cupboard, flicking the kettle on. ‘Busy.’ She made Jake’s tea on auto-pilot: milky with two spoonfuls of white sugar.

Back in the living room she put Jake’s drink down in front of him and joined him on the sofa. ‘Leo talks about you all the time, you know.’

‘Really? He does?’ Jake glowed. He took a sip of tea, not waiting for it to cool. ‘Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t send any money over this month…’ He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at his feet. ‘I’m doing everything I can, but I’m starting from scratch in Edinburgh and there’s a ton of other painting-and-decorating companies. I’m slowly picking up jobs by word of mouth, but —’

‘I understand,’ Kat said. ‘I’m not going to lie, though – it’s hard covering the bills when I’m not working either.’

‘You haven’t found anything?’

‘Not yet. I’ve been interviewing.’

‘You’ll get something. You’ve always been the brains of the operation.’

‘Ha,’ she said, and smiled. ‘Well, hopefully it’ll be soon. You know how it gets here in winter.’

‘Yep,’ he said, his eyes meeting hers. ‘Absolutely freezing. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I send money next month.’

Kat nodded. ‘OK.’

‘In the meantime, I’ve got a proposition for you.’

‘Hmm?’

‘I’ve barely seen Leo these past few months, and Mum and Dad are desperate to spend some time with him. They haven’t set eyes on him since their last visit down here, and that was…’ His words trailed off.

‘When we were still together.’

‘Yes.’

She remembered the visit clearly. It had been a sunny spring weekend last year. The four of them had taken Leo to the beach, with his kite, and they’d had a picnic on the sand. From the outside it must have looked like the perfect outing.

‘Could I take him back to Edinburgh with me for a couple of weeks – three maybe? Mum and Dad can look after him if and when I get work.’

‘Three weeks?’ she said, feeling winded. She hadn’t been apart from Leo for that long since he was born. ‘But… what about nursery, Jake? His routine…’

‘Come on, Kat. I’m his dad – these are his grandparents. Isn’t it more important that we spend some proper time with him? We’ll make sure we keep things as normal as possible.’

She tried to imagine the flat without Leo; his room, empty. The quiet. ‘I don’t know —’

‘You need to look for a job, to send out CVs – that’s what you keep saying. Don’t tell me you did all that work at uni for nothing. If I had Leo for a few weeks you’d be able to focus on your career.’

A cough came from Leo’s room, and Kat turned towards the sound. Was it selfish to want to keep him with her? The flat fell silent again.

Jake spoke up. ‘We did say we would share looking after him.’

‘You’re right.’

Jake finished his tea. ‘Listen, I should be going. I’m staying at a friend’s tonight. I’ll come back in the morning to see him. Think it over?’

‘OK,’ Kat said, hoping that in the morning the idea of parting with her son would seem easier. ‘Let’s talk then.’

5

Friday 5 September

Scarborough, Peasholm Park

The taxi slowed as it approached the semi-detached house. Over the road, exactly as Adam had described, was a park with a Japanese pagoda, still and mystical in the early evening light.

‘This is it,’ Séraphine said to the driver.

That morning she’d kissed goodbye to her parents and the twins at Bordeaux airport. It felt a world away now.

She could see a girl in the window – brown hair in a ponytail, her nose pressed up against the glass. Séraphine waved at her. Adam opened the door. ‘Hi,’ he said warmly. She recognised him instantly from their chat on Skype – about thirty, with dark hair, a little scruffy at the front, and brown eyes, dressed in a grey jumper and jeans. He stepped forward and held out his hand for her to shake.

‘I’m Adam.’ He shook his head and laughed shyly. ‘But you already know that. Here, let me take your bag for you.’