The Little Kiosk By The Sea

by Jennifer Bohnet

  ‘The problem,’ the girl in the office explained, ‘is that owners already have bookings for most of the summer. Nobody in town on our books has anything available for a long let. Maybe if you’d consider Stoke Fleming or Strete, I’d be able to find you something.’

  He’d shaken his head at her suggestion. ‘I really want to stay in town – besides, I don’t have any transport.’

  Walking through town ten minutes later on his way back to the hotel, he decided to let things ride for a bit. No choice really. Besides, it wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to stay at the hotel, it was just he wanted somewhere he could relax and not have to worry about sticking to a schedule for breakfast and vacating the room for the maid. Admittedly it was nice having the bed-making and cleaning etc. done every day. Perhaps staying put and having all the domestic bits of life taken care of was the sensible thing to do. Allow him to concentrate on investigating the family tree and finding a boat.

  He knew from the papers at home that had started him on this quest to find ‘The English Connection’ as Jessica had dubbed it, their Grandma Mary had been Mary Seale, the only daughter of William and Amelia Seal, before she ran away with the love of her life, Grandpa Millman, and been disowned by her English family.

  A quick glance in the phone book at the hotel had told him there were no families of either name left in the town, so no convenient door to knock on hoping for quick leads. Ordering a beer he took it over to a table in the corner and began to trawl through the property pages of the day’s paper again on the off chance he’d missed something on his first read. What he’d really love to find would be somewhere like Johnnie’s ancient cottage. He been tempted to ask if he had a spare room. So full of atmosphere, he could only wonder at the stories it could tell. A house like that would be amazing.

  Five minutes later, he folded the paper up in frustration. Nothing. He glanced at his watch. A couple of hours to kill before his appointment with the yacht broker down at the marina. Apparently they were keen for him to see a fifty-foot wooden ketch that had just been put up for sale over in Brixham.

  Before then he had time to wander along the quay and take another look at Bayards Cove. It was a place that fascinated him. Made him wish his ancestors had gone over with the Pilgrims back in the seventeenth century rather than running away to marry a GI three centuries later. He also needed to visit the library and spend some time there looking up the history of the town with particular regard to the Holdsworths and the Seales, whom he’d already discovered had run the town a couple of centuries ago.

  Then this evening he’d return to his room and spend the evening reading and doing some more research on the Internet. He didn’t want Jessie telling him he wasn’t doing enough to find their ‘English Connection’.

  HIGH SEASON

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JOHNNIE

  Johnny stood patiently in line at the cash desk while the woman being served carefully placed her shopping in her wheelie bag before handing the cashier her cheque book. He could sense the impatience of the couple in front of him before they tutted loudly but it didn’t bother him.

  ‘They should try queuing in a French supermarket,’ a voice behind him said softly. ‘This is so quick compared. Takes hours sometimes over there to do a weekly shop.’

  He turned and saw the woman who’d helped him secure Annie on the grid the other week. Probably not a holidaymaker then.

  ‘Hello. You’re right about French supermarkets – takes forever to do a quick shop.’

  ‘We both like good French wine though,’ she said, indicating the same bottle in their respective baskets.

  ‘You know about wine?’

  ‘Just a bit.’

  Johnnie started to place his stuff on the conveyor belt, carefully laying down the wine to avoid it toppling over when the belt jerked forward.

  ‘Morning, Johnnie,’ the female cashier said, flashing his items through. ‘Everything okay?

  ‘Fine,’ he answered, handing over some notes. He pocketed his change, picked his shopping up, smiled at the two women and left. Two minutes later, he was loitering outside, wishing the woman would hurry up and appear.

  The woman glanced at him and smiled when he fell into step alongside her.

  ‘As one sailor to another – can I buy you a coffee?’ he said. ‘The Royal is the nearest place if that’s all right with you?’

  ‘Thank you, Johnnie, that would be lovely.’

  ‘How do you know my name? Ah …’ Comprehension dawned. ‘Susie on the cash desk. That’s the trouble with being a local – so you’re … ?’

  ‘Rachel.’

  ‘Thought you might be a holidaymaker the other day,’ Johnnie said.

  She shook her head. ‘No. I live in town now.’

  The Harbour Bar was busy as they entered, with both locals and holidaymakers enjoying a mid-morning coffee. One or two of the locals raised their hands in greeting to Johnnie as he went to order their coffees. He saw BB tucked away in a quiet corner, intently studying the local newspaper, oblivious to anyone around him.

  Sitting with another women in a place where he and Annie had often had coffee felt strange. Of course he’d been in here often enough in the past year or two with Sabine and friends, but it had been a long time since he’d actually invited a woman to have coffee with him. He stirred his coffee thoughtfully, wondering what to say. BB, on his way out, walked over.

  ‘Hi, Johnnie, how you doing?’ BB said.

  Johnnie stood up and quickly introduced Rachel before saying, ‘Found anywhere to live yet?’

  BB shook his head. ‘Been through the papers again today. No luck. Wouldn’t be a problem if I wanted to stay the other side of the river for the summer, but here it’s proving impossible to find anything – even a room rather than an apartment.’

  ‘I’ve a spare room,’ Rachel said quietly. ‘It has an en suite bathroom, but you’d have to share the kitchen and the sitting room with me.’

  Both BB and Johnnie looked at her.

  ‘Really?’ BB said. ‘I have a feeling you’re about to turn into my Fairy Godmother.’

  Rachel laughed. ‘You haven’t seen the room yet and for all you know I might be the stuff nightmares are made off. The landlady from hell.’

  ‘I doubt that. When can I came and see the room?’ BB said.

  ‘How about coming for a drink this evening? About 7.30? Give me time to sort things. I haven’t been in the house long and I’ve been using that room as a general dumping ground.’

  ‘Great. Where are you?’

  ‘Clarence Hill. You know it?’

  As BB nodded and Rachel told him the number, Johnnie found himself thinking, that’s one of the older houses not far from me.

  ‘See you this evening then.’ And BB was gone.

  ‘Well that was unexpected,’ Rachel said, drinking her coffee. ‘Thanks for suggesting coming here and introducing me to BB.’

  ‘He’s just a new acquaintance my sister introduced me to,’ Johnnie said awkwardly. ‘I don’t really know anything about him – he could be a serial killer or anything. Although he seems nice enough,’ he added quickly.

  Rachel smiled. ‘Oh, Johnnie, I’m sure he’s not going to murder me in my bed. If he does, I’ll come back and haunt you for introducing us. He’s just an ordinary guy looking for somewhere to stay. Reminds me of my son, although I think he’s a bit older.’

  She pushed her empty coffee cup and saucer away. ‘I don’t know you either – but I’m fairly certain you’re okay.’ She laughed at the expression on his face.

  ‘You have a son?’ Johnnie said.

  Rachel nodded. ‘Yes, he lives in France with his family. He’s a great sailor too,’ she added. ‘He’d love your boat – Annie, isn’t she called? It’s been years since I’ve set foot on a wooden boat. They tended to be all fibreglass where we lived.’ She glanced at Johnnie, hesitating, totally unsure whether she should say what she was about to.

  ‘If you ever need a cr
ew, remember me, won’t you?’

  ‘Usually sail singlehanded,’ Johnnie said, not mentioning that he preferred it that way since Annie had died. Couldn’t imagine anyone taking her place on the boat. ‘The boat’s named after my late wife.’

  But then, to his own surprise, he heard himself adding, ‘Actually, I’ve got to go across to France sometime soon. Not keen on doing the channel single-handed, so I usually get one of the pros from the agency I work for to come with me, but if you’d be interested?’

  ‘You serious?’ Rachel said. When he nodded she said, ‘I’d love to. I don’t know the north coast of France at all. Just give me twenty-four hours notice and I’ll be there, cap’n.’ She gave him a salute before holding out her hand for him to shake.

  ‘Right, I’d better get going. Prepare things for my prospective lodger. Thanks for the coffee.’

  Johnnie watched her walk out of the restaurant wondering why on earth he hadn’t kept his mouth shut. As he’d shaken her hand, he’d clocked the wedding ring. Hell, he hadn’t even thought to ask if there was a husband on the scene when she mentioned her son. He could only pray there wasn’t – or at least not one who would object to his wife sailing away with another man for a few days. But surely she’d have mentioned a husband if she had one? Especially when she offered BB a room. Oh well, he’d find out on his next trip to France. He’d find out whether she was a real sailor then too.

  Rachel might profess to love sailing and tie a good knot, but would she be any good as crew? So long as she could steer a course and winch a sail or two up, everything should be fine. Wouldn’t it?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  RACHEL

  Walking home, Rachel wondered about Johnnie’s wife. How had she died? How long ago? Had she been a local girl? He definitely didn’t want to talk about her, that was for sure. He’d left the sentence about the boat’s name hanging in the air without any other explanation.

  Rachel stroked her wedding ring with her thumb, making it slide around her finger. She’d registered Johnnie looking at her wedding ring. A year since her world had fallen apart, but still she couldn’t bring herself to take the ring off. Johnnie hadn’t asked about her husband but then, she hadn’t volunteered the information either.

  Johnnie had probably assumed she was divorced as most people did before she told them she was a widow. Maybe he didn’t have any intention of asking her to crew for him. Maybe he was just being polite to her face and would forget the conversation. He hadn’t asked about any commitments that might stop her going to France with him.

  Not that there were any these days. She was as free as a bird. No-one to worry about, which was one of the reasons she hoped BB would like the room. There would have to be ground rules, of course, but it would be good to have somebody else in the cottage, somebody to maybe share a glass or two of wine out on the terrace of an evening. Having someone to house-sit the cottage if she did crew for Johnnie on this trip to France would be a welcome bonus.

  The spare room wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Just a couple of boxes she hadn’t unpacked yet – she wasn’t even sure what was in them if she was honest. They could go in the basement for now. Open the window, a quick vacuum and dust, make the bed, clean the en suite, find some towels and another bath mat and she was done. Quite like old times when the villa had been full of friends and she’d won the accolade of ‘Hostess with the Mostest’.

  Would it suit BB though? Maybe he was looking for something more upmarket, something more along the lines of his room at The Royal. Oh well, if he didn’t like it at least she’d sorted the spare room.

  BB, when he arrived promptly at 7.30, was carrying a bunch of flowers which he handed to her with a smile.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll just put them in water,’ Rachel said. ‘Then I’ll show you the room.’

  Leading the way upstairs, she said, ‘I have to warn you it’s not a very big room.’

  ‘It’s perfect,’ BB said, taking it in with a glance. ‘It’s got everything I need. Can I move in tomorrow?’

  Rachel laughed. ‘We haven’t discussed rent yet. Or how long you’d like to stay. And there will be a few ground rules.’ She looked at him anxiously. ‘You’re not a smoker, are you? If you are, then I’m afraid it’s not on anyway.’

  ‘No, not a smoker and I have to return to the States in September, so from now until then?’

  ‘Let’s go and have a glass of wine and discuss the terms and conditions then,’ Rachel said.

  Sitting on her small terrace sharing a bottle of rosé, Rachel laid down the ground rules as she thought of them.

  ‘I’ll give you a key so you’ll be free to come and go as you like. I’m happy to provide toast and coffee for breakfast but any other food you want, you’ll have to buy. I’ll clear a shelf in the fridge for you. I have to warn you, I can’t stand a messy kitchen so make sure you clear up after yourself.’

  ‘I’m not a bad cook but I’ll probably eat out most days,’ BB said. ‘Talking of food. If you haven’t eaten, will you join me for dinner tonight? Celebrate our deal?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rachel said. ‘You’re certainly starting off on the right foot. First flowers and now dinner. I’ll just get a cardigan.’

  BB was looking at a photo of Rachel and a younger man in a silver frame on the mantelpiece of the sitting room when she came back downstairs.

  ‘My son,’ Rachel said. ‘Taken a couple of years ago. You may get to meet Hugo. He and his wife are hoping to come for a visit later in the year.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ELLIE

  Ellie had placed her laptop on the table in front of the window in her old bedroom and was rapidly turning the space around it into her office. So far she’d refrained from sending her CV out to prospective employers, deciding instead to freelance for a bit. See if she could earn enough money to survive that way.

  Thanks to Estelle, she’d been commissioned to write three features with more promised in the next few weeks. She’d also been busy pitching some story ideas to a couple of magazines where she had her own contacts, quickly realising freelancing was a numbers game – the more ideas you pitched, the more the chance of being commissioned.

  She’d not yet started the hunt for a new flat either, mainly because both Mum and Dad, together and separately, had urged her to stay for as long as she liked – and had refused to take any rent, which was a big bonus until her finances were in better shape. Her redundancy money was already gathering a little bit of interest in the bank and there was still money in her current account – thanks again to Mum and Dad who were also feeding her. They’d insisted she accepted the status quo while she got back on her feet.

  It was funny living back home again though. Dad was away on business a couple of days a week and Mum seemed to be living in a world of her own at the moment. To say she was preoccupied was putting it mildly. Once or twice Ellie had caught her looking at her with a funny expression on her face. When she’d asked, ‘What?’ her mother had shaken her head, smiled at her and said, ‘Sorry, love. I was miles away.’

  At least both parents had stopped tiptoeing around the subject of Rod. Her dad had been forthright in his dismissal of him. ‘Never took to him if I’m honest, love. You deserve someone much, much nicer,’ and he’d patted her gently on the back as he hugged her.

  Mum, when Ellie had tearfully muttered she was worried about never meeting ‘the one and never having children’, had hugged her tightly and said ‘You will. The right one always comes along in the end.’

  Ellie had sniffed and prayed that she was right. It was three months now since Rod had cast her adrift and moved to Manchester with her replacement. Three months in which she’d been determined to get her life back on the track she wanted – never to put it on hold again for anyone. She still had the occasional teary moments, usually in bed around midnight when unsolvable problems went round and round in her head.

  Thankfully, there had been fewer nightmares and midnight crises lately. But she ha
d to face facts. She was thirty in September. The clock was ticking. She’d always expected to be married by now. All her old friends – except for Tamsyn who from sixth form days had always vowed she’d never tie herself down to one man – were married and most had one if not more children. Although on the downside, there was poor Liz currently facing single motherhood after her sleaze of a husband had gone off with their Spanish au pair. At least she didn’t have to cope with that.

  Switching on her laptop, Ellie picked up a pile of papers on her desk and began to flick through them as she waited for it to boot up. She’d been amazed to discover these tattered pages of a novel she’d started about ten years ago at the back of her wardrobe yesterday – she’d thought she’d thrown all her old notebooks and jottings away when she’d left home.

  Now, giving the manuscript a quick read through prior to finally throwing it away, she found herself intrigued by the words she’d written so long ago. She remembered how inspired she’d been when the idea for the novel had first occurred to her.

  Thoughtfully she sat back. Ever since she could hold a crayon, she’d drawn and written stories, as a teenager she’d dreamt of being a bestselling novelist. Everybody knew novelists struggled unless they hit the big time bigger than big. Being a writer meant a life on the breadline with no job security, no regular wage, no pension in the dim and distant future. Something both Harriet and Frank had urged her to think about when choosing a career.

  Becoming a journalist had seemed the sensible option for a career involving writing. For the last eight years she’d enjoyed writing up news and features – she’d even won a prestigious ‘Young Journalist of the Year’ award in the early days soon after she’d left journalism school.