The Secret Seaside Escape: The most heart-warming, feel-good romance of 2020, from the Sunday Times bestseller!

by Heidi Swain

  ‘I can see it in your eyes,’ she told me. ‘But with the rain we’ve had, I’m hardly surprised. Almost half your holiday gone, and you’ve been plagued by bad weather almost since the moment you arrived.’

  She was right, and I immediately found myself hoping that Sam would let me stay on, because it was depressing to think that I’d spent the best part of the first week back in Wynmouth laying on a sofa wrapped in a blanket.

  ‘It’s not always like this here, you know?’ Sophie nudged.

  I did know.

  ‘Come along with me to the café,’ she insisted, ‘and I’ll see if I can find something to put the smile back on your pretty face.’

  ‘All right,’ I agreed, ‘but only if you let me carry that basket.’

  Sophie swapped it for my umbrella, which we thankfully didn’t need to put up, and together we carried on towards the beach. Just as I had guessed, her business was housed in the spooky, boarded-up building I remembered from former holidays, but it looked nothing like the last time I had seen it. In fact, I soon discovered there was absolutely nothing even remotely scary about the place at all.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Sophie proudly. ‘This is my little business.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness!’ I laughed, feeling overwhelmed as I took it all in. ‘I was not expecting this!’

  It was certainly an idyllic spot, with the cliffs rising steeply behind and curving around it and the beach in front reaching down to the shore. The backdrop of cultivated fields atop the cliffs stretched to the horizon and it all looked untouched by time. A truly pastoral British scene, that is until you spotted the vibrant café exterior (and given the explosive pop of colour, you simply couldn’t fail to spot it) and were transported straight to the sunny Caribbean.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ I grinned. ‘And not at all what I was expecting. You’ve totally taken me by surprise, Sophie. I love it.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ she smiled graciously.

  She seemed pleased by my reaction, which in turn pleased me because it was wholly genuine. Even just a glimpse of Sophie’s café from a distance had started to chase away my dark mood. I couldn’t wait to see if it was as eye-catching on the inside as it was out.

  ‘I’m very proud of it,’ she continued. ‘Although I can’t help wishing it was a little busier.’

  I couldn’t possibly imagine why the café wouldn’t be heaving but, aside from someone walking a dog in the distance, the beach was completely deserted; however, I supposed that with the recent weather that was hardly surprising. And as Sophie had pointed out on the day I arrived in the village, it hadn’t been the sunniest start to the year. That was bound to have an impact.

  ‘I’m sure things will pick up again when the sun makes a more consistent effort,’ I told her robustly. ‘As soon as the temperature starts to rise, folk will be flocking back to the beach, and to here. I mean, look at it. How could they resist?’

  She didn’t look convinced and I remembered how surprised I had been to find the village so empty and the Smuggler’s so lacking in footfall. Why was no one coming to Wynmouth?

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ she said softly and a little sadly, ‘but let’s get inside before the rain starts again and I’ll make you a lovely hot chocolate.’

  We quickly made our way down the path and I found I couldn’t stop smiling. The fence surrounding the outside eating area was painted in a rainbow of colours, as were the half a dozen wooden picnic benches arranged on the fore-court which overlooked the beach.

  ‘The winter storms ensure the paintwork needs touching up every year,’ Sophie told me, ‘but I think it’s worth it, don’t you?’

  ‘Definitely,’ I readily agreed. ‘Totally worth it.’

  The interior was every bit as vibrant and matched the outside beautifully. There were no muted shades in this Norfolk beachside café. It had to be utterly unique to the area and to my mind, that should have made it even more popular.

  ‘What’s the café called?’ I asked as I helped lift down the chairs from where they had been left upside down on the tables.

  None of the furniture matched, but because it was all painted, everything sat harmoniously together.

  ‘The Wynmouth Beach Café,’ Sophie told me. ‘That’s what it’s always been called so I took the name on when I signed the lease.’

  It was a perfectly acceptable name for a run-of-the-mill seaside eatery, but it didn’t suit Sophie’s clever creation at all. There was absolutely nothing about it which even hinted at what you would find if you ventured along this side of the coast.

  ‘That’s all right, isn’t it?’ she asked, when I didn’t say anything.

  I wasn’t sure how I could say no without offending her.

  ‘Well,’ I began.

  ‘Oh,’ she groaned, before starting to laugh, ‘don’t tell me. It doesn’t match the ambience of the place; it doesn’t suggest any of what’s on offer.’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Am I right?’ she said, placing her hands on her shapely hips and raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Yes,’ I squeaked, confirming what she obviously already knew, ‘you are.’

  ‘There now,’ she tutted, shaking her head. ‘That’s exactly what my daughter is always saying. You’d get on well with her, Tess. She thinks I should have a website too.’

  ‘Please, don’t tell me you haven’t?’ I gasped.

  ‘No,’ she shrugged, her laughter fading in response to my reaction, ‘I haven’t, but I will get around to it.’ She hastily added.

  ‘And what about social media?’ I quizzed. The café was pure Instagram heaven. ‘Please tell me you have a Facebook page at the very least.’

  ‘All in good time,’ she said, flicking on the lights behind the counter. ‘All in good time. I’ve managed without all that palaver so far, haven’t I?’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ I told her.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she frowned, tying on an apron which was every bit as bright as the décor.

  ‘Well, you said a minute ago that you would like the café to be busier, didn’t you?’

  ‘A little busier,’ she conceded. ‘No one wants to compromise the tranquillity of the area. I wouldn’t want to be inundated, but yes, I could do with a little more cash coming through the till.’

  ‘Then you really do need to embrace what your daughter has already suggested and get yourself online,’ I said forthrightly.

  I hoped she didn’t think I was speaking out of turn, but her daughter had the right idea and Sophie needed to put her suggestions in place if she wanted to see the Wynmouth Beach Café thrive. The summer season was fast approaching and some online publicity, if pitched properly, could make a big difference to the café’s takings. So much for leaving my marketing brain behind, I realized as my thoughts ran away with me.

  ‘A website, and an Instagram and Twitter account really could make all the difference to your business, Sophie,’ I carried on enthusiastically. ‘And, if you know where to look and how to go about it, it will cost you practically nothing.’

  Sophie began to look a little more interested and I could tell that my words were adding another layer to the foundations her daughter had already laid.

  ‘I can help you with it all, if you like,’ I blurted out before I could stop myself. ‘I could have you completely set up with the whole lot by the end of the day.’

  ‘But you’re on holiday, Tess,’ she reminded me. ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘But I want to,’ I told her, looking around again. It wouldn’t really be like work and it would be wonderful to help the café come into its own. It had so much potential, just like the rest of Wynmouth. ‘This place is spectacular, Sophie, and it should be packed, even if it is raining. It’s a ray of sunshine in itself and you should be shouting about it from the virtual rooftops.’

  Sophie’s shoulders started to shake.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You,’ she laughed, ‘I reckon you must be quite a
force to reckon with once you’ve got a bee in your bonnet.’

  I started to laugh along with her as the bell above the door announced the first – and hopefully not the last – customers of the day.

  ‘You’ve convinced me,’ she said, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I’ll tell my daughter she can go ahead with all this online malarkey you youngsters are so convinced about.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ I told her, pleased that she was on board but a little disappointed that I wasn’t going to get it all up and running myself.

  I would have loved to set up the Instagram account if nothing else, although without my phone, that would have been tricky.

  ‘And I’m going to think about changing the name,’ Sophie carried on. ‘I rather like the ray of sunshine thing you just said. Something like, Sophie’s Sunshine Café might be fun.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I agreed, already imagining the cheery external livery and social media headers. ‘I think that would be perfect.’

  *

  With the weather only steadily improving, I ended up spending much of the day in the café. Drinking Sophie’s delectable rum-laced hot chocolate was a treat and I chatted to the slow trickle of customers, even cleared the odd table and made a point of calling Sophie over to hear what a couple of people had to say.

  ‘We searched online when we knew we were coming to Wynmouth,’ the young woman explained, ‘but there was no mention of this place. We would have definitely remembered it and come all the sooner had we known about it.’

  ‘I see,’ nodded Sophie, ‘that’s useful to know.’

  She had definitely got the message now and her daughter was going to find herself inundated with work when her mum handed over the many notes we had made throughout the course of the day. Sophie had even started listing more potential new names, but we kept going back to Sophie’s Sunshine Café and I reckoned that was the one she would stick with. With such a warm and charming character running the business, I felt that Sophie herself would be as much of a draw for customers as her unique fusion menu.

  She told me this was the fourth year she had been running the café. It had taken her years, and one big birthday, to take the plunge and I hated the thought of her venture failing. Hopefully now she had agreed to embrace the internet it would make all the difference. I had even suggested that she could open on occasional evenings, offering slightly more formal dining. The place could be an intimate and romantic hotspot for loved-up couples. The combination of candles, the beach and Sophie’s spicy curries would get pulses racing and make the perfect date place.

  ‘Do you have a spotters’ board?’ an eager-looking guy with a pair of binoculars asked just as I was beginning to imagine myself sitting across a table from Sam and staring into his bewitching eyes.

  ‘A spotters’ board?’ I repeated back at him, grateful for the timely interruption.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you know, a board to record the local bird and wildlife that’s been seen around here.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, looking about me, ‘I don’t think so, but what a great idea.’

  Sophie was quick to catch on.

  ‘What have you seen?’ she asked the chap. ‘Anything interesting?’

  ‘A couple of grey plovers,’ he said excitedly, and Sophie gave a little gasp. ‘I’ve never seen them here at this time of year before and, of course, the sand martins are out in full force further along the cliffs.’

  ‘They’re such lovely little things,’ said Sophie fondly.

  For all I knew they could have been talking a different language, but they were clearly thrilled about what the guy had seen.

  ‘It would be great if you had somewhere to record daily sightings,’ the keen twitcher then suggested, ‘then other folk could add to the list throughout the week.’

  ‘Why not use part of the chalkboard?’ I said to Sophie.

  Almost half a wall was taken up with a menu board and, in truth, it looked a bit empty, with just the dish of the day written in Sophie’s cursive hand. It was easy to reach and would make a great focal point.

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ she agreed.

  ‘Great,’ smiled the chap. ‘And perhaps you could add the daily tide times, they’re always handy to know.’

  ‘And a weather symbol of two, for the morning and afternoon,’ Sophie suggested.

  I left the café feeling content and as if my holiday was finally underway. Helping Sophie had pulled me out of the fug I had fallen into and even though I still had lots to think about I realized I needed to strike a balance if I was going to make some real headway. Shutting myself away in the cottage with only Mum’s diary for company and the temptation to turn my phone on was definitely not the way to go. Succumbing to dark thoughts and isolated misery wouldn’t help me make any progress at all.

  *

  ‘Well now,’ said George when I walked into the Smuggler’s that evening, ‘we’d all but given up on you, hadn’t we, Sam?’

  ‘I have to admit,’ Sam confirmed, with a twinkle in his eyes, ‘that I was beginning to think the weather had got the better of you and you’d left already.’

  His mischievous tone was exactly what I needed to round off the day. It might have been dangerous stepping closer to that smouldering touchpaper again, but with George acting as chaperone I was willing to risk it.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you, lads,’ I told them both with a grin to match Sam’s, ‘but you’re stuck with me for a bit longer yet.’

  ‘Oh no,’ George chuckled, ‘now that really is bad news, isn’t it, Sam?’

  Sam looked at George and shook his head and I got the impression that my presence in the village might well have been the topic of conversation between the pair and I would have very much liked to know what had been said.

  ‘So, what can I get you, Tess?’ Sam asked me, ignoring George who then went to sit with another customer.

  ‘Um,’ I said, looking along the row of pumps, ‘I think I’ll have half a pint of Wherry please.’

  ‘Coming right up.’

  The pub was far more crowded than when I had been in earlier in the week. It was hardly heaving but the level of chatter and laughter seemed to bring the place to life and coupled with the palpable relief that it was finally Friday, it felt like a merry place to be.

  ‘One half,’ said Sam, setting the glass on the bar and taking the five-pound note I proffered.

  I craned my neck to look behind him and then back over my shoulder.

  ‘What?’ He frowned, following my gaze.

  ‘Nothing,’ I shrugged.

  ‘Okay’ he shrugged back, going to get my change.

  ‘No,’ I told him, ‘I don’t mean there’s nothing wrong. I mean there actually is nothing.’

  ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘When I was in before you said you had your bank holiday plans in hand,’ I reminded him, ‘but I can’t see anything advertised. I thought you’d have a few posters up by now.’

  Sam rolled his eyes.

  What was it with the Wynmouth folk? First Sophie had seemed reluctant to get her café online and now Sam looked as if he’d rather do anything other than sell more beer. Was it just my marketing brain refusing to switch off, or were the local business owners I had come across so far genuinely unwilling to do a decent amount of business?

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ I sighed dramatically as I picked up my glass, ‘you haven’t really got anything planned at all, have you? You just said you had before to shut me up.’

  I raised my eyebrows waiting for an answer.

  ‘Am I right,’ I pushed, ‘or am I right?’

  ‘No,’ Sam huffed, ‘you’re not.’

  There didn’t seem to be much conviction behind his words.

  ‘Convince me,’ I said challengingly.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I have had a couple of ideas, but nothing concrete.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because,’ he said, sounding suddenly frustrated, ‘I real
ly don’t have the time to organize anything properly. In case you hadn’t noticed, mine and some part-time help are the only pairs of hands running this pub. It might not be that busy, but there’s really no free time, Tess and I can’t afford to throw money at some half-arsed attempt at entertainment. If I can’t do it right, then I’d rather not do it at all.’

  That rather took the wind out of my sails. When I first struck up the conversation, I had assumed he just couldn’t be bothered, but now it seemed that it was a timing issue rather than not making an effort.

  ‘That’s pretty ironic, isn’t it?’ I said, just as he was about to walk away.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘you have no time at all, and since I’ve arrived, I’ve found I’ve got far too much of it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Too much time twiddling my thumbs waiting for the weather to clear,’ I said, taking a pull at my beer, ‘it’s just got to me a bit, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, you can take this on if you want,’ he said. ‘If you’ve got nothing better to do.’

  ‘Take what on?’

  ‘Organizing the pub’s bank holiday entertainment.’

  My gaze snapped back up to his.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’m kidding.’

  He went to move again.

  ‘Must be a nice problem to have though,’ he said pointedly, ‘too much time.’

  I wasn’t really listening.

  ‘I suppose I could lend a hand,’ I said thoughtfully as the cogs started to whirr. On my walk back along the beach I had been mulling over the importance of not shutting myself away. If I couldn’t help Sophie get the café online, then perhaps I could help Sam pull in some extra punters.

  ‘Are you being serious?’ he frowned.

  ‘Yeah,’ I smiled up at him. ‘Why not? But only if you agree to me staying on in the cottage.’

  Sam looked at me for a long moment. He seemed to be weighing something up. I steadily returned his scrutiny and once he’d settled on an answer, he held out his hand.