by Heidi Swain
‘All right,’ he said as I firmly grasped it, that increasingly familiar tingle shooting up my arm as our skin touched, ‘you’re on. Although why anyone would want to spend their holiday helping this place out is beyond me.’
Part of the reason I had agreed to help was because I wanted to see Wynmouth thrive. The little village wasn’t quite the place I had always idolized but it was still wonderful, not that I could tell Sam that. And neither was I prepared to share the more personal reasons behind my desire to keep occupied.
He squeezed my hand a little tighter, obviously expecting a response.
‘Let’s just say getting away and switching off hasn’t quite worked out,’ I began.
‘Getting away from what?’
‘My job. I’m a bit of a workaholic and going cold turkey hasn’t gone according to plan.’
‘So, in helping me out, you’d be helping yourself?’
‘Exactly.’
He seemed to accept that as a good enough reason and let go of my hand.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘you come up with some ideas and we’ll compare notes.’
‘Excellent,’ I smiled.
‘But no bloody karaoke or Abba tribute band, all right?’ he laughed.
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing along with him.
‘I tried that a couple of Christmases ago,’ he grinned, ‘and it was a total flop.’
Chapter 6
I was delighted that Sam had agreed to let me come up with some ideas to entertain the fine folk of Wynmouth, even though working with him was going to play havoc with my libido, but there was one thing capable of taking the edge off my enthusiasm for the venture.
Securing a longer stay in Crow’s Nest Cottage was exactly what I had wanted, but the thought of breaking the news to Dad I could live without. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get away with another text and a quick message via Joan but I was going to go all out and try not to worry about it for the next few days. I could leave my phone undisturbed in the cottage and immerse myself in the role of joint pub event organizer, safe in the knowledge that I now had plenty of time to work my way through Mum’s diary at a healthier pace.
Sam and I had started working on a list of potential ideas straightaway and by the time the shops opened on Saturday morning I had added a few more. There were some things I knew he would never give the green light for, but I figured seeing the expression on his face when he read them would be great entertainment. For me, if no one else.
Wide awake as if my usual early alarm had called me and with Sophie’s welcome pack beginning to look a little depleted (which was a big surprise, given the amount it had included), I decided to walk to the shops and restock. I might have been keen to wind down and relax a bit, but my body clock was going to take considerably longer to reset.
I joined the queue in the fishmonger’s, craning my neck to get a look at what was on offer and feeling right at home among the other customers with the reusable shopping bag Sophie had left in the cottage tucked under my arm. It might not have been my usual shopping experience – a last-minute, end of the day rush around the Tesco Metro – but it felt good to be giving some thought to what I wanted to eat and plan out a meal or two, rather than grabbing whatever was closest and would be ready after two minutes in the microwave and by the time I’d uncorked a bottle of wine.
‘What can I get you?’ asked the woman behind the counter, when it was finally my turn to be served.
I seemed to have been waiting for ages. Everyone in front of me had taken so long, what with the chatting and catching up on each other’s news, but no one seemed to mind. There was no self-service aisle here and there were no impatient eye rolls or foot taps either.
‘These crabs,’ I said, pointing at one of the things on the ice bed that I could definitely identify. ‘Do I have to do anything with them before I eat them?’
‘No, my love,’ said the woman. ‘They’re dressed already, so they’re ready to eat. Lovely in a salad.’
They were also pretty good in Sophie’s curry I remembered.
‘I’ll have one of those then, please.’
The woman quickly wrapped it and put it on the counter and I looked at the rest of the array that was on offer. I wasn’t sure I wanted anything else, for a start I wouldn’t have a clue what to do with half it, but then I spotted the cockles tucked to one side.
‘And some cockles, please,’ I smiled, remembering how my parents used to recoil as I munched my way through them.
There was something moreish about that salty, slightly grainy texture that I had always found irresistible, especially when splashed with vinegar.
‘How many?’
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I’m not sure.’
There were some old-fashioned pint glasses sitting next to them.
‘Half a pint?’ The woman suggested.
That sounded like quite a lot, but then I did like them.
‘Yes, please,’ I said, ‘and I better have a bottle of vinegar too.’ I added, having spotted the condiments on the shelf behind her.
‘Wonderful,’ she grinned. ‘You can’t beat them with a drop of vinegar.’
I fondly recalled the little polystyrene pots and wooden forks I used to spear them with and smiled back.
‘Are you here on your holidays?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, pulling out my purse. ‘I’m renting Crow’s Nest Cottage next to the pub.’
‘It’s a bit quiet around here,’ she said, ‘but ideal if you’re looking for a peaceful sort of getaway.’
‘It is,’ I agreed. ‘Although,’ I added, throwing caution to the wind, ‘according to the landlord at the Smuggler’s, it might not be all that quiet next weekend.’
‘Oh?’
‘Apparently, there’s going to be some sort of entertainment in the pub.’ I elaborated but didn’t go as far as to explain my involvement in it all.
The woman looked unsure.
‘Oh, I doubt that,’ she said.
‘That’s what he told me,’ I said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive,’ I nodded.
‘And it was Sam you spoke to?’
‘That’s right,’ I confirmed. ‘The chap who owns the pub and cottage.’
‘The fella with the gorgeous green eyes?’ she questioned, just to be sure.
‘Oh yes,’ I said, sighing without meaning to, ‘that’s definitely him.’
‘Well, I never,’ said the lad who was serving next to her. ‘That’s a bit of a turn-up for the books, isn’t it, Mum?’
‘That it is,’ she frowned. ‘The Smuggler’s isn’t known around here for offering anything much beyond a decent pint and the board game club. Sam keeps himself to himself as a rule. Always says he’s got no interest in putting on anything extra.’
Given what Sam had told me, I knew the situation was more about finding the time to do things properly than guarding what little privacy his position afforded or lack of interest on his part. I wondered if everyone in the village had got the wrong end of the stick and, if so, why had he let them?
‘I wonder what it’s going to be?’ mused the lad. ‘It would great to have a night out in the village. It’s a drag having to drive further afield. It always means someone can’t have a drink . . .’
His excitement tailed off as his mum looked at him sharply, but she didn’t say anything. He hastily turned his attention back to the queue which now almost reached the door. I got the impression that he’d said something out of turn, but I wasn’t about to find out what.
‘So, you think it sounds like a good idea then?’ I asked them both. ‘You’d go, would you?’
‘Absolutely,’ said the lad. ‘And I wouldn’t be the only one. As I said before, a night out on our home turf would be great.’
I paid for my purchases and then moved on to the grocery store next door where I stocked up on fresh salad, local fruit and large speckled eggs laid by the shop owner’s very own hens. It was amazing to
think that everything I had in my bag had been either caught, harvested or produced practically within walking distance from where I stood.
There were no plastic-wrapped beans or strawberries bearing the usual ‘produce of Kenya’ or ‘imported from Spain’ labels. Granted, the range of food on offer was a little limited and nowhere near as exotic as I would find in the supermarket, but it was incredibly fresh and I couldn’t wait to try it all.
Even the meat in the butcher’s was Norfolk born and bred.
‘So, you’re as keen as the chap in the fishmonger’s,’ I said, aiming for definite clarification as I added some sausages, bacon and chicken to my rapidly filling bag. ‘You think an evening of entertainment in the pub’s a good idea too?’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed the woman who served me. ‘People around here have been crying out for something. We all support the pub of course. It’s a great place to meet, but it would be even better if there was a reason to go there other than to have a drink or play Scrabble.’
I mulled over what everyone had told me as I walked back to the cottage, greedily picking at the cockles as I went. When I had broached the subject with the grocery store staff even a couple of the customers had joined in and they were all enthusiastic.
It was a shame that Sam hadn’t picked up on what the locals wanted or asked for some help before making a joke out of asking me. I was certain any number of the friendly locals I had encountered would have been more than happy to lend a hand and he could have had things up and running far sooner. There was certainly enough interest to make it worth his while and this weekend, if push came to shove, I could even get behind the bar myself. I might not have pulled a pint since my days working in the union bar at university but I was certain the knack would come back soon enough.
By the time I had unpacked my shopping and had a coffee, along with another handful of cockles, the sun was shining strongly overhead and I decided to walk down to the café to see Sophie, taking my list with me. The pull of the rockpools and a trip down memory lane to the beach huts was still a draw, but with an extra four weeks now at my disposal, I was free to take my time.
I was out of the door and along the path before I realized I hadn’t even thought about switching on my phone. Perhaps things were looking up, in that department at least.
‘Good morning, Tess!’ Sophie called when she spotted me.
She was setting up the brightly striped parasols over the picnic tables and I could see a big tub containing a stack of buckets and nets for sale just outside the door. She hadn’t put those out on my first visit, probably because of the weather. They would be exactly what I needed when I decided it was the right time to explore the rockpools again.
‘Morning,’ I waved back, shielding my eyes from the brightness of the sun. ‘It’s going to be a great day.’
‘And hopefully a busy one,’ Sophie nodded, pointing to the beach where some families were already setting up, hammering their windbreaks in place and spreading out colourful towels to lay on.
They were clearly keen to nab what they thought were the prime spots, but truth be told, the beach on either side of the village was so beautiful, every spot was a good one. There were fewer rockpools on this side, but given what the guy with the binoculars told me the day before, there was more bird life here. It was win-win wherever you went in Wynmouth.
Sophie waited for me to reach her and we walked into the café together.
‘I spoke to my daughter last night,’ she told me. ‘She says she’d love to meet the woman who has finally convinced her mother to get online.’
I laughed.
‘You didn’t take that much persuading,’ I reminded her.
‘Well, don’t tell her that if you get the chance,’ said Sophie. ‘She already thinks you’re some kind of wonderful, so I would go with that if I were you.’
I rather liked the sound of Sophie’s daughter.
‘I hope I will get to meet her,’ I said. ‘Is she likely to put in appearance anytime soon?’
‘Oh yes,’ Sophie nodded. ‘Although she hasn’t told me exactly when she’s coming home.’
‘She lives in Wynmouth too?’
‘That’s right. She’s off on her travels at the moment, trying to fathom out ideas for her own business. She’s just flown back from Jamaica.’
‘Oh wow,’ I said, remembering the beautiful images of the Caribbean I had looked at while trying to find my alternative holiday spot before Sam mailed to tell me I could book the cottage. ‘Has she been on holiday?’
‘She’s been visiting family,’ Sophie explained. ‘Getting to know her cousins and now she’s with Blossom, the aunt I mentioned with the curried crab recipe. She owns a bakery in Norwich so my girl isn’t too far away now. I’m hoping she’ll be home soon. I’ve missed her.’
‘It sounds to me like you have a very entrepreneurial family, Sophie.’
‘We’re a resourceful bunch of women, that’s for sure,’ she laughed. ‘And all pretty gifted in the culinary department – if it isn’t too conceited to say so.’
Given how delicious my curried crab and rum-laced hot chocolate had been, I didn’t think that was conceited at all. It was more a statement of fact.
‘But what about you, Tess?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘what are your family like?’
I didn’t really know what to say. My current experience of family life wasn’t anywhere near as comforting as hers.
‘Well,’ I said, dropping my gaze. ‘I haven’t got much. No aunts or cousins or anyone. It’s just me and Dad really.’
‘No Mum?’
‘No,’ I said, my voice catching, ‘she died a while ago.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ said Sophie, reaching across the counter and giving my hands a squeeze.
I nodded and blinked hard.
‘Please don’t be nice to me, Sophie,’ I said, sitting up straighter and trying to smile. ‘Otherwise you might find me crying all over you.’
During the last few months I had learned, mostly thanks to my punishing work schedule, how to keep a tight lid on my emotions, but Sophie’s warmth and genuine kindness felt capable of undoing my efforts in moments. Her daughter was a very lucky woman to have such an inspirational and kind-hearted mum by her side.
‘And would that matter?’ Sophie whispered.
I shrugged.
‘Sometimes having a good cry can be the best medicine in the world,’ she said softly. ‘Personally, I think a good howl is very much underrated, whether it’s needed to purge you of sadness or temper, or even both.’
‘But it’s not necessarily good for business,’ I said, nodding to the window where I could see some customers walking towards the café. ‘I wouldn’t want to scare anyone off.’
Sophie handed me a tissue from a packet in the large pocket on the front of her dress.
‘And what about your father?’ she asked, sounding tentative. ‘Are you close to him?’
I had been, or at least I thought had, but given his reaction to my admittance that I was struggling at work and the subsequent discovery of Mum’s diary, I now didn’t feel close to him at all.
‘I used to be,’ I said, blowing my nose, ‘but not anymore.’
Sophie nodded as the bell above the door rang out and I was grateful for the interruption.
‘We work together in the family business,’ I told her huskily, ‘but I’m not sure we will for much longer. It’s all rather complicated.’
While Sophie served the first customers of the day, I took a moment to regain my composure and look at the changes she had already made. The menu board was now completely re-designed with the ‘dish of the day’ taking up minimal space and the rest divided into sections where customers could list the things they had spotted on the beach, in the rockpools and in the skies as well as highlighting the weather and tide times. There was also another board hanging above the counter with a wi-fi code chalked on to it.
&nbs
p; ‘It’s great that you have wi-fi in here, Sophie,’ I said while she was preparing drinks. ‘You didn’t mention it yesterday.’
‘It’s not always the strongest of signals, but I’ve had it a while,’ she told me. ‘It was another of my daughter’s ideas. I’ve only put the board up because she nagged me about it on the phone last night. Personally, I wasn’t keen. I want folk to come here and forget about their phones and tablets, for a little while at least.’
She had a point, but I still found myself wishing that I had my phone with me so I could have googled some extra ideas to present to Sam. As much as Sophie hated the thought, having limited or no access to the internet did make modern life pretty difficult.
‘I completely understand,’ I told her.
‘I thought you might,’ she nodded. ‘I’ve never seen you glued to a device.’
It wasn’t the time to explain why.
‘But even so, Sophie, your daughter is right. It’s what folk expect these days and when you get your Instagram and Twitter accounts up and running it will definitely play to your advantage.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘if you have a hashtag identifying the café and you ask your customers to add it to any photos they upload, this place will be famous in no time.’
‘I have no idea what a tag thingy is, or what you’re talking about really,’ she chuckled, ‘but I’m sure Hope will be thrilled you’re on board. The pair of you are going to hit it off in no time.’
‘Hope?’
‘Yes,’ said Sophie, as she loaded the drinks on to a tray, ‘that’s my daughter’s name.’
I worked on my list while Sophie served up snacks and drinks to a slow but steady flow of customers throughout the morning and then pushed it aside to eat the bacon and avocado toasted sandwich she set down next to me.
‘Lunch,’ she beamed. ‘On the house, as a thank you for helping me think about all the ways I can make the café more popular.’
‘You are most welcome,’ I told her, ‘and thank you,’ I added as I took the first delectable bite.
The sandwich was divine and Sophie’s freshly made, secret recipe salsa which accompanied it, gave it an extra kick which cut through the saltiness of the locally reared bacon and enlivened the avocado perfectly. She had a real talent when it came to clever flavour combinations and I was looking forward to her new marketing strategy kicking in and more people finding Sophie’s Sunshine Café – which was the name she had settled on – for themselves.