The Christmas Tea Shop at Rosewood

by The Christmas Tea Shop at Rosewood (retail) (epub)

  Ethan turned away and gazed out of the windows that opened onto a square patio at what seemed to be the heart of the school. He forced himself to focus on the pots with their trees bereft of leaves, stark brown fingers of branches pointing to the sky. Then he moved his gaze to the greenhouse, where someone had stored a variety of garden tools, presumably until the spring months. Tilly would enjoy it here, he reassured himself. The place had an atmosphere of warmth and security about it and that was what any parent would want for their child.

  When he turned around again, he found the deputy head standing there smiling at him.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘It’s just… it was difficult seeing her having to do that.’

  ‘She was very brave and will, no doubt, have ten best friends by mid-morning. They were all very excited to meet her and want to know all about her. She’ll be fine, Mr Clarke, I promise.’

  ‘Please, call me Ethan.’

  ‘And I’m Catherine.’

  ‘Thank you, Catherine.’

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?’

  ‘That would be fabulous, thanks.’

  ‘I know I gave you the basic details last week on the phone and you’ve filled in all the forms online, but we can have a proper chat and you can ask any other questions you might have.’

  Ethan released a sigh of relief.

  ‘My office is this way.’

  She led the way back towards reception and Ethan glanced into the classroom as they passed it, and was gladdened to see Tilly chatting animatedly to another little girl. Moving her to another location and to a new school was never going to be easy, but little things like friendly children and an understanding deputy head teacher could make all the difference. His aunt had told him that Penhallow Sands was a wonderful place to raise a child and he was starting to believe that she was right.

  * * *

  ‘Thank you, Fran. That was an informative and inspirational talk.’ Jowanet Tremayne shook Fran’s hand firmly. ‘And it was especially kind of you to come in and speak to the children late in the morning, as this close to lunchtime they start to get a bit… restless, shall we say?’

  Fran smiled at Jowanet in the reception of the primary school, trying to appear confident but feeling like a little girl as she stood in the presence of her former head teacher. Jowanet had been a formidable presence at the school for as long as Fran could remember, and with her severely cut white hair, small square glasses and beady hazel eyes, she hadn’t changed since Fran was a child. She had always seemed to look this old and this intimidating, although Fran knew that she must have looked younger when Fran attended the school twenty years ago. It had been surreal but an honour to be asked to come in and talk to the children about her work as an artist. She could have stayed all day if it hadn’t been for the head pointing out that it was almost time for the children to have their lunch.

  ‘It was a pleasure, Ms Tremayne.’ Fran shook her head. ‘The pupils had so many good questions.’

  ‘They’re inquisitive young minds and keen to explore possible career avenues, which is a very positive thing as we want them to know that there are plenty of options available to them.’ Jowanet nodded and her jowls wobbled. ‘We’ve had some wonderful female role models delivering talks, from a heart surgeon to a tree surgeon to an engineer to a beekeeper. Having you come to talk about your creative career was very enlightening and it’s good for them to understand that being self-employed is an option open to them too.’

  The door behind Jowanet opened and a tall man stepped into reception. With him came the scent of citrus and spice and Fran’s eyes travelled from his broad shoulders to his strong jaw to his handsome face and her heart flipped over.

  It was Ethan Clarke from the tea shop.

  What was he doing here?

  ‘Ah, Mr Clarke, is it?’ Jowanet turned and shook his hand. ‘Catherine did say you were bringing Tilly in for her first day. How did it go?’

  ‘I left her with her class about an hour ago and Miss Bromley has kindly, and very patiently, answered all of my questions.’ Ethan gestured behind him. ‘Tilly was very brave and seemed quite happy to be left.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Which is a good thing, you know, because… uh… well, I just want her to be relaxed and settled.’

  ‘Of course you do, and she will settle here, Mr Clarke.’

  ‘I hope so. Thank you.’

  ‘It’s probably more difficult for you than for her.’

  ‘I think you’re right.’ He nodded.

  He looked past Jowanet and met Fran’s eyes. Her legs weakened and her stomach clenched. She locked her knees tight and pressed a hand to her belly, confused by her visceral reactions to this man’s proximity. Was he carrying too much static electricity around with him or something? Perhaps it was to do with his shoes and the nylon school carpets and if he touched her, an electric spark would shoot between them and stun them both…

  ‘Hello, Ethan.’ Fran lifted a hand.

  ‘Hi, uh…’

  ‘Fran.’

  ‘Yes, Fran. Hi.’

  He looked as awkward standing there as Fran felt.

  ‘Okay then, Jowanet, I’ll be on my way.’ Fran hooked her bag over her shoulder.

  ‘Yes, me too.’ Ethan smiled at Jowanet. ‘Thanks again. Any problems, call my mobile and I can come straight back.’

  ‘Try not to worry, Mr Clarke. All will be well.’

  Fran pushed open the heavy school door and stepped outside then held the door for Ethan. He blinked hard in the morning light then thanked her for holding the door.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Fran asked, concern filling her at how pale he was.

  He sighed. ‘Yeah… I guess so. It’s just that I brought Tilly in for her first day and it was quite difficult leaving her.’ He chuckled. ‘Not for her so much, but for me.’

  Fran nodded. ‘It must have been hard but she will be fine. I went to Penhallow Sands Primary and I loved it there.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Jowanet was the head teacher back then.’

  ‘Really?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘How long has she been there?’

  ‘A looooong time.’ Fran nodded. ‘Back to times of yore, I believe.’

  ‘Of yore, eh?’ He grinned and his eyes crinkled at the corners. It softened his face and made him even more attractive. ‘Were there Vikings here then?’

  ‘Probably… and dinosaurs.’

  They laughed and the air between them warmed a few degrees.

  ‘Do you have a child at the school?’

  ‘What?’ Fran heard the incredulity in her tone.

  ‘Have you got a child there?’

  ‘No, I heard what you said, but I was surprised. Then again… at thirty-one it’s possible that I could have a child there. But no. No child… at the school. I was there to give a talk about my work.’

  ‘Oh, right! I see.’

  ‘Yes.’ Fran realised that she’d almost effusively denied any link to children at all, when doing so would betray the whole story she’d agreed to maintain for the next six weeks for Holly and Rich’s sakes. ‘I’m an artist and a ceramist. Jowanet asked me to come and speak to the children about what I do and about being self-employed.’

  ‘Wow, really? That’s brilliant.’

  ‘I think so. I enjoy my work and I love the freedom of being my own boss.’

  ‘I bet.’ He tucked his hands into his pockets. ‘And to work in the creative sector is pretty special.’

  ‘Aren’t you a chef?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘So you must be creative too.’

  He smiled. ‘I like to think so. My mum was an artist, so I guess I get that side of things from her.’

  ‘Wow! Do you have any of her work? I wonder if I’ve seen anything she’s done.’

  ‘Not with me. Most things are in storage. But she was very talented.’

  Was…

  Fran picked up on his use of the past tens
e. Had he lost his mother then?

  ‘I’d like to see her art someday.’

  ‘I’d like to show you.’

  They stood in silence for a moment.

  ‘I’d… uh… better get back to Rosewood, I guess.’

  ‘Are you working today?’

  ‘Later on this afternoon. My aunt gave me most of the day off to settle Tilly in school, and, if I’m honest, I think she knew I’d need some time afterwards to recover.’

  ‘So you’re free now?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Would you like to… grab a coffee… or… something?’

  Fran winced. Why had she said ‘or something’? Did that make her offer sound suggestive?

  ‘By something, I meant coffee or cake or tea or whatever you like really.’

  Shut up, Fran!

  Heat crawled up her neck and into her cheeks as he stared at her, then a smile spread across his lips.

  ‘I’d love to grab a coffee with you. It would be nice to have some company and you can tell me more about your talents.’

  ‘My talents?’

  ‘Yes, your painting and pottery.’

  ‘Okay. Right. Of course.’

  What other talents would he have been referring to?

  ‘Lead the way!’ Ethan waved his arm at the school gates.

  Fran nodded then walked ahead of him, hoping that the gentle breeze would soothe her hot cheeks and fade the blush that burned there. She had no idea why she was blushing; she didn’t blush easily but for some reason this man was stirring her body to do things she wasn’t familiar with, making her a bit tongue-tied, and he was also creating feelings inside her that she hadn’t experienced before.

  She laughed inwardly at herself as she opened the school gate. It probably had nothing to do with him at all and was either due to something that she’d eaten or possibly she was going through early menopause. Yes, that was probably it.

  After all, what else could it be?

  * * *

  Ethan looked around the establishment that Fran had brought him to and admired the eclectic interior. Shell’s Shack had low ceiling beams draped with fishing nets and a variety of shells that were looped together with blue string, and shiny dark wooden floorboards. There was a large open fireplace to the right of the counter with a driftwood mirror on the wall above it, carved with seahorses. There were lobster pots and an anchor on the hearth next to a small purple Christmas tree that twinkled with fibre-optic lights. Dried lavender and rosemary bouquets filled seaglass vases on the small round tables and the air was rich with their sweet, medicinal scent. Against one wall was a two-seater sofa draped with a festive-themed patchwork quilt, and in front of it was a driftwood table bearing an evergreen and holly wreath. It was a cosy, pleasant cafe and the aromas of cakes and pastries were making his mouth water. He’d have to bring Tilly here soon; he knew she’d love it.

  Over at the counter, Fran was speaking to a woman with big blue eyes and a head of blonde curls. She was very pretty, plump and rosy-cheeked with a kind smile. Ethan took the opportunity to take a good look at Fran. He’d been shocked to see her in reception and was also battling his emotions at seeing Tilly going into class, so he probably hadn’t been as polite as he should have been. Also, coming here for coffee with Fran might not have been his best move, but then it was only coffee and he could do with catching his breath before he went back to Rosewood. He liked the hustle and bustle of the farm and the tea shop, but he was still getting used to it after living alone with his daughter for so long. Having an aunt, uncle and cousins around was enjoyable but also a bit overwhelming and it would take some getting used to – although Tilly seemed to have settled into their new home quite well and she was already fairly relaxed with Audrey and her daughters. Perhaps it was easier to adapt to a move when you were younger.

  Fran glanced across at him and caught him smiling at her, which she returned. She had such a warm smile and her indigo eyes were an absolutely captivating shade, somewhere between navy and purple, reminding him of a deep tropical lagoon and a sunset all at once. He wondered if they changed with the light and if they would be different out on the beach with the open horizon spread out before them. Would they seem lighter then? What if she was in the water, perhaps at twilight, with her white skin contrasting against the dark of the sea, as it lapped gently at her shoulders, caressing her skin and…

  He shook himself. Where had that come from? The poor woman had invited him for a coffee, during the day, no less, and here he was picturing her scantily clad in the sea, even down to the goosebumps on her arms and legs. Ethan hadn’t had anything other than the most cursory of thoughts about women and sex since things had gone wrong with Melanie, so thinking something like he just had was not familiar any more. But Fran was very attractive and the fact that she seemed nice had obviously triggered his latent libido and reminded him that he did still have some urges in that department. A smile spread to his lips, accompanied by a blush that flooded his cheeks.

  ‘What’re you smiling about?’ Fran had returned to the table.

  ‘Oh… uh…’ He met her eyes and his blush deepened. ‘I was just remembering something. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Okay…’ She cocked an eyebrow and it made her look even sexier, as if she could somehow read his mind and echoed his thoughts. But that would be impossible, wouldn’t it? ‘I’ve ordered for us and Shell said it will be ready in about ten minutes.’

  ‘Wonderful, thank you.’

  ‘How’re you feeling now?’ she asked as she pulled her chair closer to the table.

  ‘I’m okay. It helps knowing that I’m just minutes away from the school, so if Tilly does need me within the hour, I can get there immediately.’

  ‘I’m sure it does.’

  ‘Although Rosewood isn’t exactly miles away.’

  ‘No, but I understand what you mean about being closer for now.’ Fran ran her finger over the bouquet in the seaglass vase on the table and the sharp aroma of lavender intensified. Ethan realised that her eyes reminded him of the colour of the lavender flowers, but slightly darker. Then he imagined her lying on a bed of lavender and the heat that had seeped from his cheeks started to return.

  ‘Uh… what’s your story, Fran?’ he asked, keen to distract his errant imagination from any more flowery Fran-based fantasies. It really wouldn’t do, especially when he was sitting right here with her. Besides which, there was another issue with his attraction to her: she was pregnant. Perhaps it was the pregnancy hormones that were giving her that wonderful glow that made her skin almost luminous and her hair so shiny. Surely there had to be a reason for her almost ethereal beauty, for the sparkle in her eyes, for the plumpness of her inviting lips?

  ‘My story?’

  ‘Yes… how long have you lived here? How did you find out that you’re an artist? What has led you to this point in your life?’

  ‘Wow!’ Her eyes widened. ‘That’s a lot to tell.’

  He lowered his gaze to the table. ‘Sorry. I’m not an accomplished conversationalist and I never really know where to start. I spend most of my time in the kitchen, so I’m usually kept away from people, which is… believe me… probably a good thing.’

  Fran snorted. ‘I’m sure you’re not that bad.’

  ‘Oh I am. Dreadfully inept at socialising. I lack an entire skills base and it wasn’t the type of thing they taught at school.’

  ‘Noooo. You’re doing fine.’ She chuckled. ‘Okay, let me think.’

  She rested her chin on her hands and he eyed the rings on her fingers. All silver, some with stones, but the ring finger on her left hand was bare. So she wasn’t married or engaged then. But she was pregnant. Was there a man on the scene? There didn’t have to be, but then her situation would be even more complicated if there wasn’t. Of course, she could be gay and have been artificially inseminated or something like that. Did sperm banks even exist now? Hadn’t there been something about the donors losing their anonymity so fewer men wer
e prepared to donate these days? There were many possibilities and explanations and really, it was none of his business, but for some reason he found all possible explanations left him with a sense of disappointment.

  ‘Right, okay, Ethan… I’m thirty-one, I like animals and take in strays then try to rehome them, I’m very creative and always have been and used to draw and paint even as a toddler, so my parents tell me. My dad is Italian and met my Welsh mum when she was taking a gap year in Italy and they’ve been inseparable since. They had one of those instant passions and fell madly in love, knowing from day one that they could never bear to be apart. It’s always seemed a bit… romantic to me, but they’re as much in love now as they were when they first met, so they weren’t wrong about their feelings. Mum and Dad moved to Penhallow not long after they got married because they wanted to live by the sea, and during a camping holiday when they toured around Cornwall, they fell in love with the location. They told me that it had everything they wanted in a place to raise a child. They now spend most of the year out in Verona with my little old nonna, as she’s getting a bit frail and they want to be there for her, and I live in their cottage not far from the village with my animals. It’s kind of mine anyway, as I doubt they’ll return to Cornwall for any length of time, and I pay all the bills these days. To make ends meet, and because I love what I do, I paint, I make a variety of pottery items and I sell online and to local businesses.’

  ‘A potted history of your life then?’ Ethan smiled at his own joke.

  ‘Ha! Yes.’

  ‘And now you’re about to start a new chapter.’ Ethan smiled, knowing how drastically parenthood did change someone’s life.

  Fran frowned for a moment, seemingly puzzled.

  ‘With your pregnancy.’

  Her eyes flickered, then she looked down at her hands.

  ‘Yes. I guess I am.’ She coughed. ‘What about you? How did you come to move to Penhallow Sands?’

  Shell arrived then, with toasted cheese and chutney paninis and two frothy lattes, so Ethan thanked her then waited for her to leave before resuming the conversation.

  ‘Well…’ How much did he tell someone, even someone as kind as Fran seemed to be? ‘I’m a single father to a wonderful little girl.’