‘I’d best get back inside then,’ Fran said. ‘I need to finish checking my emails and to get back on the road if I’m going to manage to deliver the rest of the orders.’
‘Right. Okay. Well, see you soon. Be careful lifting the boxes, won’t you?’
Ethan gave her a nod, placed the box in his boot then got in and started the engine. Before he drove away, he held Fran’s gaze through the window. A peculiar sadness filled her heart, as if she was losing something that had given her hope and it was slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. It was ridiculous really, as what could she possibly be losing? So Ethan wasn’t a fan of dogs. What did that matter to her? Why did it matter to her?
As she trudged back up the path and went inside, she knew why she was disappointed. She liked Ethan. A lot. Yet she loved her dogs and couldn’t imagine life without them. She would always have dogs. Any man who might be a part of her life in any way would need to like dogs too. Ethan clearly didn’t. So that was that.
She closed the door behind her and released a deep sigh, attempting to expel the regret that bloomed inside her, spreading to her limbs and making them heavy.
Nothing could have happened between her and Ethan anyway, but knowing that he felt this way was like another sure sign that it was never meant to be.
Chapter 8
‘Daddy, I don’t like sprouts.’ Tilly patted Ethan’s arm.
‘No, I know, sweetheart, so just leave them on the side of your plate.’
‘But they’re making my gravy taste funny. It’s like the smell of a ten-pence bit in my mouth.’
Ethan gazed down at his daughter and had to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid laughing. She looked so serious and her big brown eyes were framed by a small, indignant frown.
‘What’s wrong, Tilly?’ Scarlett leant towards her.
Tilly glanced at Ethan then back at Scarlett. ‘It’s these bloody things.’ She pushed the two dark green orbs around her plate. ‘They’re like balls of snot.’
‘Tilly!’ Ethan shook his head. ‘You can’t say that.’
‘Sorry, Daddy. They’re like bloody balls of boogies.’
Ethan met Audrey’s eyes over the table and saw that she was shaking with laughter. A snort escaped him, then another, and soon the entire family was laughing.
‘Tilly, love, leave them. It’s fine.’ Audrey waved a hand. ‘I forgot that most children don’t like sprouts, so don’t worry about eating them.’
‘They’re making my gravy taste funny.’ Tilly pouted.
‘Here, I’ll take them.’ Ethan lifted the sprouts with his fork and set them on his plate. ‘How’s that?’
‘Much better, Daddy, thank you.’
Tilly resumed eating her dinner, now the picture of innocence and good behaviour.
‘Aunty Audrey?’ Tilly piped up again and Ethan held his breath, wondering what was coming next.
‘Yes?’
‘Why are we having Sunday dinner on a Thursday?’
‘Well, it’s not Sunday dinner today, Tilly, is it? It’s just a cooked dinner.’
‘A cooked dinner?’ Tilly frowned. ‘But aren’t all dinners cooked?’
‘Yes, love, a lot of them are, but not all.’
Tilly nodded. ‘Some are cold like salad and ham.’
‘That’s right.’ Audrey inclined her head.
‘Are you excited about tomorrow?’ Gary asked.
‘What’s tomorrow?’ Tilly frowned.
‘Decorating the tea shop and the big tree in the yard ready for Christmas.’ Scarlett wiggled her thick black brows, making Ethan think of fat caterpillars or slugs as they moved across the ground.
‘Wow!’ Tilly looked up at Ethan. ‘Did you hear that, Daddy? Christmas decorations! It will be… amaaa–zing.’ Her excitement was clear in the way that she elongated the vowel sound.
‘It will.’
‘And Santa will know exactly where to come this year, won’t he, Daddy? And he will tell Mummy and everything and she’ll know how to find us.’ Tilly’s words poured out in a torrent, revealing her thought process and her main concerns about the festive season.
Ethan’s heart squeezed. ‘Mummy knows where we are, Tilly, if she needs us.’
‘I wish she was coming for Christmas.’ Tilly pushed a potato around her plate. ‘Glitterbug says she wishes Mummy was coming too. Mummy could eat all my sprouts and then she might be happy to be here. Because last time we spoke she said that she’s a vegetarian now. And they like sprouts, don’t they, Daddy?’
‘Yes, vegetarians like sprouts and all sorts of vegetables.’ Ethan reached out and ran a hand over Tilly’s hair. Around the table, his family had fallen quiet and he knew they were feeling bad for Tilly too.
‘Will Mummy be lonely at Christmas?’ Tilly asked. ‘My teacher said people without families often get lonely… especially at Christmas.’
‘Mummy will be all right.’ Ethan gulped. There was such a fine line between being completely honest with Tilly and sparing her some details that would simply hurt her. Like that fact that Melanie would never want to spend the holidays in Cornwall and would rather die than sit around a family table eating a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, even before she turned vegetarian. It just wasn’t who Melanie was or how she liked to be perceived.
‘What about all the other lonely people?’ Tilly put her fork down and looked around the table. Her eyes were wide and earnest. ‘We’re okay because we have family, so we are very lucky, but some people won’t be. Some people will be very lonely at Christmas and they probably wish they had somewhere to go.’
Ethan’s throat ached and he couldn’t think of a reply. Tilly was right. He’d been lonely over Christmas and would have loved to have had some company – another adult to pull a cracker with, to talk to as they ate and to sit with afterwards.
‘I have an idea.’ Ethan took a deep breath and met Audrey’s warm gaze. ‘About Christmas Day.’
Audrey put her knife and fork down and steepled her fingers in front of her, showing her willingness to listen.
‘I don’t want to overstep the mark, what with me being a new arrival and all that, but how about if we don’t have Christmas dinner here?’
‘I think I know where you’re going with this.’ Audrey smiled.
‘What do you mean, Mum?’ Harper asked.
‘Just listen for a moment, Harper. Carry on, Ethan.’ Audrey nodded.
‘How about if we have it at the tea shop?’ Ethan held his breath.
‘But why?’ Gary shrugged. ‘We always have dinner here at home around the table.’
‘So do most people with families,’ Ethan said, ‘but some people don’t have that and would benefit from a place that opened its doors on Christmas Day.’
A silence fell around the table as everyone digested the idea.
‘Ethan and Tilly have made a very good point.’ Audrey nodded. ‘Why stick to just us when we could share Christmas with others? Surely more people would mean more festive joy? Let’s open the doors of the tea shop to all the lonely people of Penhallow Sands.’
Goosebumps rose on Ethan’s arms. How he had wished for someone by his side at times, sharing the same hopes and fears he’d known. He’d worried about what Tilly could be missing out on over the years and spent many lonely nights in front of the TV after she’d gone to bed. He’d eaten many meals with Tilly but many times alone if she was in school or if she was at a friend’s. There had been countless times when he’d have appreciated some company, some compassion, some friendship.
‘I think it’s a wonderful idea, but only if you all agree.’ Ethan looked around the table at his relatives. ‘We can cook up a feast and share it with anyone who would be spending Christmas Day alone.’
His mind flashed to Fran. Who did she spend Christmas Day with if her parents were away and there was no man in her life? He still wasn’t sure about that one, of course, but he’d hate to think of her being alone, eating a meal for one. Now that she was expecti
ng, she needed someone to look out for her more than ever. He found that he wanted to look out for her, to make her feel that she had people to turn to. Not that she seemed at all vulnerable or needy but everyone should have some people to rely on.
‘Let’s do it then.’ Audrey raised her wine glass. ‘To sharing the festive cheer!’
Around the table, Ethan’s family nodded their approval. Thankfully they all seemed just as keen to share Christmas with others. Ethan clinked his glass against Tilly’s and something inside him gave a small leap. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, but it was nice nonetheless. He thought it might actually be excitement, but he’d settle for hope. Hope was a good feeling.
At last, after years of feeling that there wasn’t much for him to do – other than to be the best dad he could be, and that was nothing to sniff at – he now had another purpose. He could share in making the lives of others better, even if only for one day of the year, and what better day to improve things for those in need than Christmas Day? They could create a delicious dinner and offer it free to the lonely people of the village, and in doing so, create a better festive experience for everyone who came.
Wasn’t that what Christmas was all about, anyway?
* * *
The next morning, after Ethan had dropped Tilly at school, he went to the small grocers in the village and picked up a box of chocolates and a bunch of colourful tulips. Over dinner with his family last night, the discussion had moved on from Christmas plans for the tea shop to how Ethan was settling in. There had been discussion of locals and Fran had been one of those mentioned. As Audrey had spoken about Fran’s kindness to animals and people and about how she always had a cheery disposition, whatever she was going through personally – even when her best friend, Holly, had disappeared for months – Ethan had felt a dark cloud descend over him. He hadn’t been very nice to Fran yesterday about her dogs and it wasn’t her fault or the fault of her four-legged companions. She had no idea what had happened to him, so how could she have understood his discomfort around creatures of the canine variety?
Therefore, he had decided to take her some flowers and chocolates to apologise and so that he could explain to her exactly why he’d behaved as he had the previous day. She had been nothing other than nice to him and she certainly didn’t deserve to feel bad just because Ethan had a phobia of dogs. It was something he’d always wished he could overcome, something he’d always pushed away, but sometimes it was the right time to face your fears and to move on. This seemed like one of those times.
He drove up to Fran’s cottage and parked outside, relieved to see that her car was there. If he’d had to come back, he might have lost his nerve. He liked Fran but he wasn’t used to trying to deal with women and their moods and had no idea if she would be at all receptive to his apology. From what he’d seen of her though, she was warm and friendly, so he was cautiously optimistic.
He knocked on the door and flinched at the sound of barking from inside. It seemed to echo around the cottage as if it were reverberating off the walls and when the door opened, it would burst out and knock him off his feet. He braced himself, preparing to see the dogs – and not run away – when she opened the door. However, as the door swung open, he wasn’t expecting to see Fran looking quite so delectable.
His breath caught in his throat, because she looked utterly gorgeous. She was wearing denim dungarees over a tight navy vest top, her small feet were bare, exposing bright pink toenails, and she had a red and navy scarf tied around her hair. Her red-framed glasses were different than the ones he’d seen her wearing so far and they matched the natural red of her kissable lips. Her face was free of makeup but she had a lovely glow to her cheeks and her indigo eyes were like deep lagoons that he could have plunged right into.
‘Ethan! Hello.’ She frowned. ‘Did I give you another wrong box?’
‘No… no. Not at all.’ He held out the flowers and chocolates. ‘I just wanted to apologise for yesterday.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘I thought I might have been a bit rude or uh… blunt about the dogs.’
Her expression softened. ‘Not at all. Honestly, I wasn’t offended.’
Relief flooded through him and he realised exactly how worried he’d been that he might have upset her.
‘Well, these are for you anyway.’
‘Thank you, although you shouldn’t have.’
She took the chocolates and flowers and sniffed the blooms. As she did so, her eyes closed and a spark of desire shot through Ethan, nearly unbalancing him. His heart raced and as he exhaled, his breath sounded shaky to his own ears, and he wondered if Fran had picked up on it too, but she appeared to be oblivious to the effect she was having upon him.
‘Excuse the state of me but I was in my workshop.’
‘You look incredible.’ He started, realising what he’d said.
‘Incredible?’ She rubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand. ‘I’m probably covered in clay and dog hair.’
He peered at her. ‘There is a tiny bit of clay there.’ He gently rubbed at her cheek below her glasses, then raised his eyes to meet hers. The way she was looking at him made his racing heart skip a beat and something else, something primitive, stirred inside him. He cleared his throat, trying to reset his body, to return his vital signs to normal.
‘Would you like to come in and have a coffee?’ she asked.
‘I don’t want to disturb you when you’re working.’
‘I was going to take a break anyway. I can lock the dogs in the lounge if they’re making you nervous.’
He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest. ‘It’s fine. I need to get over this stupid fear anyway.’
‘It’s a fear?’
‘I’ll tell you about it over coffee.’ He sighed. ‘It’s all a bit embarrassing, to be honest.’
She nodded. ‘Come on in then.’
In the kitchen, Ethan sat at the wooden table and looked around while Fran boiled the kettle. Thick dark beams lined the white ceiling, hinting at the age of the cottage, there was an old yellow Aga against the back wall, an apron-fronted sink and the cabinets had green wooden doors – some were missing handles. It was a warm, lived-in family kitchen and the aroma of spices and woodsmoke hung in the air. It suited Fran and he realised that it was the type of home he’d expected to find her living in. She didn’t seem the type to reside in a swanky new apartment with shiny surfaces and chrome gadgets, or to live somewhere spotlessly minimalist. Fran was an artist, a collector, and her home reflected her personality. Ethan liked it instantly and felt himself relax as the heat from the Aga filled the room. He could happily sit here all day, even with the dogs eyeing him from their beds, which were placed wherever there was space in the kitchen. They didn’t look as though they were going to pounce on him or as if they resented his presence; in fact, now that they’d settled, they seemed indifferent to him. He’d take indifference over growling any day.
‘Milk and sugar?’ Fran asked.
‘Just milk, please.’
Fran brought two mugs to the table and set them down.
A low grumbling from under the table made them both peer beneath it to see the little white dog that had growled at Ethan yesterday. Fran reached out a hand and the dog shuffled over to her and licked her fingers.
‘Come here, boy.’
She lifted the small white dog onto her lap and he sat there staring across the table at Ethan. His shoulders tightened, but he vowed to remain calm. This was Fran’s home, the other dogs weren’t bothered by him being there, and this tiny dog couldn’t do any harm, could it?
‘I don’t think he likes me.’ It was worth checking what Fran thought.
‘He doesn’t know you to dislike you.’ Fran rubbed the dog’s ears. ‘I think he must have had an unpleasant experience with a man at some point because he seems fine with women.’
‘Poor boy. Will you keep him?’
The dog tilted its head and sniffed at the air.
‘He’s settling in and my dogs have made him welcome, but I don’t know yet. It depends if I can find someone who’ll adopt him. I’m always happy to take dogs in but I have so many passing through here that if I adopted every single one, I wouldn’t have any room left.’
‘Tilly would probably like to meet him.’
‘Does she like dogs?’
‘She loves animals of all sorts. She’s asked for rabbits, cats, dogs, you name it.’
‘I have cats here too but they tend to spend most of their time in the bedrooms or chasing mice and other small furries in the outbuildings. Sometimes they sneak upstairs to lie on the beds, but not every day. They’re far more independent than dogs.’
Ethan nodded. ‘I haven’t given in about getting a pet up to this point because we didn’t have anyone to help in Bath and the extra responsibility seemed daunting, but perhaps now we’re here, she can have a pet of some kind.’
‘Like a dog?’ Fran raised her eyebrows.
Ethan shuddered. ‘Uh… not sure about that. It’s a big step, that one.’
‘What happened to you to make you fear dogs so much?’
‘Simple story, really, although telling it always makes me flinch. I was about seven and I was playing in the park with some school friends. Two dogs were off their leads, playing in the adjacent field. One of them got a bit overexcited and ran into the park. For some reason, it decided that I looked like fun and it bit me.’ He felt warmth spread into his face. ‘Right on the bottom.’
‘No!’ Her eyes widened behind her glasses.
‘It did. I was wearing rather small shorts – well I was only young – and it took a chunk out of my left bum cheek.’ The area smarted now as if in response to the memory. He’d heard that people who lost limbs could still feel them itching or aching and sometimes he was convinced he was suffering from the same thing with his bum cheek.
‘So you have a part of your bottom missing?’ Fran wasn’t laughing but he could see the amusement battling concern in her eyes. He hoped she wasn’t going to ask for proof because it wasn’t an area he was keen to expose, especially in a room filled with dogs.
The Christmas Tea Shop at Rosewood Page 10