Spring Beginnings

by Georgia Hill

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ Millie wiped her hand unnecessarily on her apron (bright pink with turquoise stars today). ‘Emilia Fudge. But everyone calls me Millie.’

  She waited for the laugh. For a quirk of amused eyebrows. For the jokes over her name being as sweet as her cakes. None came and she blushed with gratitude. This guy had class. ‘What can I get you today?’

  Jed grimaced. ‘I shouldn’t have anything, really, as I’ve just had a rather mediocre English cooked breakfast. But when I was in the other day, I couldn’t help but notice you do raisin toast. It’s my all-time weakness. Is that homemade too?’

  ‘Alas, I can’t lay claim to being a bread-maker. My pal Tessa makes all the bread I serve in here. But it’s very much made in her home. She’s a fantastic artisan baker. I’ll get you some of her fabulous raisin toast, then, shall I? Would you like some coffee with that?’ Millie smiled and wondered where he’d eaten his very ordinary breakfast and if he’d shared it with anyone. Who was he and why was he in Berecombe? It was a sleepy place and not considered as trendy as Lyme Regis, further along the coast. At this time of year any stranger stood out a mile, especially one as good-looking as him.

  ‘Thank you. I’d love a large latte. It’s cold today; I need warming up!’ Taking off his stripey scarf, he settled at the same table he’d sat at the other day and spread out a broadsheet newspaper.

  He was less formally dressed today, in dark moleskin jeans and a buttery suede jacket. With his out of season suntan, he looked just as buttery and edible himself. So he was in need of being warmed up? Millie could think of one or two things that might do it. She gave herself a shake. Honestly. Grow up, woman! She was as bad as Zoe and her gang going weak at the knees at the sight of a hot man. She ran into the kitchen and put herself to work as a distraction.

  The morning passed peacefully enough. Jed had eaten his toast and drunk his latte with enthusiasm, declaring both delicious and had thrown on his scarf and jacket and departed. As she cleared his table, Millie was prevented from watching where he was headed by the arrival of Arthur Roulestone, breakfast regular and owner of Daisy, Elvis’s arch enemy.

  ‘Morning, my dear,’ he called, as he came in with the puffing retriever in tow. He followed her look. ‘Stranger in town, then?’

  ‘Morning, Arthur.’ Millie picked up the tray and paused, with her bottom pushed against the kitchen door. ‘You don’t happen to know who he is, do you?’

  ‘No idea.’ He tapped his nose cheerfully. ‘I can keep my ear to the ground for you, though.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Arthur was a member of Berecombe’s town council. What he didn’t know wasn’t worth knowing. ‘Your usual?’

  ‘Bless you. A trifle chilly out there today.’

  ‘Isn’t it just? But I love these crisp days,’ Millie shouted from the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve heard we might have snow later.’

  ‘Snow?’ Millie put the tray down on the draining board and poked her head out of the door. ‘It never snows here. We don’t even get so much as a frost.’

  ‘Not strictly true. I can remember it snowing one winter when I was a boy. Covered the beach. Magical. Funnily enough, I always find it’s the coldest just before we get the first of the spring days.’

  ‘Some warmer weather would be welcome and good for business too. But snow, eh? How exciting! Must have been years ago. Before my time.’

  ‘Thank you for reminding me what an old codger I am.’

  ‘Sorry, Arthur. Extra sausage? And one for Daisy as an apology?’

  ‘Accepted with pleasure. Organic sausages from Small’s farm, I assume?’

  Millie nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Arthur went over to the table Jed had just vacated. ‘Ah,’ he called through to her. ‘I see your mysterious customer has left his newspaper. I might just have a quick look.’ He bent and picked it up. ‘Oh, how disappointing. The Financial Times. Not quite my choice of reading matter on a Friday morning.’ His brows rose over his steel-rimmed specs. ‘Might be a clue to his identity, however! A businessman, perhaps?’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Millie stepped around Daisy as she brought over Arthur’s mug of tea. ‘Strong builder’s as usual.’

  ‘Bless you, my dear.’

  ‘And how’s the old girl?’ She bent to tickle Daisy’s ears. ‘I hear she’s been annoying Elvis again.’

  ‘Well, at least it shows there’s some life left in her. She’s getting on a bit now. Like me.’

  Millie saw emotion contort Arthur’s face. She straightened. ‘Oh Arthur, you’ve both got years ahead of you yet.’ Goodness knows what the old man would do when Daisy went. They were devoted to each other. ‘And if she can still chase after a poodle, there must be hope.’

  ‘Indeed. However, I fear Biddy does not quite see it that way. And Elvis is an assistance dog. Daisy shouldn’t interfere when he’s working.’

  ‘I think they’re secretly very fond of one another,’ Millie said, reflecting that the same could be said of their bickering owners. ‘And don’t worry, Biddy’s fine. Never happy unless she’s got something to moan about.’

  ‘As my granddaughter Zoe would say, ain’t that the truth?’

  Laughing, Millie went to get his breakfast ready, confident her cooked English could never be described as mediocre.

  Chapter 3

  Early on Saturday morning, when the sun was just rising over the bay, Zoe crashed in to begin her shift.

  ‘Like your hair, Zo. What colour is it this time?’

  Zoe pulled a lock of her purple fringe and went cross-eyed looking at it. ‘Plummy Aubergine.’

  ‘Nice. Although I quite liked the shocking pink.’

  ‘Mum didn’t,’ Zoe said gloomily as she tied on her apron. ‘And school hated it. Threatened to suspend me if I didn’t tone it down.’

  ‘And Plummy Aubergine counts as toning it down?’

  Zoe scuffed her platform trainers. ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Well, this is an important year for you. Getting your grades for university and everything.’

  Zoe pulled out a chair and collapsed onto it, looking morose. ‘Yeah, well, don’t know if I actually want to go.’

  Millie paused while refilling the cupcake-shaped sugar bowls. Taking the seat opposite Zoe, she sat down and took the girl’s hand. ‘What’s all this about, then, my lovely?’

  Zoe gave an enormous sigh. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Just think there’s more to life than batting off horny undergrads and saddling yourself with a humungous debt.’

  Millie tried to keep a straight face. ‘Well, there’s certainly more to university than that.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘But it’s what you’ve always wanted.’

  ‘Is it?’ Zoe looked up and Millie was shocked to see tears in her heavily kohled eyes. Usually the girl was breezily happy and uncomplicated. Her choice of alternative image being the notable exception.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Millie hid her shock. Zoe was an extremely bright girl. University had always been the goal.

  ‘It’s what Mum and Dad want me to do. Have always wanted me to do. And Granddad.’

  Arthur would be devastated. Zoe was his only grandchild and he doted on her. ‘You need to do what’s right for you, my lovely.’

  Zoe pouted and moodily traced the flowery pattern on the oilcloth. ‘You didn’t go, did you?’

  Millie resumed filling the sugar bowl. ‘No,’ she said carefully. ‘But that was different. I had the café.’

  ‘That your parents ran?’

  Millie nodded. ‘Until they died.’ She bit her lip.

  ‘Aw, I’m sorry, Mil. For making you remember.’

  Millie nodded. ‘Well, some things are difficult to talk about still.’

  ‘Even after all these years?’

  ‘Even after all these years.’

  ‘That A35. It’s a death-trap,’ Zoe said viciously.

  Millie rose. ‘It is.’

  ‘There was another accident on it la
st week. Friend of Clare’s mother. But no one was seriously hurt.’

  ‘Well, road accidents happen all the time, don’t they?’ Millie clasped the bag of sugar to her as a shield. ‘Now,’ she said, with a forced brightness. ‘We’d better get ourselves ready; we’ll have a few frozen weekenders in, no doubt.’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’ Zoe got up and followed Millie to the kitchen. ‘Sorry.’

  Millie turned to her in surprise. ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘For doing a downer on you.’

  ‘Oh, Zoe!’ Millie put the sugar down and gave her a hug. ‘You know you can talk to me. Any time. About anything.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Just think carefully about your future, won’t you? You’re such a clever girl. You could do anything and everything you want.’

  ‘Meaning university?’

  ‘Maybe university, if that’s what you really want, but so much more too.’ Millie released Zoe and gave her a grin. ‘Come on, let’s grab a coffee before the Saturday rush starts. I’ve made some millionaire’s shortbread. Fancy some?’

  Zoe rolled her eyes and giggled. ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’

  ‘Is he? I’ve no idea. Pretty sure he wouldn’t approve of Plummy Aubergine, though.’ Millie tweaked Zoe’s fringe.

  ‘Showing your age, Mil.’

  ‘Cheek. I’ll have you know I still have a two in it. Just about.’

  Zoe grinned. ‘Yeah, that’s what I mean. Pos-it-ive-ly ancient. Totally past it, girlfriend.’

  Millie grabbed a tea towel and snapped it at Zoe’s rear. ‘You, young lady, may not live long enough to get as far as my shortbread. Into that kitchen and begin work this minute.’

  ‘Gawd. Thought the days of child slave labour died out with Dickens,’ Zoe said good-naturedly and skipped ahead of Millie and into the welcoming scents of a kitchen, which produced heavenly little squares of chocolate and caramel on shortbread.

  Chapter 4

  It was cold and still dark as Millie walked briskly up Berecombe’s steep main street to the post office. Millie was used to early starts. She’d been getting up at five all her working life. True, getting up at the crack of dawn was far more pleasant in the summer months. But even at this time of year she delighted in the muffled, secretive quality the town had when few others were around. She kissed each letter as she posted it, wishing it a safe and speedy journey to its destination, then turned and walked back down the hill. As she did, she passed the old bank building. The closing of Berecombe’s only bank had caused huge distress, especially among her older customers. Not used to online banking and unwilling to trust it, they were now having to go into Honiton or Axminster to do any banking business. More alarming for Millie, a lot of them, having made the journey, were staying on there for coffee and lunch. She’d lost quite a lot of trade that way. She bit her lip; she might have to rethink one or two things to keep her going through to the busy summer season. She just wished she knew what.

  She paused to study the elegant Georgian facade. The building work had been going on for some time now and no one seemed certain about what was going to open. All sorts of rumours abounded. At the moment, its windows were resolutely boarded up and hostile- looking, giving away no secrets. She shivered in the sea fog that was yet to go out with the tide. It really had been a long, dismal winter. The promised snow hadn’t appeared but she hoped Arthur was right when he’d said spring was on its way. Walking fast, she clicked her tongue at Trevor to follow and made her way home.

  As she unlocked the café, her best friend Tessa arrived, carrying a tray of freshly made breads.

  ‘Alright then, our Mil?’ she called out in her broad Brummy tones. ‘Got you a load of granary, a couple of white bloomers and fruit bread. That should see you through.’

  Millie eyed it thoughtfully. She would have to freeze a lot of it. ‘Should see me through a few days the way business has been lately.’ She held open the café door and Tessa followed, putting the heavy tray down with a sigh of relief.

  ‘That bad, eh? Time of the year, though.’

  ‘Hopefully. Got time for a coffee?’

  ‘Always got time for one of your coffees, bab.’ Tessa plonked herself on the chair nearest the kitchen door and shouted through. ‘Looks crackin’ in here.’ Then she fell silent as her phone pinged and she scrolled through a message.

  Millie came through with a cafetière and plate of biscuits and joined her. ‘Zoe touched up some of the paintwork on Saturday as we went a bit quiet. She’s a good girl.’

  Tessa put down her phone and looked around. ‘Always loved this pink and blue theme Ken did.’ She watched as Millie poured the coffee.

  Ken was Tessa’s artist husband. She had met him while on holiday, fallen in love and, three children later, was still in Devon.

  ‘How did his show go?’ Millie yawned and stretched out her long legs. She slipped off her Uggs and tucked her feet underneath each other. Glancing at Tessa she thought her friend seemed unusually tense.

  Tessa pulled a face. ‘Okay, but we only sold a few paintings. And that gallery in Exeter charges a fortune to host an exhibition. Don’t think we covered our costs, to be honest.’

  ‘That’s a real shame. You’d both worked so hard on it. Here, have a gingerbread man. I made them last night.’ Millie pushed the plate over. ‘I hadn’t realised they charged.’ Maybe that was the reason for Tessa’s mood.

  ‘Oh yes, they charge alright.’ Tessa snapped a biscuit in half viciously. ‘We’ll have to find somewhere else to do it next time. Maybe provide our own fizz. Got to find a way to cut costs,’ she waved a gingerbread man leg in the air, scattering crumbs. ‘Otherwise it just ain’t worth doing.’

  ‘Can you do another in the summer, when there are more people around?’

  Tessa shrugged. ‘Maybe but holiday-makers don’t want to buy Ken’s paintings. Too big to get in the back of the hatchback to trek up the M5, like.’

  Millie put down her half-eaten gingerbread man; she’d lost her appetite suddenly. It wasn’t like Tessa to be so negative. Something else must be worrying her. ‘These would be better iced, I think.’

  ‘Why don’t you do them to match the caff? Blue and pink buttons!’

  ‘I might just do that.’ Millie laughed, relieved her friend sounded momentarily brighter. She reached for her coffee. ‘Speaking of colour, Zoe’s got purple hair at the moment.’

  ‘Love that girl!’ Tessa nodded. ‘Yeah, Ken said as much. She’s been hanging round the studio a bit lately.’

  ‘She’s having a crisis over whether she wants to go to uni to study English.’

  Tessa nodded again. ‘Ken says she’s got real artistic talent. You should see the water-colour sketches she does; they’re ace.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what she really wants to do? Probably doesn’t want to let her parents down, though. Under all that punk make-up and fluorescent hair, she’s a softie. Wants to keep them happy.’

  Tessa pointed a stern finger. ‘Yeah, but what does she want? Going off to study books for three years isn’t going to make her happy. All she’ll end up with is debt.’

  ‘That’s exactly what she said to me. It’s awful that kids have to think like that.’

  ‘Well, Ken reckons she ought to get herself to art college.’ Tessa pulled another face and spread her arms. ‘And not going to uni didn’t do us any harm, did it?’

  Millie raised her eyebrows. ‘No. We’re just sitting here at six in the morning, wondering how best to make ends meet.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Tessa got up. ‘A poxy English degree ain’t necessarily going to fix that. Agreed?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Millie grinned. Tessa’s antipathy to academia stemmed from disappointment in her eldest son. Sean had little scholarly ambition. The Tizzards’ hopes were now focused on their middle boy.

  Just as Tessa got to the door, she turned. She hesitated before speaking. ‘Have you heard what’s going into the old bank building?’

  ‘No, what? I walked past there ear
lier but there was no clue.’ Millie began clearing their plates and mugs.

  Tessa took a breath. ‘It’s another caff, Mil. I’m sorry, kiddo.’

  ‘A café?’ Millie sank back onto her chair on suddenly weakened legs. Another café. Coming to Berecombe. And opening up as a rival.

  She looked around at the sunny turquoise walls, the fairy lights, encased in feathers and twinkling, lovingly put up by Zoe. The tray of tempting breads waiting to be eaten. The tables scrubbed and laid ready for her customers to flock in. Except they hadn’t exactly been flocking in recently, had they? And with competition opening up, it could just about sound the death knell for Millie Vanilla’s.

  Oh God.

  ‘Sorry, Millie,’ Tessa repeated. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. School run. Laters, bab.’

  She disappeared before Millie had the chance to answer.

  Chapter 5

  Arthur wandered in later than usual and, very unusually, without Daisy. He rejected a cooked breakfast and sat morosely nursing a solitary mug of tea. In sympathy, Trevor whined and squatted at his feet, but was ignored.

  When Millie spotted Biddy pushing open the door, with a cheerful Elvis in tow, she feared the worst. She was in no mood for squabbling pensioners this morning.

  ‘You’re early, Biddy. What can I get you?’

  ‘It’s allowed, isn’t it? Being early. Not a crime. And what else do I ever have? The usual, please.’

  Muttering to herself as she worked in the kitchen, Millie wondered if Biddy got on with anyone. Maybe it was the low, dull clouds? It seemed to be putting everyone in a bad mood today. As she warmed up Biddy’s scone, Millie could already hear her bickering with Arthur. Biddy was moaning that yet another restaurant was opening up in town. Her heart sank.

  She brought out Biddy’s coffee and scone, served it and retreated behind the counter, pretending to polish some glasses.

  ‘For once I agree with you,’ Arthur went on. ‘And it does the town no favours to have these businesses open in good faith, only to have one poor season and close down again.’