Spring Beginnings

by Georgia Hill

  ‘Hmph,’ Biddy snorted. ‘Don’t see it happen in Lyme.’

  Arthur sighed. ‘Lyme Regis has always been a special case as it’s so popular. And Berecombe’s not doing too badly, really.’

  ‘But you’ve still let this new café open.’

  Millie stiffened.

  ‘Apart from myself, the town council were in agreement. Blue Elephant is an international chain. The council felt, with the backing of a big company behind them, it might help the café stay open and provide some continuity. And that’s quite a large building to pay rates on. Only a big organisation like that could afford it.’

  Millie found the leg of the stool behind the till and dragged it over using her foot. Blue Elephant! She collapsed onto it. It couldn’t be much worse. They were huge in the States and had just started to open branches over here, rivalling Costa and Starbucks. They were a Fairtrade company and committed to using organic supplies. With their muffins, granary sandwiches and coffees they’d be in direct competition with what she did at Millie Vanilla’s. Even worse, the backing of a large corporation meant buying in bulk across their outlets and almost certainly undercutting her prices. She felt sick.

  ‘But the council is still letting this Elephant place go ahead?’ Biddy asked through a mouthful of scone, scattering crumbs.

  ‘I’m afraid so, Biddy.’

  ‘What did you say? ‘Speak up, man.’

  ‘I said, yes I’m afraid so,’ Arthur repeated.

  Biddy snorted again.

  ‘I will endeavour to put forward your feelings at the next council meeting.’

  In answer, Biddy slurped her coffee. Silence fell, only interrupted by whimpers coming from a now dreaming and kicking Elvis.

  Arthur, sensing their conversation was at an end, came to the counter and paid the exact amount in cash as he always did. ‘I’m sorry, dear girl,’ he whispered, ‘that I couldn’t tell you sooner. About this Blue Elephant business. It was all a very hush-hush affair.’

  Millie nodded mutely and watched him as he left. Trevor followed him to the door and whined. After hearing the dreadful news Millie wanted to join in.

  Chapter 6

  To her relief, business picked up a little at Millie Vanilla’s over the next few days. The literary festival brought a smattering of people into town. Millie stayed open on the nights events were held and did a roaring trade in warming pea and ham soup and her rich apricot and almond tray bake. She liked the lone customers who came in, pored over a book in a corner and demanded constant tea and coffee. The festival was designed to bring some trade into town in the quiet days after the Christmas season and it was working.

  Along with the Yummy Mummies Plus One Dad Group and her other regulars, the W.I. Knitting Circle and the Berecombe B.A.P.S (the Berecombe Appreciation of Paperbacks Society), she was kept busy.

  Tessa popped by one evening with her two youngest boys. While the children took Trevor for a run on the beach, she tucked into the apricot cake with relish. ‘Oh,’ she sighed, ‘you should definitely make loads more of this. It’s bloomin’ gorgeous.’ She looked up as the door opened. ‘Hello, our Sean.’

  Her eldest son stood in the doorway looking coy. ‘Hi, Mum.’

  A possible reason for his embarrassment arrived a second later. Zoe, this time with bleached-white hair, fell into the café behind him. ‘Oh hello, Mrs Tizzard.’

  ‘Zoe, me lover, told you before, call me Tessa. Grab a pew. What are you having?’

  ‘Well, we’re not stopping. We’re just on our way to the poetry reading in the theatre.’

  Tessa’s shoulders quivered with barely contained laughter. ‘Poetry reading? Not usually our Sean’s thing.’

  As an answer Sean grunted.

  ‘You forgot your scarf on Saturday, Zoe,’ Millie interrupted, to save him further embarrassment. ‘And would you like your wages while you’re here?’

  ‘Aw thanks, Mil. I can get Mum her birthday pressie later. There’s a craft fayre on in the theatre afterwards. She said she’d seen some nice earrings she’d like.’

  ‘That Susie Evans does some nice stuff,’ Tessa pointed out through a mouthful of cake. ‘Tell her I sent you and she’ll give you a bit off.’

  ‘Oh and she can have a free coffee next time she’s in,’ added Millie.

  ‘Thanks, Mrs Tizzard, I mean Tessa. And thanks, Mil.’ Zoe wound the scarf around her neck and stuffed her wages into the battered satchel she used as a handbag. ‘You coming then, Sean?’

  Sean, who was looking longingly at the half-eaten slice of cake on his mother’s plate, snapped into attention and opened the door.

  ‘See you later, kids,’ his mother cackled. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’

  Millie pressed a couple of slices of cake, wrapped in a serviette, into Sean’s hands. She winked at him in sympathy. ‘Bye both. Oh and Zoe, think I preferred Plummy Aubergine!’

  Sean scowled at his mother, Zoe waved a cheerful goodbye and then they strode off along the promenade, arm in arm, heads close together.

  Millie served scones and tea to a group deep in argument over the latest Booker prizewinner and then joined Tessa. ‘Is there something going on between those two?’

  Tessa exploded into laughter. ‘Bloody poetry. Our Sean? I ask you!’ She shook her head in answer. ‘Who knows? If there is, it’s news to me. Thought they were just friends. Wouldn’t mind a bit, though. Zoe’s a lovely girl. And she’s a good influence on Sean, not counting this sudden passion for poetry.’

  ‘But isn’t he going to work at that picture-framing company in Honiton?’

  ‘Yes, bab, it’s all set up. It’ll suit him. Says he’s had enough of exams to last a lifetime. He’s never been the most academic of my three. Unfortunately. What of it?’

  ‘Just that it might explain Zoe’s sudden cold feet about going to Durham.’

  Tessa looked to where, illuminated by the white lights strung up all along the promenade, she could see her eldest walking with his arm around Zoe’s shoulders. They stopped for a moment to take the inevitable selfie and giggled at the result. ‘You mean, young love? Sweet.’

  ‘And intense. You never feel the same as you do when you’re in love at seventeen.’

  Tessa pulled a gloomy face. ‘Don’t know. It was so long ago I can’t remember.’

  Millie laughed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, your Sean is gorgeous. But –’

  ‘If you had the choice between love and a degree from Durham?’ Tessa asked.

  ‘I think I’d choose Durham.’

  Tessa shoved in the last of her cake. ‘That’s what’s wrong with you, Emilia Fudge,’ she said through a full mouth, ‘there’s no romance in your soul. When was the last time you had a hot lover on your arm?’

  ‘Don’t know. It was so long ago I can’t remember.’ She winked at Tessa.

  Tessa sniggered and got up. ‘Better go and rescue Trevor from the boys. He’ll have had enough by now. I’m amazed they can see anything on the beach at this time of night.’

  ‘Oh, the lights on the prom reach out quite a way.’ Millie stretched her back. It had been a long day.

  Tessa observed her friend with affection. ‘You look knackered. It really is about time you had some fun, my girl.’

  Millie gave a wry smile. ‘You tell me when and who with and I’m all for it. Not sure how I’ll squeeze in a hot man, though. I work all day and bake all night. And I don’t know about fun, but it would be lovely to have someone special to share my life with. I get lonely sometimes.’

  Tessa nodded. ‘I understand, kiddo. You can have all the friends in the world and still feel lonely without a special person to come home to.’ She was silent for a moment and then added, ‘Come here.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Come here,’ Tessa repeated and beckoned Millie to where she was standing by the big picture window. When Millie obeyed, she turned her to face it, standing behind their joint reflection and putting her hands on her friend’s shoulders. ‘Look at you.�
�

  Millie looked. And pouted. ‘You’re right. I look knackered.’

  ‘Dead right you do. You’re tired because you’ve just done a fourteen-hour day.’

  ‘Your point being?’ Millie was embarrassed, aware that the literary festival group were watching with interest.

  ‘Behind the tiredness, I see gorgeous big brown eyes, that lovely dark hair and legs that I’d kill for. Don’t let life be all about work, Millie. Go and find yourself that man. You want marriage, babies, the whole enchilada, don’t you?’

  Millie nodded, her eyes filling with tears that she put down to exhaustion. Tessa had a point. It had been months since she’d taken any time off. She tried to see herself objectively. Yes, her make-up had disappeared hours ago and while her bob had grown out, her hair was still thick and glossy. Her legs, toned by a lifetime of being on her feet waitressing, were encased in matte-black tights, their length revealed by the flippy short skirts she favoured. Not too bad, she ventured. She bit her lip. ‘But where am I supposed to find a man, let alone some fun, Tess?’

  Tessa made a face. ‘God knows. Pick up a tourist? Or what about that bloke who keeps coming in? The one that Zoe keeps going on about. Wears all that designer gear – Hackett, she reckons it is. Another word for expensive, in my book. Oh, I don’t know where you’ll find him but get out there, kiddo. Take some time out. Forget the ruddy café for five minutes.’

  ‘And there’s me wanting to be the next Mary Berry.’

  ‘Wash your mouth out. There’s only one Mary Berry!’ Tessa put her hands together as if in prayer. ‘Saint Mary!’

  Millie giggled. She could always rely on her friend to make her laugh. ‘Love you, Tess. Now go and find my dog.’

  ‘Will do. Love you too, honeybun. Tarra a bit!’

  Chapter 7

  Millie bumped into Jed as she was hurrying up Berecombe’s steep main street. Literally bumped into him. Tessa would say it was fate. Millie would say it was because she had her head down against the icy wind blowing sleet against her face and didn’t see him coming the other way.

  Oomph. Her library books slid onto the pavement as they collided. Trevor barked with excitement.

  ‘Here, let me.’ Jed bent down and collected them for her. ‘Hello, Trevor,’ he said, fending him off as the dog tried to lick his ear. ‘Middlemarch and James Joyce,’ he read as he handed them back to her one by one. His eyebrows rose. ‘Interesting reading.’

  Millie blushed. ‘I didn’t go to college, so I’ve been trying to catch up on some books everyone tells me I ought to read.’ She held up Moby Dick. ‘This was for Book Club.’

  ‘How did you find it?’

  ‘Excruciatingly boring.’

  Jed laughed. ‘My thoughts exactly. I always had a bit of a thing for Mrs Gaskell. Maybe you could try her? Look, I think you’re out of luck trying to return them tonight, the library’s just closed. I passed it on my way down. Lights off and doors definitely locked.’

  ‘Oh.’ Millie’s face fell. ‘I hadn’t realised it was so late.’

  ‘I hope you’ll avoid a fine? I have to confess it’s been a long time since I borrowed a book from a library. Do they still do that?’

  Millie nodded. ‘I’ve got until tomorrow.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll have to try to find time to return them then.’

  Jed peered closer. ‘If you don’t mind my saying, you look rather done in.’

  ‘The café’s been busy with the literary festival. I’ve been rushed off my feet.’

  ‘Well, it’s good that you’ve been busy. Have you finished for tonight?’

  Millie thought of the batch of Bakewell tarts she should get in the oven and of the apricots she needed to soak before making another four lots of the tray bake.

  Jed filled in the gap left by her hesitation. ‘If you have, may I suggest getting some supper in the White Bear? I hear their food isn’t too bad.’

  ‘The food in there is lovely.’ Millie hopped from one foot to the other. She was freezing. Her nose was like ice. The thought of hot food in the company of an even hotter man was tempting beyond belief. Tessa’s words from the other night reverberated. Since when did she have gorgeous men asking her out to eat? Since when had she had some fun? Sod it, she decided, the customers would have to make do with scones tomorrow and she had some tea bread she could defrost. Some nice salty farmhouse butter would make it special. ‘I’d love to,’ she smiled up at him.

  ‘What about Trevor?’

  ‘Oh, he hasn’t eaten either.’

  Jed laughed. ‘That wasn’t quite what I meant. Do they allow dogs in the White Bear?’

  Millie nodded, as much to keep warm as to answer. ‘Oh yes, in the public bar, anyway. It’s cosy in there too; they’ll have a roaring fire going.’

  ‘Sounds perfect. Shall we?’ He held out an arm and Millie took it. ‘Let me,’ he added and relieved her of the books. ‘Perhaps we can dissect Herman Melville some more?’

  ‘Blimey, could we not?’ Millie, very aware of how close he was, giggled. She leaned nearer, thinking that he smelled heavenly. She breathed in spice and lemon. It wasn’t dissimilar to the cardamom lemon-drizzle cake she made sometimes.

  ‘Maybe stick with Gaskell, then?’

  They retraced her steps back down the hill, the sleet now at their backs, making their passage easier. Unusually cold weather aside, Berecombe looked beautiful. White lights strung across the narrow shopping street blew gently in the salt-laden breeze coming off the sea. Most shops had closed by now but had kept their window displays lit against the deep indigo of the night. It was postcard pretty.

  Millie was overcome by a wave of affection for her home town. She’d never lived anywhere else and had never wanted to. Never needed to. She’d had everything she ever wanted here. Until recently. Risking a glance at Jed’s profile, she wondered how long he was going to stay around. With his long upper lip and sharp cheekbones, there was definitely something of the Eddie Redmayne about him. He was posh-boy gorgeous. She breathed out a white cloud of hot breath in longing.

  He looked down at her. ‘Cold?’

  Millie nodded. ‘Freezing. Spring can’t come soon enough. You?’

  ‘God yes.’

  He pulled up the collar of his overcoat. The wind had whipped high colour into his smooth, tanned complexion. The line where his skin met the deep black of his coat made Millie’s insides melt with tenderness.

  ‘The Bear’s just down here, isn’t it?’

  When she didn’t answer immediately, he said, ‘Millie?’ and looked penetratingly at her. He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her closer. ‘Warmer now?’

  Don’t gaze into my eyes like that, Millie begged silently, and then forced herself to get a grip. ‘Um yes, thanks. And the pub’s just along the passageway off the high street.’ She clicked her tongue at Trevor and pointed the way.

  ‘I love these small towns. So complete in themselves.’ There was yearning in Jed’s voice. ‘A couple of pubs, some cafés and restaurants. Enough shops to buy what you need but not necessarily what you want. A strong sense of community. Have you always lived here?’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘And you never wanted to leave? To live somewhere else?’

  Millie shook her head as best she could against his shoulder. ‘No. As you say, everything I need is here. I’m really happy living here. Settled.’ Or I was until recently, she added to herself. She stared up at him. How can I long for a man I know nothing of? But I do. I long, long, long for him.

  ‘Where do you live, Jed?’

  ‘Me? Here and there. Hotels mostly. I go where the work is. I move around so much there seems little point in settling anywhere permanent. Occasionally I rent an apartment, but that’s rare. I’m in London mostly. New York sometimes.’

  ‘And you go wherever the company you’re working for is?’

  As an answer, he nodded.

  It all seemed impossibly glamorous to Millie. And alien. She couldn’t imagine the life he had
.

  Trevor halted to sniff at something interesting, forcing them to stop.

  Jed turned to face her. ‘But nowhere I’ve lived has had quite the same appeal as here.’ He came closer, only a breath apart. ‘You have a tiny bit of sleet on your eyelashes,’ he said and, with the gentlest of touches, he smoothed it off.

  He was very close. If Millie reached up an inch, she could kiss that mouth, with its generous upper lip, could caress that square chin, nuzzle against his strong throat.

  ‘I thought it was never supposed to be this cold at the seaside,’ he murmured, his eyes locked on hers.

  ‘It isn’t usually.’ Her eyes dropped to his mouth again. She ached to kiss it. ‘It might snow, they say. At the seaside, it’s a once in a lifetime experience.’ Like this man. She had the strongest instinct she would never meet his like again.

  Trevor, oblivious to what was going on above him, tried to trot off and yanked at the lead in Millie’s hand.

  ‘It’s too cold to stand around, anyway,’ she breathed and wondered if she saw regret in Jed’s dark eyes.

  Chapter 8

  The White Bear was packed with early-evening drinkers and with those having come into town for the festival. It exploded around them as a colourful warm fuzz in contrast to the chilly monochrome outside. Dean the landlord spotted Millie and said he could find them a table in a corner, away from the loudest of the revellers. When she thanked him, he simply shrugged and added that it was the least he could do for someone who made the best flapjacks this side of Weymouth.

  After letting Trevor drink his fill from the bowl of water at the door, they threaded their way through and settled on an old church pew in front of a tiny table. There was only just enough room if they sat tightly thigh to thigh. Millie found she didn’t mind one little bit.

  Trevor tucked himself underneath and collapsed with a sigh as Dean brought over their drinks. ‘Half a Thatcher’s, Mil, and the gent requested a pint of the local beer.’ He put the cider and the pint of Black Ven onto the table. Without ceremony he barked out, ‘Two steak and ale pies do you?’