The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea

by Jennifer Joyce

  The kitchen plans didn’t stop there. There was going to be a sweet window seat overlooking the garden, upholstered with some gorgeous vintage fabric Willow had put aside especially, and bifold doors would open out onto the beautifully paved patio area (the patio area didn’t exist yet, but it would, one day). A huge oak table would take centre stage, ready for them to sit down to eat with their rosy-cheeked children. Again, the children didn’t exist yet, but Willow couldn’t help looking to the future.

  Unfortunately, Willow’s plans for the future weren’t guaranteed.

  ‘Have you heard anything more about the house?’ Mae asked, so Willow pushed the images of her beautiful babies aside and filled her in on the latest development.

  ‘So, more waiting,’ she concluded. ‘I think we’re going to have to look at a short-term let when Ethan gets back, which isn’t ideal, budget-wise, but if the house isn’t safe, we don’t have much choice.’ She shrugged. ‘Who knows, we may end up losing the house and end up renting long-term.’

  ‘Will it come to that?’ Mae asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ Willow said, quite able to envisage her hopes and dreams slipping away. They’d been slipping away for some time already. Losing the house would only add to it.

  ‘Do you mind if I have another bath?’ Willow asked once the dishwasher was stacked after their meal. She rubbed at her lower back and winced. ‘I think I overdid it moving a dresser this morning. My back’s been niggling since this afternoon.’

  ‘Of course, go ahead,’ Mae said. ‘There’s some paracetamol in the cabinet if you need it.’

  ‘Thanks, but I think the bath and an early night should be enough.’ She yawned, suddenly realising how tired she was. Either she was working too hard or her body was trying to coax her back into the sumptuous bed upstairs. She felt her muscles relax at the mere thought of sinking beneath the sheets.

  ‘There are fresh towels in the cupboard,’ Mae said. ‘Help yourself.’

  Willow was about to drag her weary body up the stairs when she heard scratching at the back door. As Mae was on the other side of the kitchen, Willow headed to the door, shuffling back as the cat bolted inside.

  ‘Oh, no, no, no.’ Mae scuttled across the kitchen, plucking the cat from the lino and carrying it back towards the door with her arms outstretched so the cat made little contact with her body. ‘Whatever you do, don’t let this cheeky little bugger into the house. I’m sure he’s trying to adopt us, but it’s not happening.’ Plonking the cat outside, Mae quickly hopped back into the kitchen and closed the door behind her.

  ‘That’s not your cat?’ Willow slid her eyes round to Hannah, who was still sitting at the table. She knew the Frosties thing was unorthodox. The little girl flashed a grin before dropping her gaze down to the tabletop.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ Mae said, dusting off her hands. ‘The last thing I need is more responsibility.’

  ‘He is pretty cute, though,’ Willow said. ‘In a Grumpy Cat sort of way. I’d adopt him myself but Ethan doesn’t fare too well around cats. It sets his asthma off.’ She looked back at the door, worrying about the poor fur ball. ‘Do we have an animal sanctuary around here?’

  Mae laughed. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t worry yourself too much over that one. You haven’t felt how podgy he is! It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a perfectly good home but was just trying his luck with all the neighbours.’

  ‘You think?’ It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility, and he did seem to be in decent enough condition, apart from the jagged ears, and he probably couldn’t help the perma-pissed-off expression on his little feline face. Resting bitch face wasn’t just for humans, after all.

  ‘I really do,’ Mae said. ‘He’s a chancer, like most of the male species of this world.’

  Willow didn’t necessarily agree with the last part of that statement, but she was convinced enough that the cat wasn’t in any danger and took herself upstairs to sink into a heavenly warm bubble bath.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Melody

  Working in the ice-cream van turned out to be a lot of fun. So much so, it wasn’t like working at all. Melody and Hugo had a laugh, joking and teasing in between customers (of which there were a lot. If the proposed ice-cream parlour in the park proved as popular, Hugo and his brother didn’t have a lot to worry about). And the very best part was the sampling of the products.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Melody moaned as she tasted the strawberry cheesecake ice cream. The ice cream was soft and creamy, yet there was added texture from the crunchy biscuit base and real strawberries swirled throughout. ‘This is amazing. I need a cone. A big one.’

  Melody had sampled each of the ice creams on offer, but this was by far her favourite.

  ‘It’s the least I can do after your afternoon’s work.’ Hugo selected a large waffle cone from one of the shelves. It was a bit of a squeeze in the van and they’d spent most of the day switching between serving the customers and sitting at the front, as it was near impossible to function with two bodies in the main part of the van. But, as the customers had waned, Hugo had lured Melody from her resting place with a plastic sampling spoon. Now, as he reached for the cone, his body pressed against hers and there was little room to manoeuvre out of the way.

  ‘Sorry,’ Hugo said as they stood chest to chest. ‘It’s a bit tricky with two. This is why James and I work separate shifts. There were one too many compromising situations and people were starting to talk.’

  Melody covered her mouth as she started to giggle. ‘Is that a cone in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?’

  ‘That’s what James said. Talk about creating an atmosphere.’ Hugo shuffled towards the tubs of ice cream and scooped out two generous portions of the strawberry cheesecake, balancing them one on top of the other in the cone. Melody watched as he added strawberry sauce, wondering why she felt so deflated that he’d moved away. For the briefest of moments, she’d suspected Hugo was going to lean in for a kiss, but it wasn’t as though she wanted him to kiss her. She might have felt a bit daring earlier in the day, her mind muddled after the Ferris wheel incident, but she couldn’t actually kiss Hugo. It would feel as though she was betraying Ollie.

  ‘So, it’s your last evening in Clifton-on-Sea,’ Hugo said as he handed over the giant ice cream. ‘What would you like to do? More photos of the harbour? A last walk along the beach?’

  ‘I haven’t actually had a proper walk on the beach yet,’ Melody admitted and Hugo’s eyes widened.

  ‘You’re kidding me? You can’t visit a seaside town and not have a paddle.’

  Melody shrugged. ‘I’ve been distracted.’ She gave Hugo a pointed look. ‘And working my ass off all afternoon.’

  ‘Hey, it was a good photo opportunity.’ Hugo pointed at the camera, back in its rightful place around her neck. She’d been snapping away as they worked, capturing the fun. It was an interesting angle on the photo festival’s theme and she couldn’t wait to have a proper look at the images, even if they didn’t end up as part of her collection. ‘Any chance I could take a look at those?’ Hugo did a good impression of a cartoon puppy, all wide eyes and fluttering eyelashes.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ The fingers on her free hand found the camera’s strap. ‘Maybe.’ She was leaving tomorrow. She wouldn’t see Hugo again. What harm would it do letting him have a peek? If he judged her, thought her work was utter crap, what would it matter? She wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to hear it.

  ‘Really?’ Hugo asked. ‘You’d seriously let me have a look?’

  Melody shrugged. ‘We’ll see.’

  ‘Man, I wish I’d asked to see your—’

  Melody whipped round (as best as she could in the limited space) and pointed her ice cream at Hugo. ‘Do not finish that sentence unless you want to go home wearing an ice-cream hat.’

  Hugo held his hands up, palms out. ‘Easy. I wasn’t going to say anything untoward.’

  Melody narrowed her eyes, bu
t she lowered her ice-cream weapon. ‘Why don’t I believe you?’

  ‘Maybe because you’re not very trusting of people? Because something – or someone – has hurt you and you’ve built this wall up around you in the hope it’ll protect you from being hurt again?’ Hugo shrugged. ‘Or maybe it’s because I’m a pig with filthy thoughts.’ He reached over to close the van’s hatch. ‘Come on. We’ve got some paddling to do before you leave.’

  Grabbing Melody’s non-ice-cream-wielding hand, Hugo led her out of the van, locking up before drawing her down to the beach. Her feet sank into the dry sand as they reached the bottom of the steps, and she was sure she could already feel the grains working their way into her socks and between her toes.

  ‘I’ll hold that while you take your shoes and socks off,’ Hugo offered, pointing at the ice cream. They’d wandered down from the steps to the shoreline, the water lapping rhythmically just ahead. The sand was wetter here, sturdier, and Melody looked back at the footsteps they’d left behind. The beach was quieter now, with only a handful of people visible along the stretch of sand. The holidaymakers had packed up their picnics and blankets and headed back to their lodgings as afternoon merged into evening, the sun still bright but less fierce now. The pier was still alive, the sounds – both natural and manufactured – still audible over the sloshing waves.

  ‘We’re seriously going for a paddle?’ Melody asked as the ice cream was plucked from her fingers. She’d already eaten one of the scoops, but the other was starting to melt, the pink ice cream dripping down to her fingers.

  ‘Hell, yes.’ Hugo pulled a face at Melody. ‘It’s in the Clifton-on-Sea rule book. Thou shalt not leave town without first having a paddle. Didn’t you read it?’

  Melody rolled her eyes, but bent to untie her shoes. ‘I didn’t. Are there any other rules I should know about?’

  ‘Let’s see…’ Hugo drummed his fingers on his chin. ‘Thou shalt build at least one mighty sandcastle, complete with a moat, seashell decorations and a Union Jack flag.’

  Melody removed one of her trainers, balancing on one foot to remove her sock. ‘I haven’t done that either. And I don’t have a bucket and spade to build one with.’

  Hugo gave a slow nod of his head. ‘You’re a rebel. I like it.’

  Melody removed the other shoe and sock and grabbed the ice cream, licking a dollop that was melting and trickling down the cone. ‘Any more rules I’m breaking?’

  With his hands now free, Hugo began his footwear removal. ‘Please tell me you’ve played bingo. That’s a major Clifton-on-Sea rule. Plus, you could win yourself a keyring that will fall apart as soon as you leave town, if not before.’

  Melody shook her head. ‘Nope, sorry. No bingo.’

  Hugo shook his head at her and sighed. ‘I do hope you know the most important rule when it comes to the seaside.’ He placed his shoes and socks together neatly on the sand while Melody waited for the answer. ‘Last one in’s a rotten egg.’ And with that, he pelted towards the water, whooping and leaping in the air as the freezing cold water washed over his bare feet. Melody hesitated for just a second or two before she sprinted after him.

  Melody’s feet were damp and gritty as they made their way along the promenade, her cut-off shorts wet and sticking uncomfortably. The paddle had started off well; it was actually fun as she and Hugo kicked at the water, splashing and laughing and generally acting like overgrown children. But why should the young get to have all the fun? Why shouldn’t two adults, firmly in their mid twenties, enjoy the simple pleasure of attempting to drench their pal?

  ‘I hope that’s waterproof,’ Hugo had said when they’d taken a breather, pointing at the camera still looped around her neck.

  ‘It is.’ Melody lifted the camera and took aim at Hugo, who pulled a cheesy, superhero-style pose with his hands planted on his hips while he looked out across the water, chin slightly raised. Melody had stepped backwards to get a better shot, but her foot had become tangled in a strand of seaweed and she’d ended up on her arse, the freezing water seeping through her shorts.

  Hugo had laughed.

  A lot.

  The bastard.

  ‘You could at least help me up,’ Melody had grumbled. Luckily, her ice cream had long gone, otherwise it would have been ruined.

  ‘Sorry,’ Hugo said as he waded over. He held a hand out for Melody, which she grasped tightly. But instead of hauling herself up, she had tugged hard, sending Hugo onto his knees in the water so they were both equally as soggy.

  ‘Here we go,’ Hugo said now, pointing across the road. ‘Bingo.’

  Melody looked at him with disbelief. ‘We are not playing bingo.’

  ‘Yup, we are.’ Taking her hand, he led Melody across the road, dipping into the arcade. Melody was assaulted by lights and sounds as Hugo led her towards the back of the vast room. A couple of steps led up to the bingo area, where low stools were arranged in front of lit-up grids of numbers. A game was already in session, and although there were currently only three people taking part, it didn’t dampen the caller’s enthusiasm.

  ‘Sit there.’ Hugo placed his hands on Melody’s shoulders, pushing down gently until she yielded and sank onto the stool. ‘We need tokens. I’ll be back in a sec.’

  Melody turned to the grid in front of her as Hugo headed for the token machine. There were little sliding windows to cover each number when it was called instead of the bingo dabbers her nan used, and it was all done electronically, but still… It was bingo. It was naff and cheesy but, as Hugo had pointed out, it was a seaside tradition. Taking her camera in hand, she took a couple of shots of the multicoloured boards, making sure she caught the grubby, horribly patterned carpet in the background. She probably wouldn’t use any of these photos at the festival, but she had nothing better to do while she waited.

  ‘Right, ladies,’ the bingo caller roared into his microphone. ‘Are we ready for a new game?’

  Melody glanced around the room and noted the participants were indeed all of the female variety as Hugo had yet to return.

  ‘Just in time!’ Hugo threw himself onto the neighbouring stool, placing a couple of drinks down next to the grids before slotting a token into his machine and handing another to Melody. ‘Come on, hurry or you’ll miss out.’

  ‘Believe me, I’m not afraid of that,’ Melody said, but she inserted her token anyway. Her grid was brought to life and she copied Hugo by making sure all the windows were open. She rolled her eyes as the game began, but Hugo simply grinned back at her.

  Half an hour later, Melody was begrudgingly admitting she’d had fun, mostly due to laughing at Hugo’s supercompetitiveness. He’d sat hunched over his grid, ready to pounce whenever one of his numbers was called, rubbing his hands in anticipation as he awaited the next. He’d made a fist, pulling it in towards his body with a hissed ‘yes!’ every time he won, which was frequent enough to reward them thirty-five coupon points by the time they’d finished.

  ‘You choose,’ Hugo said once they’d made their way over to the prize counter. Melody had failed to win a single game (and claimed it was a fix).

  ‘They’re your points.’ She peered at the prizes on offer and scrunched up her nose. ‘And it’s all crap.’

  Arrayed in front of them, and with various point values, was a selection of tat: dinosaur erasers, flimsy but brightly coloured combs, plastic whistles, sticky aliens encased in plastic eggs, rubbery spiders, and individually wrapped pieces of bubble gum. In the end, Hugo chose a rainbow of plastic beads threaded onto an elastic chord, and an orange-flavoured lollipop, both of which he gave to Melody.

  ‘A memento from your trip,’ he said as he placed the bracelet on her wrist. It was designed for a child, so it was dangerously stretched, but it was a sweet gesture.

  ‘I’ll never take it off,’ Melody said with a faux-gushing tone.

  Hugo took her hand and led her through the maze of arcade machines towards the exit. He kept doing that. Holding
her hand. And Melody kept letting him. She quite liked it, though she tried not to.

  The sun was starting to dip, the evening turning chilly, as they stepped out onto the pavement. The pier was illuminated now, the noise still carrying across, vibrant and full of life.

  ‘I need to get the van back,’ Hugo said as they crossed the road and started to make their way back along the promenade. ‘And Scoop will be wondering where I am.’

  ‘I should be getting back to the bed and breakfast.’ Melody wrapped her free arm around her body, suddenly feeling the chill. ‘I’ve still got a soggy bottom, and I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re going straight away?’ Hugo asked and she nodded.

  ‘That’s the plan.’

  They walked along in silence, the only noise coming from the sloshing waves and decreasing sounds from the pier, still hand-in-hand. The ice-cream van was just ahead, the bed and breakfast not much further. Soon this – whatever it was – would be over.

  ‘It’s been great meeting you,’ Hugo said once they’d reached the van. ‘It’s a shame I didn’t get to see the photos.’

  ‘Come here.’ Melody huddled in close to Hugo outside the van and, holding her camera at arm’s length, took a photo of them both. She brought the image up on the screen, laughing at the face Hugo had pulled, his tongue lolling and eyes crossed. ‘I think this is the best photo I’ve ever taken.’ She handed the camera to Hugo, who nodded in agreement.

  ‘You’ve certainly caught my best angle.’

  ‘This is definitely going in my collection for the photo festival. I wouldn’t be surprised if I won.’

  ‘You never said what the prize was,’ Hugo said. ‘If you win with my photo, will I be entitled to half?’

  ‘There are two – one judged by professionals, the other by the public. Each is a thousand pounds, but it’s about more than that. For me, anyway.’