by Karen Clarke
‘I bumped into his dad,’ said Mum. ‘His wife-to-be has apparently inherited a house up there and the cost of living’s cheaper.’
That would appeal to Matt. He’d never been too keen on spending money. ‘Sounds like they’ve landed on their feet,’ I said, examining my feelings for a hint of envy, but there was none. My life with Matt now felt like someone else’s – someone who’d had a lucky escape. ‘Honestly, I think I’d like to stay.’ I squeezed Mum’s hand. ‘I’m so happy for you both,’ I said, pressing a kiss on her cheek.
‘And we’re so proud of you.’
Dad reached over and took my other hand and we sat for a moment in a companionable silence.
‘So, you never intended to do anything with your notes,’ I said after a while.
He gave me a sheepish smile. ‘I was sort of doing you a favour,’ he said. ‘Because it was part of your plan when you came here, to help me get published.’
‘Oh, Dad.’ I aimed a slap at his knee. ‘I still say it might come to something,’ I said. ‘Will you be mad if it does?’
‘Que será, será,’ he said and Mum nodded her agreement.
‘Que será, será,’ she repeated softly.
That just about summed them up, I thought. Whatever will be, will be. And, really, who was I to argue?
Twenty-Seven
I was washing up, mulling over Dad’s bolt from the blue (though maybe him wanting to move back to England shouldn’t have come as a shock) while he and Mum ambled about, planning an outing with Larry and Barbara, when my phone started ringing.
My heart bounced into my throat.
‘Isn’t that the music from Maximum Force?’ said Mum, doing a dramatic dance, twirling her arms and swirling her hips, her dressing gown gaping at the front.
Dad joined in, though dancing didn’t really describe his actions: patting the air with his hands and curving his spine as though dodging a kick in the stomach. ‘Answer it,’ he said, dangerously jutting his pelvis.
I hurriedly dried my hands and grabbed my phone. ‘Hi, Charlie.’
‘Sorry to disappoint,’ he said, picking up on my tone.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ I watched my parents waltz into the living room – or rather, Dad shifting Mum through the doorway as though handling a fridge-freezer. ‘I was in the middle of washing-up.’
‘Why aren’t you here?’
‘What?’
‘You come to the café every morning for breakfast.’
I knew he’d be waiting to hear how things had gone with Jay and felt a jolt of grief. ‘Well, today, I felt like staying here and eating with my parents,’ I said. ‘Dad’s moving back to England with Mum.’
There was a little silence at the end of the line. ‘Are you going too?’
‘Course not,’ I said, melting a little. ‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’
‘It’s not that far.’ His voice was deceptively casual. ‘I’d be over every weekend.’ But we both knew his commitments at the café meant weekends away were few and far between. ‘You know that everyone would miss you? My mum, Gérard, Madame Bisset, Stefan… Definitely Hamish.’
I laughed, a little tearfully. ‘They won’t have to,’ I said. ‘But I will be going back to visit quite often.’
‘Naturally,’ he said. ‘I’ll miss your dad.’
‘They’ll be here more than they realise,’ I said. ‘I reckon Dad’s fonder of this place than he thinks. He’s going back because he wants to be with Mum and her heart’s over there.’
‘That’s kind of nice,’ said Charlie. ‘I wish I felt that strongly about someone.’
‘You could, if you let yourself.’ I wondered how we’d got here so quickly. ‘Giselle’s gone then?’
‘It’s for the best,’ he said, soberly. ‘I couldn’t have looked at her the same way, knowing what she’d done.’ We were silent for a second and I found myself hoping that whatever came next, Giselle would be OK.
‘So, how did Max take it?’
My heart gave a kick. ‘You really have to stop calling him Max,’ I said, not sure I’d be able to bear watching the new film when it came out, knowing how close I’d got to the man who’d played him. ‘He was fine, actually. Glad to know the truth, but…’ I let the sentence trail off and didn’t pick it up.
‘And?’
My sigh spoke volumes.
‘Come down right now,’ Charlie ordered. ‘I’ll get the pains au chocolat ready.’
* * *
The café was in full flow when I arrived, after taking a scenic walk round the marina, sifting through my feelings. I’d tried to hold onto my earlier positivity and to not think about Jay, but without much success. I sat at a pavement table to wait for a lull when Charlie could join me, mindful that they were short-staffed now Giselle had gone.
The rain had stopped by the time I’d left the house, after wishing Mum and Dad a happy trip to Saint-Clément, and the cobbles shone brightly, reflecting the emerging sun.
A group of women strolled by in sunglasses, and people spilled from the café with drinks, or sat outside to enjoy the view. I picked a leaf off the olive tree next to the table and rubbed it between my fingers, managing to summon a smile for Stefan when he came out with my coffee and a pain au chocolat. ‘Charlie, he says he will be here soon.’ He gave a charming little bow. ‘You like me to send you photo?’ He pointed to my phone on the table and I realised he meant the selfie he’d taken with Jay and the rest of the staff.
‘Yes, please,’ I said, because that’s clearly what I was supposed to say, and a couple of awkward minutes followed while we worked out the best way to transfer the picture, before Dolly rapped on the window, throwing me a wink before she vanished.
When Stefan had scurried off, I opened the photo, bracing myself to look at Jay’s lovely smile. Unfortunately, Stefan had sent a photo of himself with his dog – a smiling ginger Spaniel – which reminded me about my column idea for Expats.
I let out a cleansing sigh and switched off my phone. I was about to get out my laptop and start working (actual working – I was finally done with looking at micro-pigs online) when there was a flurry of movement beside me and somebody sat down.
I looked up, about to point out a couple of vacant tables, and took a sharp breath that made me cough until my eyes burned with tears.
‘Not quite the effect I was hoping for.’ Jay slapped me on the back, his face concerned. The face I’d looked for just moments ago in a photo, but was so much better in real life.
‘What… why… what are you doing here?’ I spluttered, dabbing my still-tender eyes. The last thing they needed was to have more tears spurting out. ‘Budapest.’ My voice cracked and I tried again. ‘Aren’t you in Budapest?’
‘I had a word with my director,’ he said. ‘He agreed I could get a flight tonight instead.’ He was grinning, hopefully at my reaction and not because I looked an utter state (why hadn’t I done something with my hair?). ‘I reminded him that I’ve never shown up late, thrown a tantrum, or missed a day’s filming, even when I had the flu and Make-up had to work extra hard because I looked like I’d been exhumed.’
‘Was that the second film?’ I recalled a scene where he was supposed to wipe out a cable-car full of baddies. ‘You looked like you were stifling a sneeze when you jumped from the aeroplane onto the roof of the cable-car.’
‘I was.’ He nodded slowly. ‘I’d already done two takes, so they kept it in.’
‘And so did you?’
‘Only just,’ he said, wincing at the memory. ‘It gave me a stonking headache.’
I had no idea why we were taking about sneezing. Jay smiled, as though having the same thought.
‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ I said, a tide of emotion sweeping in. I longed to throw myself at him, but made do with saying, ‘Where’s Simon?’
‘In Budapest by now. Recovering from the hangover from hell.’
‘Was he very sick?’
‘Very.’ Jay grimac
ed. ‘And then he was very, very sorry.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ I shuddered. ‘I hate being sick.’
‘Well, he was sorry about that, but I meant he was very sorry he’d spoiled our evening.’
‘He was?’ I recalled his one-eyed stare from the cabin bed – as though he’d hoped to vanquish me – and realised he’d probably just felt really, really rough. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’ Jay smiled, as if he couldn’t help himself. ‘He likes you.’
‘He has a funny way of showing it.’
‘He wants what’s best for me and I know that’s being with you.’ His eyes and tone were so honest, I had no choice but to believe him. My heart soared, and I felt a new certainty, as if everything was happening the way it was supposed to.
Jay broke eye contact as Charlie materialised, shooting me a gleeful look.
‘I thought she wasn’t going to turn up,’ he said to Jay, drawing up a chair and sitting down, elbows on the gingham tablecloth. ‘Of all the days, she doesn’t show up today.’
‘What are you talking about?’ I was struggling to hear my own thoughts over the pounding of my heart. ‘Did you know Jay was coming?’
‘He rang first thing, to check you’d be working,’ he winked on the word ‘working’ and I narrowed my eyes. ‘So, I said, yes, of course, and he said, good, because he was coming to see you.’
‘And you didn’t show up.’ As Jay edged his chair closer, I realised no one was looking at him, even though he’d been on the news just a couple of evenings ago. Maybe it was so unlikely that Jay Merino would be here of all places, he wasn’t on anyone’s radar. I was the one who could barely take my eyes off him.
Charlie’s words penetrated my fuzzy glow. ‘You’ve been at the café already?’ I said to Jay.
‘About an hour ago.’ His warm grin prompted an answering smile. ‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘And, once again, I wasn’t here.’
‘Yup,’ said Charlie. ‘He said he’d wait, but when you didn’t turn up, I called you.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me he was here?’
‘I told him I’d come and meet you.’ Jay widened his eyes. ‘But we obviously missed each other.’
‘I took the long way round,’ I said, starting to laugh. It was all so ridiculous – and so completely brilliant. ‘Did you go to my house?’ My house. I liked the sound of that.
‘I did,’ he said. ‘Your dad said you were coming to the café, so I headed back.’
‘You’ve met my dad.’ I pressed my hands to my overheated cheeks. ‘What did he say?’
‘That you’d gone to the café.’ Jay raised a droll eyebrow.
‘That’s all?’
‘He said if I was who he thought I was…’ He shifted position and cleared his throat. ‘He was very sorry about my brother.’ I instinctively reached out and smoothed my hand over his. ‘And that if I hurt you, I’d be answering to him.’
‘Wow,’ said Charlie. ‘Your dad, warning off Max Weaver.’
‘It’s JAY,’ I said.
‘Sorry.’ Charlie winced. ‘That’s what I meant.’
‘He said he was on his way to Saint-Clément with your mum and some friends,’ said Jay, gripping my hand like a prize he’d won. Charlie noticed and stood up.
‘Can I get you anything?’ he said so formally, we burst out laughing.
‘Actually, I’ve come to borrow Natalie for the rest of the day.’ Jay’s words sent a depth charge through me. ‘I’ve still got the boat,’ he said to me, sending a thrill to my core.
‘In that case, I’ll leave you to it.’ Charlie squeezed my shoulders as he passed, and when he said to Jay, ‘Be good to her,’ a lump the size of an orange lodged in my throat. Dear Charlie. The best thing about coming to France had been meeting him. Well… I looked at Jay’s handsome face. Not quite the best thing, but close.
‘So, we’re definitely going sailing?’ I said, as we walked hand in hand to where he’d parked his little white Citroën, marvelling at how bright and clear and beautiful everything looked. Even the scruffiest boat in the harbour had a certain rustic charm, and the seagulls sounded more musical than normal. ‘There’s nobody hiding in the cabin?’
‘There’d better not be.’ He turned, pulling me into his arms. ‘The only people in that cabin today will be us.’
Us. ‘You know, I’m going to miss you,’ I said, sliding my hands up his chest. ‘When you’re in Budapest and Hong Kong.’
‘Come with me.’
I pulled back a little and saw he was serious. ‘But you’ll be working.’
‘You can work too.’ He flicked the strap of my laptop bag, dangling from my shoulder. ‘Writers can write anywhere,’ he said, adding in a low voice, ‘We’ll have a suite at the Mandarin Oriental.’
Excitement built as I imagined looking out at the Hong Kong skyline from the shelter of Jay’s embrace. ‘Won’t I be in the way?’
‘Never.’ He pulled me back against the warmth of his body. ‘The sooner we start sharing the rest of our lives the better, as far as I’m concerned.’ I tried to find an argument, but couldn’t. ‘In just a few weeks, we’ll be back here.’ His eyes were bright with emotion, inviting me in. ‘Home,’ he murmured, bending to kiss the space between my neck and collarbone. ‘What do you say?’
I didn’t have to think very long. ‘I say, yes,’ I whispered, desire threading its way through my body.
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
Jay was still smiling when I pressed my lips to his, and although I’d imagined our next kiss would happen on the yacht, with a blazing sunset turning the ocean to gold, it turned out that a car park, in front of cheering onlookers, was every bit as magical.
If you loved joining Natalie’s adventures in beautiful Chamillon – and long for another pain au chocolat at the Café Belle Vie – sign up to Karen’s email list here to be the first to know about her new releases.
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Karen’s Email Sign-Up
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Books by Karen Clarke
The Little French Cafe series
Escape to the Little French Café
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Seashell Cove series
The Café at Seashell Cove
The Bakery at Seashell Cove
The Christmas Café at Seashell Cove
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Beachside series
The Beachside Sweet Shop
The Beachside Flower Stall
The Beachside Christmas
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Being Brooke Simmons
My Future Husband
Put a Spell on You
A Letter from Karen
I want to say a huge thank you for choosing to read Escape to the Little French Café. If you did enjoy it, and want to keep up-to-date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the following link. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.
Sign up here!
When deciding on a location for my new series, the place that sprang to mind was the beautiful Île de Ré, an island on the west coast of France, not far from La Rochelle. Made up of ten picturesque villages and hamlets, it seemed like the ideal setting for a character looking to start a new life, especially with a cosy café just down the road.
I’m planning a visit to the island with my husband this year, and looking forward to climbing the lighthouse steps at Saint-Clément!
I hope you loved Escape to the Little French Café and if you did, I would be very grateful if you could write a review. I’d love to hear what you think, and it makes such a difference helping new readers to discover one of my books for the first time.
I love hearing from my readers – you can get in touch on my Facebook p
age, through Twitter, Goodreads or my website.
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Thanks,
Karen
www.writewritingwritten.com
The Café at Seashell Cove
Welcome to the Café at Seashell Cove, where you’ll find irresistible home-baked cakes, smiling friendly faces – and maybe even a second chance at love…
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When Cassie Maitland needs a holiday from her glamorous but stressful job in event management, she escapes home to gorgeous Seashell Cove, where her family’s cosy café sits perched on the cliffs above sparkling waves and golden sand.
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But a lot has changed while Cassie’s been away: her parents have transformed their tired café into a welcoming haven, her friends Meg and Tilly have whole new lives, and old flame Danny’s twinkling eyes and winning smile make Cassie feel even more flustered than they used to.
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Keen to throw herself back into local life, Cassie starts to run themed events – including a not entirely successful cat-café day, complete with dozens of felines. Luckily Danny is always around to lend a helping hand, and Cassie soon begins to wonder if her life in London was really all she made it out to be…
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Could a new start in Seashell Cove be exactly what Cassie needs?
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