Millie Vanilla’s Cupcake Café

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?’

Millie hardly had time to reply, ‘Yes please,’ before he disappeared back behind the bar. ‘I hope that’s alright for you?’ she asked Jed, who was eyeing his glass suspiciously.

‘Sounds delightful. Not sure about the beer, though.’

‘It’s a porter, a dark beer,’ Millie explained. ‘It’s brewed in Lyme Regis, not far away.’

Jed took a cautious sip. ‘It’s good.’ He took another. ‘No, really very good.’ He leant back against the pew, making it creak. Looking around at the worn slabs on the floor, at the two-foot thick whitewashed walls, at the heavy beams, he sighed with pleasure. ‘This place is great, isn’t it?’

‘It is.’

‘So, you know about beer too?’

Millie grinned, thinking that beer probably wasn’t his usual tipple. ‘Only the local stuff. I make a mean porter and chocolate cake with it.’

Jed groaned. ‘Chocolate cake? I think I’ve found my perfect woman!’ When all Millie did in response was blush, he added, ‘Is there anything you don’t know about around here?’

‘Well, I’ve lived here all my life, so I ought to.’ To hide her pleasure at his compliment, she sipped her cider and then said, ‘Where did you grow up?’

‘Oh, here and there. Family’s R.A.F. so we moved around a lot. I got sent to boarding school when I was eight.’

‘Eight?’ Millie was appalled. It was the same age as Tessa’s youngest son. ‘That seems very young.’

‘It does, I suppose,’ Jed said cheerfully. ‘But when your family moves so much it gives you some stability. Most vacs I didn’t make it home; I even spent some Christmases at school. Don’t look so horrified. I had some very jolly times with Matron’s family.’

‘Matron? Matron! Where did you go – Eton?’

Jed gave her a rueful grin. ‘Somewhere like that.’

Bloody hell. Bit different to Berecombe Comp. Millie gulped down more cider. ‘I can’t imagine spending Christmas anywhere else but home.’

‘Is that what you do?’

Millie nodded. ‘Or I used to. Now I go to my friend’s. Only for lunch, though. Trev and me, we have a good, long walk on the beach first and then get over to Tessa’s just in time for the present opening. She’s got three boys, so it’s great fun.’

‘You don’t have parents?’ Jed noticed the change in Millie’s expression and added, ‘I’m so sorry, that was intrusive.’

‘No, it’s alright. It used to be me, Mum and Dad, but they died in a car crash eleven years ago. Since then, I’ve always gone to Tessa’s.’

Jed put his hand on Millie’s. ‘Now I really am sorry. I had no right to butt in on your most personal memories. Your most painful memories.’

His hand was very warm and firm and Millie’s senses danced at his touch. It swamped the inevitable stab of grief. ‘It’s fine,’ she said quickly. ‘It was a long time ago. As the café was owned by them, it seemed the right thing to take it over and run it myself.’

‘And you’ve done that ever since? You must have been very young at the time.’

‘Yes, I suppose I was. Just about to go away to university to read English Lit.’

‘Ah. Hence the books.’

Millie nodded again. She was blurrily aware she was getting drunk quite quickly and hoped their food would arrive soon. ‘Hence the books. Trying to catch up a bit. Maybe I’ll try your suggestion of Mrs Gaskell.’

Jed nodded. ‘She’s slightly more fun than Melville. So you gave up your place at uni and stayed here instead and worked at the café? That’s amazing, Millie.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about it being amazing. In a strange way it kept me closer to them. It helped me, you know, being busy, doing what they’d always done.’

Jed took another sip of his beer. ‘I can quite see that. I think it’s one of the bravest things I’ve ever heard.’ There was a beat before he added, ‘You must have seen a few changes in the town.’

Perhaps Jed was attuned to her distress or maybe he’d simply wanted to change the subject. Either way, Millie was glad the conversation had taken a more casual tone and agreed. ‘Oh yes. We went through a phase of being popular with surfing dudes; there was a time when the pound was weak and the ferries brought the French and Dutch over in droves and the last invasion was a hippy group who camped out on Mill Field for the summer. They’ve got some sort of commune Honiton way now. As we’re the next stop along from Lyme, we get the visitors who can’t find anywhere to park there and find us instead.’

‘So there’s a lot of tourist trade in the town?’

‘There can be. If we have a good season. If the weather blesses us. And families seem to be rediscovering the traditional English seaside holiday again.’

‘Sandcastles on the beach?’

Millie laughed. ‘Don’t scoff! That sort of thing, absolutely.’

Jed spread his hands. ‘I wouldn’t dream of scoffing, as you so delightfully put it. It sounds wonderful. I’ve never had that kind of holiday.’

Millie gave him another shocked look. Christmas spent with Matron and no beach holidays; what sort of childhood had he had? Her heart exploded with protectiveness for a little boy, no doubt privileged, but who hadn’t seemed to have had the most basic of childhood pleasures. ‘At the next opportunity we’ll make sure we go on the beach and make the biggest, sandiest sandcastle you’ve ever seen.’

‘Even if it snows?’

‘Especially if it snows!’

Jed clinked his glass against hers. ‘You’re on!’

They smiled at one another, aware of the delicious, dizzying fizz of emotions rushing between them. Of the happy sliding into lust. Of maybe edging, blissfully, into something more meaningful.

The moment was only interrupted by Dean slamming their food onto the table in front of them.

Chapter 9

For the first time since taking over the running of her café, Millie resented the early start. When her phone buzzed and Debbie Reynolds trilled, ‘Good morning, good morning!’ she snapped it off and put her head back under the duvet. Instead of getting up in the dark, walking Trevor and getting the café ready, all she wanted to do was relish the evening she’d spent with Jed. To pick over every moment. Pulling her knees up she hugged them to herself with glee.

It had been the perfect evening. Enclosed in their cosy corner, it was as if they were in a happy little bubble all on their own. Jed had eaten with gusto, declaring his steak pie the best he’d ever had and ordered another pint of beer. They’d talked – about his childhood spent all around the world, but mostly he’d asked about her. Millie hadn’t had anyone so interested in her for, well, she couldn’t remember. So used to listening to Biddy moan or Arthur give a weather forecast or Zoe bang on about school, it had been exhilarating to talk about herself for a change. Jed had been an amazing listener, hanging on her every word. It had been immensely flattering. Millie hadn’t missed the covetous glances from the other women in the pub either. She didn’t blame them. Jed had looked positively edible in skinny jeans and a blue-and-white-striped rugby shirt.

He had insisted on walking her the short distance back to the café and to the steps at the side that led to her flat. It was about as romantic a night as could be. The sleet had stopped. All that was left was a crystal-cold night sky over an inky calm sea. No moon but a sprinkling of stars hanging over a just-visible, rolling coastline. In the distance, the Portland lighthouse beam appeared and dipped from view. There were few other people around and no need to hurry. As Jed and Millie walked along, arm in arm, the sea shifted and sighed, as if indulging in the romance of it all.

If Millie had been hoping for – or expecting – a goodnight kiss, she was disappointed. After a sort of mock salute, Jed had walked off along the promenade into the night, his broad shoulders making a triangle of his coat as he tucked his hands inside his pockets, pulling it tight across his hips. Millie had watched his blond head, made paler by the white lights strung from lamp post to lamp post, disappear around the corner to the hill leading to the shops. Her breath puffed out in a frozen cloud as she rested her chin on the handrail to the steps. She clung on to the metal for dear life. It was the only thing that stopped her from running after him.

It had been one of the best nights of her life.

Millie hugged her knees again and giggled to herself. She knew she was acting like a lovelorn teenager but it was such a novel and delicious feeling to like and be liked back that she couldn’t help herself. Enjoying the champagne fizz of emotions inside, she rolled over onto her back and listened to the sea crashing outside.

She must have dozed off because she was woken by Trevor’s impatient barking, ordering her to let him out. When she clocked the time, she gave a frantic yell at how late she’d slept. There was no more time for dwelling on mysterious handsome men with melting brown eyes.

Arthur was her first customer. He turned up just as Millie was unlocking the front door and flipping the sign to, “Come in for gorgeous cakes.” She’d given Trevor the most cursory of runs on the beach and had got most things ready for another day at the café. The breeze coming off the sea was gentler this morning and there was a brighter blue in the sky. Even the aubrieta, cascading down the low wall that separated the café’s sun terrace from the beach, had greened up. Was it too much to hope that spring was in the air?

One look at Arthur’s distraught face had all thoughts of Jed and the softening season taking flight. He came in, again without Daisy, but followed closely on his heels by Biddy and Elvis.

‘I’ve been calling you all along the prom,’ the elderly lady yelled at the unfortunate man. ‘Where’s Daisy?’

Ignoring Biddy, Millie steered Arthur to his table in the window and sat him down. She feared the worst.

‘Cup of tea, Arthur? Or maybe a pot?’ At his nod she smiled and wasn’t reassured to see tears gleam behind his spectacles. To her surprise Biddy joined him, sitting opposite. Millie’s heart sank. Biddy wasn’t the easiest company and her tactlessness was legendary.

‘I said, how’s Daisy? Fern at the vet’s said she was in there.’

‘Biddy,’ warned Millie.

Arthur cleared his throat. ‘It’s alright, Millie. You may as well both know, the vet found a tumour. Daisy’s got to have an operation.’

‘A tumour? That doesn’t sound good.’ Biddy sniffed.

‘Biddy!’ Millie rolled her eyes.

‘What? No point beating about the bush, is there?’

Millie supposed there wasn’t. Concerned that Biddy might upset Arthur further, she rushed to the kitchen, made a pot of tea as quickly as she could, threw a few pastries onto a plate and joined the pensioners at their table.

‘You know I always drink coffee,’ grumbled Biddy.

‘Well, just this once you can have tea.’ As the woman began to moan, Millie cut her off with, ‘Don’t worry, it’s on the house.’

There was a silence as Millie doled out mugs and plates and offered round the cakes. She sneaked a dog biscuit to Elvis, who had retreated under the table and was sitting on her foot. ‘Go on, Arthur,’ she encouraged when he at first refused. ‘Try a bit of this tray bake. I soak the apricots in brandy to give them extra flavour.’

‘Brandy, I ask you!’ Biddy spluttered. ‘You’ll never make a decent profit by doing that sort of malarkey, young lady.’

‘Maybe not, but it goes down a storm and I only make it at this time of year.’ So put that in your pipe and smoke it, she added silently.

‘Not keen on brandy, me,’ added Biddy taking a huge mouthful and chewing with enthusiasm.

‘So, Arthur,’ Millie resumed, ‘Tell us all about Daisy. That’s if you can, of course.’ She put a hand on his and was distressed to feel it tremble.

He took an enormous breath and began to talk. Turned out Daisy had been under the weather for a while and, on a regular visit for her jabs, the vet had felt a lump on the dog’s stomach.

‘I don’t know how I could have missed it!’ Arthur cried. Millie pushed a mug of tea towards him.

Biddy pursed her lips. Millie braced herself for some kind of accusation or dire warning from the old woman. Instead she said, ‘Easily done. And some of them tumours grow fast. Besides, Daisy’s got such a thick coat, would’ve been easy to miss.’

Millie looked at Biddy in gratitude. She was being quite nice!

‘I had a goldie years ago,’ Biddy went on. ‘Just like your Daisy. Had her when I was doing my last job. Too busy rushing round the place. Missed a lump just under her ear.’

‘But she was okay, wasn’t she?’ asked Millie, praying Biddy had some consolation for Arthur.

‘Oh no. Turned out to be malignant. Had to have her put down. Upset all the girls, it did. Mind you, she was knocking on for twelve.’

Millie winced. Biddy’s rare tactfulness had been short-lived.

Arthur drank some tea. ‘Good age for a goldie,’ was all he said.

Biddy nodded. ‘You do what you can, don’t you?’ she boomed. ‘But there’s only so much you can do.’

‘What’s going to happen?’ Millie pushed the plate of cakes Biddy’s way in the hope of shutting her up.

‘They’ll have to conduct some tests, I expect, see what it is and we’ll take it from there.’

‘You got insurance?’ Biddy asked.

Arthur nodded. ‘But only up to a certain amount. If Daisy needs a very expensive operation …’ his voice trailed off.

‘Was going to say, I can always cough up a bit if you haven’t. What you looking at me like that for, Millie? We dog-owners got to stick together in times of crisis.’

Arthur dislodged Millie’s hand and reached over to Biddy. ‘Dear lady, that is a very kind thought.’

Millie looked from one to the other in amazement. Their usual enmity had been completely forgotten. Sliding off her seat she left them to it, praying Daisy would be in the clear – and that Biddy wouldn’t say anything more to upset Arthur.

Chapter 10

It was the middle Saturday in January and Millie was going stir-crazy. She needed fresh air. She closed the café early and sent Zoe home. It had been quiet anyway since the literary festival had finished. She decided to drive into Lyme Regis. She had Tessa’s birthday present to buy and a sudden need to do some pottering around the town’s quirky shops.

It was one of those wonderful gifts of a day at which her part of the coast excelled. Spring really did seem just a few days around the corner. The sky was an optimistic shade of clear blue and you could smell the changing season lilting in on the gentle breeze from the sea. Millie wondered if her thick Guernsey might be a mistake, but it had been her dad’s and wearing it filled her with happy memories of him.

She found a parking space and eased her wheezing Fiesta into it, ignoring the sounds it was making. Repairs meant more expense, and money was short. The much-needed refurb of the café might have to wait.

‘Can’t afford to do both, Trevor my lad,’ she said to the dog. ‘Maybe we’ll start doing the Lottery again?’

She took the dog to Church Beach for a run around and laughed as he scampered in circles, high on the new smells. Finally, when he’d had enough, he came back to be put on the lead.

‘And now for some real exercise, Trevor.’ She pulled a face. ‘How to spend as little as possible on a pressie without looking mean.’

Trevor’s only response was a little whine and a regretful look back at the beach as they made their way to the shops.

Two hours later and an exhausted cockapoo and an over-heated Millie sat on a bench on the Bell Cliff tucking into a pasty. ‘Well, I think we’ve done okay, Trev,’ Millie said as she blew on her pasty to cool it down. She pulled off an edge of pastry and gave it to him. ‘That “Don’t Disturb Me, I’m Baking” mug is perfect for Tessa.’ She giggled. ‘She’ll love how it plays the theme to The Great British Bake Off.’

‘Talking to yourself, Millie?’

It was Jed.

Millie jumped a foot. Trevor lunged with a bark and her carrier bag slithered to the ground.

‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Here, let me.’ Replacing the shopping on the bench, he sat down. ‘What are you doing sitting out here? Enjoying the sunshine?’

Millie waved her pasty at the sea. ‘I’ve been shopping and got rather warm. Wrong clothes choice,’ she explained further. She squinted at the sun. ‘Besides, it’s a glorious day and you can’t complain about the view from here.’

Jed took off his Ray-Bans and grinned, showing even, white teeth. He pushed his sunglasses onto his head. ‘Can’t believe you can get days like this in this country – and in January. It’s glorious!’

‘I think spring will be early this year. Quite often is around here.’

Jed sat back, taking up most of the room on the bench. ‘And I wouldn’t dream of complaining about this view. It’s fantastic, isn’t it?’

Millie nodded and, feeling self-conscious about eating something so messy in front of him, wrapped the remainder of her pasty back into its paper bag. ‘You can see Portland today. That’s the bump of land far out to the right of the coast. And the sun’s just coming onto the red cliffs at West Bay, look. That’s where they film Broadchurch. And the highest bit of the coast is –’

‘Golden Cap. I know.’

‘Sorry, was I being boring? Too much of a tour guide?’ Millie deflated.

‘Millie, you’re never boring. It’s just that I know Lyme a bit. Ma and Pa had a holiday cottage near Dorchester for a couple of summers.’

‘Oh. I thought you said you’d never had a beach holiday.’