The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea
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Mae gave an understanding nod. ‘Sounds familiar.’
‘Hannah’s dad?’
‘Hannah’s dad has never even met her. He wasn’t interested beyond conception.’ She wiped at an imaginary smear on the beer pump, just to avoid eye contact. ‘My dad, however, stuck around for a while, just to make sure I was truly screwed up.’
‘Some of us men are decent.’ Alfie smiled weakly.
‘I know you’re one of the good ones,’ Mae said, and Alfie’s smile strengthened. He grabbed his drink and the bag of chips he’d brought into the pub with him and winked at Mae.
‘You still won’t join me for dinner, though?’
Mae rolled her eyes. ‘Not a chance, mate.’
Alfie shrugged. ‘Worth a shot, I suppose. I’d better get on with my lunch. I’m half expecting to go back to the surgery to find all the animals have escaped under Anna’s supervision.’
‘She can’t be that bad,’ Mae said and Alfie pulled a face.
‘She really, really can.’
Mae laughed as Alfie backed away, still pulling the face.
‘I don’t know why you won’t just put the guy out of his misery and agree to a date,’ Corinne said, miraculously appearing as Alfie sat down at one of the tables and unwrapped his chips.
‘We’re just friends.’ Mae busied herself with the till, sorting through Alfie’s coins and placing them into the relevant tray. ‘And he isn’t my type.’
‘Nah,’ Corinne said, wrinkling her nose. ‘Smart, caring, cute blokes aren’t my type either.’ She gave Mae a pointed look before heading for the customers still waiting to be served. Mae closed the till and plastered on a smile as she too returned to the small gathering at the bar.
‘Any luck with the B&Bs?’ she asked as she filled a glass with lemonade. She’d recognised the woman immediately as she’d shuffled into the pub, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her dungarees. Clearly the instant recognition wasn’t mutual as the woman frowned at Mae. The confusion didn’t last, however, as there weren’t many twenty-somethings who dressed like they were from a bygone era in Clifton-on-Sea. It had been Mae’s granny who’d taught her the vintage hairstyles she herself had worn as a young woman, curling, waving and rolling Mae’s hair for fun as they waited for her mum to return home from work. Mae had adopted the look full-time a few years ago, complete with vintage fashion choices, and she couldn’t imagine looking in the mirror and not seeing the woman she chose to present to the world.
‘No luck at all,’ the woman said, shaking her head. ‘I’ve tried every B&B I could find, plus the hotel, but there aren’t any rooms available anywhere. I feel like a non-pregnant Mary in Bethlehem. You don’t happen to know if there’s a stable around here, do you?’
‘If you’re looking for a stable, you’re better off talking to our local vet.’ Mae nodded in the direction of Alfie, who smiled as he caught Mae’s gaze and gave a little wave. ‘Seriously, though…’ Mae gave a sympathetic smile as she placed the glass of lemonade on the bar. ‘Did you try the caravan site?’
The woman nodded and handed over a five-pound note. ‘Fully booked too. There’s room in the campsite, which I may have to take. The problem is, I don’t have much in the way of camping gear. I have a little stove but no tent. I guess I’m going to have to buy one, which means more money from the budget.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry for boring you with this. I haven’t been able to get hold of my husband and I’m in a bit of a flap.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Mae reached across the bar and gave the woman’s arm a squeeze. ‘I just wish there was more I could do to help. If I had a tent, I’d lend it to you. But I’m kinda too high-maintenance for camping.’ She flicked her hands towards her face and hair. The woman laughed and Mae was pleased to see the harassed look melt away, if only for a moment.
‘You look fabulous, though. Look at the state of me – I have paint under my nails!’
‘Are you serving or what?’ a gruff voice asked as a pair of elbows rested on the bar. ‘Or are you going to start comparing beauty tips?’
Mae flashed the woman an apologetic smile before turning to the till, returning with the change before moving on to the next (impatient) customer in line. By the time she’d managed to clear the bar, the woman had wandered across the pub and nabbed a vacant seat. Mae was contemplating heading over, to see if there was anything else she could do to help, when her phone started to buzz from her handbag. Although she was working, she always kept her phone switched on in case Hannah or the B&B needed her.
‘Do you mind if I take my break?’ she asked Corinne after fishing the phone out of her handbag and seeing her mother’s name on the display.
‘Of course not,’ Corinne said. ‘We’ve got through the worst of it. Frank and I can manage now.’
‘Thanks.’ Mae accepted the call and pressed the phone against her ear as she moved through to the back of the pub. ‘Hello?’
‘Mummy!’ It was Hannah, rather than Mae’s mum, who answered, her voice happy and high. ‘We went to the beach!’
‘Wow. Did you build sandcastles?’ Mae moved through to the small yard at the back of the pub, heading for an old crate to perch on in the shade of the tall walls.
‘Yes! Mine was the biggest! Nanny bought me sandals!’
‘Did she?’
‘Yup. They’re pink with yellow butterflies.’ There was a whistle of air down the line as Hannah sighed. ‘Nanny had to help me with the buckles.’
‘It just takes practice, sweetie,’ Mae told her. ‘You’ll get it. Do you think I could speak to Nanny for a minute?’
‘Yup, yup!’ Mae heard a faint giggle before the phone was switched and she heard her mother’s voice.
‘You didn’t have to buy her new shoes, Mum. She has sandals at home but we were in a rush.’ Mae needed her mum to know this, to know she didn’t need help providing her daughter with clothing. Money could be a little tight at times, but they were coping.
‘I know that, darling, but we were passing the shop and I saw the sweetest little sandals. I couldn’t resist.’
Mae wasn’t sure how true this was. She knew her mum worried about her; she’d brought Mae up pretty much without any help from Mae’s father, so she knew how tough single parenthood could be. Eloise couldn’t have coped without her own parents’ help so she was always on hand for Mae and Hannah, whether that was for babysitting duties or buying footwear.
‘Well, thank you,’ Mae said, swallowing her pride painfully. ‘I appreciate it. We both do.’
‘I know, sweetie. Hannah certainly does – I think she’ll try sleeping in them tonight.’
‘Great.’ Mae laughed softly. ‘I know who I’ll be ringing when I have a battle on my hands at bedtime.’
‘You only have to say the word and I’ll come round.’
Mae had only been joking, but her mum was serious. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine. I should go now, though. I’m on my break and I’m gasping for a cup of tea before I go back behind the bar.’
‘Okay, sweetie. Give my love to Frank and Corinne. I’ll see you later.’
‘Bye, Mum. Kisses and squishes for Hannah.’
Mae ended the call and heaved herself up from the crate. She really didn’t know where she’d be without her mum. She’d been there from the start, when Mae had returned to Clifton-on-Sea with a badly bruised heart and a twelve-week scan photo. The father – Mae’s boyfriend of eight months – had bailed upon the news of her pregnancy, and though Mae had been determined to stand on her own two feet, she’d soon realised she needed her family and had returned to the town she’d been desperate to escape since her teens. It was only upon her return that she’d realised how special Clifton-on-Sea was and just how lucky she was to have Eloise Wright as a mother.
Mae was halfway across the yard when her phone started to ring again. She paused and, answering the call, headed back towards the crate.
‘Mae? It’s Shirley. Shirley Robertson.’
Mae reached the crate, but didn’t sit. ‘Shirley? Is everything okay?’ Shirley and her family were due to arrive for their stay later that afternoon, but had they arrived early? Mrs Hornchurch knew they were due, but Mae’s neighbour couldn’t be expected to wait in all day on the off-chance they’d show up a few hours sooner than anticipated, so perhaps the family were camped out on the B&B’s doorstep, waiting to be let in.
‘Oh, love, no,’ Shirley wailed. ‘It’s my Len. He had a bit of a stumble lugging the suitcase downstairs this morning so we’ve been stuck in A&E ever since.’
Mae gasped. ‘Is he okay?’ She was fond of the Robertson family – they’d been among her first paying customers when she’d turned her grandparents’ house into a bed and breakfast and she looked forward to their annual visit.
‘Nothing a plaster cast and rest won’t sort out,’ Shirley said. ‘He finally got an X-ray and he’s broken his ankle. The rest is just superficial cuts and bruises.’
Mae sank onto the crate now and placed a hand on her chest. ‘That’s a relief.’
‘Yes,’ Shirley agreed. ‘But the thing is, we’re having to cancel our holiday. I’m so sorry to do this at the last minute. I feel so terrible. We all do.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Mae said. ‘The important part is that Len gets better. You’ll give him my love, won’t you?’
‘Of course. And we’ll be back next year, for sure. I’ll bring the cases down myself!’
‘Take care of Len – and yourself, of course. I’ll see you next summer, fit and well.’
Mae sat for a moment after she’d ended the call. She was glad Len was okay – broken bone and bruising aside – but she couldn’t help worrying about the empty rooms she was now left with, which left her with an icky feeling of guilt that she could have such selfish thoughts when a lovely man like Len Robertson had taken a tumble down a flight of stairs. But those unoccupied rooms represented lost earnings. She’d had to turn people away because she was fully booked and now she wasn’t.
Mae’s eyes widened as she realised all was not lost. There was a woman sitting in the pub who was in desperate need of a room and Mae now had two going spare for a couple of weeks. Gasping, she shot up from the crate and scuttled back into the pub, scanning the room as she propelled herself behind the bar.
‘Where is she?’ she wailed, eyes darting around the room. The seat the woman had nabbed earlier was now vacated.
‘Who?’ Corinne asked as she popped behind the bar with an armful of empty glasses.
‘The woman in the dungarees.’ Mae pointed at the empty seat.
‘Oh, her.’ Corinne slipped the glasses onto the side and bent to open the dishwasher. ‘She left a few minutes ago.’
‘Do you know who she is?’ Mae asked, already trying to work out how to track the woman down before she set up camp with a newly purchased tent.
Corinne shook her head. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her around town but I don’t know her name.’
Bollocks, Mae thought as she scurried towards the pub’s door. Big, sodding hairy bollocks!
Chapter Five
Willow
Willow took her change from the bed and breakfast lady/barmaid and wandered over to an empty seat, placing her glass down on the table and taking out her phone to check for any messages from either the builders or Ethan. There was an uncomfortable feeling in her gut, as though there was a small but hefty bowling ball in there, clogging and silently damaging her insides. She tried to ignore the feeling, knowing if she paid it too much attention it would take over completely and send her into a panic. So far, with the distraction of her mission to find accommodation, she was coping with the catastrophe, but she knew once she stopped and really thought about the situation she and her husband were now in, she would fall to pieces.
Falling to pieces wasn’t usually Willow’s style. She could be cool, calm and collected at the worst of times, thinking rationally about the bigger picture instead of giving in to dread. When her caterers had cancelled at the very last minute on her wedding day, phoning just minutes before she was due to have her hair and make-up done with news of a faulty fridge and ruined food, Willow hadn’t flapped. She’d been momentarily disappointed she wouldn’t get to enjoy the menu she’d planned weeks in advance, but she knew it was only food. Good food, but food all the same. Marrying Ethan was the important part, the part making her heart race and her hands jitter, so she’d let the lack of catered food slide as she slipped her phone into her pocket and sat on the hairdresser’s chair. Later, once she was Mrs St Clair, Willow led her guests to the seafront, where she and Ethan bought them the most delicious fish and chips, which they ate on the beach. It had been a chilly evening, but everyone said it was the best fish and chips they’d ever eaten and Willow remembered the day with fondness. The smell of battered fish and salt and vinegar-drenched chips filling the pub now reminded her of that day. Everything will be okay, the aroma reminded her. She and Ethan would sort everything out. This was a tiny blip they’d maybe laugh about one day.
Or maybe not. Only time would tell.
She checked her phone again. Still no word from Ethan. She wasn’t too surprised or worried about the lack of contact under the circumstances, but hearing from him would have offered a little bit of comfort and gone a long way in preventing her from teetering over the edge.
Placing the phone on the table, she took a sip of her drink, swallowing hard against the miniature bowling ball, which had crawled stealthily to sit in her throat.
‘Fancy a chip?’
Willow placed her glass back down on the table and glanced first at the bag of chips being proffered and then its owner sitting at the neighbouring table. He was perhaps in his early thirties, with smooth, brown skin and closely cropped black hair, and when he smiled – as he did now, while pushing the bag of chips ever so slightly closer to Willow – he displayed an enviable row of neat, white teeth.
‘No, but thank you.’ Willow didn’t think she could manage it. The lemonade had been battle enough.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, removing the chips – and the strong vinegar scent that tickled Willow’s nose – and placing the bag on his own table. ‘You look… sort of stressed.’
Understatement! Willow was this close to weeping, right there with a pub full of witnesses.
But no. Deep breaths. Deep, calming breaths.
Everything will be okay.
‘Are you a doctor or something?’ Willow asked, and he smiled again.
‘Not for humans.’ He wiped his hand down the thigh of his jeans to rid it of any grease and held it out to Willow. ‘I’m Alfie Michaels, the local vet.’
‘Ah.’ Willow shook the hand. ‘You’re the one I need to speak to about a stable.’
‘Sorry?’
Willow laughed. ‘Sorry, bit of an in-joke. There’s no room at the inn – or the local B&Bs – so I was hoping a stable would be free. Oh, excuse me…’ She pounced on her phone as it sprang into life, but it was neither Ethan nor the builder and she didn’t recognise the number on the screen.
‘Hello? Is that Re-Create?’ a male voice asked once she answered.
Willow pushed the bowling ball to the very back of her mind as she switched to business gear. ‘It is. This is Willow speaking. How may I help you?’
‘It’s Malcolm Kershaw?’ The man on the other end of the line posed the name as a question, as though Willow might be familiar with it. ‘We’ve been exchanging emails about the bed?’
Ah! Willow recognised the name now. She and Malcolm had been communicating about one of the old, disused rowing boats she’d rescued from the harbour, upcycling her treasure into a bed that hung from the ceiling, creating a gentle rocking motion for the sleeper. Malcolm had spotted the bed on her website and was keen to buy it.
‘I’ve got a van,’ Malcolm said now. ‘I’m about ten minutes away from Clifton-on-Sea.’
‘You’re on your way?’ Willow knew from their exchanges over the past couple of weeks that Malcolm lived in Huddersfield, which was around seventy miles away. This was not a quick trip and he’d be disappointed – to say the least – if he arrived to find an empty shop.
‘Yep. Won’t be long. You still have the bed?’
The bed was currently taking up a huge chunk of her workroom at the back of the shop, and the prospect of finally having that space back almost made her lightheaded with relief. The bed was quite a niche piece, and she’d been worried she wouldn’t find a new owner for it. On the other hand, she was in the middle of a crisis here and – it had just occurred to her – she could use the rowing boat bed if she failed to come up with another solution.
But no. Malcolm had been so excited about the bed, which he’d told Willow he wanted for his son as part of a sea-themed bedroom makeover. She couldn’t deny it him – especially when he’d travelled so far to pick it up.
‘I do have it,’ Willow confirmed. ‘But I’m not at the shop right now. I can be there in…’ She calculated the distance between the Fisherman and her shop. ‘Twenty minutes?’
‘Great. I don’t mind hanging around for a few minutes. It might take me that long to find your shop. Where exactly is it? I’ve just got off the motorway and pulled over. I can see a sign for the train station.’
‘Head that way.’ Willow stood up and headed for the pub’s door. ‘My shop is just around the corner from the station. It’s your first left. Thorpe Lane.’ She reached the door and pushed her way through it, saying goodbye to Malcolm as she reached her van and hopped inside. A text message beeped through to her phone as she dragged her seatbelt across her chest.
Sorry, only just got your message about the house! Can’t talk now – will phone in about an hour.
Slotting the key in the ignition, she left it to dangle for a moment while she tapped out a reply. Slipping her phone into the pocket of her dungarees, she started the van and pulled away from the Fisherman, heading back towards the station, her shop and the rowing-boat bed. Behind her, just as she turned away from the harbour, the doors of the pub flew open, a pair of red, peep-toe slingbacks clattering onto the pavement.
Chapter Six
Mae
She threw herself out of the pub, eyes darting left and right as they hunted the dungaree-clad woman, a hand held against her forehead to shield her eyes from the bright midday sun. She was greeted by the familiar line of wooden benches opposite the Fisherman, their backs against the seagull-lined harbour wall, but the only people around were a young couple wandering hand-in-hand, a bag of chips held between them, a mother holding her toddler son up to the harbour wall, pointing out the boats bobbing up and down on the water beyond, and the owner of the B&B a couple of doors down watering her hanging baskets. The woman had vanished.
‘Everything okay?’ Alfie asked as, shoulders slumped in defeat, Mae made her way back into the pub. She held in a sigh and headed back towards the bar, where Alfie followed.
‘Yes. It’s just…’ She shook her head. ‘I was looking for someone. She needs a room and I’ve just had a cancellation. It would have helped us both out.’
Mae could have kicked herself. Those rooms being empty for two weeks was a massive blow for her business. She relied on the money the bed and breakfast took in over the summer as it made up the bulk of her earnings for the entire year. During off-peak times, she rented out her rooms to students from nearby colleges and universities, but that didn’t bring in anywhere near the revenue the summer holidays did, so every booking was crucial. She needed to fill those rooms as quickly as possible, otherwise she’d be in trouble further down the line.
‘Do you mean Willow?’ Alfie asked. Mae’s brow crinkled. She didn’t actually know the woman’s name. ‘The woman in the dungarees?’ Alfie turned to look at the now-empty seat at the table with the abandoned glass of lemonade.
‘Yes!’ Mae reached forward, grasping hold of Alfie’s forearm. ‘Do you know her?’ Her grip relaxed as Alfie shook his head, her shoulders slumping once again.
‘But I know where she was heading, if it helps?’
Mae’s fingers curled around Alfie’s forearms again. ‘It does. It really, really does.’
Alfie dropped his gaze down to his arm and Mae snatched her fingers away. There was enough gossip about her and the vet around here without her fanning the flames.
‘She was meeting someone at her shop. It’s on Thorpe Lane, near the station. I didn’t catch which shop it was, but it’s a start.’
‘Thank you!’ Mae would have happily leapt across the bar and planted a kiss on Alfie’s cheek in return for his help, but that really would have set tongues wagging in overdrive. Instead she gave his arm another quick squeeze. ‘I owe you a pint!’
‘Only if you’ll join me,’ Alfie said, flashing the grin most women found irresistible. ‘How about tonight? After work? I could pick you up, or meet you back here?’
Mae was shaking her head before Alfie could finish his request. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so busy right now, especially now it’s the summer. I’ve got the B&B, Hannah…’ Mae trailed off as Alfie nodded and started to back away. He’d heard it all before, many times. ‘I still owe you that pint, though. I’ll get it for you now.’
‘It’s okay. Another time.’ Alfie grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘I should be getting back, make sure Anna hasn’t wrecked the joint in my absence. I hope you find Willow.’
Mae pushed her mouth into a brief smile as she lifted a hand. ‘Thanks again. And sorry about… Well, you know.’
‘No worries.’ With a wave of his own, Alfie ducked out of the pub and, although Mae was relieved she’d sidestepped the messy date request, she couldn’t help the feeling of dread worming its way into her stomach. Alfie was a good bloke and for most women he’d be perfect with his unquestionable good looks and caring profession, but dating him was out of the question for Mae. Dating anyone was out of the question for Mae. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Alfie she was incredibly busy – between the B&B, her bar work and Hannah, she simply didn’t have any time left over for romance.
Or so she told herself on a regular basis. She was almost starting to believe it.
‘Did you manage to catch up with her?’ Corinne asked, nodding at Willow’s vacated table.
‘No, but I know where she’s gone.’ Mae looked up at the clock hanging on one of the pub’s low beams. ‘Hopefully she’ll still be there when my shift’s over.’
Corinne grabbed a pint glass and started to fill it with bitter from the pump. ‘What did you need her for?’
Mae explained about Willow’s situation and her own sudden vacancy.
‘You’d better get off now then.’ Corinne placed the filled glass on the bar and accepted the money from her customer, thanking him before turning back to Mae. ‘Hurry, before you miss her. You don’t know how long she’ll be hanging around this shop for. If she leaves, you might not find her again and then you’ll both be screwed.’
‘I can’t leave now.’ Mae looked at the clock again. She still had a couple of hours left of her shift.
‘You can.’ Corinne tapped at the till and plonked the coins into the tray. ‘I’m the boss and what I say goes. So go.’
‘But…’
Corinne held up a silencing finger. ‘We’ll be fine, honestly. And think of that poor woman having to kip in a bloody tent on her own. Think of the cold, the spiders.’ She shuddered. ‘Plus, you’ll be losing out on money if you leave that room empty. Think of Hannah – your granny would never forgive me if I let her great-grandchild starve.’
‘I hardly think Hannah is going to starve,’ Mae started to protest, but Corinne was already guiding her out of the pub and pressing her handbag into her hands.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Corinne said as she nudged Mae towards her car. ‘Frank says you’re letting us have Hannah for the day. You’re not down on the rota so we’ll pick her up from yours in the morning, give you a bit of time to yourself.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Mae said, but Corinne rolled her eyes.