Page 4 of The Second Chance Supper Club

‘Andreas, we have a lemon drizzle ready now too,’ a further male voice floated from the back room.

Andreas. Now that did indeed sound Greek.

‘Okay, and there’s a lemon drizzle. But it’ll not be a patch on my baklava.’ The guy behind the counter gave a cheeky wink.

‘I can hear you,’ the voice fired back with an edge of laughter. Then a friendly face, with close-shaven greying hair and piercing blue eyes, appeared around the door frame. He was taller, slimmer, and much paler than the first chap. ‘We’re very competitive with our baking. Can’t help ourselves.’

Andreas introduced him. ‘This is my partner, Dan.’ He placed a hand on the other gent’s shoulder in a way that looked intimate. ‘We co-own the shop here.’

‘Ah, lovely to meet you both. I’m Cath.’ She smiled, feeling the warmth of their friendly banter, but also feeling an idiot at her previous thoughts of lusting after him. Where was her gaydar when she needed it? Bloody fool. She had been out of the market for far too long.

‘So, are you here on holiday?’ Andreas asked, as he boxed a generous slice of quiche.

‘Actually, no, not this time, though I’ve holidayed here in the past. I’ve just moved into the village. A couple of days ago.’

‘Oh, so you must be Cheviot Cottage lady. How marvellous. Welcome to the village,’ Andreas said with a broad grin. ‘Yes, that was Reggie’s old place, such a lovely chap.’ ‘Oh, I do hope he’s doing okay?’ Cath suddenly felt concerned. Oh, and it was Reggie, so she knew the old man’s name now.

‘Yes, he’s doing fine. All set up in a local care home. He’d had a couple of falls, I think it was getting a bit much for him, the garden and everything, all on his own there.’

‘Well, hello, and welcome.’ Dan offered a handshake across the counter. ‘We’ve been here in the village for eight years, and we’ve never looked back.’

‘Yep, left the city behind to start this little venture. And still here and loving it.’

‘That’s good to hear.’

‘Well, I hope you’re settling in nicely? And anything you need, we’re always about, so just shout,’ said Dan.

How sweet of them. ‘Thanks, I appreciate that.’ She sensed the offer was genuine. Did they know that she was here on her own, she wondered. Was she giving off that lone middle-aged woman vibe? Was it that obvious? Or had the village grapevine done its work already, the local estate agent filling everyone in on the status of the new resident?

A phone started to ring out the back. Andreas looked up sharply, a crease forming across his brow. ‘Dan, would you take over … Nice to meet you … uh …’ With that, he was away.

‘Sorry,’ Dan began to explain, ‘it might be the care home. He’s been waiting for a call back. His elderly mother’s there too, and she’s not been well lately.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I do hope everything is fine.’ ‘Yes, me too. She’s such a love. Been quite poorly with a chest infection, bless her.’ Dan placed the sticky-sweet pastries into a second smaller box.

Cath then paid, saying her goodbyes with a further thank you. She’d have to find out if Andreas was of Greek heritage some other time. Though they’d only just met, the lads seemed lovely – she felt lifted by their warm welcome – and the shop felt like a little haven. On the short walk back to the cottage, she trailed the aromas of still-warm spiced baklava with her and was very much looking forward to sampling the pastries with a cup of tea.

Chapter 4

Sitting on the back patio in the sunshine, in a cream wicker chair she’d brought with her from the guest bedroom in Roundhay, with the taste of honey, nuts and filo still melting on her tongue, Cath remembered calling in to that same village shop many years ago. It would have been on a holiday with Mum and Dad, no doubt stopping for ice creams with her older sister, Susie. They’d been having summer holidays up in Northumberland for years. She was sure the brown wooden shelving had been the same, and back then they’d had one of those Walls freezers crammed with Cornettos, Twisters, Rockets and Lemonade Sparkles – they were her favourites back then, all lemony zing.

And then her mind moved on … to that last holiday, the one before Susie went off to uni. Their parents wanted a trip together for old times’ sake, back to their happy Northumberland haunts. Cath was so young, just sixteen, but of course felt all grown up. Her thoughts drifted back. It was the year of her first ever romance, with that lad from Belford village, where they’d stayed in a caravan … Matty. Floppy dark hair, gorgeous hazel-brown eyes, she could picture him now. Hah, after all this time.

She’d been allowed to walk into the village with her sister as chaperone. They’d chatted with the local teenagers, sat around the granite steps below the market cross. And for the next few days, they’d meet at the same place, 5 p.m. The two girls eagerly offering to go on an errand to the little supermarket. It was she and Matty who’d clicked in the group. And boy, it had felt so special when he’d put his arm around her.

Mum had even warmed to him when he’d called politely at the caravan one morning, hoping to see Cath. As they were just about to go out, Mum had asked him along too, and they’d all gone down to Bamburgh beach together for a picnic lunch and a game of makeshift cricket (to please Dad) – simple pleasures. Salt and sunshine and sand. And there, hidden in the dunes, her first kiss.

Why was she thinking about all this now? That was … crikey, thirty-six years ago. A touch of nostalgia stirred within. Life, love, relationships … Her heart gave a weird pulse. She still felt a bit guilty that she’d had to leave that lad Matty in the lurch in the end. It was all too much, too soon. But hey, that was all donkey’s years ago, and well in the past.

There had been a couple of boyfriend non-starters after that. A few months of high-school holding hands, cinema trips and such like, until it all fizzled out. And then, there was Trevor. They’d fallen for each other pretty quickly in those early heady days at university, and well, that was it. Over thirty years together … and now this. The anger still buzzed within.

Had it been a total waste? She took a slow sip of tea as she pondered her own question. Not really, she had to confess, there had been much that had been good over the years. Their relationship had just veered off course in these past eighteen months. Well, more like a car crash to be honest – dramatically, painfully. But, a small voice inside admitted, maybe it had run its course.

That was so very sad, even if it were true. But life was full of peaks and troughs, and though you couldn’t always see over the next hilltop or when the fogs came down, if you just kept going, kept plodding on, somehow, you’d find a way to get there in the end. Wherever there was … ? There was always that glimmer of light, that branch of hope. She had to hold on to that.

The baklava and tea filled her up, so she didn’t really need to stop for lunch. She’d popped the quiche in the fridge for another time, her appetite having gone AWOL lately. Time to go and get that paint, and liven up her kitchen. She got into her Mini and drove towards the hills, along winding roads lined with hawthorn hedges. Within ten minutes, she had reached the small market town of Kirkton, nestled at the base of the Cheviot Hills. The hardware store was at the far end of the high street.

Entering, it was like an Aladdin’s cave from the Seventies, with shelves piled high and narrow aisles. Looking about her, probably much of the stock actually dated from then, too. Kitchenware, homewares, pest control, cleaning materials, lightbulbs, DIY supplies, and yes, paint. She was itching to get going now, so didn’t bother with tester pots, instead finding herself standing in front of the large tins and homing in on the yellow shades, checking out which matched her mood. Bright and cheery, without being too in your face. There was one called Sunbound that caught her eye. A warm golden-yellow shade, like a daffodil’s trumpet. It looked perfect. How much to buy? One can or two? She hadn’t a bloody clue.