Page 67 of The Seaside Supper Club

‘Are you okay, my love? Are you having bathroom issues?’ Her voice was hushed, discreet. She just wanted to understand, to be able to try and help him as best she could.

‘Not here, Cath. For Christ’s sake.’ His tone was terse. ‘I feel like an old man as it is, and you’re sounding like my bloody carer.’

‘Sorry … I’m sorry,’ she apologised, feeling flustered. God, she kept getting this wrong.

Will downed his coffee, and pushed the last corner of ham sandwich to the edge of his plate. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’ He shoved a twenty-pound note onto the table top and was standing, ready to go.

‘Oh, but I was going to pay. It was my treat,’ she said. Some bloody treat, this was.

‘It’s okay. It’s sorted now.’ And with that, he was off.

She quickly shoved the remaining piece of panini in her mouth, grabbed her jacket, called out ‘Thanks’ to the waitress, catching her eye and gesturing to the payment on the table, and followed him out to the car. All the while wondering what the hell had just gone on. It couldn’t be easy for him right now, but sometimes that man was so guarded – not telling her what he was feeling or struggling with – he didn’t help himself. If he really hadn’t wanted to go out for lunch, then he should have said so back at home. She wasn’t a frickin’ mind-reader.

Then, as she watched him walk rather uncomfortably to the car, she reminded herself, he was only a few weeks post a delicate surgery. He’d also had to cope with learning he had cancer, after everything he’d already been through with his family, and she felt a bit rotten at getting frustrated with him. But dammit, he was just so in on himself sometimes.

There was a frosty atmosphere in the car, both lost in their own thoughts. She didn’t dare say anything more about dropping by the beach bungalow. It was hardly worth it anyhow, with this ‘wobble’ going on between them. Another time …

Chapter 28

The welcoming jingle of the store bell rang out.

‘Good morning,’ Cath called out cheerily. Almost two weeks had now passed by since the Tilldale Tea planning session and she was back at the stores in a different role, behind the counter.

‘Oh, hello, Cath. I was expecting to see one of the boys.’

‘Morning, Kenneth. They’re taking a well-deserved break and having the day off, so you have the pleasure of my company, today. Would you like a cup of tea before you do your shopping?’

‘Oh, yes, please. That’d be grand, lass. Two sugars.’

‘And shall we push the boat out with a custard cream or two?’ Cath gave a warm smile.

‘Why not indeed.’ The gentleman’s eyes lit up.

Cath knew his routine well by now. Elderly Kenneth came in primarily for the chat and company, which he needed far more than the few supplies which he’d finally take home with him. He even had his own special chair to sit and ‘bide a wee while’ by the counter.

Cath had agreed to step in at the shop, as the lads were planning a day trip to Edinburgh with a lunch out. A rare treat, and one which Cath was happy to accommodate. They’d done so much to help her and Will lately, after all. And after their own difficult trip out last week, she thought Will might be glad of a little space. She’d been left feeling bruised by the whole thing, to be honest.

She liked to keep her hand in at the shop from time and time, anyhow. It was a great way of keeping up with village life, and she enjoyed chatting with the locals, the occasional tourist and workmen, who called in. Tilldale Village Stores was the unofficial community hub, and was generally open seven days a week, with Andreas and Dan only closing for a half day on Wednesdays and Sundays. It was a big commitment from them. But they loved their rural life and running the shop here, despite the long hours, after changing track and moving up from the hustle and bustle of London eleven years ago. Under their care and commitment, the shop had indeed become the beating heart of the village, but sometimes like everyone else, they needed to recharge their batteries, and today was the day.

Cath enjoyed helping there. As well as giving her a chance to interact with the locals, the money was handy, supplementing her online tuition. Her deputy head pension didn’t kick in yet for a few years, and her early retirement dreams of leisure and travel had been kicked out of the park by her ex-husband’s affair and their subsequent divorce. But hey, she’d travelled in a whole new direction since then. Moved to Northumberland, found her gorgeous Cheviot Cottage and made it home, changed her life, and made some lovely new friends here, so she wasn’t complaining. Sometimes the curveballs were the things that gave you the courage to begin again, to reevaluate your life and learn to really live.

‘I’ll just go pop the kettle on then, Kenneth.’ Cath pulled herself back to the here and now, and headed through the door to the back of the stores. ‘Won’t be a mo.’

An abundance of freshly baked goods sat lined up on the kitchen’s side, looking deliciously tempting. Andreas and Dan had evidently been up and baking early, despite having a train to catch. There was a handwritten note from Andreas reminding her to warm some of the croissants, ready for the morning drop-ins, so she popped the oven on. Then, kettle on, mugs at the ready, and finding the biscuit tin which was always filled with traditional favourites, she popped some custard creams and a couple of chocolate Bourbons onto a tea plate.

Tea made, Kenneth was in situ with a large mug to hand and a gentle smile on his face. She’d warmed a half-dozen croissants through, which smelt deliciously buttery, ready to lure her morning customers in. And, sure enough, as soon she was back at the counter, in came a couple of builders who were on their way to work. She’d mastered the coffee machine, after a tricky start a few months’ back, and two freshly ground cups of rich frothy roast were soon made ready to take away.

‘Busy day ahead, lads?’ she asked, as she popped two of the warm croissants, which of course they hadn’t been able to resist, and a couple of steak pies into brown paper bags.

‘More’n likely. We’re up at Middleton Barns doing the conversions there.’

‘Oh, we used to live up that way, back in the day.’ Kenneth joined the conversation. ‘Me and Dot, my wife. We had one of the little cottages by the farm there. Pretty place. Bloody cold and damp in the winter, mind. No central heating back in those days.’

‘Aye, well, these’ll be all insulated and cosy once we’re all done.’

‘Sounds just the job,’ said Kenneth.

‘Here you go, and have a good day,’ said Cath, handing over their items.