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Willow gasped and widened her eyes. ‘That sounds amazing! I hope you get to stay in your caravan soon.’ Willow stood up again. The woman had returned the heart-shaped sunglasses to her face. ‘Thank you for your help.’
The woman nodded. ‘Good luck.’ She turned to her daughter and took her hand. ‘We’d better get going. I need to drop the keys with Mrs Hornchurch and then get you to Nanny’s.’
Willow watched as the woman and her daughter disappeared into the neighbouring house before climbing back into her van. She’d work her way through town and try the other B&Bs, the hotel and caravan site. There had to be a room available somewhere.
Chapter Three (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Melody
The train was packed with bodies, heat and noise as Melody crab-walked down the aisle in search of a seat, battling with the hefty rucksack and laptop bag she held in her hands, tucked in tight to her body so she didn’t bash anybody about the head with them. Melody was thankful she’d decided to travel light during her trip, packing only the essentials: a handful of outfits she could chuck into a washing machine at a laundrette every few days, her washbag with the necessities, a couple of pairs of pyjamas, her laptop, and her camera. Okay, the laptop was hardly light, and her rucksack was cumbersome, but it would have been much worse if she hadn’t been so strict with her packing. She was hoping to find a seat so she wouldn’t be forced to hold on to her bags for the duration of the journey, but it wasn’t proving an easy task.
‘Excuse me.’ She flicked the corners of her mouth up into an apologetic smile as she attempted to squeeze past elbows and shoulders. ‘Sorry. Can I just…’ She managed to shuffle past without knocking anybody out cold with her rucksack and then she saw it, just ahead. An empty seat! Or rather a seat empty of a human bottom. She waddled towards it sideways, resting against the headrest with a relieved sigh when she finally reached the seat without somebody else nabbing it first. She looked down at the laptop bag currently sitting there and then over to its owner in the neighbouring seat. The owner – a suited man in his mid-to-late twenties, currently tapping away at the laptop in front of him – glanced in her direction briefly before returning to his screen.
‘Excuse me,’ Melody said, using her most polite voice. ‘Is this seat taken?’
By anything other than a bag? she silently added.
The man sighed heavily and turned away from his laptop, performing an elaborate eye-roll as he moved his face towards Melody.
‘I need to keep my bag close by.’
Melody nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ The man shifted his gaze back to his screen. ‘I assume you’ve bought an extra ticket for your bag, though.’
The man frowned, sighing again as he snapped his head back up to Melody. ‘What?’
‘I assumed you’ve purchased two tickets, since you’re taking up two seats.’
‘Obviously I haven’t bought a ticket for my bloody bag.’ The man rolled his eyes again and, shaking his head, resumed tapping at his keyboard.
‘In that case…’ Melody reached up to push her rucksack into the overhead storage rack. ‘I’m taking this seat. You can move the bag if you want to, but I don’t mind either way. I’m sitting whether it’s there or not.’
Melody eyed the man. He eyed Melody. Melody pushed her own laptop bag under the table and lowered herself onto the seat, pressing her lips together so she didn’t display a smug grin as the man’s laptop bag was whipped away at the very last second. The bag was shoved under the table, wedged between the wall of the train and the man’s feet. She could feel the glare from her neighbour as she unlooped her camera from around her neck and switched it on. She looked up, smiling sweetly at him.
‘I’m Melody, by the way.’ She thrust a hand out towards him, but he made no move to shake it.
‘And I’m very busy.’ With one last glare, he turned back to his laptop, tapping furiously.
And very rude, Melody thought, but she didn’t dwell on her neighbour for too long. She’d met lots of different people on her recent travels – some lovely, some not so much – but she didn’t hang around for long enough to let the negative ones impact her life. In fifteen minutes, she’d shuffle off the train and wouldn’t see this dude again.
Melody clicked through the menu on her camera, loading up her latest photos to scrutinise. Some of the photos were good – she particularly liked the snap of Blackpool Tower at dawn – but some weren’t so great. The composition was wrong, or the lighting didn’t quite work, so she deleted those she definitely wouldn’t be using. She’d take a closer look once she had her laptop set up, but for now she’d weed out the obvious duds – she’d taken hundreds of better photos over the past three weeks so they wouldn’t be missed.
Melody’s plan was to spend a chunk of the summer visiting as many seaside towns and villages in northern England as she could and was currently working her way along the Lancashire coast. Clifton-on-Sea was her next destination and she’d already looked the town up online beforehand. She knew there was a mile-long beach surrounded by cliffs, with a pier at one end and a harbour at the other, and she was hoping to capture some magical seaside moments there on camera over the next day or two.
The train came to a stop at a rather rustic-looking but quaint station. She’d visited many train stations lately, some large and filled with shops and kiosks, while others were more basic and little more than a platform with a ticket booth. Today, the train had pulled up alongside a single-storey stone building with a row of small, arched windows and an open, bottle-green door. The outside was decorated with wooden planters bursting with a rainbow of flowers, sitting either side of a couple of wrought-iron benches, and a sign welcomed those disembarking to Clifton-on-Sea. A ginger cat lay stretched out on one of the benches, basking in the sun.
Melody grabbed her bags and made her way to the nearest exit, hopping down onto the platform and following the crowd through the green door. Inside was as quaint as the outside, with a traditional tearoom staffed by two little old ladies, an information booth manned by a man in a smart uniform, and a little shop selling souvenirs. Melody hadn’t eaten since early that morning and, as it was now almost lunchtime, she was tempted to sit down with a cup of tea and a slab of lemon drizzle cake. But she should be getting on. She’d had a laissez-faire attitude to her travels so far, hopping on trains and travelling to her next destination when she fancied, so she hadn’t booked any accommodation in advance. So far, it had worked out, but she didn’t want to leave her lodgings until the last minute and run into trouble.
Reaching into the back pocket of her cut-off shorts, she pulled out the photograph she’d carried throughout her travels, smoothing down its slightly crumpled corners. She studied the familiar image for a moment before returning the photo to her pocket. Hitching her rucksack onto her back, she headed out of the station to see what Clifton-on-Sea had to offer.
Chapter Four (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Mae
As predicted, the Fisherman had burst into life around lunchtime. It was a tradition for those working nearby to buy their lunch from the fish and chip shop along the harbour and, as Frank didn’t serve food himself, he didn’t mind when they migrated into the pub with their parcels of hot, delicious-smelling food, unwrapping them after ordering drinks at the bar. No, Frank didn’t mind at all – profits soared as soon as the chip shop opened its doors. The dominoes had been packed up in preparation (Frank had won, though he hadn’t gloated too much) and it was all hands to the pumps as Mae, Frank and Corinne served the customers as quickly as they could before their food grew cold. Mae chatted as she worked, enquiring about husbands, wives and children as she filled glasses and took payment. She knew most of the customers well, though there was the odd less familiar face too.
Her latest customer, who technically should have been served by Corinne, was very familiar. The landlady had not-very-mysteriously vanished as soon as it was Alfie’s turn to be served.
‘What can I get you?’ she asked, while secretly plotting ways to torture her boss.
‘Would you judge me if I ordered an extremely large Jack Daniels and Coke?’
‘That depends.’ Mae leaned across the bar towards the local vet. ‘Are you going to be operating on any unsuspecting creatures this afternoon?’
‘Good point. I’ll just have the Coke then, thanks.’
Mae grabbed a glass and started to fill it. ‘Stressful morning?’
Alfie gave a long, loud sigh. ‘Very. We’re still without a vet nurse until tomorrow and the one the agency sent is…’ Alfie tilted his head to one side, trying to conjure the right words. ‘Incompetent seems like such a harsh word.’
‘But she is,’ Mae said and Alfie nodded.
‘I’m afraid so.’ He grinned as Mae placed the glass of Coke on the bar. ‘But do you know what would cheer me up?’
Mae placed a finger into the corner of her mouth, her eyes wandering to the ceiling as though she were deep in thought. ‘Hmm, let me think… A date with me?’
Alfie puffed his cheeks out before letting the air seep slowly from them as he shook his head. ‘Blimey, Mae, that’s one hell of an ego you’ve got there. I was going to say a bag of cheese and onion.’ He looked past Mae, at the boxes of crisps stacked against the wall.
‘Oh.’ Mae could feel her brow furrowing into a frown, so she fought against it, keeping her features as neutral as possible. ‘Right. Yes. Cheese and onion.’ She turned to grab a packet of the desired crisps, but a hand pulled her back. Alfie was leaning across the bar, his hand on her arm.
‘I’m kidding about the crisps. Of course I was going to ask you out. It’s what we do, isn’t it?’ He let go of her arm and straightened, reaching into his pocket for some loose change. ‘I ask you out, and you cruelly turn me down.’ He shook his head as he grabbed a few coins from the palm of his hand. ‘Every. Time.’
‘I’m not being cruel,’ Mae said as she took the money. ‘We’re mates. Good mates.’
‘It’s okay. I get it.’ Alfie held his hands up, palms facing out. ‘You don’t fancy me.’
Mae felt her stomach tie itself in a knot, tightening as she looked at poor Alfie’s downturned mouth. It wasn’t that she didn’t fancy Alfie. He was a very attractive man and a few years ago she’d have agreed to a date the first time he’d asked instead of dodging his requests time after time. But a lot had happened in that time. Dating men – even fun, caring and handsome men – wasn’t an option.
‘Are you fishing for compliments again?’ she asked to lighten the mood, and Alfie’s mouth curved into a smile that loosened the knot in her stomach.
‘Am I that obvious?’
‘You’re about as subtle as Hannah when she’s hinting for ice cream before dinner.’
Alfie’s entire face seemed to crinkle as he smiled, the areas around his eyes and mouth most prominently. ‘How are the summer holidays treating you? As stressful as you feared?’
Mae made a seesaw motion with her hand. ‘At times. She’s a good kid, but it’s hard on my own.’
‘I often wonder how Mum coped on her own with the four of us.’ Alfie shook his head. ‘We could be terrors. I should visit her more, make up for it.’
‘Your dad wasn’t around?’ Mae asked and Alfie gave a humourless laugh.
‘When he wanted to be, which wasn’t that often, and only when he wasn’t busy wooing his women. He was pretty useless, actually.’
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.
