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‘Thank you. It all started off as a hobby, but it’s really taken off.’ She looked around her shop, a contented smile on her lips. ‘I love it.’
‘I feel the same about my bed and breakfast,’ Mae said. ‘Which is what I’m here about. I’ve had a cancellation, so if you’re still looking for a room…’
Willow threw her hand up to her mouth to catch a gasp. ‘Oh my God. Are you serious?’
Mae nodded. ‘The call came through while I was on my break. By the time I came back through to the pub, you’d gone. The room’s only available for two weeks, but it’ll give you a bit of breathing space to find somewhere more permanent until the work on your house is done.’
‘Thank you!’ Willow launched herself at Mae, throwing her arms around the woman and squeezing hard before she got a grip of herself and let go. She giggled, her cheeks turning pink. ‘Sorry. I’m just so relieved.’
Mae laughed. ‘I bet you are. I hope you haven’t bought a tent since I last saw you?’
‘Thankfully not.’ Mae giggled and did a little jig on the spot. ‘I should let my husband know I’ve found somewhere. He isn’t here at the moment. He’s working away, but should be back in a few days. Will it be a problem if I’m still at the B&B when he returns?’
Mae shook her head. ‘No problem at all. The room’s a double.’
‘Brilliant.’ Willow heaved a huge sigh of relief. ‘I could do with moving some things over to my room. Luckily most of our stuff is in storage, but I need clothes and my essentials. When would be okay to drop them off?’
‘Whenever you’re ready. If I’m not there, my neighbour can let you in and show you where everything is.’
‘Thanks again.’ Willow paused in thought before she shrugged and threw herself at Mae for another squeeze.
Chapter Seven (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Melody
Melody took her time as she wandered towards the seafront, her rucksack on her back, her laptop bag looped across her chest and her camera dangling from its strap around her neck. She’d been dipping into little cobbled side streets, taking photos of anything that caught her eye: a seagull perched on a garden wall with a pretty cottage and flower-filled hanging baskets in the background, a family loaded with buckets and spades and folded deckchairs on their way down to the beach, a little shop with its window full of quirky seaside treasures: tealights made from shells, driftwood wreaths to hang on doors, and a mirror beautifully surrounded by smooth pebbles in shades of blue and grey. Melody had been particularly taken with the seashell tealights, but the door had been locked and there didn’t appear to be anybody inside.
Melody had continued on her way, the tang of salt and seaweed growing stronger as she made her way through the town, until she found herself on the promenade. The noise was incredible: waves sloshing, children playing, music blaring from the pier and the nearby arcade, seagulls crying out as they swooped along the beach in search of food. Melody closed her eyes and allowed the music of the seaside to wash over her. This was what she was searching for. The heart of the British seaside beating loud and clear. It was everywhere; the joyous sounds of nature and humankind combined, the smell of the sea and fried food mingling to create the distinct scent that took Melody back to her carefree childhood, the crunch of sand underfoot, swept up onto the promenade. Melody made her way to the railing and looked down at the beach, at the happiness sand and sunshine created. Families, couples, dog-walkers, all enjoying this bright, hot day on the stretch of beach. To her right and stretching out into the water was the wooden pier and its fairground-style amusements, and to the left, about half a mile away, were the cliffs that cut off the beach. She’d like to climb to the top of the cliffs and take a photo of the beach from there, but first she needed to find somewhere to stay. The straps of her rucksack were digging into her shoulders, the movement as she walked causing them to rub at the flesh. She’d find somewhere to stay, freshen up, and head back out to discover Clifton-on-Sea’s hidden delights.
Her stomach rumbled as she pushed away from the railing, reminding her she had yet to eat lunch. She’d been so caught up in her new surroundings that she hadn’t thought about eating since she’d clapped eyes on the cakes at the train station’s tearoom.
Food first, she decided, then accommodation.
Turning, she could already see several options before her: a pub – the Red Lion – with a chalkboard outside, claiming great food and a family atmosphere; a restaurant with black paintwork and matching awning stark against its creamy rendering; a bakery with its window crammed with tempting sweet treats; and a fish and chip shop that made Melody’s stomach grumble even louder at the mere sight. That was settled then.
The delicious smell wafting from the fish and chip shop made her stomach growl again as she crossed the road but, hungry as she clearly was, she didn’t step inside straight away and join the queue. There were a few things Melody couldn’t resist, and adorable dogs was one of them.
‘Hello, little guy.’ Crouching, Melody held out a hand for the dog to sniff. His lead was tied around a lamppost, but he stood, his tail swishing from side to side like windscreen wipers in heavy rainfall, and gave Melody’s palm a thorough investigation with his wet nose. Finding the hand disappointingly empty, he sat down again, his head on one side as he observed his new friend.
‘Aren’t you a cutie?’ Melody cooed, stroking the dog’s head. ‘Yes, you are. You are lovely.’
The dog closed his eyes as Melody started to scratch his ears, enjoying the fuss. He was quite a small dog, with scraggly golden fur on his body, legs and head, with a darker, greyish shade on his muzzle and ears.
‘And smartly dressed too.’ The dog was wearing a red tartan bandana around his neck, which Melody reached out to touch. ‘So handsome. Who’s a handsome boy then?’
‘The ladies often tell me I am.’
Melody twisted away from the dog, looking up as the owner of the voice swaggered out of the fish and chip shop. Perhaps ‘swaggered’ was too strong a word. Perhaps he’d simply exited the shop in a normal fashion, but Melody was annoyed and flustered he’d caught her baby-talking to a dog.
‘Is that so?’ She stood up, readjusting the rucksack on her back.
He grinned at her, which only infuriated her further. Smug bastard. ‘Not as handsome as this fella, obviously.’ He indicated the dog and Melody felt her cheeks burn.
‘Obviously,’ she said, trying to subtly swish her blonde hair so it would cover her hot cheeks. ‘No contest.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of trying to compete against this little dude.’ The door behind him opened as another customer was exiting, so he stepped out of the way. Before the door could swing closed again, Melody stepped forward and reached out a hand to stop it. ‘See you around!’ he called as Melody stepped into the shop, but she didn’t turn around.
The fish and chips had been as delicious as the enticing aroma had promised. Melody ate her lunch on the beach, her rucksack and laptop bag wedged into the sand next to her, as she people-watched. She took a couple of photos between bites of food, but there’d be plenty of time for more later. For now, she was happy soaking up the blissful atmosphere of this particular beach, absorbing the happy vibes and feeling the sun on her skin. British summers didn’t always deliver and she was usually stuck in a stuffy office even if they did, so she was determined to make the most of the sunshine.
She’d visited lots of beaches over the past few weeks; some had been large expanses of sand sweeping along the perimeter of bustling towns, others tiny strips and coves, but they’d all had one thing in common for Melody: they were idyllic spaces offering a sense of freedom, of possibility. Clifton-on-Sea was no different. The beach was smaller than that of nearby Blackpool, and the town wasn’t as busy, but Melody felt a similar carefree atmosphere, the same sense of fun and adventure. She liked it here already, and she was sure she’d find exactly what she was looking for.
Scrunching up the greasy paper, now devoid of fish and chips, Melody picked up her bags, brushed down her shorts, and headed up the sand-brushed steps towards the promenade. There was a bed and breakfast across the road from the pier and she headed towards it, popping her rubbish in a bin on the way. Unfortunately, before she’d even reached it, she saw the ‘No Vacancies’ sign propped up in one of the windows.
Damn. It looked as though finding accommodation wasn’t going to be as easy as Melody had thought, but she wasn’t worried as there were no doubt several more B&Bs in town. Taking out her phone, she tapped on the Project: Planet app she’d been using during her travels, typing her location into the accommodation search bar and waiting for the results. As predicted, a list appeared, though it wasn’t quite as extensive as she’d hoped. The app provided phone numbers for each establishment, but Melody decided to walk to the nearest on the list as it was a good opportunity to explore the town.
The nearest bed and breakfast was a couple of streets back from the beach, on a tree-lined street filled with a jumble of mismatched houses of varying sizes, colours and periods, which somehow gave it a charming feel. The bed and breakfast was a short walk away and was one of the larger properties, set back from the road with a sizeable drive. Melody couldn’t see a ‘No Vacancies’ sign as she made her way to the stone steps leading up to the entrance, which was promising. A couple of minutes later, however, after a short conversation with a bored teenager behind the reception desk, Melody trudged back down the steps, the Project: Planet app open on her phone again.
There was a similar story at the next two B&Bs and Melody found herself back on the seafront, heading away from the pier in search of the next one on the app’s list. Her hope of finding accommodation in Clifton-on-Sea was dwindling. If she couldn’t find lodgings, she’d have to hop on a train and search elsewhere, which wasn’t too much of a problem, but not ideal when she was so keen to explore the town. Still, she could always return if she had time to spare before she returned home.
Thinking of home, she took a quick selfie of herself in front of the red railings of the promenade, the gorgeous view of the beach and sea behind her, and sent it to her mum with a quick message to let her know she was safe and enjoying her trip.
See you soon, she ended the text. Love to you, Dad and Brett xxx
She slipped her phone back into her pocket and shrugged her rucksack off her shoulders for a minute’s reprieve. Rummaging inside, she found a hairband and pulled her hair off her neck, securing it in a high ponytail. The afternoon was growing hotter and the walk through town was proving to be more arduous than she’d thought it would be, with unexpectedly steep streets and an even more unexpected scorcher of a day. There was a bottle of water in her rucksack, which she drank from gratefully before fastening the bag and hitching it onto her back. There was another bed and breakfast just up the road, but if that was also full, she’d have to reconsider her plan of action as she was quickly running out of options.
She set off again, sticking to the promenade so she could watch the action on the beach as she walked. There was a game of volleyball going on using an inflatable beachball, a couple of Frisbees were zipping through the air, and there were sandcastles galore. Melody stopped for a moment to take a couple of shots before moving on, but she hadn’t got very far when she stopped again, gasping as she spotted a couple of donkeys, a child on each of their backs, plodding along the sand towards her. She froze for a moment, just watching, as the donkeys placed careful hooves on the sand, the giggling children – a boy and a girl – jostling gently as they clung tightly to bright red reins. The donkeys had almost passed by the time she’d pulled herself together enough to grab her camera. Jogging back up the promenade, Melody leaned over the railing, lining up the perfect shot, clicking several times as the donkeys plodded on.
Lowering her camera and taking a small step back from the rail, Melody continued to watch as the donkeys continued up the beach, tails swishing lazily behind them, her mind wandering back to a different time, a different beach.
Finally, the spell broken, she set off again, adjusting the rucksack on her tired shoulders. Ahead, the promenade widened, but the space was currently being filled with little bodies and their parents as they sat in a haphazard semicircle in front of a vintage, red-and-white-striped Punch and Judy booth. Melody navigated the crowd but hesitated as she made it to the other side of the booth, glancing at the ice-cream van that had conveniently parked close to the show. The van was sky-blue and white, with a giant, plastic ice-cream cone – complete with Flake and dripping strawberry sauce – on the roof, while large lettering identified the van as belonging to the Marsland Brothers with their homemade ice cream. An ice cream in the hot weather did seem appealing, especially as she drew closer and saw the delicious flavours on offer. Toffee fudge, orange chocolate chip, bubble gum, passion fruit, banoffee pie, cappuccino, as well as the more traditional vanilla, strawberry and raspberry ripple. She’d already decided on a banoffee pie cone by the time she reached the van, but the serving hatch was empty. Never one to miss a photo opportunity, Melody grabbed her camera and aimed, taking a step back so she could line up the perfect shot. A figure suddenly appeared in the hatch, making her jump.
‘I’m ready for my close-up,’ he said and Melody groaned, seeing the bloke she’d encountered outside the fish and chip shop earlier. ‘How do you want me?’
‘You really don’t want me to answer that one, pal.’ Dropping her camera so it hung from its strap around her neck, she stepped forward. ‘Can I get a banoffee pie ice cream?’
‘Cone or pot?’
‘Cone, please.’ She shrugged her rucksack off her shoulders and rummaged inside for her purse. ‘And can I get a Flake too?’
‘Anything for you,’ he replied with a wink before turning to prepare her ice cream. Melody fought the urge to gag. Was he this cheesy with all his customers?
‘One scoop or two?’ he called over his shoulder.
‘Just one.’ Melody located her purse and unzipped it, grabbing the appropriate coins. The ice-cream-van man reappeared at the hatch, the delicious-looking cone outstretched. Melody made the switch, unable to resist licking the toffee sauce that was already starting to drip down onto the cone.
‘See you around!’ he called as she wandered off, mentally in heaven as her tongue lapped at the ice cream. It was truly amazing and so refreshing in the heat. She raised a hand in lieu of a goodbye, already knowing she would re-enter the cheese zone tomorrow for another go at one of his ice creams.
Chapter Eight (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)
Mae
‘Mummy!’
Mae hadn’t even swung the gate open at her mum’s house and Hannah was already hurtling towards her, her new sandals slapping noisily against the garden path as she propelled her little body forward. Moments earlier, Hannah had been playing with her dolls on the small patch of grass in front of the house while her grandmother relaxed with a book in a deckchair.
‘Hello, little lady.’ Mae opened the gate quickly and scooped her daughter into her arms, planting a noisy kiss on her cheek and making her giggle. ‘I hope you’ve been behaving for Nanny.’
‘She’s been an angel,’ Eloise said from the deckchair. She twisted her wrist to check the time. ‘You’re early, aren’t you?’
‘There was a bit of a problem with the B&B, so Corinne sent me home early.’
‘Typical Corinne,’ Eloise said as she placed her book facedown on the grass. ‘Is everything okay with the B&B now?’
Mae shifted Hannah onto her hip and made her way across to her mum. ‘It’s all sorted. I’ve had a cancellation on both of my rooms, but I’ve managed to fill one of them already.’ Mae placed Hannah back down on the grass in front of her dolls. ‘Hopefully I’ll be able to fill the other quickly and won’t miss out on too many days.’
‘It’s high season, so I’m sure it won’t be a problem.’ Eloise slotted a bookmark between the pages of her book and closed it. ‘So, this guest. Is it a female guest? Or male?’ She’d adopted a casual tone as she enquired, but she was fooling no one. Though single herself, Eloise was desperate to see her daughter coupled with a man – any man, it sometimes seemed to Mae.
‘It’s a woman,’ Mae said, trying not to smile when she saw the clear disappointment on her mother’s face. ‘She’s married, but her husband’s working away or something.’
‘Working away, eh?’ Eloise said. ‘That’s what I used to tell people whenever your father buggered off with one of his floozies.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing like that,’ Mae said, though her voice was filled with little conviction. In her experience, men and relationships usually came hand-in-hand with heartache.
Eloise shrugged. ‘Maybe not. There are some decent fellas out there, if you look hard enough. Or look at all in your case.’
‘Mum…’ Mae groaned.
Eloise held her hands up in surrender. ‘I’m just saying.’
‘Well, don’t just say anything.’
‘Sorry. I just worry about you being on your own.’ Eloise battled with the deckchair to get her feet on solid ground. ‘Are you staying for a cup of tea?’
‘I shouldn’t, really. My new guest is picking some things up and I’d like to be there to settle her in. You know how grateful I am having Mrs Hornchurch on hand, but she does like to chew people’s ears off.’
‘She’s lonely,’ Eloise said. ‘That house used to be full to the brim with people when I was growing up next door. There were Mr and Mrs Hornchurch, their three children, Mrs Hornchurch’s parents and an aunt or cousin – I can’t remember which now. It was bedlam! Now there’s just poor Mrs Hornchurch rattling around the old place with only the dog for company.’
‘I do try to stop and chat when I can.’ Mae felt bad now. She knew how much loneliness could bite.
‘I know you do.’ Eloise, having freed herself from the deckchair, gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek. ‘Now, are you sure I can’t tempt you with a cuppa? I’m parched in this heat.’
‘I really should be getting back. I’m not sure how long it’ll take Willow to pack her things. She said she won’t be bringing much.’ Crouching on the grass, Mae started to gather the dolls and place them in the plastic box that housed them and their accessories.
‘Okay, darling.’ Eloise took the box of dolls and tucked it under one arm before leaning in to kiss Mae’s cheek. ‘Take care – and don’t work too hard.’ She stooped down to kiss her granddaughter. ‘Bye, sweetheart. Be good!’
Taking Hannah’s hand, Mae made her way to the car, strapping Hannah into her seat at the back before climbing in herself. She waved to her mum – who had returned to the deckchair and her book – before driving back to the bed and breakfast.
The house Mae had grown up in – and which Eloise still occupied – was only a few minutes’ drive from the seafront, but it had always felt like a big adventure whenever Mae had visited her grandparents as a child. It felt different at Granny and Grandpa’s, as though the town was more alive down by the seafront, and it was certainly more fun with the beach, pier and arcade within easy reach. She’d loved the house as a little girl, with its three floors of rooms to explore and the large garden at the back with a rope swing and slide. It hadn’t been a bed and breakfast back then – it had simply been Granny and Grandpa’s house, almost a second home for Mae growing up. It had been a happy place, away from the drama of her parents’ often turbulent relationship, and she hoped she’d created an equally happy home for her daughter.
‘Can I watch telly?’ Hannah asked as soon as they arrived home, sliding her new sandals off her feet without unbuckling them and kicking them onto the hallway floor.
‘Don’t you think you should put these away first?’ Mae scooped the sandals up from the floor and handed them to her daughter. ‘Before our guest arrives and breaks her neck before she’s even unpacked?’
‘Who’s coming to stay today?’ Hannah asked as she and Mae climbed the stairs. Mae was about to tell her about Willow when the doorbell rang, the sudden and piercing sound making her jump.
‘Make sure you put those in the bottom of the wardrobe,’ she said, pointing at the sandals before scurrying back down the stairs again. She opened the door, expecting to see Willow on the doorstep, but it was a young woman, blonde rather than brunette like Willow, wearing cut-off denim shorts and a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt. She had a hefty-looking rucksack slung over her shoulders, the strap of a laptop-style bag crossing her chest, and a camera looped around her neck. How she was still standing under the weight of it all was a mystery to Mae.
‘I don’t suppose you have a room free?’ she asked. She bit her lip as she waited for an answer, her eyebrows inching slowly up her weary-looking face.
‘You’re in luck,’ Mae said, opening the door wider and stepping aside. ‘I’ve had a cancellation this afternoon and the room’s still free. Come in and I’ll get you booked in.’
‘Really?’ She smiled now, her lips stretching wide across her face. She had such a pretty face, with rosy, defined cheeks and blue eyes that sparkled now she was no longer grimacing. ‘Thank you so much. I’ve been wandering around for ages. I couldn’t find a room anywhere! I thought I was going to have to move on, which is a shame as this seems like such a lovely town. I’m sorry, I’m babbling.’
Mae laughed as she led the way into the living room. ‘Don’t worry about it, and I’m glad you’ve found somewhere to stay. I’m Mae Wright, by the way.’
‘Melody Rosewood.’ The woman held her hand out and Mae shook it. ‘This is a gorgeous house. I’ve stayed in some pretty grotty places over the past couple of weeks, but this is not one of them.’
‘Thanks.’ Mae looked around her living room, which, she had to admit, she loved. There was the original fireplace in the centre of the room, with bookcases built into the alcoves either side, and although she’d painted the whole room a warm cream shade, she’d brightened the space with splashes of colour, from the teal sofa and its lime-green and fuchsia scatter cushions, to the yellow tub chairs either side of the bay window and the vases and trinkets dispersed around the room. It was an inviting, comfortable space for Mae and she hoped her guests felt the same.
‘Take a seat.’ Mae indicated the sofa, which, she now noticed, had a light film of short, dark hairs in one corner. That bloody cat! ‘I won’t be a minute.’
As much as the cat hairs bugged Mae, their removal would have to wait a moment as whipping the cushion away would only draw more attention to them. Instead, while Melody settled herself, Mae dashed into the family room to grab her laptop. The family room had once been her grandparents’ dining room, but when Mae opened the bed and breakfast, she’d wanted a space for herself and Hannah, a place separate from the guests, for them to relax in without having to share with strangers. As the kitchen was large enough to dine in, this seemed like the perfect solution. This room was smaller than the living room (and seemed smaller still as Mae’s desk was squeezed into an alcove), but she’d made it a cosy space for them both. An old but sigh-inducing sofa took up the bulk of the space, with hand-knitted patchwork blankets draped over the back for chilly nights curled up in front of the telly.
‘Here we go,’ Mae said as she returned to the living room with her laptop. Thankfully, Melody had chosen the side of the sofa that hadn’t been abused by the feline intruder, and Mae sat there now, cringing inwardly about the state her dress was going to be in when she stood up. ‘I’ll just take a few details and tell you a little bit about our bed and breakfast, and then I’ll give you a quick tour and show you to your room.’ Mae opened her laptop, which she’d already turned on at her desk, and clicked on her bookings file, deleting the Robertsons’ data so she could add Melody’s details instead. ‘We’re a small bed and breakfast – there are just two rooms available – and I live here with my four-year-old daughter, Hannah. She’s upstairs, but I’m sure she’ll make her presence known soon.’ Luckily, Melody laughed and didn’t run for the hills (or cliffs) at the prospect of cohabiting with a small child. ‘Breakfast is available from seven, and there’ll be a selection of fresh pastries, cereal, toast and fruit to help yourself to. There’s a kettle in your room, but feel free to make tea or coffee in the kitchen too. I’ll take you through in a moment and show you where everything is.’
Mae continued with the bed and breakfast details, making sure to include vital information such as the price per night, before taking down Melody’s details and booking her in.
‘How many nights were you planning on staying in Clifton-on-Sea?’ she asked. ‘The room is available for the next two weeks.’
‘I’ll only need a couple of nights,’ Melody said. ‘I’m sort of flitting from one town to the next.’
‘Oh? Sounds interesting.’
‘It’s for a photography project.’ Melody held up the camera dangling from the strap around her neck. ‘I’m visiting as many coastal towns in the north as I can and capturing moments of the great British seaside.’
‘That sounds wonderful. I’d love to see your photos so far.’
Melody’s gaze dropped to her camera, her hair falling in front of her pink-tinged cheeks as she fiddled with the buttons. ‘Um, maybe. I’m not sure if they’re any good. I’m not a professional photographer or anything.’
‘I’m sure they’re amazing.’ Mae smiled at Melody before closing the laptop and shifting it onto the coffee table. ‘Shall I give you the brief but grand tour?’
Mae led Melody through the house, starting with the kitchen, which Mae adored. The room was large, with a light and airy feel due to the high ceilings and French doors that led to the garden at the back of the house. A long breakfast bar separated the kitchen and dining area, with four tall stools lined up along it.
‘The breakfast things will be set out here,’ Mae said, indicating the breakfast bar. ‘But, like I said, feel free to make yourself a drink in here whenever you want. Make yourself at home, in here and the living room. There’s just one room that’s private down here.’ Mae led the way out of the kitchen and indicated the family room. ‘There’s a bathroom upstairs, but your room is up in the attic and has its own shower room. Come up and have a look.’
Mae led the way up the stairs, pointing out the main bathroom before continuing up to the attic room. The room was gorgeous and cosy, with dove-grey walls and soft-blue furnishings. She’d managed to fit a double bed in the middle of the room, with built-in storage on one side and an en-suite shower room on the other. There was a dormer window at the back, with a sofa pushed along the wall, invitingly dressed with fluffy scatter cushions in shades of blue, pink and grey.
‘I’ll leave you to get settled in,’ Mae said after the tour. ‘Give me a shout if you need anything.’
