The Seafront Tearoom Read online

  “Thanks!” Zoe left and went through to the front room.

  “Not that a ten-year-old calls the shots in this house or anything,” Adam said.

  Kat laughed.

  Adam studied her face intently. “You haven’t changed.”

  “No?” Kat said.

  “I mean, the last time I saw you you had purple hair . . .” He smiled. “But apart from that.”

  “That was years ago,” Kat said, laughing. “I must have been fifteen then.”

  “You and your dad were in the corner terrace—and in the summer he’d give me a fiver to wash his car. Does he still live round here?”

  “Yes. He’s traveling at the moment, but his home’s here.”

  Kat thought how small Scarborough seemed sometimes. It was strange that their paths hadn’t crossed until now.

  “I see Euan quite often, but you . . . ?”

  “I was living in France for a while,” he said. “And my hours at work tend to be rather antisocial.”

  “Speaking of work,” Séraphine said, coughing and pointing at the computer. “I hate to break up this reunion, but Kat and I have a lot to do. The reviews I told you about, Adam.”

  “We have to get these finished for Charlie.” Kat smiled apologetically. “Another time.”

  “Don’t let me keep you,” Adam said. He held Kat’s gaze for a moment. “It was good to see you again.”

  Kat walked home that evening, wondering if it was possible for chemistry to be a one-sided thing. While she’d only seen Adam briefly, the feelings she’d had a decade ago had come back almost immediately, an attraction that meant she had wanted to stay close by. She’d felt good talking to him. She was too old to have crushes, she told herself, shaking it off.

  She let herself into her flat, set up some food for her dinner and called Jake.

  “Is Leo around?” she asked.

  “You’re a moment too late, I’m afraid. He’s in the bath.”

  “On his own?”

  “No, what do you take me for?” Jake laughed. “My mum’s with him.”

  “Ah, that’s a shame,” Kat said. “I was looking forward to talking to him.”

  She felt a pang of regret. She should have gotten home a little earlier, or called on her way. She was desperate to hear her son’s voice, and for him to know she was thinking of him.

  “Do you think you could call me back when he’s out?” she asked.

  “We should put him to bed, I think—he’s tired out today.”

  Kat resisted the urge to ask again. Leo was with Jake, and therefore he was in charge—even if his decisions didn’t suit her.

  “So what have you guys been up to?” she asked brightly.

  “Dad and I took him to a funfair in town; he went on the dodgems with me and won a massive teddy bear in hook-the-duck. I helped out with that.”

  “Lucky Leo.” She smiled at the image.

  “He enjoyed it a lot.”

  Kat tried to rein in the emotion, the longing to hold her son in her arms again, kiss the top of his head, smell his familiar smell—Johnson’s baby shampoo and clean skin. Even though at moments like this it was hard to be apart from Leo, she felt reassured that she had made the right decision. He and his dad were bonding, and he was spending quality time with his grandparents. What kind of a mother would she be if she begrudged him that?

  “Sounds as if he’s enjoying his holiday with you,” she said.

  “We’re having fun. He hasn’t forgotten you yet, though, don’t worry.”

  She smiled. “That’s good. I thought he might not have forgiven me for telling him his stegosaurus was too big for his suitcase.”

  “He’s moved on already,” Jake said. “My dad bought him a pterodactyl to make up for it.”

  “Fickle, fickle child.” She laughed.

  “It’s nice talking with you, like this,” Jake said.

  It was true, Kat thought. Things had got easier between the two of them, with time. His tone hinted at something more than that though.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I mean relaxed, having a laugh, the way we used to,” Jake said.

  He was right. Sometimes of an evening when she was on her own in the flat, it was impossible not to recall the time they’d spent together, drinking wine and talking. Among the difficult days, there had been a lot of good ones.

  “I miss that,” Jake said. “I really do.”

  24

  Sunday, September 21

  Charlie parked up the pram by the window in the Seafront Tearoom. Tucked in with a pale yellow blanket and her bunny comforter, Gracie was fast asleep, breathing gently.

  “Are you meeting Kat and Séraphine today?” Letty asked her.

  “Yes—they’re coming at two to fill me in on their trip to Whitby. I’m early. This little one needed some fresh air.”

  “Do you know how it went?”

  “Good, from what I can tell. They’ve written up the reviews already. Interesting stuff. Talking of interesting—I was looking through the scrapbook on your counter the other day. There are some wonderful things in there.”

  “This place has seen a lot, that’s true. I’m glad you had a look. Most of the people around here don’t give the history a second thought. They just assume we’ve always been here and always will be.”

  “I think it’s fascinating.”

  “I’ve got a couple more things, if you’d like to see them? While you wait for the others to arrive, and the baby’s sleeping?”

  “I’d love to take a look.”

  Charlie took a seat at one of the tables, and Letty brought over the tea she’d ordered and a large cigar box. “It’s a bit of a muddle, but who knows, you might find something that you and Kat can use for inspiration.”

  “Thanks.”

  Gracie stirred, and Charlie rocked the pram to get her back to sleep. With her free hand, she opened the box and looked through the papers and photos.

  The first thing she came to was a menu. She couldn’t see a date on it, but it was pressed between letters dated from the late 1960s.

  The sweets—now this was what she was really interested in:

  Chocolate éclairs, cream sandwiches, almond tarts, butter-cream, Battenberg squares . . . Viennese cakes. In all the years the tearoom had been running, some things hadn’t changed.

  “What did you do to celebrate the centenary, Letty?” Charlie asked out of the blue.

  “Nothing,” Letty said. “That’s rather sad, isn’t it? It sort of passed me by. It was an awful year for the Seafront, to be honest. We started the year with a break-in, and then in February part of the roof came away. Euan and I were too focused on getting that sorted to think about a party. All in all, it didn’t seem the right time for a celebration.”

  “What a shame. It’s such a milestone.”

  “I suppose it would have been nice to mark it,” Letty said, tilting her head as she considered it. “Too late now, though.”

  Charlie immersed herself in the postcards and photos from the early days of the Seafront. She stayed like that for a while, ideas drifting through her head. She was nudged out of her daze by a man’s voice.

  “Hello there.”

  Her eyes flicked up from the page and met Euan’s. A smile came to her lips as she saw him standing by her table. “Hey,” she said.

  “How’s it going?” His gaze drifted to the baby, who was now smiling and wide awake, her blue eyes button-round and bright. “I’m guessing this is the famous Gracie.”

  “The very same,” Charlie said, putting the papers down and peering into the pram. “This is her. My youngest niece.”

  “She’s lovely.”

  “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Charlie said, carefully lifting Gracie out of the pram and holding her close. “I’m all
owed to say that because she’s not mine.” She smiled.

  “Ha, yes.”

  “How’s the work on the cinema going?” Charlie asked.

  “Good, thanks. There’s a slight issue with one of the plans, but I reckon we’ve worked out a way to fix it.”

  “The buyers have got a real catch. That place is going to make an incredible restaurant.”

  “I think so,” Euan said. “The venue is on everyone’s radar already, so there’ll be a lot of interest around it when it opens. I wish it were going to nicer people though—it’s one unreasonable demand after another with these buyers.”

  “Intense?”

  “Yes. Hence the scone break.” Euan smiled. “What are you up to?” He looked at the papers on her desk. “Research?”

  “Yes. And meeting some friends.”

  “Euan, have you got a minute?” Letty called over from the kitchen. “Only the tap’s broken again.”

  “Yep, sure.” He rolled his eyes playfully in Letty’s direction. “Duty calls.”

  “See you later,” Charlie said. As he walked back into the kitchen, she found it difficult to look away.

  We’re not late, are we?” Kat said, pulling out a wooden chair and sitting down opposite Charlie. Séraphine sat down with them.

  “No, don’t worry, we said two,” Charlie said. “I left the house early for a walk with Gracie. Luke’s come round today to talk to Pippa and I wanted to give them some space.”

  “So they’re talking?” Kat asked. “That sounds positive.”

  “I think it’s a very good sign. Pippa called him yesterday and he agreed to come to talk things through. She apologized—which is quite a big deal. Pippa doesn’t back down easily. Fingers crossed, they’ll be able to work it all out today. The kids miss him terribly.”

  Letty brought Kat and Séraphine their cups of tea. “Here you go, you two. Our blend of the day.”

  “Thanks, Letty,” Séraphine said.

  “And I suppose you need to get back to your job soon,” Kat said to Charlie.

  “Too right. My boss isn’t exactly thrilled with the situation. But I’ll try and fit in with whatever Pippa and Luke decide.”

  Euan came out of the kitchen to get something from the counter, and waved over to Kat, who said hello back.

  “You know Euan?” Charlie asked.

  “Yes.” Kat shrugged. “Everyone knows Euan.”

  “In a good way, or a bad way?” Charlie tilted her head, feigning disinterest.

  “Ha.” Kat smiled. “In a good way. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” Charlie said quickly.

  “Yeah, right,” Kat laughed.

  “Anyway. Your trip,” Charlie said, changing the subject. “I want to hear all about it.”

  “Were the reviews OK?” Séraphine asked.

  “Yes, they were terrific,” Charlie said. “I’ve made a few small changes, but nothing major. I’m happy with everything—thank you.”

  She’d been pleasantly surprised when she read the reviews—they were far more concise and honest than the ones she usually had to deal with, even from experienced food writers. There was something about Kat’s voice that was instantly engaging and her vivid descriptions brought the tearooms she’d visited to life. The only problem was, due to her own lack of input, there still weren’t enough of them.

  “So, are you on track now?” Séraphine asked Charlie.

  “Almost. Nearly,” Charlie said, biting her lip. Then she realized there was no point lying about it. “By which I mean, not at all.”

  “Do you want us to help with some more?” Kat offered.

  “Would you? It would really help me out. I’d need them by the end of the week.”

  “Sure,” Kat said. “That’s fine. All right with you, Séraphine?” Séraphine nodded.

  “Phew, that’s such a relief,” Charlie said. “I’m only getting snatches of time at the moment, and to be honest I feel horribly unfocused. A couple more reviews from you guys would make all the difference.”

  “Sure. We can do another trip,” Séraphine said. “We still have a few places on our list.”

  “Excellent. Then it’s all coming together,” Charlie said. “I’ve just been doing a little research. Look at these mementoes of Letty’s—they’re wonderful. Check out this old menu.”

  Kat took it from her and read it. “How funny. Tongue? They served that?”

  “I know,” Charlie laughed. “Gross, right? Letty’s certainly improved the menu.”

  “These photos are nice,” Séraphine said. “Look at this picture of Letty and . . . Who’s that? I suppose it must be her husband.”

  “John,” Kat said. “Euan’s dad. They’re not together anymore.”

  “They look as if they were happy back then,” Séraphine said. “I wonder what happened.”

  “I don’t know,” Kat said. “She’s never talked about it as far as I know.”

  Charlie pulled out a newspaper article that dated back to the middle of the Second World War. “There are so many stories about what the tearoom went through. So much history here, and Letty’s family have been here since day one. Over a hundred years of serving tea.”

  “A hundred years?” Séraphine said, her eyes widening.

  “Yes, it was a shame that we didn’t get a chance to celebrate,” Kat said. “Letty had a run of bad luck that year and it put a damper on things.”

  “Are you sure it’s too late?” Séraphine asked.

  Charlie smiled. “What’s a year or two between friends?”

  “Maybe the three of us could do something for her?” Séraphine said. “Throw a party?”

  “That’s a lovely idea,” Kat said. “But you know Letty, she never wants a fuss.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t get a say in it,” Charlie said mischievously.

  “I like the way you’re thinking,” Kat said. “A surprise party, here at the tearoom. How are you two fixed the Saturday after next?”

  “It looks as if I’ve got a party to go to,” Séraphine said, smiling.

  Shhh,” Pippa said with a smile, putting a finger to her lips. “Gracie just went down, and I swear her hearing is supersensitive.”

  “I thought you were still up with the kids.”

  “No, they’re all in bed.”

  “How did it go today, with Luke?” Charlie asked.

  “Not bad,” Pippa said, tilting her head. “Better than I expected.”

  “Did Flo and Jacob realize you were meeting up?”

  “No. I didn’t mention it. It’d only confuse them, so as far as they’re concerned he’s still away on that business trip.”

  “Did you get to explain everything?”

  “Yes. And thank God he seems to believe that nothing ever happened between me and Will. He says he wished I could have said something to him earlier rather than reacting in the way that I did—and he’s right, of course.”

  “Where’s he staying?”

  “He’s still at a friend’s. He says he wants to spend another couple of nights away.”

  “And how are you feeling?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Pippa said. “I miss him. More than I thought I would. I mean, honestly, what was I thinking?”

  “You’re allowed to find things hard every now and again.”

  “Perhaps. But I hurt him, Charlie. He still sees it as me trying to write him and the kids out of my life. He thinks that’s what I really want. But it isn’t. The thing is Gracie was a shock. For both of us. I thought if I could escape from it for a few minutes, I might be better able to handle real life. Adjust.”

  “Does he understand that?”

  “He’s beginning to. We didn’t fix anything, but it feels as if we’ve made a start. I’ve messed things up too much to fix in a day.”

&nbs
p; “Nothing is ever one person’s fault completely.”

  “Perhaps. But it was me who wrote the e-mails, wasn’t it?”

  “Is there anything Luke could’ve done—could do now—to help you? So that you’re not on your own with the kids so much?”

  “I don’t know.” She furrowed her brow. “Not work weekends, I suppose.” She shrugged. “But that won’t happen.”

  “How can you be so sure? Why don’t you try asking him?”

  Pippa seemed to mull it over. “I suppose it’s worth a shot.”

  That evening, Charlie looked through one of Pippa’s recipe books, deciding what she was going to bake for the centenary party and reflecting on her day. The time with Kat and Séraphine had been a tonic. Since Sarah had moved to New York, she rarely got to socialize with her real friends, and while she and Sarah still talked on Skype, the time difference meant one of them was usually about to go out. Charlie didn’t open up easily—she never had. What was there to enjoy about being vulnerable? And yet she could feel it starting to happen with Kat and Séraphine. She felt relaxed in their company, safe.

  As she flicked through the pages of cakes and muffins, she thought of the other encounter she’d had that day—with Euan. The buzz she’d felt at seeing him again. There’d been something between them. Or had she imagined it?

  Kat’s name flashed up on her phone and she picked up.

  “Hey, Kat, how’s it going?”

  “Good, thanks,” Kat answered brightly. “So, I’m calling about the party.”

  “Perfect timing,” Charlie said. “Help me decide something. I’m torn between healthy date-and-raisin muffins and indulgent white chocolate and cranberry.”

  “Come on, that’s a no-brainer,” Kat said.

  “That’s true.” She flagged the white chocolate muffin page with a Post-it note. “Now, what was it you wanted to ask?”

  “I called Euan to tell him what we had planned.”

  The mere mention of his name sent a tingle down Charlie’s spine. She berated herself—she was a grown woman, not a teenager, and she ought to act like one.