The Seafront Tea Rooms Read online

  ‘And so your ex-husband knows about her?’

  ‘John? Yes, he always has. He knows her. In many ways it’s a small place, this town.’

  ‘So he knows her, just like Euan does.’ The words came out sounding flat, an accusation. Charlie hadn’t intended it – and yet she didn’t take it back.

  Letty nodded. ‘Yes, like Euan does.’

  ‘Didn’t they live nearby?’

  ‘Yes. I had to tell Euan something, so when he was old enough I explained that I’d had to give a child away. You know Euan, he’s so laidback he’s set to fall over. He didn’t even flinch – simply gave me a hug and said it must’ve been a difficult decision for me. I love that boy,’ she said, wiping away a tear. ‘But I couldn’t tell him who it was, not when Kat was in the dark herself. It wouldn’t have been fair.’

  ‘It could have been him who found the card,’ Charlie said. ‘That’s what you were thinking might happen, isn’t it?’

  ‘Perhaps. But I didn’t plan it.’

  ‘These things have a way of coming to the surface, don’t they?’

  ‘You’ll tell her, won’t you?’ Letty said, looking concerned.

  ‘I don’t think it’s my place to. If you want, I’ll do what I can to forget I ever found out.’

  ‘No,’ Letty said, shaking her head. ‘You came to me today for a reason. This happened for a reason, you walking into my tea rooms, just when life had fallen quiet.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s time.’

  50

  Saturday 1 November

  ‘I’m going into the village,’ Séraphine said, looking in through the kitchen doorway.

  ‘We’re baking, look,’ said Mathilde excitedly, waving a lump of dough in the air. ‘Raspberry tarts.’

  ‘Delicious. Save some for me.’

  ‘OK then,’ Hélène said. ‘Enjoy yourself. Could you pick up a bottle of wine for this evening? Anna and Ravi are stopping by.’

  ‘Sure. It would be nice to see them again. I’ve got some photos to show them. See you later.’ She kissed her mum on the cheek.

  ‘See you,’ Benjamin called out. ‘Get us some sweets.’

  Hélène shook her head and looked back at her eldest daughter. ‘No more sweets for them.’

  The twins squabbled over the dough and Séraphine took the opportunity to have a quiet word with her mother.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Séraphine whispered.

  ‘Yes, yes. Nervous. But OK. His bed is all made up. He said he’s getting here at midday tomorrow.’

  ‘Good. It’ll be all right. Maybe not immediately, but it will be. It’ll just take time.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, biting her lip.

  ‘And Dad?’

  ‘He’s gone out for a walk. He said he needed to clear his head.’

  Séraphine squeezed her mother’s hand gently, and saw that there were tears in her eyes.

  ‘I thought he was never coming home. But he is. He’s coming back to us.’

  Séraphine picked up her bike and cycled into the village. She passed the fields and vineyards, the thin wheels of her bike occasionally bumping along on the rougher bits of road. She cycled into the town square.

  A whistle made her turn. There, by the bakery door, was Carla – in jeans and a white T-shirt, her long brown hair held back by the sunglasses perched on her head. ‘Hey, stranger,’ she called out.

  Séraphine set down her bike and went to hug Carla. They held each other closely and Séraphine whispered into her ear. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘You only want me for my brioche!’ Carla said. ‘Come and sit down.’

  They sat at the outside table, and Carla took the freshly baked cakes out of a brown paper bag, and asked her friend in the bakery to bring out two Oranginas.

  ‘You look different,’ Carla said, considering Séraphine. ‘Your hair’s longer, and… I don’t know, I can’t put my finger on it. It’s something more than that.’

  ‘I feel different,’ Séraphine said. ‘It changed me, going away. It changed the way I think.’

  Carla raised an eyebrow, wary.

  ‘In a good way,’ Séraphine said, smiling and reassuring her with a touch of her hand. ‘When I left here I was so scared. Scared of being myself, scared of my feelings making my decisions for me – being out of control. But being away from here, away from you, brought home to me just how much I care about you. And it taught me that there are so many ways to live, so many ways to create a family where people love one another. I don’t have to fit in some tiny box any more.’

  Carla smiled. ‘I’m glad. It hurt a lot at first, your leaving. I knew that part of you wanted to escape – and that that meant being apart from me. You seemed so determined to deny what you were feeling that I thought you might just succeed. But once I’d decided to wait for you – first to change your mind, and then to come home –I realised it wasn’t difficult at all, it was easy. There was nothing else I wanted to do other than be here for you when you finally came home.’

  ‘And here you are.’ Séraphine smiled. ‘Thank you.’ She squeezed Carla’s hand.

  ‘There was something sweet in it, towards the end, the waiting. Hearing from you and receiving these lovely little gifts. It made me crave you, like when a good cake is baking in the oven and all you have is the scent of it.’

  Séraphine laughed. ‘Well, now you have the whole cake.’

  They looked at each other for a moment, a deep sense of intimacy between them, a secret that still wasn’t ready to be shared.

  ‘So what have I missed here in the village?’ Séraphine said, lightly.

  ‘Oh, an awful lot,’ Carla replied, with a mischievous smile. ‘You know how quickly life moves around here. I mean, you have Madame Augustin – she has finished knitting that new hat for her grandson and it suits him perfectly. Jeanne, the librarian, was seen kissing that younger man who lives by the bridge… Oh, and little Samuel has got a new puppy. A brown one. I think that covers it.’

  Séraphine laughed. ‘I knew I could trust you to keep me informed.’

  ‘But most importantly, I hear your family have had some good news.’

  ‘The grapevine got there before me?’ Séraphine said.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Guillaume’s coming home tomorrow. I still can’t quite believe it.’

  ‘Your parents must be happy.’

  ‘They are. Anxious, but happy. It feels as if a weight has been lifted.’

  ‘You can start to talk again, build bridges.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Séraphine stared down at her brioche, unable to meet Carla’s gaze. ‘You know, with all this going on, I haven’t said anything – about us.’

  ‘I thought as much.’ Carla took a sip from her bottle of Orangina.

  ‘It didn’t seem right, telling them then.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I understand. They have enough to think about right now. They need to focus on Guillaume coming home. And that really is good news.’

  ‘It’s going to be a long journey, but he has started. He’s taken the first steps.’

  Carla looked at Séraphine, her gaze steady, then spoke.

  ‘And so have you.’

  51

  Saturday 1 November

  ‘Dad, would you be able to look after Leo for an hour or two?’

  ‘Sure, love. You going out?’

  ‘Yes, just down to the tea rooms. I had a call from Letty. She wants to talk to me about something.’

  ‘Of course, you go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll get Leo bathed and put to bed.’

  Leo pushed his trains around the track on the living-room floor, lost in his own world.

  Kat kissed her son on the head. ‘Thank you, Dad. It’s great to have you back.’

  ‘It’s good to be back.’

  ‘The travelling’s out of your system?’

  ‘I think so. For a while, at least.’ He smiled. ‘Although I did get another guidebook out of the library. Apparently Brazil is the place to trave
l to these days.’

  ‘You’re unstoppable.’

  He started humming ‘The Girl from Ipanema’ to himself.

  ‘Stop winding me up!’ She nudged him playfully.

  ‘What’s that you’ve got?’ He pointed to her Thermos flask.

  ‘Hot spiced apple with cinnamon,’ she said. ‘There’s yours.’ She pointed to a mug on the kitchen table. ‘Can’t have you feeling left out.’

  Letty and Kat sat out on the terrace, the closed sign hanging in the door of the tea rooms behind them. Letty was wearing a red woollen coat, and Kat was wearing her parka, with the hood up. They held mugs of the apple drink Kat had brought.

  ‘This is good,’ Letty said, taking a sip. ‘The cinnamon comes through nicely.’

  ‘Thanks. You sure you’re warm enough out here?’

  ‘Yes.’ Letty looked distracted. ‘Nothing like fresh air after a long day.’

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Kat, this isn’t easy. And there’s no right way to do it. I have something I need to tell you.’

  ‘You’re sounding very serious all of a sudden.’ Kat laughed. She’d expected Letty to smile, but her expression didn’t change. She was calm and composed, but Kat saw a shadow of something else there, an uncertainty in her eyes.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I haven’t always been straight with you over the years.’ Letty spoke slowly, with her hands crossed in her lap. ‘I haven’t been honest with you at all, in fact.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Kat asked, confused.

  ‘I had my reasons, and it seemed right at the time not to tell you the truth.’

  ‘And now something’s changed.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t leave me in suspense,’ Kat laughed nervously.

  ‘You know how much your parents wanted you in their lives.’

  ‘Aha.’

  ‘Well, in order for that to happen, someone else had to let you go.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But that doesn’t mean the other person didn’t love you too.’

  Kat looked at Letty questioningly, and she continued.

  ‘… Doesn’t love you too.’

  ‘Wait,’ Kat said. ‘What are you getting at?’

  She looked at Letty again – her pale blue eyes honest and open, her expression earnest.

  ‘I’m your mother. I gave you away.’

  The words hit Kat like a blow to her stomach.

  ‘What?’ she said, reeling. ‘No, you’re not.’ She shook her head.

  Fragments of conversations, memories in snapshots, came back to Kat. But nothing fit together.

  ‘I wish things had happened differently,’ Letty said. ‘You’re my daughter – or at least you were once, for a short while.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Kat said. ‘I don’t know why you’re saying this, but I don’t believe you.’

  Letty stared at her calmly.

  Kat got to her feet silently, unable to process what she’d heard, then turned and walked away without saying goodbye.

  Kat walked through the backstreets to her house. Letty’s words playing on a loop in her mind. What reason could she possibly have for lying to her?

  The evening already felt like a blur. Kat struggled to remember how the conversation had even started. All she could recall was the final exchange, those words, the way they had taken the wind out of her.

  She climbed the stairs to her flat, putting one foot in front of the other on autopilot. She wasn’t going to be drawn into this. Letty was confused. It happened to people. They got older, and memories twisted and turned. It pained her to think of Letty being unwell, losing the sharpness of mind Kat had always admired – but that had to be what was happening. It was the only explanation.

  Kat settled on that thought. Devastating as it was to comprehend – it was the only thing that made sense. She had to stay strong. She’d find a way to support Letty, work through this. Nausea nagged at her, making the short walk home seem arduous.

  Her dad met her at the front door. ‘You’re home early,’ he said brightly. ‘I’ve only just got the young chap off to bed.’

  Kat came in and took her coat off in silence, hanging it up in the hall.

  ‘He wanted a book after his bath, and then begged me for another, then another.’ He laughed. ‘In the end, we got through nearly a whole library’s worth.’

  Kat stood, rooted to the spot. She felt powerless to move.

  ‘Are you OK, love? You don’t look well. You’re very pale.’

  She looked up at her father – his kind, crinkled eyes. The welcoming arms that had comforted her the other day, and so many times. He could make this better.

  ‘I think I need to sit down.’ He held her hand and walked with her through to the living room, where they both sat down.

  ‘Letty was behaving very strangely,’ Kat said. She could hear the words come out of her own mouth, but felt detached, it was as if someone else was saying them.

  ‘Was she?’ her father said gently.

  ‘I think there’s something wrong,’ Kat said. ‘She’s not herself.’

  ‘Oh dear. What makes you think that, love?’

  Kat had a lump in her throat, and found it difficult to form the words. ‘She said something that didn’t make any sense.’

  ‘She did?’

  A flicker of unease passed across his face.

  ‘It seems silly even repeating it,’ Kat said. ‘Which is what I mean – she’s normally so sensible. Then she comes out with something weird like this.’

  ‘I think perhaps you should tell me.’

  ‘She…’ Kat stalled. The words slipped away from her, superstitious thoughts creeping in. Perhaps if she said it she would make it real. She brushed the thoughts aside. It was ridiculous to think that way.

  She spoke quickly, and was matter-of-fact. ‘She thinks she’s my mother.’

  ‘OK.’ Kat’s dad said slowly. ‘I wondered when this would happen.’

  ‘When what would happen?’ Kat said, confused. ‘Has she said the same to you?’

  He put his hand on hers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice soft.

  ‘This isn’t real —’ She shook her head.

  ‘What Letty told you is true. I would rather have been the one to tell you, but she must have her reasons.’

  ‘It can’t be,’ Kat said. But her certainty was fast evaporating. The denial was now nothing more than a weak attempt to shore up her fragile sense of reality.

  ‘Your mother wanted you to think of us as your parents,’ her father explained. ‘If you’d wanted to trace your birth mother, this might have come out sooner. But you always insisted you didn’t want to know.’

  ‘I didn’t want to meet a stranger trying to take my mother’s place, no,’ Kat said firmly. ‘I might not have known her for long, but I still feel loyalty towards her.’

  She hesitated, what her father had said slowly lodging in her mind. ‘But Letty? Letty?’

  She thought of her friend’s high cheekbones, the shape of her eyes, her chin. Flashes of her own features came to her. The similarities were undeniable. They must always have been, and yet only now were they becoming undeniable. How had she never noticed before?

  ‘It’s an awful lot to take in, I know,’ her father said. ‘We didn’t want to deny Letty the chance to be part of your life. We didn’t bring the two of you together, you found each other naturally. It would have been wrong to stand in the way of your friendship.’

  ‘All my life she’s been there,’ Kat said, dazed.

  ‘How did you leave things with her?’

  ‘I told her it wasn’t true. Then I walked out. I just left.’ She rubbed her brow. ‘I didn’t even say goodbye. I should have at least said that.’

  ‘Don’t worry about Letty. She’ll be OK.’

  ‘I think I need to sleep,’ Kat said. ‘I feel dizzy.’

  ‘Let’s get you to bed.’

  She walked into her b
edroom and her dad put the bedside lamp on, giving her a hug and a kiss goodnight. In the dim light, alone, she felt safer. She wanted to stay in here. Not talk to anyone. She wanted to stay in her room, in bed, until the whole thing went away.

  The next day, Kat forced herself to get out of bed and get dressed, then she took Leo to the park. The ground was wet from the rain overnight. Kat’s dreams had been vivid, full of the storm, and flashes of her childhood, distant memories of her mother. She’d woken up in a cold sweat. There was a fleeting period of grace before memories from the previous evening had come back to her. The truth – concrete now – in the room with her. Letty was her mother. She was Letty’s daughter. They were tied together and always would be in a way she’d never imagined. Even now she didn’t want to imagine it.

  That morning she was grateful for Leo’s constant questions about the movement of the moon and sun, his dreams of space travel distracting her from the unsettling question of who she was. In the playground Leo went straight for the swings, and Kat pushed him. The rhythmic action lulled her.

  ‘Higher!’ Leo called out, his wellington boots kicked forward in excitement. ‘I want to get right up to the sun.’

  ‘I’ll push him,’ came a voice. ‘I can do it super high.’

  Kat turned and saw Zoe by her side, smiling.

  ‘Hi, Zoe,’ she said, making herself smile back.

  ‘Can I?’ Zoe asked again.

  ‘Of course.’ She stepped away. ‘Leo, this is Zoe. She’s going to push you for a while. She’ll get you to the sun.’

  Leo whooped in excitement.

  ‘You’ll be careful, won’t you?’ she whispered to Zoe.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered back. ‘Don’t worry.’

  Kat looked over and saw Adam on a bench nearby. He waved. In spite of everything, her heart lifted to see his warm smile. ‘I’ll be on the bench over there,’ she explained to Leo.

  She sat down next to Adam. ‘Morning,’ she said.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. There was a silence between them, and a gentleness in his expression that told Kat all she needed to know.