Making a mental note to check later, she settled Little Ned in his pram, then loaded up everything he needed for the day. She had always thought parents were making a fuss when they said how long it took for them to get out of the door with a small child and, in parrot fashion, claimed, ‘It looks like I’ve packed for a small army, but I’m only going out for three hours.’ Now, she understood. Gone were the days of just grabbing her coat and Hot’s lead and gaily shutting the door behind her. Such simple things that she had taken for granted. Nowadays, merely leaving the house was like a military operation. And if there wasn’t an emergency nappy or clothes change required just before leaving base, she felt like she was winning.
Nate came out of the café as he saw her walking past. ‘Morning, sis, how you doing?’
‘Good, ta. I’ve got a meeting today.’
‘The events stuff?’ Nate leaned in to look at his nephew, who, full of milk, just contentedly stared back at him with a cheeky smile. Hot, tied to the pram with the lead, barked his disapproval at having to stop.
‘Yeah. Looking forward to using my brain, to be honest.’
‘I’m going to get the last of the Christmas decorations up today.’ Nate uncurled his finger from the little lad’s. ‘I figure if the Grotty Grotto is starting at the pub on December the first, we’d better be in the game at the same time, as, hopefully, it will bring some business our way too.’
‘Good idea. Are you coping OK without Sara?’
‘I think I could do with an extra pair of hands leading up to the holidays. Brad is great but he can only do weekends until his uni breaks for Christmas.’
‘Let’s have another chat about that when I’m not so busy.’
‘No rush. Where’s your meeting?’
‘Polhampton Sands Café.’
‘You interloper! Steal a menu, can you?’ Nate suggested. ‘It’s always good to see what the competition are up to and get some new ideas.’
‘Like peas in a pod, we are. I’ve already thought about it,’ Rosa laughed, and did a high five with her brother.
After seeing Little Ned settled at the crèche, Rosa got on the bus to Polhampton, alighted at the town hall and made her way down to the beach. She had wanted to combine her meeting with seeing Vicki for a coffee, but the vet was due to operate on a Great Dane today and that would take up most of her morning.
Rosa was feeling pleased with life. It was so comforting to know that Little Ned was happy and safe in the confines of Little Devils. Gladys Moore had proved her worth – and some. Rosa had also had a lovely conversation with Josh the night before. She had unburdened some of her worries and realised that he did fully support and understand, and now she knew that if she had asked him to come back earlier, he would have done his best to do so. Even Hot was in his element, as he was having a play date at the Lobster Pot with his girlfriend, the Duchess, and Ugly and Pongo, the excitable pugs.
Polhampton Sands Café was busier than she had expected it to be. A group of mums with pushchairs having a catch-up over coffee and cake, and workers from a local building site munching on scrumptious-looking bacon and egg baguettes, made up the majority of the clientele on this winter morning. Their animated chat and the steam from the kitchen had caused the windows to mist over, hiding the glorious view of the expansive Polhampton Sands. Tourists were few and far between down here in wintertime, and although this wasn’t good for her own business back in Cockleberry, it suited Rosa when she was out and about as she wasn’t one for queuing, especially for food.
Rosa had no idea how this meeting would pan out. Wasn’t sure if this Janie would be able to advise her. She hadn’t even been able to find a surname for her, so that she could check her out online. The email that she had received confirming the meeting had just signed off with a single J, and despite Rosa asking for a phone number this had not been given either. Rosa had jokingly written I’ll be wearing a red carnation. Then realising that maybe she should be slightly more business-like, had added: and I have curly brown hair and a lightning-shaped scar on my left cheek.
Rosa got to the café counter and looked around to see if there were any single women sitting on their own. She assumed that, as Celia had been in her sixties, then maybe this was another retired friend of hers, who was helping out. She would find out soon. Just as she was shoving a menu in her bag, a deep voice behind her said, ‘Are you Rosa? Rosa Smith?’
She turned around to see a man in his late twenties, with blond surfer-dude-type hair, strong lion-like features and a wide perfect smile, worthy of any Hollywood actor. He was dressed casually in jeans, work boots and a thick black hoody with JW Gardening Services branded in white on his left pec.
‘Oh. I thought…’ Rosa was perplexed.
‘That I was a woman?’ Jamie grinned. His face was friendly, his demeanour approachable. ‘I am J – but Jamie Ward, to be exact. Pleased to meet you, Rosa.’ He held out his hand. ‘Now, let me get you a drink, food, cake – whatever you’d like – and I can explain everything.’
CHAPTER 25
Thank you so much Mrs Treborick.’ Titch opened the Corner Shop door for the white-haired lady who owned the wool shop down the road. ‘Mum says she’s popping in to you later as she’s promised me a merino wool jumper for Christmas. Said you’ve just the colour she’s after.’
Titch then went back through to the little rear kitchen and put the kettle on. Saveloy and Mr Chips, her sausage dogs, oblivious to the cold were playing together noisily in the back yard. She made herself a decaf tea and hoisted herself onto the stool behind the counter. Looking at her phone she counted down the days again to when her baby was due. It was less than seven weeks until Christmas Day. That wasn’t so bad. If she broke it down into just seven more Saturdays, even more doable.
Titch dunked a custard cream biscuit in her tea, put it in her mouth, then shut her eyes for a second. Remembering back to the years that she had worked here with Rosa, she had learned from experience that there would be a slight lull in the shop now until the Christmas rush started. The October half term and Halloween always brought with it an influx of tourists and locals, and Fireworks Night always caused a flurry of sales. Then it was time to restock for Christmas, with all the work that entailed to get the shop looking truly festive.
Ritchie had promised her that as soon as his mother was fully recovered from the dragging after-effects of the flu, he would only work the evening shifts at the chippie in the run-up to Christmas. He had already booked January off so that he could be fully on duty when the baby came. Ideally, Titch didn’t want him to work at the chippie at all, but she had to be realistic. As it was being handed over to him by his parents when they retired in the not-so-distant future, he needed to play his part. They would then have both businesses to their name and the opportunity was just too good to miss out on. She had always been used to hard work anyway, holding down many part-time jobs before she had got herself pregnant during a mad one-night stand with junior doctor Ben Burton, who turned out to be counsellor Alec Burton’s son. A grafter, that’s what Titch Whittaker’s mum called her.