A spark of attraction had been the last thing I had expected to feel when I rushed to confirm my cottage reservation, but the touchpaper had been lit and the sensible thing now was to stand well back because even my no-strings fun ethos had occasionally been known to tie itself up into unwelcome knots.
*
By mid-morning on Friday there was the tiniest hint of a break in the cloud and when I spotted it, I wasted no time in setting out to chase it. I pulled on the raincoat which hung on a hook just inside the door, grabbed the umbrella beneath it and rushed out. I didn’t care if I was in for a soaking; if I stayed cooped up for much longer, I would go completely stir crazy.
‘Tess!’ called Sophie when she spotted me on the lane which led down to the beach.
I waited for her to catch me up.
‘Hello, Sophie,’ I smiled.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ she tutted, swapping the basket she was carrying from one hand to the other so she could link her arm through mine before I had a chance to take a step away, ‘don’t you look down in the dumps?’
‘Do I?’ I swallowed.
‘Yes, you do,’ she declared, squeezing me closer.
It was an intimate way to greet someone you barely knew but, after we had taken a few steps, I told myself to unclench and found I didn’t actually mind her unexpected proximity. The further we walked, the more comforting I found her unreserved friendliness and I made no attempt to untangle myself. Sophie was probably about the age Mum had been when I lost her and her maternal manner was cheering after the miserable couple of days I’d suffered.
‘I can see it in your eyes,’ she told me. ‘But with the rain we’ve had, I’m hardly surprised. Almost half your holiday gone, and you’ve been plagued by bad weather almost since the moment you arrived.’
She was right, and I immediately found myself hoping that Sam would let me stay on, because it was depressing to think that I’d spent the best part of the first week back in Wynmouth laying on a sofa wrapped in a blanket.
‘It’s not always like this here, you know?’ Sophie nudged.
I did know.
‘Come along with me to the café,’ she insisted, ‘and I’ll see if I can find something to put the smile back on your pretty face.’
‘All right,’ I agreed, ‘but only if you let me carry that basket.’
Sophie swapped it for my umbrella, which we thankfully didn’t need to put up, and together we carried on towards the beach. Just as I had guessed, her business was housed in the spooky, boarded-up building I remembered from former holidays, but it looked nothing like the last time I had seen it. In fact, I soon discovered there was absolutely nothing even remotely scary about the place at all.
‘Here we are,’ said Sophie proudly. ‘This is my little business.’
‘Oh, my goodness!’ I laughed, feeling overwhelmed as I took it all in. ‘I was not expecting this!’
It was certainly an idyllic spot, with the cliffs rising steeply behind and curving around it and the beach in front reaching down to the shore. The backdrop of cultivated fields atop the cliffs stretched to the horizon and it all looked untouched by time. A truly pastoral British scene, that is until you spotted the vibrant café exterior (and given the explosive pop of colour, you simply couldn’t fail to spot it) and were transported straight to the sunny Caribbean.
‘It’s amazing,’ I grinned. ‘And not at all what I was expecting. You’ve totally taken me by surprise, Sophie. I love it.’
‘Well, thank you,’ she smiled graciously.
She seemed pleased by my reaction, which in turn pleased me because it was wholly genuine. Even just a glimpse of Sophie’s café from a distance had started to chase away my dark mood. I couldn’t wait to see if it was as eye-catching on the inside as it was out.
‘I’m very proud of it,’ she continued. ‘Although I can’t help wishing it was a little busier.’
I couldn’t possibly imagine why the café wouldn’t be heaving but, aside from someone walking a dog in the distance, the beach was completely deserted; however, I supposed that with the recent weather that was hardly surprising. And as Sophie had pointed out on the day I arrived in the village, it hadn’t been the sunniest start to the year. That was bound to have an impact.
‘I’m sure things will pick up again when the sun makes a more consistent effort,’ I told her robustly. ‘As soon as the temperature starts to rise, folk will be flocking back to the beach, and to here. I mean, look at it. How could they resist?’
She didn’t look convinced and I remembered how surprised I had been to find the village so empty and the Smuggler’s so lacking in footfall. Why was no one coming to Wynmouth?
‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ she said softly and a little sadly, ‘but let’s get inside before the rain starts again and I’ll make you a lovely hot chocolate.’
We quickly made our way down the path and I found I couldn’t stop smiling. The fence surrounding the outside eating area was painted in a rainbow of colours, as were the half a dozen wooden picnic benches arranged on the fore-court which overlooked the beach.
‘The winter storms ensure the paintwork needs touching up every year,’ Sophie told me, ‘but I think it’s worth it, don’t you?’
‘Definitely,’ I readily agreed. ‘Totally worth it.’
The interior was every bit as vibrant and matched the outside beautifully. There were no muted shades in this Norfolk beachside café. It had to be utterly unique to the area and to my mind, that should have made it even more popular.
‘What’s the café called?’ I asked as I helped lift down the chairs from where they had been left upside down on the tables.
None of the furniture matched, but because it was all painted, everything sat harmoniously together.
‘The Wynmouth Beach Café,’ Sophie told me. ‘That’s what it’s always been called so I took the name on when I signed the lease.’
It was a perfectly acceptable name for a run-of-the-mill seaside eatery, but it didn’t suit Sophie’s clever creation at all. There was absolutely nothing about it which even hinted at what you would find if you ventured along this side of the coast.
‘That’s all right, isn’t it?’ she asked, when I didn’t say anything.
I wasn’t sure how I could say no without offending her.
‘Well,’ I began.
‘Oh,’ she groaned, before starting to laugh, ‘don’t tell me. It doesn’t match the ambience of the place; it doesn’t suggest any of what’s on offer.’
I didn’t say anything.
‘Am I right?’ she said, placing her hands on her shapely hips and raising her eyebrows.
‘Yes,’ I squeaked, confirming what she obviously already knew, ‘you are.’
‘There now,’ she tutted, shaking her head. ‘That’s exactly what my daughter is always saying. You’d get on well with her, Tess. She thinks I should have a website too.’
‘Please, don’t tell me you haven’t?’ I gasped.
‘No,’ she shrugged, her laughter fading in response to my reaction, ‘I haven’t, but I will get around to it.’ She hastily added.