Little Kiosk By The Sea (8 page)

Ellie went back downstairs. Pouring her coffee and helping herself to a couple of biscuits from the tin, she went into the sitting room and flopped onto the settee. How naive she’d been to waste nine months of her life with him, thinking they were good together. That he might actually love her. She should have known when he didn’t introduce her to his parents for months.

‘Plenty of time for that,’ he kept saying, as if he didn’t want to introduce her to them. When he had taken her home, the visit hadn’t been a success. The family had treated her like a difficult guest for the whole visit.

Rod had met Frank and Harriet early on in their relationship – and that hadn’t been a great success either. Mum hadn’t taken to him at all, and as for Frank, he’d been a typical growly dad thinking nobody was good enough for his girl. Thinking back, from the time she’d moved into the flat, their relationship had changed. Rod always busy at work, their social life non-existent except for the occasional cinema visit and then it was always his choice. How had she failed to notice just how self-centred Rod was? How selfish. Clearly she’d been useful to pay the rent. She hadn’t just been naive – she’d been plain stupid. How had she failed to notice just how self-centred Rod was?

At nearly thirty years old, you’d have thought she’d have known better. She’d been so desperate for a relationship, the chance to finally settle down and maybe start a family, she’d overlooked so much. Was she destined never to find her soul-mate? Never to have a lasting loving relationship? Her track record wasn’t good in that department, that was for sure. Mum had once told her she was too trusting. Well, not any more. This was the last time she was going to jump into any relationship without first analysing every single aspect of the man in question.

Draining the last of her coffee, Ellie got to her feet and stretched. Time to get her stuff out of the car. Tomorrow she’d start the dual business of job and flat hunting. By the time Mum and Dad came home, she’d be organised and on her way to sorting her life out.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SABINE

May Bank Holiday Monday found Sabine huddled in the kiosk with the heater on and just the top half of the stable door hitched open. Thankfully without any wind behind it, the rain wasn’t blowing into the kiosk. The town was always crowded over the Bank holiday whatever the weather, and Sabine was busy selling tickets for the 11 o’clock trip up river.

Holidaymakers, desperate to find something to do out of the rain, had decided a trip on the
Queen of the River
, with its below deck saloon and bar, was ideal. It wasn’t as if the river was rough. No wind making the water choppy, just rain, rain, rain. What better way to pass the last day of the long weekend than gliding up river with a glass of wine in hand. Lunch in Totnes and then back down to Dartmouth before beginning the long trek back home courtesy of the A38 and the M5. Personally, Sabine would have been happy if she could just have stayed at home in this weather and curled up with a good book.

By half past ten the boat was fully booked and Sabine was turning people away. She was just thinking about putting the kettle on for a coffee when Johnnie appeared, waving a bag of warm doughnuts at her.

‘Coffee here or at the cottage?’

‘Your place,’ Sabine said. ‘Much cosier today. Give me twenty minutes to see everybody on board and I’ll be with you. Don’t eat all the doughnuts before I get there.’

Sabine was locking the kiosk as
Queen of the River
began to move away from the landing stage when BB walked past.

‘Morning. Care to join me for a drink?’

‘Sorry. My brother is expecting me for coffee and doughnuts at his place.’ Sabine hesitated. ‘Want to come? You can talk boats.’

‘Sure would.’

As they walked through town, Sabine said. ‘So whereabouts in American are you from?’

‘Small town on the coast of South Carolina,’ BB answered. ‘Ever been to America?’

Sabine shook her head. ‘No. Nearly went once when I was younger but sadly life got in the way. Might put a visit to the USA on my bucket list.’

‘Well, if you ever make it over to South Carolina you make sure to find me and the family. You’d be made right welcome.’

‘Thank you, BB. Right, Johnnie’s cottage is down this lane,’ and she led the way up to a navy-blue door and turned the handle.

‘Johnnie, I’ve brought a friend. Would like to talk to you about boats, I think.’

Once the introductions were made, and BB was admiring the framed pictures of various boats Johnnie had hanging everywhere, Sabine made the coffee and took it through into the sitting room.

Talk naturally turned to boats and sailing and BB started to tell Johnnie the kind of thing he was hoping to find. Sipping her coffee, Sabine tuned out from the conversation.

Telling BB she’d put a visit to the US on her bucket list had reminded her about Owen and his plans. Was the US on his itinerary to visit? She’d have to ask him. Going with someone would be fun. She’d never liked the idea of travelling alone. Wonder where else was he planning to go? She’d always fancied seeing Italy, Mexico too. If she agreed to go with Owen they could plan a list of destinations between them. India could be fascinating too. He’d said ‘no strings’. They could be geriatric back-packers together – couch-surfing their way around the world for six months. She smiled at the thought. Owen was always good company.

She was jerked out of her daydream when BB stood up.

‘Thanks for the coffee. I’d best get going. Thought I’d head over to Kingswear marina today, see if they’ve got anything interesting on their books.’

‘See you around,’ Sabine said and Johnnie politely got up to see him out.

‘Nice bloke,’ Johnnie said as the front door slammed behind BB.

‘You know he’s looking for somewhere to live for summer?’ Sabine said. ‘Ever thought of taking a lodger? Be company for you. Wouldn’t have to worry about the place when you were away.’

‘God, no,’ Johnnie said. ‘I need my own space. Can’t bear the idea of a stranger – however nice he is – being here.’ He hesitated. ‘Anyway, I’m thinking about selling this place.’

Sabine looked at him, surprised.

‘It’s over three years since Annie died. You sold up and moved much quicker after Dave. Kickstarted a new life for you and Peter. Think it’s about time I did the same.’

‘I know you and Annie loved this place, but you’ll always have the memories,’ Sabine said gently. ‘Wherever you live.’

‘Might sell the boat too and use all the money to buy a bigger one and live on board.’

‘Good idea,’ Sabine said. At last Johnnie was beginning to think about his future.

‘Owen told you about his plans for a six-month sabbatical?’

Johnnie shook his head. ‘No. When’s he planning to go? And where?’

‘End of the season. Not sure which countries exactly – Europe obviously.’ Sabine paused before adding, ‘He’s asked me to go with him.’

‘You going?’

‘Told him I’d think about it. But if I go, I’d like to see more than just Europe. Mexico, India and Iceland. Places like that appeal. Just a bit worried about what people might think. Him and me going off together, because it wouldn’t be like that.’

‘Might be before you come back,’ Johnnie teased. ‘India. The Taj Mahal. We all know how romantic that place is.’ Sabine poked her tongue out at him.

Johnnie hesitated before adding, ‘He’s a good bloke. Been in love with you for years.’

‘I know,’ Sabine said. ‘I kind of love him too but …’ She shrugged and decided to change the subject. ‘See you’ve got a letter from Martha,’ she said pointing at the letter lying on the coffee table. ‘Any interesting news?’

‘Bit strange really. Here, read it.’ Johnnie picked it up and handed it to her. ‘Tell me what you think.’

Sabine quickly scanned the letter before looking up at him. ‘Not like Martha, is it? Maybe ring her?’

‘Done that. All she would say is that she needs to talk to me in person and the sooner the better.’

‘It’s probably just French bureaucracy getting its knickers in a twist over something and she needs some advice,’ Sabine said.

Johnny nodded. ‘I’ll go over soon for a quick visit between deliveries. Help her sort whatever it is.’

‘Make sure you’re back for my exhibition. I need you here for support,’ Sabine said.

CHAPTER TWELVE

BB

BB walked out of the letting agency’s office depressed. He’d been so confident he’d be able to find somewhere other than the hotel to live for summer, but as the weeks went by it seemed a fruitless search. All the agency could offer him was a week here and there in various holiday lets. The idea of having to move house several times during the summer didn’t appeal.

‘The problem,’ the girl in the office explained, ‘is that owners already have bookings for most of the summer. Nobody in town on our books has anything available for a long let. Maybe if you’d consider Stoke Fleming or Strete, I’d be able to find you something.’

He’d shaken his head at her suggestion. ‘I really want to stay in town – besides, I don’t have any transport.’

Walking through town ten minutes later on his way back to the hotel, he decided to let things ride for a bit. No choice really. Besides, it wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to stay at the hotel, it was just he wanted somewhere he could relax and not have to worry about sticking to a schedule for breakfast and vacating the room for the maid. Admittedly it was nice having the bed-making and cleaning etc. done every day. Perhaps staying put and having all the domestic bits of life taken care of was the sensible thing to do. Allow him to concentrate on investigating the family tree and finding a boat.

He knew from the papers at home that had started him on this quest to find ‘The English Connection’ as Jessica had dubbed it, their Grandma Mary had been Mary Seale, the only daughter of William and Amelia Seal, before she ran away with the love of her life, Grandpa Millman, and been disowned by her English family.

A quick glance in the phone book at the hotel had told him there were no families of either name left in the town, so no convenient door to knock on hoping for quick leads. Ordering a beer he took it over to a table in the corner and began to trawl through the property pages of the day’s paper again on the off chance he’d missed something on his first read. What he’d really love to find would be somewhere like Johnnie’s ancient cottage. He been tempted to ask if he had a spare room. So full of atmosphere, he could only wonder at the stories it could tell. A house like that would be amazing.

Five minutes later, he folded the paper up in frustration. Nothing. He glanced at his watch. A couple of hours to kill before his appointment with the yacht broker down at the marina. Apparently they were keen for him to see a fifty-foot wooden ketch that had just been put up for sale over in Brixham.

Before then he had time to wander along the quay and take another look at Bayards Cove. It was a place that fascinated him. Made him wish his ancestors had gone over with the Pilgrims back in the seventeenth century rather than running away to marry a GI three centuries later. He also needed to visit the library and spend some time there looking up the history of the town with particular regard to the Holdsworths and the Seales, whom he’d already discovered had run the town a couple of centuries ago.

Then this evening he’d return to his room and spend the evening reading and doing some more research on the Internet. He didn’t want Jessie telling him he wasn’t doing enough to find their ‘English Connection’.

HIGH SEASON

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

JOHNNIE

Johnny stood patiently in line at the cash desk while the woman being served carefully placed her shopping in her wheelie bag before handing the cashier her cheque book. He could sense the impatience of the couple in front of him before they tutted loudly but it didn’t bother him.

‘They should try queuing in a French supermarket,’ a voice behind him said softly. ‘This is so quick compared. Takes hours sometimes over there to do a weekly shop.’

He turned and saw the woman who’d helped him secure Annie on the grid the other week. Probably not a holidaymaker then.

‘Hello. You’re right about French supermarkets – takes forever to do a quick shop.’

‘We both like good French wine though,’ she said, indicating the same bottle in their respective baskets.

‘You know about wine?’

‘Just a bit.’

Johnnie started to place his stuff on the conveyor belt, carefully laying down the wine to avoid it toppling over when the belt jerked forward.

‘Morning, Johnnie,’ the female cashier said, flashing his items through. ‘Everything okay?

‘Fine,’ he answered, handing over some notes. He pocketed his change, picked his shopping up, smiled at the two women and left. Two minutes later, he was loitering outside, wishing the woman would hurry up and appear.

The woman glanced at him and smiled when he fell into step alongside her.

‘As one sailor to another – can I buy you a coffee?’ he said. ‘The Royal is the nearest place if that’s all right with you?’

‘Thank you, Johnnie, that would be lovely.’

‘How do you know my name? Ah …’ Comprehension dawned. ‘Susie on the cash desk. That’s the trouble with being a local – so you’re … ?’

‘Rachel.’

‘Thought you might be a holidaymaker the other day,’ Johnnie said.

She shook her head. ‘No. I live in town now.’

The Harbour Bar was busy as they entered, with both locals and holidaymakers enjoying a mid-morning coffee. One or two of the locals raised their hands in greeting to Johnnie as he went to order their coffees. He saw BB tucked away in a quiet corner, intently studying the local newspaper, oblivious to anyone around him.

Sitting with another women in a place where he and Annie had often had coffee felt strange. Of course he’d been in here often enough in the past year or two with Sabine and friends, but it had been a long time since he’d actually invited a woman to have coffee with him. He stirred his coffee thoughtfully, wondering what to say. BB, on his way out, walked over.

‘Hi, Johnnie, how you doing?’ BB said.