Valentine’s Day at the Café at the End of the Pier Read online

  Helen Rolfe

  Valentine’s Day at the

  Café at the End of the Pier

  Contents

  Title Page

  Valentine’s Day at the Café at the End of the Pier

  Copyright

  The beauty of renting a room in a shared house was that walking away from your life was so much easier to do.

  When Jo had received the phone call from her grandmother, suggesting she up sticks and relocate from Edinburgh back to her home town of Salthaven-on-Sea to help out in their café at the end of the pier, Jo hadn’t taken much persuasion. She was thirty-one, single, working in a teaching job she lacked real passion for, and her life felt as though it had stagnated for the last year at least. She’d been wanting a change, and one had fallen right into her lap. And so she’d packed up her single room, covered the next two months’ rent until her housemates could find someone else, and emailed the school where she worked to tell them of her plans, withdrawing her availability for future teaching jobs now that her position covering maternity leave had come to a close. And rather than feeling daunted, Jo felt more than ready to embrace new possibilities.

  Now, with her beaten-up VW Beetle bulging at the seams with her belongings and a few more boxes fixed onto the vintage roof rack using fastening straps and rope, Jo was on her way to a new life on the south coast. She cranked the heating up as she left Edinburgh under the cover of darkness and, with no sign of snow or ice, it was almost as though this change was meant to be. She just had to drive the four hundred miles between her life now and the one waiting for her, and for the first time in years she felt she could see clearly. All through her life her grandparents had been there for her, cheering her on at school sports days, congratulating her on her exam results, talking with her when she was going through tough times at university and stressing over her finals. And now, years later, they were going to be together again. And she couldn’t wait.

  Along the way she stopped a few times to grab something to eat, and twice she’d shut her eyes for a good ten minutes and leaned back in her seat in the various car parks she’d ended up in. But it wasn’t tiredness, it was simply to calm the excitement that was building with every mile as she drew closer to the place she’d always known she’d return to one day.

  After hours of obeying the satnav’s commands Jo found herself in familiar territory. She turned off the main road and onto a single carriageway. The road narrowed and the sign came into view saying ‘Salthaven-on-Sea 10 miles’. The sign was always the marker, the moment she felt as though she was coming home, and today, given the major change afoot, it was all the more powerful. Her heart leapt and she had to quell her enthusiasm so she didn’t put her foot down harder on the accelerator and go too fast.

  Just before four o’clock Jo drove past the Salthaven Hotel on her left, a couple of guesthouses on her right, went straight on at the mini roundabout, past a restaurant, and followed the road down the hill as the town on one side and the sea on the other came into full view. A huge grin spread across her face and she pulled over on the left to let the person in the car behind her pass. It was a small town and traffic wasn’t terrible, but she didn’t want to rush. This was the beginning of something special and she wanted to savour the deep pink sunset with the last vestiges of orange hovering below, and the white wispy clouds beginning to fade away across the top of the pier. She could just about make out a young family braving the blustery New Year weather down by the breakwaters, on the sands that would be golden beneath bright sunshine come summer. The two kids were running along the edge of the water, chasing the lapping shoreline in their purple wellies and bright yellow cagoules, and the family had a sense of togetherness that Jo longed for. She wanted an end to the loneliness she felt more often than she’d ever admit to her grandparents.

  The pier’s supports were black against the sunset, with white lights on Victorian lampposts dotted at intervals along the wooden structure. In her mind she could smell the wood of the boardwalk under her bare feet as she walked its entire length, looking out at the sea, staying out of the way of any fishermen who were minding their own business, doing what they loved. And most of all she knew the café at the end of the pier, the business she was about to step into in a whole different light.

  She put her car back into gear and trundled on, past the pier, and then up the hill on the other side to her grandparents’ bungalow situated in an elevated position with an enviable view of the sea. She parked her car in the garage, wrestled on her coat, scarf and gloves and set off for the café. The salty air mixed in a breeze that lifted her dark, wavy hair from her face and carried the promise of a fresh start. The beach was the place where she most felt like herself, where she could think, and where she was most at home.

  She made her way down the hill and off the concrete pavement onto the wooden slats of the pier, past the fish and chip shop and the ice-creamery, the shop that sold sunhats and seaside paraphernalia in the warmer months, and as the sun buried itself deep on the horizon she reached the café that was part of the town, part of the pier, and a new part of her life. There were only two customers inside, and when the familiar bell on the door tinkled to announce her arrival Gramps was in the middle of restocking the display shelves and Gran had just set down a teapot in front of another customer.

  ‘Jo!’ Molly raced over to her granddaughter, weaving in and out of the three tables that stood between them until she could fling her arms around Jo. ‘Oh it’s so good to see you!’ She pulled back, gripped the tops of Jo’s arms and looked at her more closely. ‘You look as happy as I am right now.’

  ‘There she is!’ Arthur wasn’t far behind. He had the same deep silver hair as Molly, but if you didn’t know either of them you’d easily put them at a decade younger. ‘Let me look at you, my beautiful girl.’ He appraised her before giving in and hugging her tight. ‘I was so glad when Molly told me you’d agreed to come and help out a couple of old codgers like us.’

  Molly swiped him with the tea towel in her hand. ‘Speak for yourself, I’m not past it yet.’

  His familiar laughter bounced off the walls and flooded into Jo’s heart as he pulled out a chair for his granddaughter. ‘Sit. We have plenty to talk about.’

  ‘All in good time,’ Molly admonished. ‘The poor girl just drove for hundreds of miles, I don’t think she wants to hear all about how to use the coffee machine right now, dear.’

  Jo grinned. ‘I can’t wait, actually.’

  Arthur whistled through his teeth. ‘You know, it’s harder than it looks.’

  And Jo felt sure that very soon she’d realise how right he was.

  *

  The next day, Jo was thrown in at the deep end. She put a blue gingham apron around her waist and tied a bow at the back. She slotted a small notepad and pencil into the front pocket just as the door opened to announce the first customer of the day.

  ‘You look the part,’ Molly admired with a smile. ‘Off you go. That’s Angie. She doesn’t bite.’

  Feeling like a child all over again, afraid to talk to a stranger, Jo’s heart thumped against her chest at the enormity of this new job. And where was Gramps? Surely he should be here to help ease her in on her first day.

  She made her way over to the table beside the wall with the blackboard that listed food and beverage choices.

  Next to it was another board housing postcards from all over the world, from locals getting in touch on their holidays. Jo remembered it from years gone by – she’d always loved reading the postcards, absorbing herself in the excitement they expressed.

  ‘Good morning.’ When Jo greeted the
customer she tried to sound way more chirpy than she felt. She berated herself. This shouldn’t be that hard. She spoke to kids every day in her teaching job, she battled through their chit-chat and fought to be heard. This had to be easier, surely. Ask what the customer wanted, serve it to them, take payment, and make general conversation. How hard could it be?

  ‘Well, hello.’ Angie looked up, her interest piqued at the new face around town. An icy breeze had blown Jo along the pavements this morning as she made her way towards the café beneath the cloak of darkness, but this woman’s grey hair was curled so tight she didn’t look as though the weather had bothered her one bit. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met before.’ She extended a hand now she’d taken her gloves off and laid them on the chair along with her coat and scarf. ‘I’m Angie.’

  Jo shook her hand. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Jo, Molly’s granddaughter.’

  Angie leaned past Jo and called over to Molly, ‘She’s as pretty as you said she was.’

  Blushing, Jo asked, ‘What can I get you this morning? Would you like to hear the specials?’

  She dismissed the suggestion with a wave of her hand. ‘No need. I’ll have a pot of camomile tea please, and a teacake.’

  Jo didn’t bother taking her pad and pencil out. And even though she was only remembering one order, it buoyed her confidence. ‘Coming right up.’

  Molly had been holding back in the kitchen, allowing Jo to take the reins, but she emerged now. ‘Well done, handled like a pro.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Jo grabbed a small teapot, a cup and saucer, warmed up the teacake taken from the batch made fresh that morning, and set everything on a tray.

  ‘You’re a quick learner,’ said Molly as the bell on the door tinkled again. She waved at the man who entered and said, ‘That’s Mark, your next customer. Let me take the tray to Angie, she likes a good natter in the mornings.’

  Jo knew Molly liked to chat just as much. Her grandparents had good business sense but they were also a part of the community and loved to be sociable, and she could see Molly was in her element here in the café. She couldn’t imagine either of her grandparents getting old inside that bungalow of theirs, not without other people thrown into the mix. It simply wasn’t their way.

  Jo introduced herself to Mark, memorised his order, delivered it and took payment, and apart from a cursory glance her way and some minor help with the till, Molly stood back and let Jo run the show. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too, and gave her a buzz she hadn’t felt in years. And the feeling kept her going right up until closing time.

  After Molly turned the sign on the door to Closed and Jo grabbed a cloth to make a start with wiping down tables, Jo finally had a chance to ask, ‘Where was Gramps today? I thought he’d be here with us.’

  Her question seemed to unsettle Molly who looked away, then opened the till and began to count through the money inside. ‘He thought it would be a good idea to let you handle as much as you could today, give you a feel for the place.’

  Jo almost bought the explanation, but dishcloth in hand she joined Molly at the counter. ‘Gran, stop for a minute. Is there something going on that I should know about?’ Gramps was made up to see her after so long but this morning he’d still been sleeping when they left. She’d expected him to be here by lunchtime at least, marvelling at how she was learning the ropes.

  Molly made a note of the money she’d counted and then gestured to the nearest table and pulled out both chairs. ‘Sit for a minute, it’s been a long day.’

  Jo did as she was told and it was only now she noticed how tired her Gran looked. Not just tired from the day, but totally exhausted. She’d put on a good front yesterday and again today but maybe Jo feeling the tiredness herself had finally enabled her to see it in her Gran.

  ‘Gramps is fine,’ Molly assured her, patting her hand. ‘But we don’t just need a bit of help in the café, Jo, we need someone to take it over sooner rather than later.’

  ‘I kind of guessed when you got in touch.’ And of course, they weren’t going to contact Sasha, their daughter and Jo’s mum. As far as Jo knew, none of them had exchanged more than a Christmas card in years.

  A look of relief washed over Molly’s face. ‘We didn’t want to worry you, but we’re getting older and although part of me can’t imagine not being here every day, I know it’s what Arthur and I need. What’s held us back from retiring so far is thinking of this place changing hands, going to a stranger, and I’m not sure I could’ve eventually persuaded Arthur to give it all up if you hadn’t agreed to come here.’

  ‘It’s understandable, Gran. I get it. You made the café what it is. But apart from being tired, is Gramps OK?’

  ‘He had a fall last week.’ Jo sat forwards. ‘Only a minor stumble, but the doctor said he needed to slow down. You know what he’s like. It’s like trying to hypnotise a bull who has his sights set on the red flag. Your Gramps doesn’t know the meaning of rest. He’s only at home today because you’re here.’

  Jo smiled. ‘Your suggestion came at the perfect time. I just needed a bit of a push in the right direction.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad we gave you that push. Now if you could push me home I’d be really grateful.’

  ‘I don’t think I have the energy,’ she giggled. ‘Come on, Gran, let’s finish up here and get going. We’ll sleep well tonight.’

  And when they finally locked up the café and went on their way, even the dark and the cold outside couldn’t diminish the euphoria whirling inside of Jo.

  Because here she was, by the sea, the place she’d always wanted to be. And this time she was the one who was able to come to the rescue.

  *

  The first two weeks of Jo’s return to Salthaven-on-Sea moved as fast as that first day and rivalled the crashing waves on the shore that could be seen from the windows of the café. Not that Jo got much of a chance to gaze out of the glass at the town’s biggest draw – its sweeping views of the English Channel, the curved coastline that seemed to go on forever. From the minute she stepped into the café until the moment she left, each day passed in a blur, and as she worked Molly shared snippets of information about everyone who came in. The café seemed to be the hub for so many people. Apparently the other two cafés in town had since closed their doors, one replaced by a restaurant and the other turned into a bakery, so this place had become even more in demand.

  ‘Could you please take these to table three,’ Molly requested as she set a cappuccino onto a tray next to a plate with two iced biscuits and a glass of fresh orange juice. She lowered her voice and said to Jo, ‘The man’s name is Ben, the little boy is Charlie.’

  Jo sighed. ‘I’m never going to remember all these names.’

  ‘You will, in time.’

  Jo took the tray over and, as with every customer who came in, was soon on a first name basis with the man and his son. She’d made her introductions so many times she felt as though it would be much quicker and easier to have a label around her neck, but she was enjoying getting to know the people who had been coming to this same café for years.

  ‘Thank you, see you soon,’ she said to Peter and Vince, the brothers who had come in for strong cappuccinos this morning after they’d cycled a loop from the pier through Salthaven-on-Sea town centre, onto the next village and up to the pub at the top of the hill, before coming all the way back down to the café again. They’d told her all about their love of cycling, how Vince had taken part in the London to Brighton cycle ride and how Peter’s wife described herself as a cycle widow when he disappeared for hours on end at a weekend.

  Molly introduced Jo to Melissa, who worked in the local post office, and they laughed when they realised she’d actually gone to school with Jo once upon a time. They talked about former classmates and what they were up to, and even found they had a shared connection to Scotland when Melissa revealed she’d fallen in love with the Isle of Skye after holidaying up there.

  ‘Portobello beach was my n
earest view of the sea,’ Jo explained. ‘It was beautiful there and I’d escape as often as I could to watch the waves and walk along the sand.’

  ‘Well, it’s great to see you back here,’ said Melissa.

  ‘Hear hear,’ said Arthur, passing behind them with cups stacked on a tray.

  Jo smiled after him and then back at Melissa. ‘Thank you.’ She was fast learning that you didn’t have to live in Salthaven-on-Sea for very long before people made you feel a part of it. She may have been away for a long time, but it was already feeling like home again.

  She took Melissa’s order and before Molly could step in, Jo positioned herself in front of the coffee machine. ‘Let me do it,’ she insisted. ‘I need to learn, so the more practice I have the better.’

  Molly reluctantly stood back. They’d talked about this a lot over the last few days, how they needed to let Jo have hands-on experience if she was to going to take over completely one day. Jo tried not to panic that she’d likely be running the cafe on her own, because if she thought about it too much, she might just back out.

  She filled the milk jug to the required level. She purged the steam wand on the coffee machine, inserted the milk jug beneath with the tip of the wand just under the surface of the liquid as she’d been shown, and listened to the already familiar sounds of the steam hissing out to warm the milk.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Molly, anxious to get the drinks just right for her customers. ‘Now bang on the bench top,’ she reminded Jo as the milk reached the desired temperature.

  Jo followed the rest of the steps, remembering most of them without a prompt from Molly or Arthur. Watching her grandparents use the machine and go through the motions multiple times a day so expertly was like watching someone execute a perfectly controlled cartwheel – a move Jo could just about manage, but not one she felt confident she’d ever be able to achieve with such finesse.

  ‘You’ll soon be able to use that machine without thinking too hard,’ Molly encouraged, as though reading her thoughts.