Cosy Nights & Snowball Fights (Little Duck Pond Cafe #36)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Next morning, early, I lay curled up on my blow-up bed (it was surprisingly comfortable), listening to Dad creeping around, trying to be quiet.

But at the sound of a sharp knock followed by a whispered curse, I sat up with a chuckle. ‘Dad? Are you all right? We do have lights here, you know. Pop it on and you’ll be able to see what you’re doing.’

‘It’s not even seven yet,’ he said in a stage whisper. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’

I got up and flicked on the table lamp. ‘Too late.’ I grinned at him. ‘But I really don’t mind. I guess it’s the price I’m willing to pay for your company this weekend. And I’m up at this time most mornings, anyway.’

‘Not on your days off, surely?’

‘Well, I’ll maybe have a little lie-in. But to be honest, it’s so good having you and Mum here, I’d rather not waste time lying in bed.’

He grinned at me and sat down on the sofa with his trainers. ‘It’s so good to see you, Kiddo.’ He started pulling on his socks. ‘Your mum and I... we’ve been worried about you.’

‘No need. Honestly. I’m fine.’

He gave me one of his looks – the look that said I was just being brave.

‘Cuppa?’ I offered, leaping up and going into the kitchen, not wanting to risk Dad asking questions I didn’t want to answer. They only knew I’d caught Gavin being unfaithful, which was why I’d called off the engagement.

‘I’ll get my run out of the way first,’ he called. ‘Then when I get back, I’ll make us all a big slap-up breakfast.’

‘There’s no bacon, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ll get some on the way back.’

‘Great!’ I popped my head into the tiny hallway, where Dad was undoing the chain on the door. ‘The village store opens at eight. I presume you’re running into Sunnybrook?’

‘Yep. Right, see you in forty minutes or so.’

‘Take care, Dad. It’s not quite light yet.’

He grinned. ‘I’ll be fine.’

I stood at the door, watching him walking fast along the lane before speeding up into a jog and disappearing into the freezing cold, blue-skied morning. The air was sharp with that lovely autumn scent of damp lanes and hedgerows bursting with berries, and I breathed it in, thinking about my parents. There were times I really wished I didn’t love them as much as I did. Because there was always that fear lurking at the back of my mind, even though I tried hard to ignore it. But what if I were to lose them? I couldn’t bear to imagine what that would feel like. But it was going to happen one day.

I gave my head a wobble and, hearing Mum up and about in the bathroom, I went back into the kitchen and made her a cup of strong tea with the tiniest dash of milk, just the way she liked it...

*****

Dad’s fry-ups were legendary.

He didn’t do them often – he was too sensible health-wise for that – but on the occasions he got the frying pan out, he did breakfast in style. Including tomatoes, baked beans and hash browns.

While we ate, we looked at a leaflet they’d picked up and made plans to visit The Flour Mill, a twenty-minute drive from here. I remembered Annalise, who ran the Pudding Club, telling me about The Flour Mill and saying it was worth a visit and that there were some lovely walking trails in the area. Her company, Vintage Puddings, which she’d set up with her grandmother, had made it through to the second stage of a competition being run by The Flour Mill, and Annalise was awaiting more news in a state of nervous excitement.

I felt a little embarrassed that I’d lived here since March but I still had no idea what was virtually on my doorstep. In fact, in my self-imposed hermit-like existence, the only time I’d ventured further than Guildford had been when Mum and Dad visited the first time, back in June, and we’d spent that lovely week walking in the countryside, visiting a couple of National Trust properties and having barbecues in my little back garden.

‘But is there a café at The Flour Mill?’ I asked, grinning pointedly at Mum.

‘Of course there is. It was the first thing I checked!’ she replied tartly, and Dad and I chuckled. Mum always maintained that a day excursion had to include a stop for cake and coffee, otherwise it wasn’t really a proper day out.

‘I saw a poster for a charity event in the village store window,’ said Dad, as we cleared away later. ‘There’s lots of things on, apparently. Why don’t we go there tomorrow?’

An image of Josh slipped into my mind and my heart gave a funny little lurch. ‘Erm... I’m not sure.’

‘There’s a charity auction and lots of stalls. It’s going to be another sunny day, so it might be a nice thing to do?’

‘Sounds good,’ agreed Mum.

I swallowed hard. ‘But I thought you wanted to – um – go to Farnham... have lunch there and look around the shops?’

She nodded. ‘Absolutely. And Guildford as well, if we have time. But I’m sure we’d have time to do the charity event as well. If you wanted to.’

My heart sank. If we went to the radio station ‘do’ and Josh saw me, he might get entirely the wrong idea. He might think I was interested in him, and that was a complication I could well do without. The problem was, Mum’s alternative suggestion held even more fear for me. The thought of possibly bumping into my ex-friend again. I shuddered inwardly. Jo might not be on the other side of a café window next time I saw her.

Weighing it up, the charity fun day seemed like the best option. Josh was sure to be heavily involved in organising the event so we might not even see him. And if there was lots going on there, we wouldn’t have time to go into Guildford...

*****

Our trip to The Flour Mill turned out to be a good choice.

We did ‘the tour’, of course, and watched the milling process in action, and it took Dad right back to his youth and his holiday job helping out at a local working mill. Mum made a beeline for the little café after that, and we indulged in a glorious afternoon tea – freshly-baked scones served with generous helpings of butter and strawberry jam, along with wedges of Victoria sponge, and mini chocolate and hazelnut cupcakes with a melt-in-the-mouth icing on top. And then, of course, we just had to pop into the mill’s little shop, which was selling all kinds of cakes and breads and puddings made by local artisans, as well as the mill’s own organic flour. Mum bought a big bag of wholemeal for her bread-maker, while I came away clutching a bag of fig, spelt and pumpkin seed flour, which sounded amazing, although I’d no idea what I was going to do with it.

Later, on the way back to the cottage, we stopped in the village for milk. Dad stayed in the car while Mum and I went into the village store.

‘Look.’ She pointed at a poster advertising the radio station’s charity fun day on the noticeboard and I glanced at it, reading it properly for the first time.

Realising one of the main activities was a 5k fun run, I groaned. ‘So that’s why Dad’s so keen to go tomorrow.’

She laughed. ‘He can never resist a fun run. But never mind. At least there’s lots of stalls to keep us occupied while he does his thing.’ She peered at the poster. ‘Oh. It’s in aid of people with addiction problems. I didn’t realise.’

We exchanged a glance and I knew she was thinking, like me, of Jackie. But no words were necessary. Mum – my real mum – knew that I’d given Jackie chance after chance to prove she loved me but that I’d finally cast her off, knowing she’d never change. We didn’t talk about Jackie now. I knew that both Mum and Dad would always be supportive of me if I ever wanted to see her again – but that was never going to happen.

Mum linked my arm and squeezed, and a feeling of warmth rushed through me. This weekend was just heavenly, having them both here with me. It was true that you never knew what you had until it was no longer there, and the months since I’d left Compton Meadows had often been lonely. I felt a sudden fierce pang of homesickness. I could never go back, not to live there – not with the dangers of bumping into certain people around every corner – but how I missed being able to see Mum and Dad every day.

As we got back in the car, Mum was teasing Dad about the fun run and he was laughing and saying did she really think he’d pass up the chance to compete in a race? It appeared we’d definitely be going to the Radio Daydream fun day. But sitting in the back seat of the car, I felt an odd mix of butterflies and anxiety.

Maybe I could get through the day without bumping into Josh.

I preferred not to think too hard about why I had butterflies at the very thought of seeing him again...