‘I’ve tried to cater for the more upmarket clientele,’ he grinned. ‘Talking of which, what are you up to nowadays? You look different – grown up, sophisticated.’
She laughed. ‘You saw me five years ago when I was in my late twenties; I was hardly a kid, I was grown up then.’
‘Ah, you were, but you’re different now, I can tell. You’re definitely quieter.’
‘I’m worried people will be funny with me, for leaving,’ she confessed.
‘Well, I suppose thisisHeritage Cove. But I think you’ll find most people won’t be any different to how they were before you left. Seeing you might come as a surprise, but they all know what you went through back then. Stop worrying,’ he smiled. ‘You’re not facing a firing squad.’
He went off to the kitchen to get back to work and make her meal as well as others and she hoped he was right. She perused more of the menu and found a list of sumptuous-sounding desserts. She wondered if she’d stay in the village long enough to try any of those, or perhaps she’d come here again when she visited Barney in the not-too-distant future.
Melissa had enjoyed two glasses of wine at the pub, chatted to Benjamin when he grabbed a much-needed break and he’d told her all about the relationship he was still in with his girlfriend, Zoe. He’d briefly touched on the subject of Melissa and Harvey’s once-upon-a-time romance to be jealous of but the vibes she gave off must have warned him because he didn’t delve too deeply into that.
Now, the day after, leaving the Heritage Inn and heading round the bend to walk along The Street, Melissa stopped to take it all in properly. It wasn’t just Benjamin and Zoe who had stood the test of time. The bakery and the tea rooms were still here on the left-hand side, separated from one another by a wide stone archway that led down to a small car park. The bakery had a beautiful Tudor-style exterior – whitewashed stone façade, deep timber panels and criss-cross glass windows. She wondered if the same dark-wood tables were still inside the tea rooms, the biggest table in the bay window, smaller ones positioned along the wall and in the centre.
On the opposite side of the road was the blacksmith’s and Melissa could hear sounds echoing from there and wondered, was it Lucy, who she’d met in the lay-by and who was standing in for old Fred, at work? Melissa hadn’t known Fred too well; he’d always nodded a hello but was one of those people who seemed content in his own world with a job he loved. Her eyes drifted to the ice-creamery, which was new and almost hidden behind a copse of trees. The building was nothing like the tea shop or the bakery. It was modern, painted a sea blue with white shutters and a huge ice-cream cone on the outside wall. There was a single picnic bench next to the trees with its cherry-red umbrella just visible.
On the other side of the track that took you down to the cove came the chapel, which, despite its quaint stone exterior and wealth of character, didn’t hold good memories. The last time Melissa had been there had been the day she buried her parents. And that occasion was the one she remembered the most, not Tracy’s wedding, held in the same chapel and grounds, or her children’s christenings. Melissa could still recall delivering her first-ever eulogy, standing up on the pulpit, shaking, faces watching her as she did her best to get the words out. Harvey had been at her side that day. She vaguely remembered it pouring with rain and the roof leaking. Before she left Heritage Cove the roof had been covered in a green sheeting as a temporary fix, crying out to be pulled apart and put back together again, the sheeting flapping in the wind whenever it got a chance and making residents wonder whether it would ever be fixed. It looked fixed now. And the chapel’s grounds were well tended with delicate pink flowers bobbing in the wind in one of the beds.
Melissa found herself tempted to cross over opposite the bakery and follow the lane next to the chapel, separated from it and the cemetery by a hedge. It was a long time since she’d followed the secret path down to the cove – not that it was really a secret, perhaps secluded was a more appropriate description. The best days weren’t necessarily in the summer, though, but rather the autumn months, when the nights drew in and a thick fog wrapped around you like a big blanket. Melissa loved it then because it would be deserted. Sometimes, if you timed it right, the dense fog would lift when you were sitting on the sands, and while all around you and above was grey and impossible to make out, the wine-glass-shaped bay would appear in front of your eyes, stretching into the distance as though a magician had just revealed it from beneath his cape.
As Melissa stood there with the sunlight resting on her shoulders she realised she’d forgotten nothing about Heritage Cove. Even five years couldn’t take away the familiarity of this place. Past the tea rooms on this side of the road was the track that led down to Harvey’s place, next would be the candle shop she’d rarely been able to visit without coming out with something new, then on from that was the pub of course. The map of this village was as firmly imprinted in her mind as the inscription on her parents’ headstone in their final resting place.
In some ways it was as though time had stood still, but she couldn’t do the same and so she walked on, unable to resist sneaking a look through the windows of the bakery to see what was on offer. There were pastries – croissants, what looked like pains au chocolat – two wide wicker baskets held loaves of bread, cardboard labels pushed into plastic holders showing what each of them was. There were marmite loaves, bread with chia seeds, wholemeal sliced, white bloomers. Another display case showed off golden cookies next to one with brightly iced cupcakes.
She didn’t go inside. She couldn’t put it off forever but, boy, it was tempting when she could hide behind her sunglasses like she was doing now. Barney, like Benjamin, had assured her people had better things to do than berate her for her decisions, but she wasn’t so sure.
She turned to walk away when the door to the bakery creaked open.
‘Melissa?’ A voice halted her before she could move on.
Melissa stopped, heard the door to the bakery spring shut behind their latest customer and when she turned, Tracy was standing there clutching three baguettes. ‘Tracy, hi.’ Her greeting was met with a frown. ‘Good to see you,’ she tried again.
Tracy adjusted the baguettes that seemed determined to slip from her grip. ‘Well, I guess we all know what it takes to make you come back then. Barney, in hospital,’ she added at Melissa’s confusion.
‘Yes, although he’s home now.’
‘Have you seen him?’ Her hair had sprung into those familiar curls of hers and she looked well despite the scowl still in place.
‘Of course.’
‘Well, forgive me for doubting you, but you can hardly blame me.’
Melissa was about to walk away, but instead she smiled at this woman who had been her best friend, who had done nothing but be there for her, and whose defensiveness was surely because she’d been hurt. ‘I’m sorry we lost touch,’ she tried.
‘Wedidn’t lose touch,youlost touch. There’s a difference.’
‘You’re right, and I’m sorry.’
‘You didn’t even come back for Mum’s funeral.’ Tracy’s voice came out small. ‘I was there for you when it happened to you.’
Melissa swallowed hard. She felt so ashamed, possibly more ashamed than she was of herself for staying out of Barney’s life for so long. ‘I know you were. I can’t begin to tell you how terrible I feel. My own grief overshadowed everything else. It might sound like a crappy excuse but I couldn’t pull myself together enough to be a help. I can’t take it back, I can only apologise,’ she added with so much regret Tracy’s frown lessened.
‘I get why you left, you’d said you were going to, but why cut your ties?’
‘I guess it was easier to start over.’
‘Heritage Cove never was good enough for you.’
