CHAPTERELEVEN
As I needed to take Lucas to school, Noah opened the café this morning. It was a long walk to work, especially after the horrendous day yesterday. Noah returned from his doctor’s appointment to find me arguing with Jason, over why I’d stopped filming the Facebook Live video at the bit where Michelle agreed to marry him, and the annoying woman from table five who claimed her Magical Mochas were not only late in arriving, but they were the worst she’d ever tasted. Noah had to apologise to Jason and to everyone in Canada who, according to Jason, were livid that they’d been deprived of witnessing Michelle’s answer and her speech.
The day descended into more chaos when I spilt a Passion Milkshake all over a man’s lap as he told me how much his girlfriend meant to him, and I got three separate drinks orders wrong. All this was mainly due to working with Noah and having to mentally process the astonishing number of memories of our past together which kept popping up inside my head and distracting me. By the time we closed the café, Noah and I were down to one word replies and no eye contact.
Our first customers today are a male couple who are celebrating their one-year wedding anniversary. After showing them to their booth I give them both a heart-shaped menu. While they study the menus, I stand in stony silence and wait for them to give me their order. What did I do wrong in a past life to end up working in a love-themed café?
To my horror Noah rushes up to the booth unannounced and stands beside me. ‘Hey, guys, how are you today?’
The red headed man raises his hand and grins. ‘Not bad, mate.’
I turn to glare at Noah. We agreed that he would be on coffee machine duty while I greet our customers. Noah smiles at the two men. ‘What are we celebrating?’
The man with the curly sandy hair points to his husband. ‘Been married a year today.’
Noah beams. ‘That’s fantastic, congratulations.’ He nudges me in the ribs. ‘Isn’t that great, Alice?’ My neck and face are heating up fast. Who the hell does Noah think he is?
Once finished taking down their order I return to a whistling Noah at the counter. ‘What do you think you are doing?’ I hiss.
He gives me a cheeky wink. ‘You greeted them like they’d suffered a death in the family, and you were going to sort out a funeral.’
My blood has reached boiling level. I force myself to walk away and sulk in an empty booth. The morning is arduous and challenging. Even though we are equals I have fired Noah many times in my head. He’s got an endless supply of energy and has spent the morning bouncing all over the place with a huge smile on his face, and telling everyone love is in the air.
‘Alice, why don’t you take an early lunch?’ he asks as I return to the counter after delivering drinks. ‘I’ll be fine to manage things here. You look stressed again.’
‘I am not stressedagain, Noah.’ With a scowl at him, I grab my handbag and walk out onto the beach which is deserted. A chilly sea breeze and a gang of sinister grey clouds lingering on the horizon are working together to discourage beachgoers today. I decide to walk into town and leave the seafront. Behind the row of shops on the promenade is the town of Blue Cove Bay with a bustling high street filled with a restaurant, an array of clothes shops, an express supermarket, a butcher, a bookshop, two pubs and an empty shopfront. It used to be a wool shop, but the owner has retired.
I grab a sandwich and as I leave the express supermarket I walk into Phoebe from the bookshop a few doors down. Phoebe moved to Blue Cove Bay while I was in Surrey. I’ve got to know her recently because she has two children, Martha, aged eight, and Flynn, aged six, who is in Lucas’s class. We often see each other in the playground or in her bookshop when I am trying to persuade Lucas to choose a book to buy which is not about Batman. My son will only read Batman books which is a little infuriating when I look across at other children in Phoebe’s shop proudly marching out clutching books about nature, space, or famous people in history. Phoebe often makes me feel better by saying her son Flynn refuses point blank to read a book and that the children who are buying intelligent looking books are parent pleasers and will shove them under their bed the second they get home.
‘Hi, Alice,’ she says, with a grimace. ‘I’m having a bad day, so excuse me.’
‘You and me both,’ I say, and she chuckles. She points to the empty shopfront next door to her bookshop. ‘I’ve been praying for a posh florist to open beside me. You know a pretty one which would allow me to sneak away during a stressful author book signing event and gaze longingly at bunches of beautiful flowers.’
‘I take it you’re not getting a sweet little florist?’
She shakes her head and scowls. ‘It’s going to be a bloody record shop. Apparently, vinyl is popular again.’ After a heavy sigh, she groans. ‘I’ve spent years creating a peaceful reading oasis in my bookshop and now that will be ruined by the sounds of Guns N’ Roses blasting through my walls.’
‘Sorry, Phoebe,’ I say, casting her a sympathetic look.
She smiles. ‘What’s going on with you?’
I roll my eyes. ‘I’m managing The Little Love Café with my ex-boyfriend from years ago.’
Phoebe grimaces. ‘Oh, poor you, that sounds hellish. I take it things didn’t end amicably between you two?’
‘I feel silly for saying this, but he was my first love. We were sixteen when he ghosted me and broke my heart. Twenty years on and I am still struggling to forgive him.’
Phoebe reaches out and gives my arm a rub. ‘My first love cheated on me. Nothing hurts quite so much as your first heartbreak. I’ll be thinking of you.’
‘I will think of you too. When does your new neighbour arrive?’
‘Next week he opens, and it’s called Vinyl Dreams. I haven’t met him yet, but I know I don’t like him already.’
I check my phone. ‘I better get back to the world of giving my ex-boyfriend death stares over a Cuddle Muffin.’
Phoebe laughs. ‘If you ever need to vent, come into my bookshop. We can go sit in the crime section and look for ingenious ideas on getting rid of my new neighbour and your ex-boyfriend.’
We both laugh and walk off in opposite directions. When I return to the café, Noah is hugging an older woman. I am distracted by the past once again. Back when we were teenagers Noah’s hugs could solve all sorts of problems from painful period pains, tricky maths problems to uncontrollable sobbing when I missed my mum. One of the sweetest things he used to do was close his eyes when he hugged me. Frankie would always point this out and say Noah would hug me like he never wanted to let me go. The hugs I got from Pete and Scott never came close to the hugs Noah gave.
