My heart thuds. ‘You’ve only been dating her for a few weeks.’
He chuckles. ‘Alice, you know I don’t mess about when dating a beautiful woman.’
I roll my eyes. ‘What does this mean for The Starfish Tea Shop?’
He clears his throat. ‘Ah, the bad news. Business has not been that great. I know you have been working hard but I am afraid I am closing down.’
‘Oh.’ My fingers are gripping the shell-encrusted counter so hard I have white knuckles.
‘I know this news will be a big loss for the town,’ he says, staring into space with a dreamy expression on his face. ‘Also, I think it will break some hearts when some of the females here in Blue Cove Bay hear I am no longer available.’ He turns to me. ‘I’ll be closing Friday.’
He must have heard my loud gulp.What the hell am I going to do now?
Dad is stood by the mantelpiece. He’s been quiet ever since I told him my job at the tea shop is ending on Friday. We’ve also both been struggling with the news of Rose’s cancer, so it’s been a tough time. ‘Alice, I’ll go full-time at the supermarket. You don’t need to worry about finding another job.’
Scrambling off the sofa, I rush over to him. ‘No, Dad, I’ll get another job. You retired from your bakery as the long hours were exhausting you. I don’t want you to work full time. I don’t care what I have to do.’
He rescues his reading glasses which are hanging precariously off his head. ‘You said yourself there wasn’t much in the job centre when you asked on your way home.’
‘I’ll travel further afield then to find work.’
Turning, he cups my face. ‘You’ve been through enough lately, my sweet girl.’ Placing his hands on my shoulders, he ushers me towards the sofa. ‘Sit down. You look tired and that bruise on your head should be looked at by a doctor.’
‘Dad, I’m fine and I’m not lying on that sofa again. For the millionth time, I’m thirty-six, not eight. I don’t need to lie down.’ Batting his hands away, I go to stand by the window. There must be something I can do. If there’s one thing I hate in life, it’s not being able to pay my own way and the thought of my dad being worried about money is painful. He doesn’t have much these days after retiring.
Our old living room still looks the same with its huge stone fireplace and walls adorned with photos of Lucas and me.
Tucked away on a shelf opposite me is a single photo of Mum laughing into the camera. It’s easy to miss. Even after all these years Dad still finds her photo a painful reminder. In the photo Mum’s stood next to her best mate Rose outside a white-washed Greek villa. Rays of golden light are reflecting off Mum’s blonde hair and her blue eyes are twinkling like crazy. Rose is trying to tame her mass of wild red curls, which look like they are having a party of their own, while hanging on to Mum’s arm. They were on a girlie holiday to Greece which had been Mum’s idea after Frankie’s father had walked out. She and Rose had a great time and they came home with sunburnt shoulders, lots of photos and tales of drunken dancing in a little beach bar.
Wiping my face, I stare at Mum’s lovely kind face and the worst ideaeverpings into my head. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright and a sinking feeling take hold of my gut. I’m sure Mum’s smile just got a little wider. Dad’s living room sways. ‘I’ll manage The Little Love Café.’
‘Youwant to manage The Little Love Café?’ Dad is staring at me in horror.
The idea takes shape in my mind. ‘I will manage it.’ Turning my head, I catch sight of a photo of Frankie, Lucas and me standing on London Bridge, beaming into the camera. We’d been on one of Frankie’s fabulous day trips during one of his visits to where we used to live. My best mate needs my help. A memory from last night’s drinking session rushes back: Frankie crying on my shoulder because he wanted to be with his mum when she started chemo. My chest aches as my mind replays the sound of Frankie’s sobs. ‘If I manage it, Frankie can go to Sydney.’
Dad touches my arm. ‘Absolutely ridiculous. You can’t manage that place, Alice.’
‘Why not?’
‘Your emotions are in a mess. That place would be torturous. All I hear in the supermarket are tales of Frankie’s customers proposing to each other. Some days I wonder what Frankie is putting into their drinks. I can’t let you do this.’ Pointing me in the direction of the sofa, he steers me towards it. ‘Right, sit down. I didn’t tell you; I’ve subscribed to Netflix, and they have all your old favourite films.’
‘What films?’
Dad points the TV controller and searches forromcoms.
My reply is shrill and instantaneous. ‘I am NOT watching bloody romcoms!’ Oh my goodness, has Dad lost his mind? Seeing everyone fall in love on screen will have me blubbing over Scott again in no time.
Studying my face, Dad’s sea-grey eyes narrow. ‘If you want to manage Frankie’s café then I think you should watch these films.’
‘Dad, those films will make me depressed.’
A frustrated wail shoots out of Dad’s mouth. ‘Listen to yourself.’
‘Dad, I’m not a child anymore.’
He rushes over to me, clasping my hands. ‘I’ve only got you and Lucas, so it’s my job to look out for you. All those romantic couples will make you think about all that happened with your wedding, and you’ll get upset.’
Dad is right. I can’t stomach watching romcoms, so how the hell am I going to manage a romance-themed café?
