Page 84

Rita nearly choked on her tea. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I flirt, I cook, I’ve practically turned into a Stepford wife and not a glimmer of fancy.’

‘Well maybe you’re just not his type.’

Jilly looked scandalised. ‘Cheeky cow.’

Rita burst out laughing.

‘Anyway,’ Jilly continued dramatically, ‘it’s been a lovely distraction from Joel and old Maxy boy’s moving on after the market ends, so it would’ve been too complicated anyway.’

Her expression softened. ‘Truthfully? I’m happy, Rita. Happy down here. Happy I’ve been accepted. Happy I’ve made proper friends…’ She smiled warmly. ‘Of which I class you my best.’ Rita felt a warmth rush through her. ‘Love can wait,’ Jilly added. ‘But if some young toy boy wants a new pastime, I’m certainly not against a bit of community outreach.’

Rita laughed aloud. ‘I love you, Jilly Cooper, and please don’t ever change.’

‘Looks like I haven’t.’ Jilly laughed with her. ‘And I love you too, you soft arse, you.’

With Jilly’s words racing through her mind, Rita pushed open the door to Betty’s. A gust of warmth hit her straight away, thick with the delectable smell of coffee, cinnamon and all sorts of festive goodies. Christmas music played low from somewhere unseen. Inside it was packed. Chairs scraped, cups clinked, the low hum of conversation layered over the hiss of the coffee machine that never really seemed to stop. Someone laughed too loudly near the counter. Someone else was debating whether they wanted a vanilla shot or not in their coffee.

Behind the counter, Betty’s husband was in full flow, Christmas apron on, slightly crooked festive hat perched on his head like he’d forgotten it was there. He was moving fast, balancing plates in one hand while calling coffee orders over the noise, cheeky and efficient all at once.

‘Rita!’ he called when he spotted her. ‘The lovely Rita Jory, I’d have made sure to be carrying some mistletoe if I’d known you were coming today.’

‘God loves a trier,’ Betty whispered out of the corner of her mouth to Rita, who broke into a wide smile.

Getting the gist of his wife’s swipe, Derek Bloom grinned and slid a tray of dirty cups and plates along the counter without breaking stride. ‘I only have eyes for you, my love, you know that.’ He batted his lashes with exaggerated devotion.

Max was just on his way out with a tray of takeaway coffees in hand.

‘How’s it all going?’ Rita raised her voice above the din.

‘Boss, thanks,’ Max replied, shifting aside to let her pass. He nodded to the tray. ‘Keeping the stallholders happy, you know. A rebook is so much easier than a new sale.’

Rita gave him a quick once-over. The trendy cap sat slightly tilted on his head, a cheeky glint in his eye.

‘Boss? Look at you, picking up your landlady’s lingo already.’

He huffed a small laugh. ‘I was born in the Wirral. Moved to London when I was ten. Private school knocked the Scouse out of me.’

‘Hmm,’ Rita said, unconvinced. ‘A man of mystery, Max Rogers. That’s what you are.’ But there it was again, that flicker of recognition.

He rolled his eyes, but she was already moving on.

Rita suddenly noticed Sennen sitting alone at a table in the corner, her laptop open in front of her. Two coffee cups sat on the table. One empty in the place opposite, hers barely touched. A plate with crumbs split in the middle, a shared moment that had already moved on, perhaps?

‘Sennen love.’ She approached carefully. ‘You alright?’

The age-old Jory woman response of ‘I’m fine’ came far too quickly.

Rita raised an eyebrow. ‘Fine?’

Sennen didn’t look up from the screen. ‘Yes. Fine, Mum.’ She looked down at her laptop. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Busy and clearly got out of the wrong side of bed,’ Rita announced before she could stop herself. She grimaced as soon as the words left her mouth.

Sennen let out a loud huff, clearly unimpressed, while her mother silently ignored Jilly’s advice about giving it a bit of time before saying anything at all.

‘I saw Taran Brimble dropping you off last night,’ she said carefully.