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She looks up from her pad and beams. ‘We’re neighbours, then! Yours must be the flat that Steve used to live in. He moved up to London a month or two ago. My other half and I live in the rear flat above the café, next to you. Daisy, who owns this place, lives with her fiancé in the flat in front of ours, and then there’s elusive Elliott the other side of you. The Singhs, who own the pharmacy next door, live the other side of us, but we don’t see much of them, and I have no idea who lives in the flat in front of yours or Elliott’s. Is your partner not with you this morning?’
‘Umm, I don’t have a partner,’ I tell her, while trying to digest the information overload she’s just delivered. ‘I moved here on my own.’
‘Oh! I’m so sorry,’ she blushes. ‘It’s just that we’ve seen a man coming and going, bringing in furniture and stuff, so I’m afraid I assumed…’
‘Don’t worry,’ I tell her, as understanding dawns. ‘That was Gerald. He works for my father and was just helping me out, doing all the flat-pack assembly and stuff.’
‘That makes sense,’ she replies, and her smile is back. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, he did look a bit old for you.’
I can’t help laughing at her candour. ‘I’m Sophie,’ I tell her.
‘Bronwyn,’ she replies. ‘Now, if you want to take a seat and relax, I’ll bring everything over to you when it’s ready.’
While I’m waiting, I take in my surroundings. The café is bright and cheery, with lots of pictures on the walls. Each one has a little label next to it with a price on it, so they’re obviously for sale. If I thought I was getting special friendly treatment from Bronwyn, I’m soon proved wrong; she’s exactly the same with everyone. Quite a few of the customers appear to be regulars; she greets them enthusiastically by name and seems to be able to predict their orders without them having to say anything. The whole place is buzzing with conversation, which is nice in one way, but also brings my isolation into sharp focus. Momentarily overwhelmed, I toy with the idea of getting up and leaving, but Bronwyn appears with my coffee just before I do, and I’m actually quite hungry. There’s no sign of Matt, the guy who lent me the van. He probably wouldn’t remember me anyway.
I sip my coffee, which is as delicious as it smells and, after a few minutes, Bronwyn brings my eggs Benedict. My stomach growls with anticipation as I spot the beautifully poached egg sitting on top of thickly sliced ham, with the muffin peeking out from underneath. The whole thing is covered with just the right amount of hollandaise sauce.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Bronwyn tells me as she sets it down, ‘but I was just chatting with Daisy in the kitchen, and I mentioned that you’d moved in. The four of us usually get together on a Saturday evening, for something to eat and a few glasses of wine. If you’re free, we’d love you to join us tonight.’
‘Are you sure?’ I ask. ‘I wouldn’t want to impose.’
‘Of course I’m sure!’ she laughs. ‘It’s no big deal, honestly. Consider it a welcome thing.’
‘In that case, I’d love to,’ I tell her.
‘Excellent. It’s our turn to host, so if you ring the bell for Flat 2b at around seven, that would be perfect. Is there anything you don’t eat?’ She glances at my breakfast. ‘I’m guessing you’re not a vegetarian.’
‘Unless you’re planning on serving oysters, I’m pretty easy. Can I bring anything?’
‘Just yourself. See you later!’
After my breakfast and my conversation with Bronwyn, I feel even more buoyed up. I’m just letting myself back into the flat when my neighbour comes out of his front door.
‘You took it then,’ he observes.
‘How could I not have done after your wholehearted recommendation?’ I smile, to indicate that I’m joking.
‘Erm, yes. Sorry about that. You caught me a little bit by surprise, and I’m afraid I babbled a bit.’ He blushes slightly.
‘It’s fine. It really was useful. I don’t know anything about Sevenoaks, so it was handy to get the lowdown from a local.’
‘I wouldn’t exactly call myself that, but I’m pleased I could help. I’m Elliott, by the way.’
‘Sophie.’ I hold out my hand and we shake, but then another awkward silence descends as neither of us appear to know what to say or do next. Eventually, he breaks it.
‘Well, I’m off to the supermarket. I’ll see you around, yeah?’
With that, he bounds down the stairs and out of the door. I make a mental note to ask Bronwyn about him later. I remember her referring to him as ‘elusive Elliott’, so there’s obviously a story there. I’m also curious to meet Bronwyn’s partner; she seems such a free spirit that I find it hard to imagine what sort of man she would go for. I doubt there’s ever a dull moment when Bronwyn’s around.
* * *
I take my time exploring Sevenoaks and the surrounding area. I drive up into the centre of town and wander up and down the streets and alleys until I’ve got a pretty good idea of where everything is. As it’s a Saturday, there is a market on the High Street, so I stop and buy myself some olives, cheese, and a loaf of artisan bread. I also pop into the Waitrose at the top of the High Street and buy a couple of bottles of wine to take with me tonight. I know Bronwyn said not to bring anything, but I can’t turn up empty-handed; it would just feel wrong. On the other main street, I discover a home store that sells everything from nails to cookware, and I take the opportunity to buy a couple of items I forgot about in my planning, including salt and pepper mills. I’m happily loading my purchases into the car when my phone rings. I glance at the caller ID and my heart sinks. It’s Rosalind.
‘Hello?’ I try to keep my voice as neutral as possible, but it probably still sounds hostile.
‘Sophie, dear, it’s Rosalind. I know our last conversation didn’t end on the best of notes, but I realise you were probably upset and so I’ve decided to forgive you. I wanted to have a little chat, woman to woman.’
Evil old witch to woman, more like.
