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“What does it mean?” Verity asked, her features crinkling as she smiled.
“What does what mean?”
“Alegra. What does the name mean?”
“Oh.” Allie frowned. “Joyful. It’s Italian.”
Verity nodded. “That’s what your mum wanted for you. Joy. Deep down she wouldn’t care what you called yourself if you were happy. The same as she didn’t actually care about you not liking cream.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes. I do.”
Allie took a deep breath and set about lathering jam onto her scone. “It’s so strange to think that I was coming here as a child and eating your yummy treats back then as well.”
“One of the lovely things about the cafe is watching the local kids grow up.” She gave Allie a pointed look. “Hugh has been coming in the cafe since he was a little boy as well.”
Allie winced. “Is this where you give me a lecture?”
“To start with, I’d like to know your intentions.”
“My intentions?” Allie beamed.
“Yes.” Verity looked thoroughly amused. “What’s going on between you and him. Give me the gossip!”
Allie felt her cheeks heat up. “I really like him,” she said. “We just seemed to click. I wasn’t planning on being around for long, so I never imagined getting involved with anyone, but it just kind of happened. The more time I spend with him, the more time I want to spend with him.”
“Are you still thinking you won’t be staying around for very long?”
“No.” Allie puffed out a breath. “Now I can’t stand the thought of leaving.”
“You need to tell Hugh the truth about the golf club.”
“I know.”
Verity’s features turned serious. “There was a couple of years – before Bill and I were a thing, and when I didn’t see much of my family – that Hugh invited me to spend Christmas with them. He’s that type of person, always concerned about others. I’d have a soft spot for him for that reason alone, but I also watched him grow up, and with everything he’s had to put up with it amazes me that he is the way he is and not bitter and cynical.”
“Because of his wife leaving him?” Allie asked.
“That was a kick in the teeth that no one needs, but even before that he had his mother to contend with …”
“He said they’re not in touch.”
Verity shook her head. “Honestly, you could never imagine such a sweet, easy child as Hugh. He was so polite and never gave anyone a moment’s trouble. Unfortunately, his mother was the most miserable, critical person I’ve ever known. As far as she was concerned, Hugh couldn’t do anything right. The only times I saw her speak to him was to berate him for something. And over the most trivial things – a few spilled crumbs, or not sitting properly on his chair. She was on at him constantly.” Verity sighed heavily. “There were many times I wanted to shake her and let her know how easy she had it with that sweet little boy.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen my fair share of ill-behaved kids in the cafe – Hugh’s friends included. Goodness, if Hugh’s mum had had a child like Damian or Leo she’d never have coped. Little rascals they were, the pair of them.”
Allie smiled at that, trying not to dwell on Hugh’s difficult childhood. “How did they end up friends, then?”
Verity beamed. “Because Damian was sort of a loveable rogue. Still is really. He’s got a heart of gold. I think he was about six or seven when he overheard his mum saying how sad it was that Hugh didn’t have any friends. Hugh’s mum worked at the school and most of the kids were terrified of her so never wanted to play with Hugh. Damian couldn’t stand the thought of any kid not having friends, so he decided to rectify the situation. Leo went along with whatever Damian did, even back then. The three of them have been inseparable ever since.”
Allie chewed on her scone. “Hugh mentioned something about Damian’s parents buying him a surfboard.”
“Hugh’s mum told him he wasn’t allowed to surf because it was just for hooligans.” Verity rolled her eyes again. “Awful woman. Anyway, Damian’s parents let him keep a board at their place. He used to have to sneak off to go surfing. That was Hugh being rebellious.”
“What’s his dad like?” Allie asked.
Verity scratched at her forehead. “I suppose you could describe him as quiet and mild-mannered. Personally, I’d call him a wet blanket.” She smiled briefly. “Speaking of wet blankets … please tell me you’re going to do something about Kevin.”
