He nods and heads out into the main room of the café. I smile as I watch him wander off, gathering plates and trays and chatting to customers as he goes. He’s a natural with people, is Sam – even if he has no interest whatsoever in hospitality, he’d be brilliant at it. I wonder if he’ll end up with a glittering showbusiness career instead if hisCharity Shop Challengeidea takes off.
Thinking about that, of course, makes me start thinking about Zack. I’ve been quite careful all morning not to allow myself to think about him – I have enjoyed the sensation of feeling floaty and excited, and have most definitely had a smile on my face. But I haven’t as yet gone down the route of considering when I will see him next, and what will happen then, and how absolutely mindblowing it might be if last night’s taster menu was anything to go by. I am at work, and it would just be plain rude. Nobody should look that excited over a tuna mayo sub.
Now, though, as I serve the last lunch order and see that Sam has everything under control, I nip into the kitchens for a quick break. I get out my phone and feel a silly little flutter of disappointment when there are no messages from him. It’s sillyfor a couple of reasons – first of all, because I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl. Secondly, because the wifi and phone reception in Starshine Cove are notoriously poor, and he could have sent fifty messages without any of them even landing.
I consider sending one of my own, but both of the above reasons still hold firm, and I don’t bother. I’ll be done here at about four, and I’m sure I’ll see him then – Starshine isn’t big enough for anybody to hide in, that’s for sure.
We get a busy spell after that, which is probably a good thing. We sell out of my pea and mint soup, and the smoked salmon and asparagus quiche flies from the shelves. The Black Forest gateau is mere rubble by the end, along with the carrot cake and half the raspberry pavlova. The coffee machine works overtime, and the drinks fridge is looking pretty sad by the time we wave goodbye to our last customer of the day.
As Sam turns the door sign to closed, we both breathe a sigh of relief before we begin the tidy-up routine. This is the least fun part of my working life, but I know it has to be done or I’ll regret it tomorrow. I clear and wipe and wash, and do the food safety checklist I was teaching Marcy and Sophie not so long ago.
I help Sam restock the fridge, and get some toffee fudge cheesecake out of the freezer ready for tomorrow. I chat to Sam as I work, but my mind isn’t really on our conversation, or on the jobs that I am doing. My mind is very much elsewhere, and mid-way through passing Sam some cloudy lemonade bottles, I decide that enough is enough.
“Stick these in and we’re done,” I announce, standing up and stretching my back. I might be feeling a little giddy today, but my back is still fifty-five years old.
“Are you sure? What about the Cokes?”
“I’ll do it first thing tomorrow. Nobody asks for a chilled Coke in the morning, it’ll be fine. I’ve had enough for one day. Jog on, sunshine – go and have fun!”
“Aye aye, captain,” he says, giving me a little salute. “Lilly and Meg will be out of school by now. Might go and see if they fancy a trip to McDonald’s with me.”
“Is there even a remote chance that they won’t?”
“Based on previous evidence, it seems highly unlikely. Their collection of Happy Meal toys has got much bigger since I moved in. What are you up to tonight?”
“That’d be telling,” I reply, raising my eyebrows in an attempt to be mysterious.
“Ooh-la-la,” he says, fanning his face with his hands. “Sounds interesting! See you same time tomorrow?”
“No, actually, Sam – see you at the right time tomorrow!”
“Absolutely. Scout’s honour.”
Once he leaves, I head off to the ladies’, where I keep a little emergency spruce-up kit in a cupboard, glamorously located next to the spare loo roll. I spray on a bit of deodorant, then run a brush through my hair before I hoist it up with combs at the sides. I still have a sparkle in my eyes when I look in the mirror, and give my curls a littlezhuzhas well.
“Okay,” I say out loud to myself. “What now, gorgeous?”
It’s a good question, and not one I have an immediate answer for. Things were a little chaotic last night, and neither Zack nor I actually made any definite arrangements for when and where we would see each other again. It was left loose, and now I’m a bit at a loss as to where to head next. After a normal working day, I usually pick one of three options – I go straight home, I go to see George or Ella, or I go to the pub.
Today, I should really go home. If I go home, I’ll be able to check in on Marcy and Sophie, and make sure Dan survived his night of barn-surfing. I could also call at Miranda’s on the way, and see if James is there. Yes, that would most definitely be the most sensible option.
Obviously, having considered all the angles, I grab my bag, switch off the lights, and head straight for the Starshine Inn. Being sensible has never exactly been my strong suit.
It’s a beautiful day now, the air crisp and fresh in that way it can be after a storm, as though the wind and the rain have blown everything clean. The sky is still a vibrant blue, and the sun is casting a golden glow over the cottages that line the green. I wave to Trevor as I walk past his Emporium, and smile as I pass the Bettys’ home next to their bakery. They’re addicted to uber-violent movies about Navy SEALs or the SAS, and I hear the merry sound of a sub-machine gun blasting out from their TV as I walk by. Everyone’s happy place looks different, I guess.
I take a deep breath as I pause outside the door to the inn, realising that I am feeling a delicious blend of nerves and excitement. I am jittery, like my insides are skittering around. Classic butterflies in my tummy, I suppose. I have no idea why – I am simply about to do a completely normal thing and pop into my local. There is usually someone in here who I know, and if not, I can always sit at the bar and chat to Jake if he’s working, or his bartender Matt if he’s not.
This is not a big deal, I tell myself, as I push open the door. This is all totally one hundred per cent normal. I just wish my body was listening.
The place is busy but not full, and I spy a few familiar faces as well as a group of walkers tucking into pints of ale and plates of sandwiches. Starshine is on a popular coastal walking path, and more people seem to find us through hiking than driving. The jukebox is playingIt’s Raining Menby The Weather Girls, which of course is a bit likeWalking on Sunshine– impossible to not sing along to.
I see Jake behind the bar and he gives me a wave as he serves a young couple with an adorable Springer Spaniel. I wave back, and glance around the place with a bit more scrutiny. I let myeyes roam over the little alcove seats, and the tiny side rooms with only one table in each. Not that I’m searching for anyone in particular, of course.
Once Jake has finished, I wander to the bar and perch myself on one of the high stools. I’m so short that my feet dangle and swing, which always makes me feel like I’m at school.
“What can I get you?” asks Jake, smiling as he joins me.
“Oh, I don’t know… what do you think?”
