Miss Clemmie Rose, The Café on the Coast, Puffin Island.
‘What is it?’ Clemmie asked, her heart starting to race.
‘Open it and see!’ Betty said, barely able to contain herself. She moved to the window, pulling back the curtains, ‘I think it’s got something to do with the gleaming black Bentley parked outside.’
Clemmie gasped. ‘What?’
‘There’s a chauffeur!’ Betty said, spinning back towards her. ‘You need to hurry. No cars can park on the lane for long.’
Clemmie’s fingers trembled as she tore open the envelope. Inside, there was a card, and a handwritten note from none other than Oliver. She read aloud:
Dear Clemmie,
I hope you’ve had a moment to catch your breath after all the excitement. I’ve barely stopped thinking about your torte or the chaos of that puffin… but mostly about you.
This is a personal invitation just for you. I’d love for you to come to London for a couple of days ahead of the royal garden party and spend some time with me. A bit of shopping, champagne and seeing the city sounds like just the ticket, don’t you think? I’ve arranged for a car to collect you and take you straight to the Royalwood Cottage, where you’ll be staying as my guest.
So, pack your bags. London is calling, please say yes!
Oliver x
Clemmie’s jaw dropped. ‘Royalwood Cottage? I can’t believe this!’
Betty clapped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. ‘Oh, Clemmie, this is the opportunity of a lifetime! You can’t say no.’
Clemmie hesitated, the excitement warring with anxiety. ‘But… I can’t just drop everything and go! What about the café? I don’t even have a dress for the garden party. I can’t show up looking like I just rolled off Puffin Island!’
‘You’ll get a dress in London,’ Betty said firmly. ‘You’ve got time! There’s no better place to shop than the city. As for the café, don’t you worry about that. I can manage.’
Clemmie bit her lip. ‘But it’s been so busy lately. What if?—’
‘No buts!’ Betty interrupted, planting her hands on her hips. ‘Clemmie Rose, you’ve worked so hard for this. You deserve to go, and I won’t let you miss out on this chance because you’re worried about me. I’ve got Amelia and Pete to help, and no doubt Dilly will be around if I need her. We’ll be fine.’
Clemmie looked at her grandmother, who was practically glowing with pride and determination. She felt a lump form in her throat.
Betty crossed the room to sit beside her. She took Clemmie’s hands in hers. ‘Listen to me. You’ve always dreamed of something like this. I remember you as a little girl, twirling around in that wedding dress and pretending you were having tea with the Queen at the palace. Well, now’s your chance to not only attend the royal garden party but also stay at Royalwood Cottage.’
Clemmie looked up, her eyes sparkling. ‘Okay! I’ll go!’ she squealed. ‘I can’t believe this is happening!’ she cried, throwing her arms around Betty. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’
Betty laughed, hugging her tightly. ‘You don’t have time to waste. Jump in the shower, pack a bag and get moving! London’s waiting for you.’
Clemmie pulled back, her excitement bubbling over. ‘Okay, okay! I’m going!’ She darted into the bathroom, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and joy.
Clemmie stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed, the excitement of the morning setting her heart racing. She wrapped herself in a towel, her mind whirling as she began chaotically tossing items into her suitcase. Dresses, shoes and her favourite floral scarf tumbled in as she debated what she might need for a few days in London. After finally zipping the bulging suitcase shut, she grabbed her handbag, glanced at herself in the mirror and gave her reflection a grin.
She bounded downstairs, suitcase in hand, her cheeks flushed with excitement. The scent of freshly baked scones wafted through the air as she entered the café to find Amelia and Betty laughing over a pot of tea. Betty looked up and beamed at Clemmie.
‘Well, don’t you look like a woman ready to take on the world,’ Betty said proudly.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be, but I’ve got to send an email before I go. I need to send the torte recipe to the royal household, so it can be served at the garden party!’
Five minutes later, the email was sent and Clemmie was standing next to her suitcase. She held out her hand to show it was visibly shaking. ‘I’m so nervous!’
Amelia grinned. ‘Royalwood Cottage with Oliver. I mean, Clemmie, this is next-level exciting. You have to tell useverything when you get back. Every detail. Every moment and in the meantime, send photos if it’s allowed.’
Clemmie laughed, trying to play it cool, though the thought of spending time alone with Oliver in a historic royal setting made her stomach do tiny somersaults. ‘I’m not sure there’ll be much to tell. It’s just a couple of days, shopping, champagne, maybe a little sightseeing… then a royal garden party!’
Amelia nodded towards the life-sized cutout of the Queen, which was still stationed proudly in the corner of the café. ‘I think you should put Queenie in the car and take her along for the ride. She deserves a little holiday too.’
