‘What do you want to do about this?’ asked Clemmie tentatively. ‘Do we share their story?’
‘No.’ Betty’s voice was firm. ‘This isn’t for the world to know. It never was. If it was meant to be known, they would have told itthemselves. Instead, they chose secrecy, and we need to respect that.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Clemmie. ‘This is a part of history. This changes things. Who Henry really was, what he sacrificed…’
‘What would that do now?’ Betty’s eyes met hers, steady and unwavering. ‘It would turn their love, their choices, their heartbreak into nothing more than a spectacle. This was their life. Not some tale for people to pick apart. They built something here, something safe. It was their truth to keep, and I won’t be the one to undo it.’
‘I agree,’ added Oliver, looking between the pair of them.
Betty closed the diary. ‘We let them rest. We protect them, just as they protected each other.’
The three of them sat in silence for a long moment, the weight of Betty’s decision settling between them.
Some secrets were never meant to be told.
This one would remain safe, for ever.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The Café on the Coast had been busy all day, the usual stream of tourists and locals keeping Clemmie on her feet from morning until closing. As soon as the doors had shut, she’d been even busier preparing for tonight. Oliver’s last night. Their last dinner before he made his way to the airport. In the last half-hour she had swamped the café with candles and placed a jam jar of wildflowers in the centre of the chosen table.
She heard the bell above the door jingle, and Oliver stepped inside. He held out his arms and immediately they hugged each other tight.
‘You okay?’ he asked.
Clemmie nodded, swallowing a lump, telling herself to enjoy the evening, and that somehow it would all work out.
‘I hope your phone is charged because the only break you’ll have from me is when I’m on that nine-hour flight. I’ll be FaceTiming you from the airport, the bar and just before take-off,’ he said, lightening the mood.
‘Fully charged,’ she replied, pulling away slowly.
‘What is that I can smell? What are we eating?’
‘Shepherd’s pie– and for dessert it had to be clementine torte. Are you having one glass of wine?’
‘As much as I would love to share a drink with you, I would be tempted to have more and that would mean missing the flight.’
‘I best get you drinking then,’ she teased. ‘There’s water on the table. I won’t be a minute.’
Returning to the kitchen, she watched him through the door, her heart tightening in that awful, bittersweet way she’d grown too familiar with. He was leaving. They’d talked about her visiting, of course. But life had a way of filling up faster than you realised. The Café on the Coast had become the new must-visit spot, her days swallowed by tourists, orders and the endless demand for her clementine torte. The cookbook was coming out at the end of the month, an actual book with her name on it. She was thrilled– of course she was– but as she looked at Oliver sitting at the table in her candlelit café, she wondered if success always came with a price.
‘This looks and smells amazing, Clemmie,’ he said softly as she placed the food on the table. ‘Is this going to be in the cookbook?’
She smiled. ‘I wanted our last night to be special and yes, it is.’
‘I promise there will be others.’ He reached across the table and held her hand. Neither of them wanted to let go. ‘I want to make it work.’
‘I do, too, but I can still be sad you’re going.’
‘I know, I feel the same.’
‘Let’s eat,’ she said, pulling her hand away.
They ate slowly, lingering over every bite. The conversation ebbed and flowed, light and teasing one moment, quiet and deep the next. But despite the chemistry between them, there was an underlying sadness neither of them could dispel.
‘You must be exhausted,’ Oliver said, taking a sip of water. ‘The café has been non-stop since the competition. Ibarely got through the door when I popped in earlier. I swear, I saw people queuing outside before you even opened.’
Clemmie laughed. ‘It’s been madness, but the best kind. And it’s only going to get busier. The recipes have been sent to the publisher. It’s officially happening. The book will be out in no time.’
