‘Oo. Smashing.’ She sits in the offered seat and Dad noisily drags out the chair opposite and slumps into it.
I force myself to give them a bright smile and turn to go and set up the tiered cake stand with the sandwiches, mini scones, brownies, and cupcakes I have ready.
‘This had better not take too long. It wasn’t on our schedule.’ I can hear Dad muttering to Mum. ‘We’re only supposed to be calling in for ten minutes because you wanted to say hello.’
The tips of my ears are red hot as Jill and I load the goodies onto the cake stand.
‘I can’t believe he speaks to you both like that,’ says Jill as she glances back at my parents where Dad is still grumbling away. ‘My mum’d have a fit if Dad spoke to her like that.’
I speed up placing the brownies on the bottom tier of the cake stand and blink my eyes fast to keep focused.
‘Sorry.’ Jill squeezes my arm. ‘None of my business. I should keep my bloody mouth shut.’
‘It’s fine. He’s a bit grumpy from the drive.’ I know Jill doesn’t believe me, but to her credit she keeps quiet. Dad is still bending Mum’s ear when I reappear with the food and she’s rubbing the bottom of her T-shirt between her fingers.
‘It all looks nice, but we’ll have a plain pot of tea and none of that floral rubbish. Your mum and I have a meal booked when we get to the hotel, and it cost a fortune. I don’t want to ruin my appetite.’
I rub my nose hard to keep my composure. ‘I’ll go and get you a pot.’
When I get back with the tea, Dad’s gone to the toilet.
‘I’m sorry, Ellie. I didn’t realise you were doing this or I’d havetold you we had an early meal booked. Dad’s just anxious to get to the hotel. I’m sure he thinks this is wonderful.’
I wish with all my heart that I believed her. When The Beach House was thriving, with queues out of the door, Dad conveniently couldn’t find any time to visit, even though Mum kept promising they would. Now he’s chosen to visit at the worst possible time.
Mum pours the English Breakfast tea into her cup though I know she would have preferred Earl Grey. ‘This looks lovely. I’ll have a little before John says we’ve got to go.’ And to demonstrate her willingness, she picks up a triangular tuna sandwich and takes a bird-sized bite.
‘Can’t you put off the meal until later?’ I say, pulling out a chair to sit next to her. ‘Then you could enjoy it properly. I made the brownies with the chopped walnuts just like you like them.’
She gives a tight smile. ‘Your dad’s golfing with Terry and Ray tomorrow morning, so he doesn’t want to be up late.’
An angry pain zigzags between my temples. Why on earth can’t she stand up to him? She surely can’t enjoy being a doormat. Just because Dad doesn’t want to stay and eat, why shouldn’t she, especially after all the effort I’ve put in.
I frown. ‘I thought this was your weekend away together? What are you doing if he’s playing golf?’
‘I’ll try to meet Sandra for lunch or I’ll read. I brought a couple of books.’
Dad comes back to the table just as Greg breezes in through the door. He sees I’m with customers, so gives me a nod and walks straight up to the counter.
‘Try a sandwich, Dad. They’re lovely and they’re only tiny, you won’t ruin your appetite,’ I say, getting to my feet.
Dad peels back the corner of one of his sandwiches and glares at it as if it’s insulted him. ‘Is this packet roast beef?’
I wrinkle my nose in a wince. ‘Well, yes. But I got the best stuff.’
‘She couldn’t roast a whole joint to make you sandwiches,’ Mum says with a forced laugh.
‘Humph.’ Dad lets go of the bread and pushes the sandwich away from him.
‘What about a scone? They’re homemade.’ I’m almost pleading with him. ‘There’s local blackberry jam to go with it.’
Dad takes the napkin off his plate and there’s a flutter in my tummy at the hope he’s going to give something a try. He reaches across and picks up the scone nearest to him, examining it from all angles before putting it on his plate. ‘This does look alright. I suppose eating one thing won’t hurt.’
Mum gives me an encouraging smile and I give her a relieved one back. I leave them to it and go to Greg and Jill, who are chatting at the counter.
‘I’ll get off now,’ says Jill, with a glance at the clock.
She grabs her things and without Greg asking, I set to making him a coffee. Even though it’s lovely to see him, my smiled greeting is muted.
