A smile touched Rufus’s face like a watery sun as he selected an enormous mug and carried it to the coffee machine. ‘Too late for scones. Got cupcakes, lemon drizzle—’
‘Damnation. Is one of those cupcakes chocolate? I need something to sweeten me up before I teach tap to unwilling little girls and boys in Hove.’ She glanced around the tables.
Honor lifted her hand. ‘Hi, Clarissa.’
Clarissa waved back. ‘Oh, Honor. Sunburn better? May I join you?’ She hooked her bag over the back of the other chair and nearly snatched the coffee and cupcake from Rufus’s tray.
‘Much.’ Honor smiled at Rufus as he put down in front of her a white china teapot, matching cup and saucer, a tiny milk jug and some sachets of sugar. ‘Thanks.’
‘Everything OK at the bungalow? I can send Martyn round if you need help with anything.’ Clarissa blew over the surface of her coffee. Her hair curled beside her cheekbones and although she set about her cupcake with deadly efficiency, she didn’t look as if she carried a spare pound. If she’d given birth to Martyn at sixteen she must be in her late forties but her skin was smooth. Maybe it was because she didn’t smile enough to get wrinkles.
Honor poured her tea. ‘Everything’s great. I love the view over the ocean.’
‘You wanting the place for four months was a bonus because it cuts down on tons of paperwork and stuff. Have no idea what I’ll do if I can’t let it in winter. Panic.’ She fired out her sentences between bites.
Honor picked up the fork that came with her cherry and almond tart. When she took her first mouthful of pastry, the cherry leaking bloodily through the cream, she couldn’t suppress an, ‘Mmm . . .’
‘Good?’ Clarissa nodded. ‘She’s a genius with pastry, Robina.’ She indicated her cupcake. ‘And cake. Robina’s the one with the dark curls.’
In the interests of local community harmony, Honor elected not to ask Clarissa if she knew about Robina’s passion for Martyn. ‘She’s Rufus’s mom?’
Robina, overhearing, looked up with a beaming smile. ‘Yes, he’s my little Ru — Sophie, can you put the icing in the fridge, please? — and he helps us out here when he’s not at school.’
Honor glanced at her watch. ‘Isn’t it school time, now?’
Robina put down the icing bag and picked up a whisk and a bowl to cradle in her arm. ‘Only sports day, so I kept him home. We’re a person short because Kirsty, who usually works here, is in hospital with one of those strange viruses. She’s really ill, poor Kirst. So Rufus is more use here than running round a track. Aren’t you, little Ru?’
Rufus shrugged, face impassive as he accepted money from the mums and toddlers as they left.
Honor suspected Rufus would have enjoyed sports day, given the opportunity.
‘So.’ Clarissa wiped the last of the cupcake from her fingers with a jolly yellow napkin and sank back into her chair with her coffee. ‘How are you liking England?’
‘I love it.’ Honor smiled, even though Clarissa didn’t. ‘I’m going to make myself a real pig over English history, that’s for sure. I’ve been browsing the Pretty Old store, up the street, lusting after an album of postcards sent home by an artillery staff sergeant in World War I. But I have to resist spending that much money until I get a job. The cards are called silks and they were embroidered by Frenchwomen for the servicemen—’
‘How much did she try and skin you for?’
Honor halted. ‘Excuse me?’
Clarissa fished around in her bag for money. ‘Peggy, at Pretty Old. What did she want to charge you for the album?’
‘Two hundred pounds.’
Clarissa jumped up, dropping money for the cupcake and coffee on the table. ‘Got to run. See you.’
‘OK—’ Honor was left talking to empty air as Clarissa let the door bang behind her. She shrugged and turned back to her pie.
Behind the counter, Rufus washed up as the woman who Robina had addressed as Sophie called, ‘Remember to rinse everything under the hot, Ru,’ which, as Honor could see, he was doing already. Rufus said nothing but pulled a gargoyle face at Sophie’s back, making Honor choke.
He met her gaze with one eye through a gap in his hair and a corner of his mouth quirked up before he turned back to his steaming sink.
Honor was getting ready to pay her bill when Clarissa burst back in. ‘Fifty quid?’
Honor jumped. ‘What?’
‘Peggy said she’s sorry, she thought you were American. You can have the album for fifty quid.’
Honor felt her hackles rise. ‘I am American.’
