She hadn’t thought about her dad in a long time. In fact, she hadn’t seen him for about five years. Occasionally he would come back from Spain with his wife for a visit and Ellie would meet them for a drink or a meal. There would be a polite conversation, catching up on the holidays they’d been on, how work was going for Ellie, how the house in Spain was. But that was the extent of their contact.
Not even after Ellie’s mum had died had her dad stepped up or come to visit her more. He’d attended the funeral, and checked that Ellie was still living in university accommodation. He’d offered that she could come and stay with him and Gloria in Spain if she’d wanted, after graduation, but she hadn’t wanted to: Ellie had got the distinct impression that if she’d stayed longer than a weekend, Gloria would have made her feel unwelcome.
Ellie wandered up to the stone steps that led up to a road bordering the beach and climbed them. A row of slightly dilapidated Victorian terraced houses faced out onto the beach on the other side of the road, and a sign indicated that a narrow lane led onto the high street. She followed it, smiling at a jogger as he passed by, and an elderly lady with a shopping trolley who gave her a friendly ‘Good morning’.
Her chest was still sore, but she had more energy today. Still, she would take it easy. A coffee and maybe some cake at the café was a good place to start – especially if it was as nice as Fee had said it was.
Ellie turned onto the small high street, walking past the Shipwreck and Smuggling Museum. She thought about going in, but the promise of coffee was too attractive.
A tinkle of bells accompanied Ellie’s entry to Serafina’s Café; she noticed a string of small brass bells on a colourful string attached to the inside of the wooden door, which had large glass panels. The front of the café was also glass-panelled, meaning that she had been able to see into its cosy interior.
Inside, two elderly ladies sat at a corner table; a young family occupied a leather sofa nearby; and three women were having an animated conversation, lounging in easy chairs with their coffees. Fleetwood Mac played in the background, and the chocolatey smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air. Ellie’s stomach grumbled. She didn’t know why: she’d only just had breakfast, but apparently the sea air was doing something to her.
She approached the counter, eyes widening at the huge cakes that sat on the counter under glass domes.
‘All vegan, would you believe.’ The woman behind the counter smiled at her, adjusting her apron. ‘Made over the road at Maude’s Fine Buns. And we have a selection of individual patisserie too.’ She pointed to a tray of very professional-looking iced custard slices andmille feuille. ‘Otherwise, we’ve got a lush brunch menu today. Eggs Florentine, pancakes, bacon, you name it.’ She pointed at a chalk board behind her that listed the menu. ‘Different every day.’
‘Wow. I don’t know what to choose.’ Ellie stared at the board. ‘I mean… I have had breakfast already, so I probably don’t need brunch.’
‘Never mind needing it. Do you fancy it? I love the eggs Florentine myself.’ The woman laughed. ‘And it’s pay-what-you-can, too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before, right?’
‘No, we just got here. My friend and I are staying in the beach house for a week or two until our motorhome gets fixed,’ Ellie explained. ‘Okay. I think I’ve decided. Can I have a flat white, the pancakes and bacon?’
‘Of course you can! I’ll bring it to you.’ The woman gestured around the café. ‘Sit anywhere. It’ll just be a few minutes. You’re staying at Mara’s place, then?’
‘The one on the cove, yeah,’ Ellie replied.
‘Oh, it’s lovely. Magpie Cove’s good for the soul. I’m Lila, by the way.’
‘Ellie.’
Lila reached over the counter and handed Ellie her coffee. ‘Go on and find a seat, I’ll bring the rest.’
Good for the soul. She didn’t feel like her soul had received much attention over the years. She wasn’t religious. She wasn’t ‘spiritual’ in the way that some of her friends described themselves, doing yoga and meditation and vegan retreats in Goa. She wouldn’t have known where to start.
She sat down in a brown velvet easy chair which had a comfy tapestry cushion resting against the arm. Maybe what her soul needed was a break. In which case, she was having one.
Box ticked.
After brunch – which was completely delicious, and left Ellie feeling stuffed – she wandered up the high street, looking in the windows and enjoying not having anywhere to be.
She admired the small independent butcher’s shop, and bought some sausages for her and Fee’s dinner, plus, on a whim, a leg of lamb that she thought they could slow roast in the Aga. On special occasions, Ellie’s mum would make her famous roast lamb, and Ellie remembered how to do it: turn the oven up full, rub the lamb in olive oil, salt and pepper, lie it on a bed of garlic cloves and rosemary (with the same on top), cover it with foil, put it in the oven and immediately turn the temperature down, then leave it for four hours.
It was a simple recipe, but it always came out perfectly. As a child, Ellie remembered begging her mother to make her special lamb more often, but it was only as an adult that she realised that lamb was expensive, and her mum probably couldn’t afford have afforded to buy it very often.
She had overpaid for brunch in the café, remembering that it was a pay-what-you-can community café, and mindful that there would likely be many patrons who couldn’t afford to pay much at all. Ellie lived a high-flying lifestyle now, but she had never forgotten where she’d come from, and she could see, walking around, that Magpie Cove had plenty of families that didn’t have much. Despite that, it seemed to be a happy place, where people stopped to chat in the street and looked out for each other.
Next, she called in at the antiques shop and browsed happily among the candlesticks and the foxed mirrors, imagining buying some pieces for her flat. Generally, her taste was modern and sleek, but there were some things that caught her eye: a vintage crystal chandelier and a high-backed mahogany chair with elaborate carvings on the back. The owner, a bearded man about her age in a faded band T-shirt and bottle-green cardigan – despite the glorious weather – told her that he had recently inherited the shop from his grandfather and had decided to reopen it. Ellie took his card: perhaps she would come back for the chandelier if she was feeling daring.
She wandered back along the high street, taking in the sights and smells of the village. It was late lunchtime before she remembered that she had promised to bring some lunch back for Fee, and rushed back into the café to get something.
‘Hey! You almost ’ad me over there.’ Mark Gardner held out a hand to protect Ellie from knocking his coffee out of his grip. He was standing just inside the door of the café.
‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry,’ Ellie apologised, mortified.
‘No ’arm done.’ He nodded, and they looked at each other slightly awkwardly for a moment.
‘Just come to get some lunch for Fee,’ she explained, wanting to fill the silence.
