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It wasn’t the first question Gemma had expected, and she found herself needing to swallow before she replied. “Well, yes, for those customers that are happy to use them. But not all of them are, so we need to take their orders normally, too.”

“Okay,” Sophie said, matter-of-factly.

“Okay?”

“Okay. That’s okay. I can do that. Orders through the code if they can. On paper, if they can’t. Sounds fine.”

The way Sophie was being so casual about this new disruption to their way of doing things took Gemma by surprise.

“Is there anything else? You still don’t look great.”

Gemma opened her mouth. There were more things she wanted to say. More things she probably needed to say, but howcould she? How could she tell Sophie that she likely had less than two months working at a place she adored? That all her hard work over the years had amounted to nothing. She could feel her throat swelling shut, clogged with tears. It had been a long time since she had cried in the café. So long, she doubted Sophie had ever seen it. And that was how she wanted to keep it.

“Gemma, are you okay? Do you want to sit down?”

Gemma shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Honestly, I just need a bit of fresh air, that’s all. I’m just going to step outside. You’ll be all right on your own for a minute, won’t you?”

CHAPTER 42

There had been a time, many years before Gemma moved to Maldon, when the duck pond had actually been used for swimming. Lots of her older customers loved to tell her about the summer of ‘76, when the heatwave had been so sweltering that everyone came down to the water to cool off. Many people, including Margaret and Mr Jordan, actually learned to swim in it. But that had been a long time ago. Now, a large iron fence separated the visitors from the tall rushes that provided homes for the ducks and swans before stretching out into a great expanse of water where now, only wildfowl were allowed to swim.

This was Gemma’s favourite spot in Maldon. She could sit there for hours, staring at the pairs of moorhens as they glided lazily around or watching children as they fed scraps of bread and bird seed to the ducks who would follow them around greedily. There was always something to hold her attention. To pull her thoughts away from whatever worries may have been pestering her. But at that moment, even the duck pond couldn’t distract her from the deep knot at the base of her stomach.

“Gemma?”

She snapped her head around, hastily brushing the tears from her eyes.

“What the hell do you want?” she said. The last thing she needed was Kent taking this place from her, too. “I heard you perfectly clearly. I’m out. You’re in. You win. Congratulations.”

She didn’t care how she sounded. He deserved a lot worse. Unfortunately, Kent didn’t take the hint and leave the way she’d assumed he would.

“I came to apologise. I was unprofessional earlier.” He paused. “Actually, I was horrible. Really horrible. I don’t know what got into me.”

Gemma scoffed. What did he expect her to say? That it was okay. That she forgave him. Well, there was no chance of that happening. None at all. She folded her arms across her chest, hoping that now he had said his piece, he would leave. Instead, he carried on talking.

“I think there are a few things you and I need to clear up,” he said, dropping onto the bench beside her. He was so close that it made Gemma’s skin prickle, and all she wanted to do was push him away or stand up and run back to the cafe. She found it incredibly difficult to move. “I think it’s fair to say I haven’t been completely honest with you. There were things... things I thought my uncle had told you, but he obviously hasn’t. And I guess I was just hoping that the right time would suddenly present itself to tell you, but that’s not going to happen.”

He took a deep breath. Something about his nervousness put Gemma on edge. This entire time, he had been so confident. Cocky. What on earth could he have to say that was even worse than what he had already told her? She was about to say as much when he carried on speaking.

“Uncle Oscar didn’t put me in charge of The Waterfront Café,” he said.

“What?” Gemma could feel her jaw hanging open. What the hell did he mean by that? If Oscar hadn’t put him in charge, then what kind of power trip had he been on for this last fortnight? She was about to ask him as much when he opened his mouth again.

“He didn’t make me executive manager,” he said. “He sold it to me instead.”

CHAPTER 43

In some ways, it was a relief. Since that very first lie to Gemma, Kent had known this moment would come, and the anxiety of predicting her reaction had grown with every passing day. Only now, she knew, and she wasn’t reacting. She was just sitting there.

“Gemma?”

He lifted his hand, struck with a sudden urge to reach out and touch her arm, only he thought better of it. Instead, he waited.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Oscar tell me?” Gemma said, eventually.

“I thought he had. I really did, but then you and I spoke, and then I realised…”

His words faltered as he shook his head. There was no way he could dig himself out of this. He’d had dozens of opportunities to tell her the truth, but he’d been too much of a coward. Her lack of forgiveness was the least he deserved.