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By the time the group of parents had finished their drinks and cakes, the café was nearly full. Mostly, it was regulars who occupied the tables.

There was Mr and Mrs Penfield, who came in every morning between ten and ten-fifteen. He pushed her wheelchair across to the cake counter, where she spent a great deal of time looking at what they had on offer, although she only ever ordered a lemon drizzle or, very occasionally, a carrot cake. Mr Penfield, on the other hand, kept a regular rotation with his cakes and drinks. As it was a Monday, Gemma knew he’d order a millionaire’s shortbread with a ginger beer. However, if it had been colder outside, he would have opted for a hot chocolate instead.

Sitting nearest to the door was Jessica, a nanny, who came in each day with Freddie, the three-year-old she looked after. Gemma loved listening in on their conversations, which almost always involved imaginative play based on Freddy having magical powers. That day, he was invisible, which allowed him to pick at Jessica’s scone while she had to pretend not to see him. The kid was smart.

There were several people from the nearby tennis club, and given how the weather had recently changed, dozens of boatershad come in to grab a coffee, though they were all after takeaways, which was lucky because there wouldn’t have been room for all of them to sit down. Graham, Sophie’s boyfriend, had taken his usual seat, tucked away in a corner where he scribbled away on his comic book art while Mr Jordan sat opposite.

“We’re already out of sausage rolls,” Sophie said as she came back to the counter. “We’re going to have to start cooking more each morning. I think the summer rush is starting early this year.”

“I agree,” Gemma said.

Unlike the winter months, when Gemma would be on first-name terms with everyone who came in through the door, there were plenty of people there that morning who weren’t regulars. There was a young family having a holiday in Maldon, and an elderly woman with two younger women who appeared to be her daughters. The cafe door opened, and yet another man Gemma didn’t recognise stepped inside. Yet before she could welcome him, Mr Jordan was out of his chair, saying goodbye.

“Thank you for today, ladies. That scone was delicious.”

“You’re most welcome,” Gemma said.

“We’ll see you tomorrow?” Sophie added.

“I’m sure you will.” He offered a small wink. “You know me. You can’t keep me away.”

With his goodbye done, Mr Jordan lifted his hand to wave while turning around to face the door. As Gemma watched him, she noticed how difficult he was finding the turn and how much frailer he looked from when she first met him. He was looking at her and Sophie, smiling broadly, and clearly he forgot about the small step just in front of him. One second, he was pushing his weight down into the walking stick to help him turn around, and the next second, he was toppling towards the ground.

CHAPTER 4

“Mr Jordan!”

Both Sophie and Gemma rushed out from behind the counter. The old man had somehow caught himself on the edge of a table and was braced there, one hand still on the cane, trembling, while his knees were only inches from the ground. Gemma could only imagine how much he would hurt himself if he fell fully.

By the time they reached him, two of the school mums had come to his aid, but Gemma and Sophie swept in too.

“Are you okay?” Sophie asked, helping him back to standing.

“It’s all right. We’ve got you. Come on, let’s get you a chair. You should sit down.”

Gemma glanced around. The table Mr Jordan had been sitting at was now occupied. The gentleman who had just come in had either been completely oblivious to the situation or simply didn’t care as he strode past the kerfuffle and took his spot. Thankfully, Graham was already on his feet and placing his chair just behind Mr Jordan, although the old man shook his head.

“Oh, no, don’t be silly. I don’t want all this fuss. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You need to sit down,” Gemma said. “That must have been quite a shock for you. It was for us.”

She wasn’t lying. Her pulse had rocketed when she thought he was going to fall, and it still hadn’t gone back to normal.

“Oh, I’m made of tough stuff. Don’t you worry.” Mr Jordan smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes the way Gemma knew it should.

“Really, I think you ought to sit down. Just for a minute. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

At this, he shook his head again, and his voice dropped to a lower volume. “I don’t like to make a fuss. Honestly, I’m quite all right. Really, thank you, girls, but I need to get off now, and I’m quite okay. See?”

He walked towards the door, reached it, turned around, and offered a little wave as if to show he hadn’t hurt anything seriously. But Gemma knew that with incidents like this, it could take a few minutes before the extent of the pain set in, and there was no way he hadn’t bruised his hip or arm the way he caught himself.

“Please, just take a seat outside,” Gemma said. “Humour me, please. Just sit in the sun for five minutes. That’s all. I’ll even bring you out a slice of cake.”

At this, Mr Jordan quirked his eyebrow.

“A free scone and a slice of cake? I should probably fall over more often.”

Gemma smiled.