Page 6

For six months after he’d left home, I’d tried to persuade him to come back, and he’d always given me hope. He’d said he was working on himself and that it would make him a better husband and father in the long run. I needed to be patient. Stop hassling him.

So, for the next three months, I said nothing and left him to it, all the time hoping things would work out and he’d find himself and come home.

Well, he didn’t find himself, but he did find someone else. It turned out he’d found her a few months before he’d even lost himself . She was someone he clearly didn’t mind sharing his precious space with. Eight years younger than me, at least six inches taller, and with legs I’d have killed for.

At the time, I’d thought it was the end of the world, yet I was so much happier now than I’d ever been with him.

I just wished I’d known all the happiness my future had in store for me.

I’d have stopped sobbing into endless mugs of hot chocolate and binge eating flapjacks a lot sooner.

I was still carrying the weight I’d put on during that time all these years later.

Mind you, I still loved a flapjack or three, so it wasn’t surprising.

‘Not always easy, though,’ Aunt Polly said, sounding suddenly wistful. ‘Love’s a funny thing, and you can’t just turn it off like a tap, even when the other person’s gone from you. The ache remains.’

I wished I could hug her. She must still miss Uncle Charlie a lot, bless her. They’d been teenage sweethearts, and she’d lost him far too young.

As if sensing my surge of sympathy, she blinked and sat up straight. ‘Hark at me, getting all sentimental! Shona’s right, Callie. Rissa’s just going to have to get over it and that’s a fact. It’s for her own sake as much as yours or Brodie’s. It won’t do her no favours to wallow.’

‘I must get back to work,’ I said, patting Callie on the shoulder. ‘You can keep that newspaper, if you like. I’ve got another copy at home.’

Six, actually. I was a very proud mother.

‘Oh, thanks. I’ll take it to show everyone at the Hall,’ she said with a smile.

I hurried over to where a young couple were waiting to place their order.

Callie waved and left the shop, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aunt Polly shift over to another table, where she sat opposite two oblivious old ladies who were having a jolly good natter over tea and ginger cake.

I had no doubt that my great-aunt would relish every moment of their conversation and enjoy relating it word for word to me afterwards even more.

Not that I’d let her, of course. I did have some morals.

For the next few minutes, I was kept busy as Paige took orders from customers and I saw to the payments at the counter. I was just about to head into the kitchen to start preparing food when the door was pushed open and a man walked in.

What popped into my head immediately was, Ooh! He’s nice! I blushed furiously as if I’d said that out loud. Paige was collecting dirty dishes from the tables, so I hovered by the counter, as he didn’t take a seat but, after looking around, came straight over.

I guessed he was around my age. Maybe a bit older.

It was hard to be sure because everyone said I looked young for my age, which was fifty.

Ish. Okay, fifty-two, but I hardly had a line on my face.

Whenever anyone complimented me on my youthful appearance, I’d half-joke that it was the fat plumping up my skin and keeping the lines at bay, but Dad and the kids always shook their heads and said I was beautiful, and the girls told me they hoped they’d inherited my genes.

So, yes, maybe he was in his mid-fifties.

He seemed very tall, but then I’m only five foot two, so everyone seems pretty tall to me.

Even so, I’d guess he was around six foot.

He had light-brown hair with a distinct wave in it, a neatly trimmed beard, and hazel eyes.

He was wearing a grey sweater with a pale-blue shirt underneath, dark trousers, and a charcoal overcoat, despite it being quite warm outside – even with the overcast skies.

‘Can I help you?’

Huh? What happened to my voice? It came out all breathy and girly like a poor man’s Marilyn Monroe. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice.

‘Excuse me please, could you tell me if you have seen my daughter recently? Her name is Larissa. Larissa Meyer. I have been to her place of work and was told she was coming here for lunch.’

First of all, it struck me that he had a lovely voice.

Really… sexy. Secondly, I registered that he had the trace of an accent of some sort.

Thirdly, I couldn’t for the life of me think who Larissa Meyer was.

And fourthly, and most surprisingly, Aunt Polly was staring at him like…

well, like she’d seen a ghost, which was ironic, if you like.

She half-rose from her chair before dropping back down into it and gazing at him, open-mouthed.

Maybe she thought he was sexy, too. Well, he was too old for her, which seemed such a silly thought given she’d been born in 1910. I blinked, realising he was still waiting for an answer.

‘I’m sorry. Larissa Meyer? I don’t think I know her.’

He gave me a puzzled look. ‘It says in the paper she works at Rowan Farm. The lady in the farmyard told me Rissa has come here.’

‘Oh!’ The fog lifted. ‘Rissa! Yes, she was here but she’s left now. Actually,’ I said, remembering, ‘she was going next door to the bakery. If you hurry, you might catch her. It depends if they have a queue.’

In July, it was highly likely there’d be a queue, so I thought he had a pretty good chance of finding her there.

‘Thank you.’ He nodded and hurried out of the teashop, leaving me to give a big sigh.

Well, that had been a nice interlude. Back to work. Fancy Rissa having a dad who looked like that! And I’d had no idea her surname was Meyer. Or that her full name was Larissa, come to that.

My thoughts were derailed as Aunt Polly jumped up and ran out through the door. Literally. I mean, it wasn’t open, and it still shook me when I saw her do things like that, even though I’d grown up with her walking into rooms through closed doors and brick walls.

She didn’t even say goodbye or look in my direction and I frowned. What was her hurry?

Then I realised she was probably going to do what Aunt Polly loved to do: eavesdrop.

A handsome stranger had just turned up in the village and he was Rissa’s father.

Rissa, of all people! And he’d sounded quite desperate to see her, so maybe he was on an urgent mission.

Aunt Polly wouldn’t be able to resist that.

She’d no doubt report back to me when she’d found out what he wanted.

Yes, I did have morals. But maybe, just this once, I’d let her talk.