Page 15 of The Second Chance Supper Club

In contrast with the hectic two weeks she’d spent getting ready for the supper club, the next few days were dreadfully quiet.

Cath tried to keep herself busy doing the usual household chores, several online tutoring sessions, and pottering in the garden, but sitting there on her own of an evening, a sense of gnawing loneliness crept up on her.

Of course, she knew she couldn’t keep socialising every day.

Everyone was busy and back at work. Even dropping by the shop, hoping for a catch-up, hadn’t quite panned out.

By chance, she’d managed to hit a particularly busy spell at the village stores with several people queuing at the counter, so Andreas and Dan, whilst superefficient and friendly, had no time to stand and chat.

The supper group’s working hours meant she couldn’t even ask the lads or Nikki in for a daytime coffee, and well, she didn’t want to over encourage Will – not that he had given any vibes he was looking to spend any more time in her company either.

Other than a polite thank-you note popped through her letterbox the day after the supper, he seemed to be too busy for her also.

Life as a single lady wasn’t quite what she’d pictured it might be.

No one but herself to cook for, clean for, do laundry for …

who’d have thought she’d miss that? The flip side of this newfound freedom seemed to be loneliness.

As she was sitting with a cup of strong coffee and this sense of unease, wondering how best to shake off these dark feelings, she got a call. Oh great, some human contact .

It was a blast from the near past: Helen from Roundhay once again.

‘Helen, hi, how are you?’ Cath tried her best to sound chirpy. Out of all her old friends, Helen was probably the one she least wanted to chat with just now.

‘Oh, I’m fine thanks, busy, busy. But more to the point, how are you doing? You didn’t call back after our last chat, and well, I was starting to get a bit worried. How have you been? How’s village life?’

‘Yeah, fine, all good.’ Unfortunately, Cath’s voice resonated a flatness from her recent confusing emotions.

‘You sure you’re okay? You don’t sound quite yourself, I have to say. I know it’s been a tough time for you. And then, sailing off to the back of beyond like that. Well, it must be hugely different. We’ve all been thinking about you.’

Gossiping might be more like it , Cath mused.

‘Well, it’s certainly very different from life back in Roundhay, I suppose.

’ She’d swapped the beeping of horns and the hum of traffic for birdsong and tractors.

And exchanged the constant round of social invites in the city– afternoon teas, suburban suppers, charity this and that – which at times could almost feel too much, for new buds of friendship (which were naturally growing rather tentatively, just yet).

‘But yeah, I’ve been making a few friends …

starting to get to know some people in the village.

’ She didn’t get a chance to tell her friend about the supper club and how it had gone, as Helen was straight in with her own dinner party details.

‘Oh well, that’s good. They’ll be nothing like your old friends here though, I bet.

We miss you. Gosh, we had the most a-mazing dinner party Friday evening at Trish and Terry’s.

Spoilt us rotten they did, with champagne and cocktails.

Fliss got a bit tipsy and we had a bloody hoot playing Twister.

Then, we were out at the theatre last week, with Emma and Tony.

A new take on Macbeth , it was brilliant.

Ah, there’s always so much to do in the city, isn’t there? ’

Why did this sound like Helen was pulling the oh-so-cool city card on her, implying life there just had to be so much better? Her tone sounded superior, or was that Cath just feeling tender? It was the life she’d left behind after all. The life and the city buzz she once loved.

‘And have you been out and about much?’ Helen continued, undaunted by the limited response. ‘I bet it’s been fun having a whole new area to explore.’

Blimey, this conversation was beginning to feel like twenty questions.

Cath hadn’t been that far at all actually, still settling herself into the village and her new home.

‘Ah, yeah, been out a bit. I took a drive through to the coast the other day.’ The white lie slipped from her lips.

The trip to the coast was actually a few weeks ago, when she’d first got here.

It had been nice down by the sea, but without someone to say, ‘Wow, look at that stunning view’, and discuss the merits of either fish and chips or going into a nice cosy pub, it had ended up feeling a bit flat.

She’d sat in the dunes with a cone of hot, salty chips in the end, which were rather good, and then taken a stroll along the sands.

But it felt far emptier than when she’d been there on family holidays.

Memories had flooded in of her and Trevor and Adam, back in happier days, tarnishing things somewhat.

‘On your own, I suppose?’ Helen cut in, still fishing, hoping to pin Cath down on her new life.

‘Well, yes.’ Did she expect her to be heading out with a new fling, or on some Saga-style bus tour?

‘Oh, Cath,’ Helen managed to sound disappointed in her.

‘Bless you. With everything that’s gone on, I more than expected you to take a step back for a while.

That was quite understandable, after all.

But well, you can’t keep hiding away in your country cottage like a hermit.

Now’s the time to get back out there, show Trevor what he’s missing. Time to crack on with life.’

‘Well, I’ve been trying. It’s not been that bad. It’s just all new. And building friendships can take a while …’

‘Cath, darling, I can tell you’re not yourself. That’s it, I’m coming up. No ifs or buts. It’s time you had a bit of company. And of course, I’d love to see your cottage …’ This was nosiness at its fore.

Oh, Lord, it sounded a done deal. Was her friend eager to report back, give the old group the rundown on her new home, on her?

Cath felt a sense of foreboding, but what could she say?

She hadn’t even had a chance to mention her supper club event, the fact that she was actually establishing a few friends.

But her defences were down and some of this conversation rang true, in all honesty.

Cath wasn’t sure what to say without sounding rude.

She’d already put Helen off a couple of weeks ago. ‘Ahm, well …’

‘Next weekend, I’m free. Geoff’s got a golf tournament on then, too. It’ll be ideal. You’ll not have any plans, will you?’

‘Ah, umm, noo . ’ She felt railroaded. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Helen, they’d been good mates over time and their children had virtually grown up together, but she could be rather bossy, and a bit overpowering.

They ended the call with the usual pleasantries, but as Cath pressed the ‘call over’ button, she felt a sense of doom. Helen was no doubt online this very minute, booking her train tickets. Oh, bugger, she was coming up to stay in the cottage the following weekend. And well, that was that.

Blimey, after that call and the impending arrival of a full-on Helen, perhaps another trip out, even if it was on her own, might be exactly what she needed, especially now that she was finding herself at a loose end with the supper club event over.

A change of scene was a good idea – time to get in the car and head out to one of the stunning Northumbrian beaches that lay just twenty minutes’ drive away.

Time for some fresh sea air, time to take herself out of this contemplative mood, and go off on a coastal hike.

Taking a zig-zag of country lanes, the hawthorn hedges each side bursting with a froth of wedding-white Maytime bloom, a dotting of sheep in the grassy fields and cattle with young calves, she whizzed on by in her Mini.

Cath headed to the coast, crossing over the A1, back on to twisty lanes, over the railway crossing, and towards the village of Bamburgh with its impressive castle.

The ancient stone fortress, which bordered the sandy beach on its far side, with a picturesque village nestled on its other, stood grand and enchanting before her.

She turned into a lane called The Wynding, following the road to a car park, where she pulled up.

Turning her back to the castle and the miles of sandy beach, she headed away from the tourists, taking the coastal path that meandered below the golf course, over rocks, past seaweed-twirled salty pools, striding out over the golden sands that led towards Budle Bay.

The rush of waves came foaming in to shore, the cry of gulls filled the air, and above bloomed an expanse of blue-grey sky with a hint-of-pink-edged cloud.

The rhythm of her steps, the cool salt-sea air, with nature all around her, served to lift her spirits.

This was why she’d escaped the city, and the never-ending hum of traffic, the constant round of ‘who had what’, be it the latest cars, clothes, makeup …

her friends had even started comparing their grandchildren’s achievements, for goodness’ sake.

Life wasn’t a competition. All of that had felt exhausting at times.

It wasn’t what you had, it was who you were …

and where you were, the here and now; seeing, feeling it, experiencing the magic of the world around you.

A gorgeous view, a heart-pumping walk. The warmth of the sun on your face, and the tangle of the wind in your hair.

As well as lifting the spirits, it helped to ground you.

Her mind wound back to childhood holidays here in Northumberland all those years ago.

The happy times in the no-frills, but always fun, caravan with Mum and Dad.

In stark contrast, she remembered nursing her mother through those last few traumatic weeks, firstly at home and then nearer the end in the hospice.

Bittersweet emotions swirled within, as a pang of grief unfurled in Cath’s chest. That sense of loss was never far away when she thought about her parents.

She strolled on, finding a flattish area to perch on a rocky outcrop, and sat for a while looking out to sea.

More memories … Cath found herself once again thinking of Matty, her first love and holiday romance.

She was sweet sixteen, he was seventeen, both probably quite na?ve compared to the youth of today.

A lovely lad he was, good-looking with his dark wavy hair.

He’d seemed so kind that week too, there was a gentleness about him.

Thinking of him now made her smile. They’d spent a day here on the beach at Bamburgh, along with her sister and parents.

A picnic and a game of cricket, all very innocent that day.

Then, a stroll in the dunes, holding hands.

A kiss … or three, the heady newness of it all, and a powerful teenage crush that felt very like love.

Stolen moments the next day, just the two of them, and then the going home, and all the angst that followed thereafter.

Those further memories shot up unbidden.

A splash of waves and a shower of salt spray took her out of her reverie.

The tide must be coming back in, but she sat a while longer.

She watched a pair of gulls circle above.

Her thoughts moving on to The Trevor Years, the early days of love and marriage, and motherhood with Adam.

Those blissful, busy, tiring years as a young mother.

That all enveloping love. Being a wife, a mother, caring for them all, keeping them close and safe.

Working, teaching, all those young adults she tried to coach, doing her utmost to get them to reach their potential.

It had always been about others she realised … but what about her?

And now, what now? What came next in the life of Catherine Taylor?

The pages were yet to be written. The sky above was now a watery grey-blue, and beautiful, despite the threat of the rain clouds that were beginning to swell over the sea.

The breeze that whirled around her was brisk and invigorating.

She didn’t have all the answers, after all, she was learning how to live all over again.

But she needed to look up, not down. Forward, not back …