Page 25 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
“That’s because it’s been neglected for so long,” she asserted indignantly. “It’s got real potential — surely they’ll be able to see that?”
He shook his head sadly. “They’re just bean counters. All they see is the bottom line, and that isn’t good.”
She reached across the table and laid her hand on his. “It’ll be okay, Mike. You’ll see.”
He felt the warmth of that simple touch spread through him. Maybe it would be okay — maybe he was worrying for nothing. His wife would have told him not to anticipate trouble — there’d be time enough to worry if it happened.
Oh, how he missed Sarah. Though the sharp edges had worn off, he still felt the aching loneliness. He knew Kate missed her too — they’d been best friends since they were at primary school.
“It was a lovely wedding you put on for my Debbie,” Kate urged. “You could be doing more of that. People would love to come down to a beautiful place like this. And the guests would be able to stay in the hotel, make a whole weekend of it.”
Mike smiled. “It was good, wasn’t it? And lovely to see her so happy with Bill, after . . . everything.”
“Pfttt!” She snapped her fingers. “That Alan Cowan is nothing but a wasp at a picnic.”
“I enjoyed dancing with you.” He smiled a little uncertainly. “I was just wondering . . . I haven’t been to our old ballroom dancing sessions very often since Sarah’s been gone. It feels . . . uncomfortable.”
Kate laughed. “You mean you don’t like being a babe magnet?”
He felt himself blush. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. But, well, any man on his own is going to have the ladies wanting him to be their partner. So I was wondering . . .” He took off his glasses, polished them with his handkerchief and put them back on again. “I was wondering if maybe you might like to comewith me? I’ll understand if you’d rather not,” he added quickly, feeling awkward. “I mean, if you’re too busy with the café and that.”
He watched anxiously as she hesitated. It had taken him a while to work up the courage to mention this, and he just hoped it wouldn’t risk damaging their friendship — he really valued that.
“No, I’m not too busy. As you can see, with the season winding down it’s quite slow.” She really did have a very pretty smile. “And now that Debbie and little Amy have moved in with Bill up at the farm it can get a wee bit lonely of an evening. So . . . yes, I’d love to come dancing.”
“You would? Ah . . . that’s . . . good.” Suddenly he could breathe again. “It’s Thursday evenings. I could pick you up at seven.”
“Thursday, seven o’clock. That’s fine . . . Oh, excuse me.” An elderly couple had come into the café. She rose quickly to her feet, and smiled back at him. “I’ll see you then.”
“Yes. I’ll . . . look forward to it.”
Kate smiled as she watched him go. She could just imagine how he must feel at his dancing sessions, with all the single women flocking around him.
She’d known him for . . . what, more than thirty years, since he’d first come down to Sturcombe to work at the Carleton. He’d met his beloved Sarah at a ballroom dancing competition, and came down to be with her.
Thirty years. Where had the time gone? She’d been a young bride herself then, with her Terry. She’d been so glad that her friend had found the same happiness.
But life hadn’t turned out quite how each of them had been hoping. Sarah and Mike had tried for years to have a baby, but it hadn’t happened.
And a few years after she herself had had her Debbie, just when they had been thinking of trying for another, Terry had started to get that nasty pain in his leg.
He thought he must have knocked it at work, but it didn’t get any better. Typical man, he had refused to go to the doctor until it had got so bad that he could barely walk.
The cancer diagnosis had been a terrible shock. And even worse, it had already spread, so amputating the affected leg wouldn’t help. They had given him six months — he had lasted seven.
With a small sigh Kate tucked the memories away in the safe place in her heart, where she had kept them for so long. There were tables to be cleared, and Debbie would be back soon, having been up to collect little Amy from school.
She had made a life for herself — she’d had no choice. Terry’s life insurance had enabled her to put down a substantial deposit on the café, which had given her a job and a place to live in the flat upstairs. She had never asked for more.
Chapter Seven
Jess woke with a mild headache again. She hadn’t slept well, but she didn’t want to think about what had disturbed her dreams. A glance at the small clock on her bedside table told her that it was almost nine thirty. But that was okay — she wasn’t due to start her shift on the reception desk until two, so she had the whole morning to kill.
Wearily she rolled out of bed, shrugged into her dressing gown, and padded over to the bathroom. Maybe a shower would make her feel better. The staff corridor was deserted, only four of the rooms being occupied at the moment anyway. No one to talk to.
After scrubbing herself dry on the rough towel, she wandered back to her room to get dressed. The headache was fading and she was feeling restless.
The strange thing was that it was nothing to do with Glenn or thoughts of her abandoned wedding that kept dancing an irritating tap-dance through her brain, but images of another man — a man with wide shoulders and curling black hair.
