The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea. Jennifer JoyceЧитать онлайн книгу.
I could do to help. If I had a tent, I’d lend it to you. But I’m kinda too high-maintenance for camping.’ She flicked her hands towards her face and hair. The woman laughed and Mae was pleased to see the harassed look melt away, if only for a moment.
‘You look fabulous, though. Look at the state of me – I have paint under my nails!’
‘Are you serving or what?’ a gruff voice asked as a pair of elbows rested on the bar. ‘Or are you going to start comparing beauty tips?’
Mae flashed the woman an apologetic smile before turning to the till, returning with the change before moving on to the next (impatient) customer in line. By the time she’d managed to clear the bar, the woman had wandered across the pub and nabbed a vacant seat. Mae was contemplating heading over, to see if there was anything else she could do to help, when her phone started to buzz from her handbag. Although she was working, she always kept her phone switched on in case Hannah or the B&B needed her.
‘Do you mind if I take my break?’ she asked Corinne after fishing the phone out of her handbag and seeing her mother’s name on the display.
‘Of course not,’ Corinne said. ‘We’ve got through the worst of it. Frank and I can manage now.’
‘Thanks.’ Mae accepted the call and pressed the phone against her ear as she moved through to the back of the pub. ‘Hello?’
‘Mummy!’ It was Hannah, rather than Mae’s mum, who answered, her voice happy and high. ‘We went to the beach!’
‘Wow. Did you build sandcastles?’ Mae moved through to the small yard at the back of the pub, heading for an old crate to perch on in the shade of the tall walls.
‘Yes! Mine was the biggest! Nanny bought me sandals!’
‘Did she?’
‘Yup. They’re pink with yellow butterflies.’ There was a whistle of air down the line as Hannah sighed. ‘Nanny had to help me with the buckles.’
‘It just takes practice, sweetie,’ Mae told her. ‘You’ll get it. Do you think I could speak to Nanny for a minute?’
‘Yup, yup!’ Mae heard a faint giggle before the phone was switched and she heard her mother’s voice.
‘You didn’t have to buy her new shoes, Mum. She has sandals at home but we were in a rush.’ Mae needed her mum to know this, to know she didn’t need help providing her daughter with clothing. Money could be a little tight at times, but they were coping.
‘I know that, darling, but we were passing the shop and I saw the sweetest little sandals. I couldn’t resist.’
Mae wasn’t sure how true this was. She knew her mum worried about her; she’d brought Mae up pretty much without any help from Mae’s father, so she knew how tough single parenthood could be. Eloise couldn’t have coped without her own parents’ help so she was always on hand for Mae and Hannah, whether that was for babysitting duties or buying footwear.
‘Well, thank you,’ Mae said, swallowing her pride painfully. ‘I appreciate it. We both do.’
‘I know, sweetie. Hannah certainly does – I think she’ll try sleeping in them tonight.’
‘Great.’ Mae laughed softly. ‘I know who I’ll be ringing when I have a battle on my hands at bedtime.’
‘You only have to say the word and I’ll come round.’
Mae had only been joking, but her mum was serious. ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine. I should go now, though. I’m on my break and I’m gasping for a cup of tea before I go back behind the bar.’
‘Okay, sweetie. Give my love to Frank and Corinne. I’ll see you later.’
‘Bye, Mum. Kisses and squishes for Hannah.’
Mae ended the call and heaved herself up from the crate. She really didn’t know where she’d be without her mum. She’d been there from the start, when Mae had returned to Clifton-on-Sea with a badly bruised heart and a twelve-week scan photo. The father – Mae’s boyfriend of eight months – had bailed upon the news of her pregnancy, and though Mae had been determined to stand on her own two feet, she’d soon realised she needed her family and had returned to the town she’d been desperate to escape since her teens. It was only upon her return that she’d realised how special Clifton-on-Sea was and just how lucky she was to have Eloise Wright as a mother.
Mae was halfway across the yard when her phone started to ring again. She paused and, answering the call, headed back towards the crate.
‘Mae? It’s Shirley. Shirley Robertson.’
Mae reached the crate, but didn’t sit. ‘Shirley? Is everything okay?’ Shirley and her family were due to arrive for their stay later that afternoon, but had they arrived early? Mrs Hornchurch knew they were due, but Mae’s neighbour couldn’t be expected to wait in all day on the off-chance they’d show up a few hours sooner than anticipated, so perhaps the family were camped out on the B&B’s doorstep, waiting to be let in.
‘Oh, love, no,’ Shirley wailed. ‘It’s my Len. He had a bit of a stumble lugging the suitcase downstairs this morning so we’ve been stuck in A&E ever since.’
Mae gasped. ‘Is he okay?’ She was fond of the Robertson family – they’d been among her first paying customers when she’d turned her grandparents’ house into a bed and breakfast and she looked forward to their annual visit.
‘Nothing a plaster cast and rest won’t sort out,’ Shirley said. ‘He finally got an X-ray and he’s broken his ankle. The rest is just superficial cuts and bruises.’
Mae sank onto the crate now and placed a hand on her chest. ‘That’s a relief.’
‘Yes,’ Shirley agreed. ‘But the thing is, we’re having to cancel our holiday. I’m so sorry to do this at the last minute. I feel so terrible. We all do.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Mae said. ‘The important part is that Len gets better. You’ll give him my love, won’t you?’
‘Of course. And we’ll be back next year, for sure. I’ll bring the cases down myself!’
‘Take care of Len – and yourself, of course. I’ll see you next summer, fit and well.’
Mae sat for a moment after she’d ended the call. She was glad Len was okay – broken bone and bruising aside – but she couldn’t help worrying about the empty rooms she was now left with, which left her with an icky feeling of guilt that she could have such selfish thoughts when a lovely man like Len Robertson had taken a tumble down a flight of stairs. But those unoccupied rooms represented lost earnings. She’d had to turn people away because she was fully booked and now she wasn’t.
Mae’s eyes widened as she realised all was not lost. There was a woman sitting in the pub who was in desperate need of a room and Mae now had two going spare for a couple of weeks. Gasping, she shot up from the crate and scuttled back into the pub, scanning the room as she propelled herself behind the bar.
‘Where is she?’ she wailed, eyes darting around the room. The seat the woman had nabbed earlier was now vacated.
‘Who?’ Corinne asked as she popped behind the bar with an armful of empty glasses.
‘The woman in the dungarees.’ Mae pointed at the empty seat.
‘Oh, her.’ Corinne slipped the glasses onto the side and bent to open the dishwasher. ‘She left a few minutes ago.’
‘Do you know who she is?’ Mae asked, already trying to work out how to track the woman down before she set up camp with a newly purchased tent.
Corinne shook her head. ‘I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her around town but I don’t know her name.’
Bollocks, Mae thought as she scurried towards the pub’s door. Big, sodding