Autumn at the Café at the End of the Pier

by Helen Rolfe

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Comedy; Fall & winter reads

Synopsis

Looking for love this autumn? You'll find it at The Café at the End of the Pier... A feelgood novella and the continuation of the Café at the End of the Pier series. Autumn brings golden leaves and crisp days to Salthaven-on-Sea - but inside the Cafe the lights are glowing, the hot chocolate is warming, and romantic sparks are flying... Jo has found her place at the heart of the seaside community, her blind dates are fizzing with chemistry, and this season she plans to bring young and old together with her pumpkin-carving event. But Jo must also find a way to heal the rifts in her own family, even if it means facing up to some home truths. With the mystery of Jo's own secret admirer to unravel, there are bound to be fireworks this bonfire night at The Cafe at the End of the Pier... A perfect heartwarming read, for fans of Debbie Johnson and Cathy Bramley *** Readers love The Cafe at the End of the Pier series: 'A beautifully written feel-good story that will make you smile' 'Loved the characters and couldn't wait to turn the page' 'What an absolute delight!'

Release date: September 6, 2018

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 89

Sample

Chapter One

Dry, chestnut-and-purple leaves skittered across the road as Jo made her way to the pier, long before the sun made an appearance on this crisp morning in mid-October. The bits-and-bobs shop had shut for the season, the ice-creamery knew what times to open to make the most of the post-school rush, and the fish and chip shop had begun to do a roaring trade. There was something about vinegar and salt, mixed with the warmth of potato, that on the air had people ordering their small parcels of comfort in droves. Gone now were the hordes of people vying for the best spot on the sands in the summer months, the clusters of tourists gathering on the pier, and in their place, locals steadily trod the boardwalk, greeting one another and using the café as their regular hub.

Jo pulled her scarf more tightly around her neck to ward off any chill from the gusts of wind coming off the sea, and as she made the journey that would take her to the Café at the End of the Pier, she thought about the last few months since the day she’d received another mystery postcard. That day, Harry had been waiting for her beside the boating lake, a single red rose in his hand and a smile that reminded her so much of what they’d once had. Her insides had plummeted when she saw him; she was flooded with disappointment that the postcards hadn’t been coming from a mystery man who would turn out to be the special person she’d been looking for. Instead, it appeared they’d come from Harry, an ex-boyfriend who’d broken her heart. She’d almost wanted to run far away, tell him he was wasting his time, but given their history she felt she owed him the chance to at last be completely open about the way he was feeling. And Jo knew, deep down, that it was the only way either one of them could move forwards.

‘What’s this?’ She’d taken the rose and leaned in to smell its fragrance. ‘What’s going on, Harry? Don’t try telling me you do this for all your clients.’ She tried to make light of the confrontation when it couldn’t have been more serious. For such a long time she’d wanted someone to take notice of her, to feel special, and here was Harry trying his best.

‘Can we talk?’

She’d sat on the low wall surrounding the modest-sized boating lake and the cold concrete didn’t take long to make its way through the denim of her jeans.

‘Jo, I made a mistake.’

This again. ‘Harry, I—’

‘Let me say what I need to say. I was an idiot all those years ago. I saw that pretty much straight away. But back then I was young, we both were. I didn’t want to be tied down. I wanted some excitement, to see a bit of the world.’

‘Without me.’

His hesitation confirmed it. ‘I guess so, yes. But more so, I wanted to do it without anyone.’

‘So a bit of a case of “it’s not you, it’s me” then?’ She fidgeted as her skin began to tingle from the cold surface they were sitting on. ‘What makes you think you want me back, Harry?’

He put a hand over hers and she didn’t move. ‘When I first saw you again, I felt all my feelings come rushing back. Simple as that.’

Rather than sounding confident, his voice trembled and it was enough to make Jo take pause. She toyed with the rose between her hands, the silky deep red petals and their heady aroma. She ran a finger along the stem, stopping when it caught on a thorn. ‘Harry, I think there’s too much nostalgia wrapped up in your feelings for you to know that you still love me.’ When he looked away she said, ‘When we’re both single it’s probably easier to think we should get back together than wait to meet anyone else.’ Only now, with him confronting her and laying his heart out there in the open, did she realise just how right it was to leave things where they belonged: in the past.

‘So that’s it?’ It wasn’t really a question, because the tone of his voice showed he knew the answer. ‘It was worth a shot, I guess.’

She had to put an end to this. ‘I mean it, Harry. No more games. No more sending me flowers, calling round to the flat, or buying me aniseed balls.’ She managed to rouse a smile from him.

‘Did you even eat them?’

‘Every last one.’ She stood, held out a hand to shake his. ‘Let’s forget this happened and keep things strictly professional from now on, shall we?’

But he didn’t shake her hand. He stood too and leaned in to kiss her once, kind of like a goodbye. ‘Deal.’

She reached into her bag and took out the postcard she’d just found on the mat and handed it to him. She was about to walk away, get home up the hill, when his voice stopped her.

‘What’s this?’

‘The postcard, Harry.’ She was growing tired of this. ‘Another part of your game.’ The postcard didn’t say much but it told Jo love could be found where she least expected, and that she should keep her heart open and her eyes on the horizon. She’d received another mysterious postcard in the spring too, that one telling Jo to not get so busy helping other people fall in love that she misses what’s right in front of her.

‘What postcard?’ Harry asked.

Exasperated she began walking away.

‘Jo, stop.’ He caught up with her. ‘I mean it. This wasn’t from me.’

‘Really?’ She stopped, trying to read something through his bewildered expression. ‘Because all the signs are kind of staring me in the face – especially now you’ve told me how you feel, given me this rose.’ She held up the flower, careful of its thorns this time.

‘I promise you, Jo. The postcard wasn’t from me.’

And that’s how they’d left the conversation. She’d dismissed the postcard as some kind of joke from someone in town, poking fun at her after her foray into the nights of love at the café, and neither of them had mentioned it since. Harry had maintained a respectable distance, been friendly, and only contacted her as necessary when it came to the accounts.

Life had returned to normal once again.

And the postcards had ceased.

Now, in the warmth of the café, Jo hung her coat on the hook in the cupboard at the side of the kitchen. You knew it was getting colder when the space was used for more than umbrellas and the odd stray cardigan.

She’d only just switched on the lights when handyman Steve knocked on the door. He’d come prepared, his ladder already leaning up against the café wall for him to fix the guttering on the roof. It had sagged and finally given up yesterday which meant a stream of water running unattractively down the window. Not a very appealing view for whoever was cosied up on the window seat.

She opened the door. ‘Thanks for coming.’ Rubbing her arms against the cold she pointed to the problem area and then took him to the opposite side of the building. ‘I think the same is going to happen here too.’

He stretched up to touch the base of the gutter. Funny, a few months ago, watching him would’ve set Jo’s pulse racing, but now he was firmly in the just-good-friends category. After finding out that Harry had nothing to do with the postcards, Steve had become her prime suspect. But now she wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t really his style and she suspected he valued their friendship as much as she did.

‘I’ll go fetch my toolbox,’ he said, ‘but I’ll need to nip to the hardware store first and pick up the right screws and a couple of brackets to replace the ones that are spent.’

‘Put it on my tab and I’ll settle up later.’ Her finances were on the up, finally, and Jo hoped it was a sign of things to come. She’d survived summer, the busiest season, and her confidence had bloomed along with the profits. Now, if self-doubt came her way, she was more equipped to bat it well out to sea and carry on doing what she loved.

‘You’re freezing.’ Steve was watching her. ‘Go inside, leave this with me, and I’ll check right the way around. Best to do it now, before winter sets in.’

‘Thanks, Steve, I owe you one.’ She held up a hand, pre-empting his response. Last time she’d had to repay him for his kindness. . .