The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea

Willow gasped and widened her eyes. ‘That sounds amazing! I hope you get to stay in your caravan soon.’ Willow stood up again. The woman had returned the heart-shaped sunglasses to her face. ‘Thank you for your help.’

The woman nodded. ‘Good luck.’ She turned to her daughter and took her hand. ‘We’d better get going. I need to drop the keys with Mrs Hornchurch and then get you to Nanny’s.’

Willow watched as the woman and her daughter disappeared into the neighbouring house before climbing back into her van. She’d work her way through town and try the other B&Bs, the hotel and caravan site. There had to be a room available somewhere.

Chapter Three (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)

Melody

The train was packed with bodies, heat and noise as Melody crab-walked down the aisle in search of a seat, battling with the hefty rucksack and laptop bag she held in her hands, tucked in tight to her body so she didn’t bash anybody about the head with them. Melody was thankful she’d decided to travel light during her trip, packing only the essentials: a handful of outfits she could chuck into a washing machine at a laundrette every few days, her washbag with the necessities, a couple of pairs of pyjamas, her laptop, and her camera. Okay, the laptop was hardly light, and her rucksack was cumbersome, but it would have been much worse if she hadn’t been so strict with her packing. She was hoping to find a seat so she wouldn’t be forced to hold on to her bags for the duration of the journey, but it wasn’t proving an easy task.

‘Excuse me.’ She flicked the corners of her mouth up into an apologetic smile as she attempted to squeeze past elbows and shoulders. ‘Sorry. Can I just…’ She managed to shuffle past without knocking anybody out cold with her rucksack and then she saw it, just ahead. An empty seat! Or rather a seat empty of a human bottom. She waddled towards it sideways, resting against the headrest with a relieved sigh when she finally reached the seat without somebody else nabbing it first. She looked down at the laptop bag currently sitting there and then over to its owner in the neighbouring seat. The owner – a suited man in his mid-to-late twenties, currently tapping away at the laptop in front of him – glanced in her direction briefly before returning to his screen.

‘Excuse me,’ Melody said, using her most polite voice. ‘Is this seat taken?’

By anything other than a bag? she silently added.

The man sighed heavily and turned away from his laptop, performing an elaborate eye-roll as he moved his face towards Melody.

‘I need to keep my bag close by.’

Melody nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ The man shifted his gaze back to his screen. ‘I assume you’ve bought an extra ticket for your bag, though.’

The man frowned, sighing again as he snapped his head back up to Melody. ‘What?’

‘I assumed you’ve purchased two tickets, since you’re taking up two seats.’

‘Obviously I haven’t bought a ticket for my bloody bag.’ The man rolled his eyes again and, shaking his head, resumed tapping at his keyboard.

‘In that case…’ Melody reached up to push her rucksack into the overhead storage rack. ‘I’m taking this seat. You can move the bag if you want to, but I don’t mind either way. I’m sitting whether it’s there or not.’

Melody eyed the man. He eyed Melody. Melody pushed her own laptop bag under the table and lowered herself onto the seat, pressing her lips together so she didn’t display a smug grin as the man’s laptop bag was whipped away at the very last second. The bag was shoved under the table, wedged between the wall of the train and the man’s feet. She could feel the glare from her neighbour as she unlooped her camera from around her neck and switched it on. She looked up, smiling sweetly at him.

‘I’m Melody, by the way.’ She thrust a hand out towards him, but he made no move to shake it.

‘And I’m very busy.’ With one last glare, he turned back to his laptop, tapping furiously.

And very rude, Melody thought, but she didn’t dwell on her neighbour for too long. She’d met lots of different people on her recent travels – some lovely, some not so much – but she didn’t hang around for long enough to let the negative ones impact her life. In fifteen minutes, she’d shuffle off the train and wouldn’t see this dude again.

Melody clicked through the menu on her camera, loading up her latest photos to scrutinise. Some of the photos were good – she particularly liked the snap of Blackpool Tower at dawn – but some weren’t so great. The composition was wrong, or the lighting didn’t quite work, so she deleted those she definitely wouldn’t be using. She’d take a closer look once she had her laptop set up, but for now she’d weed out the obvious duds – she’d taken hundreds of better photos over the past three weeks so they wouldn’t be missed.

Melody’s plan was to spend a chunk of the summer visiting as many seaside towns and villages in northern England as she could and was currently working her way along the Lancashire coast. Clifton-on-Sea was her next destination and she’d already looked the town up online beforehand. She knew there was a mile-long beach surrounded by cliffs, with a pier at one end and a harbour at the other, and she was hoping to capture some magical seaside moments there on camera over the next day or two.

The train came to a stop at a rather rustic-looking but quaint station. She’d visited many train stations lately, some large and filled with shops and kiosks, while others were more basic and little more than a platform with a ticket booth. Today, the train had pulled up alongside a single-storey stone building with a row of small, arched windows and an open, bottle-green door. The outside was decorated with wooden planters bursting with a rainbow of flowers, sitting either side of a couple of wrought-iron benches, and a sign welcomed those disembarking to Clifton-on-Sea. A ginger cat lay stretched out on one of the benches, basking in the sun.

Melody grabbed her bags and made her way to the nearest exit, hopping down onto the platform and following the crowd through the green door. Inside was as quaint as the outside, with a traditional tearoom staffed by two little old ladies, an information booth manned by a man in a smart uniform, and a little shop selling souvenirs. Melody hadn’t eaten since early that morning and, as it was now almost lunchtime, she was tempted to sit down with a cup of tea and a slab of lemon drizzle cake. But she should be getting on. She’d had a laissez-faire attitude to her travels so far, hopping on trains and travelling to her next destination when she fancied, so she hadn’t booked any accommodation in advance. So far, it had worked out, but she didn’t want to leave her lodgings until the last minute and run into trouble.

Reaching into the back pocket of her cut-off shorts, she pulled out the photograph she’d carried throughout her travels, smoothing down its slightly crumpled corners. She studied the familiar image for a moment before returning the photo to her pocket. Hitching her rucksack onto her back, she headed out of the station to see what Clifton-on-Sea had to offer.

Chapter Four (#u3662fc1d-138b-580a-812f-9b4b6ad10aaa)

Mae

As predicted, the Fisherman had burst into life around lunchtime. It was a tradition for those working nearby to buy their lunch from the fish and chip shop along the harbour and, as Frank didn’t serve food himself, he didn’t mind when they migrated into the pub with their parcels of hot, delicious-smelling food, unwrapping them after ordering drinks at the bar. No, Frank didn’t mind at all – profits soared as soon as the chip shop opened its doors. The dominoes had been packed up in preparation (Frank had won, though he hadn’t gloated too much) and it was all hands to the pumps as Mae, Frank and Corinne served the customers as quickly as they could before their food grew cold. Mae chatted as she worked, enquiring about husbands, wives and children as she filled glasses and took payment. She knew most of the customers well, though there was the odd less familiar face too.

Her latest customer, who technically should have been served by Corinne, was very familiar. The landlady had not-very-mysteriously vanished as soon as it was Alfie’s turn to be served.

‘What can I get you?’ she asked, while secretly plotting ways to torture her boss.

‘Would you judge me if I ordered an extremely large Jack Daniels and Coke?’

‘That depends.’ Mae leaned across the bar towards the local vet. ‘Are you going to be operating on any unsuspecting creatures this afternoon?’

‘Good point. I’ll just have the Coke then, thanks.’

Mae grabbed a glass and started to fill it. ‘Stressful morning?’

Alfie gave a long, loud sigh. ‘Very. We’re still without a vet nurse until tomorrow and the one the agency sent is…’ Alfie tilted his head to one side, trying to conjure the right words. ‘Incompetent seems like such a harsh word.’

‘But she is,’ Mae said and Alfie nodded.

‘I’m afraid so.’ He grinned as Mae placed the glass of Coke on the bar. ‘But do you know what would cheer me up?’

Mae placed a finger into the corner of her mouth, her eyes wandering to the ceiling as though she were deep in thought. ‘Hmm, let me think… A date with me?’

Alfie puffed his cheeks out before letting the air seep slowly from them as he shook his head. ‘Blimey, Mae, that’s one hell of an ego you’ve got there. I was going to say a bag of cheese and onion.’ He looked past Mae, at the boxes of crisps stacked against the wall.

‘Oh.’ Mae could feel her brow furrowing into a frown, so she fought against it, keeping her features as neutral as possible. ‘Right. Yes. Cheese and onion.’ She turned to grab a packet of the desired crisps, but a hand pulled her back. Alfie was leaning across the bar, his hand on her arm.

‘I’m kidding about the crisps. Of course I was going to ask you out. It’s what we do, isn’t it?’ He let go of her arm and straightened, reaching into his pocket for some loose change. ‘I ask you out, and you cruelly turn me down.’ He shook his head as he grabbed a few coins from the palm of his hand. ‘Every. Time.’

‘I’m not being cruel,’ Mae said as she took the money. ‘We’re mates. Good mates.’

‘It’s okay. I get it.’ Alfie held his hands up, palms facing out. ‘You don’t fancy me.’

Mae felt her stomach tie itself in a knot, tightening as she looked at poor Alfie’s downturned mouth. It wasn’t that she didn’t fancy Alfie. He was a very attractive man and a few years ago she’d have agreed to a date the first time he’d asked instead of dodging his requests time after time. But a lot had happened in that time. Dating men – even fun, caring and handsome men – wasn’t an option.

‘Are you fishing for compliments again?’ she asked to lighten the mood, and Alfie’s mouth curved into a smile that loosened the knot in her stomach.

‘Am I that obvious?’

‘You’re about as subtle as Hannah when she’s hinting for ice cream before dinner.’

Alfie’s entire face seemed to crinkle as he smiled, the areas around his eyes and mouth most prominently. ‘How are the summer holidays treating you? As stressful as you feared?’

Mae made a seesaw motion with her hand. ‘At times. She’s a good kid, but it’s hard on my own.’

‘I often wonder how Mum coped on her own with the four of us.’ Alfie shook his head. ‘We could be terrors. I should visit her more, make up for it.’