An A To Z Of Love. Sophie Pembroke
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Charlie still didn’t know what she’d seen in him.
The second time, he’d thought it was over for good when she ran out after he proposed. She’d been staying with her mother for a fortnight when she’d shown up and declared they should get married, move to Aberarian and start a seafood restaurant together. And her enthusiasm, her energy, had bowled him over again.
And now, two years after she’d walked out on their dream life – leaving nothing but a note saying she just wasn’t ready – she was back again, wearing a classic grey suit and bright red high heels, looking every inch the professional woman come to talk business. Or stomp on his heart. It was hard to tell with Becky.
‘So,’ he said, letting the door swing shut behind him. ‘You remember the kitchen.’
Becky stood next the preparation space, much closer to the kitchen knives than he was really comfortable with, and leaned against his beautiful stainless steel counters. ‘Okay, let’s get straight to it. Where are the customers, Charlie?’
‘It’s halfway between lunch and dinner, Bex.’ Charlie was instantly annoyed with himself for using the nickname, but more irritated by her questions. ‘Not the most popular time for dining.’ Of course, it hadn’t been so late when she’d come in, but if Charlie was very lucky she wouldn’t remember that.
‘Perhaps. But your reservations book looks pretty empty too.’
‘You shouldn’t be looking at that.’ And why would you care? he wanted to ask. But mostly, he wanted her to leave him alone to figure out if he was angrier she’d left or that she’d returned. And what it was she wanted from him now.
‘Look.’ Becky leaned towards him, one hand open and reaching for him. ‘I’m honestly trying to help here. A casino would bring in a lot of business to this town. A lot of people looking for somewhere to take their wives out for a celebratory dinner after they beat the house. More tourists, more holiday-makers…’
‘Yeah. Give us more cottages turned into holiday homes left empty nine months of the year? How’s that going to help those of us who want to live here, and maybe take in a movie now and then?’
Becky slid her hand along the worktop, as if she were marking it as hers. ‘Well what do you suggest then? More locals who can’t afford to eat here? Who’ll go to the Tesco in Coed-y-Capel instead?’
Charlie yanked the fridge door open. He needed to cook something. ‘I’m not saying we don’t need tourists. I just think we need something for locals too. You can’t run roughshod over the community and expect any grand plans to work. You need to work with them.’
‘Of course we do,’ Becky said, placing a soothing hand on his arm. ‘Which is why I need your help. After all, you’ve rather become part of the community while I’ve been gone, haven’t you?’
Charlie shrugged. ‘Not really.’ He went to the pub every now and again with Joe, and hung out with Mia, but beyond that? He wasn’t even sure anyone else in town knew his full name. Aberarian was Becky’s hometown. She was supposed to be the restaurant’s link to the community. He was just the chef.
‘So you’ll help, won’t you?’ Becky said, ignoring him completely. ‘That’s wonderful. I know we need to talk about us too, and I want to, really. But let’s save us for later.’ She looked pointedly at the kitchen doors. Magda was hovering in the doorway, eavesdropping again. He wondered how long she’d been there. ‘When we’ve a little more privacy.’
Magda, he noticed, was still looking far too amused for her own good.
‘But Charlie,’ Becky said, reaching the doorway, a note of warning in her voice. ‘Don’t forget. I’m still a stakeholder here. And we still need to talk about your plans to increase profits.’
Suddenly it was too cold to be standing by the open fridge. Charlie slammed the door shut with a satisfying crash and turned to Magda. ‘They finished eating?’ She nodded. ‘Good. Let’s get rid of them, then shut up shop until this evening. I really need a drink.’
* * * *
Mia dropped her pen to the table and let it clatter and roll from there to the floor. ‘How did I not know things were this bad?’
Ditsy shrugged. ‘Because I didn’t tell you. It is still my shop, after all, for all that you do most of the actual work.’
‘Yeah, well, from now on I’m being more involved in the financial side too.’
Ditsy slammed the accounting book shut and rubbed a hand across her forehead. ‘I need a drink.’
‘We’re not surrendering to alcoholism just yet.’ Mia turned the book round to face her and flipped it open again. The numbers didn’t look any better the right way up. ‘There must be something else we can do. Surely we don’t have to go to Becky and Tony, cap in hand, just yet?’
Ditsy looked uncertain. ‘I’m not saying I like the idea, but…’
‘Ditsy!’ Mia tilted her chair on two legs in disgust. ‘You can’t possibly…’
‘I said I don’t like the idea.’ Ditsy spoke over Mia until she shut up. ‘I don’t. I don’t like the idea of flashing lights and late-night brawls and stag parties coming in to gamble nonstop for the weekend. I don’t like relying on the rich tourists who can afford to buy homes they hardly visit. I don’t like the fact this town has more houses standing empty in the winter than occupied. And yes, I much preferred it when we could provide batteries and flour and buckets and spades for young families staying at the B&Bs or the caravan park or the cottages that rent all year round. But things are changing in Aberarian.’
‘Well perhaps they shouldn’t.’ Mia knew she sounded sulky. She just didn’t really care.
Ditsy sighed. ‘We need to do what we can to keep the A to Z shop going. Otherwise there’s just going to be another empty shop front on High Street, and how is that going to help anyone?’
‘I suppose.’ Mia turned back to the book, figuring if she stared at it long enough, it might change the numbers round just to keep things interesting.
Ditsy slammed the cover shut on Mia’s fingers, though, which put paid to that idea. ‘Look. Becky said they’ve already got Mayor Fielding to hold a town meeting the day after tomorrow. I guess they want to be able to tell their investors the town’s on side before they shell out for the cinema.’
‘So we’ve just got to come up with a way to convince the town it’s a bad idea.’ Mia thought for a moment, then sighed. ‘Except then Becky will tell them it’s going to make them rich, and they’ll flock to her again.’
‘What about Walt Hamilton?’ Ditsy asked. ‘Could we convince him not to sell?’
Mia shrugged. ‘We could try. But Walt loves his cinema. If he’s considering selling, it’s because he has to.’ The thought of it tugged at her heart. Poor Walt. Susan had poured all her love and attention into their only son and, pushed to the side-lines, Walt had taken over the Coliseum as his own place. It hadn’t been long before restoring and running the place had become more of a vocation than a hobby.
Dan had never really understood his father’s obsession with the place. However much the rest of the town thought he was the best thing since the vicar’s wife’s lemon cake, Mia should have known right then it would never work out between them.
‘I bet bloody Susan is just thrilled,’ Ditsy grumbled. ‘She always hated Walt spending all his time there.’ Then she brightened. ‘But the rest of the town, they won’t want to lose it. Maybe we could all club together, or something…’
Mia raised an eyebrow. ‘You really think anyone in this town would give money to help someone else?’ For starters, nobody had any, any more.
The look Ditsy gave her was almost disappointed. ‘At some point, dear, you’re going to have to start having a little faith. Some trust in other