‘Maybe that’s what she really wants to do? Probably doesn’t want to let her parents down, though. Under all that punk make-up and fluorescent hair, she’s a softie. Wants to keep them happy.’
Tessa pointed a stern finger. ‘Yeah, but what does she want? Going off to study books for three years isn’t going to make her happy. All she’ll end up with is debt.’
‘That’s exactly what she said to me. It’s awful that kids have to think like that.’
‘Well, Ken reckons she ought to get herself to art college.’ Tessa pulled another face and spread her arms. ‘And not going to uni didn’t do us any harm, did it?’
Millie raised her eyebrows. ‘No. We’re just sitting here at six in the morning, wondering how best to make ends meet.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Tessa got up. ‘A poxy English degree ain’t necessarily going to fix that. Agreed?’
‘Maybe.’ Millie grinned. Tessa’s antipathy to academia stemmed from disappointment in her eldest son. Sean had little scholarly ambition. The Tizzards’ hopes were now focused on their middle boy.
Just as Tessa got to the door, she turned. She hesitated before speaking. ‘Have you heard what’s going into the old bank building?’
‘No, what? I walked past there earlier but there was no clue.’ Millie began clearing their plates and mugs.
Tessa took a breath. ‘It’s another caff, Mil. I’m sorry, kiddo.’
‘A café?’ Millie sank back onto her chair on suddenly weakened legs. Another café. Coming to Berecombe. And opening up as a rival.
She looked around at the sunny turquoise walls, the fairy lights, encased in feathers and twinkling, lovingly put up by Zoe. The tray of tempting breads waiting to be eaten. The tables scrubbed and laid ready for her customers to flock in. Except they hadn’t exactly been flocking in recently, had they? And with competition opening up, it could just about sound the death knell for Millie Vanilla’s.
Oh God.
‘Sorry, Millie,’ Tessa repeated. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. School run. Laters, bab.’
She disappeared before Millie had the chance to answer.
Arthur wandered in later than usual and, very unusually, without Daisy. He rejected a cooked breakfast and sat morosely nursing a solitary mug of tea. In sympathy, Trevor whined and squatted at his feet, but was ignored.
When Millie spotted Biddy pushing open the door, with a cheerful Elvis in tow, she feared the worst. She was in no mood for squabbling pensioners this morning.
‘You’re early, Biddy. What can I get you?’
‘It’s allowed, isn’t it? Being early. Not a crime. And what else do I ever have? The usual, please.’
Muttering to herself as she worked in the kitchen, Millie wondered if Biddy got on with anyone. Maybe it was the low, dull clouds? It seemed to be putting everyone in a bad mood today. As she warmed up Biddy’s scone, Millie could already hear her bickering with Arthur. Biddy was moaning that yet another restaurant was opening up in town. Her heart sank.
She brought out Biddy’s coffee and scone, served it and retreated behind the counter, pretending to polish some glasses.
‘For once I agree with you,’ Arthur went on. ‘And it does the town no favours to have these businesses open in good faith, only to have one poor season and close down again.’
‘Hmph,’ Biddy snorted. ‘Don’t see it happen in Lyme.’
Arthur sighed. ‘Lyme Regis has always been a special case as it’s so popular. And Berecombe’s not doing too badly, really.’
‘But you’ve still let this new café open.’
Millie stiffened.
‘Apart from myself, the town council were in agreement. Blue Elephant is an international chain. The council felt, with the backing of a big company behind them, it might help the café stay open and provide some continuity. And that’s quite a large building to pay rates on. Only a big organisation like that could afford it.’
Millie found the leg of the stool behind the till and dragged it over using her foot. Blue Elephant! She collapsed onto it. It couldn’t be much worse. They were huge in the States and had just started to open branches over here, rivalling Costa and Starbucks. They were a Fairtrade company and committed to using organic supplies. With their muffins, granary sandwiches and coffees they’d be in direct competition with what she did at Millie Vanilla’s. Even worse, the backing of a large corporation meant buying in bulk across their outlets and almost certainly undercutting her prices. She felt sick.
‘But the council is still letting this Elephant place go ahead?’ Biddy asked through a mouthful of scone, scattering crumbs.
‘I’m afraid so, Biddy.’
‘What did you say? ‘Speak up, man.’
‘I said, yes I’m afraid so,’ Arthur repeated.
Biddy snorted again.
‘I will endeavour to put forward your feelings at the next council meeting.’
In answer, Biddy slurped her coffee. Silence fell, only interrupted by whimpers coming from a now dreaming and kicking Elvis.
Arthur, sensing their conversation was at an end, came to the counter and paid the exact amount in cash as he always did. ‘I’m sorry, dear girl,’ he whispered, ‘that I couldn’t tell you sooner. About this Blue Elephant business. It was all a very hush-hush affair.’
Millie nodded mutely and watched him as he left. Trevor followed him to the door and whined. After hearing the dreadful news Millie wanted to join in.
To her relief, business picked up a little at Millie Vanilla’s over the next few days. The literary festival brought a smattering of people into town. Millie stayed open on the nights events were held and did a roaring trade in warming pea and ham soup and her rich apricot and almond tray bake. She liked the lone customers who came in, pored over a book in a corner and demanded constant tea and coffee. The festival was designed to bring some trade into town in the quiet days after the Christmas season and it was working.
Along with the Yummy Mummies Plus One Dad Group and her other regulars, the W.I. Knitting Circle and the Berecombe B.A.P.S (the Berecombe Appreciation of Paperbacks Society), she was kept busy.
Tessa popped by one evening with her two youngest boys. While the children took Trevor for a run on the beach, she tucked into the apricot cake with relish. ‘Oh,’ she sighed, ‘you should definitely make loads more of this. It’s bloomin’ gorgeous.’ She looked up as the door opened. ‘Hello, our Sean.’
Her eldest son stood in the doorway looking coy. ‘Hi, Mum.’
A possible reason for his embarrassment arrived a second later. Zoe, this time with bleached-white hair, fell into the café behind him. ‘Oh hello, Mrs Tizzard.’
‘Zoe, me lover, told you before, call me Tessa. Grab a pew. What are you having?’
‘Well, we’re not stopping. We’re just on our way to the poetry reading in the theatre.’
Tessa’s shoulders quivered with barely contained laughter. ‘Poetry reading? Not usually our Sean’s thing.’
As