Page 13 of Autumn at the Cornish Garden Café

‘Henry!’ She waved out of the screen at him. ‘Hello, darling. How are you?’ Her eyes slid to Rosa, and she waved. ‘Hello there! Oh … Sorry, darling, do you have company? Shall I call back later?’

‘No, it’s fine, Mum.’ Henry turned to Rosa. ‘Apologies.’

‘No problem,’ Rosa said. ‘And hello, Henry’s mum. Right, I’m going to order my food and leave you in peace.’

Rosa walked away, and Henry looked back at the screen. ‘I’m actually in the café at the moment having breakfast and I don’t want to bethat personwho takes a call while others are eating their breakfast, so shall I call you back?’

‘All right, darling. But don’t take long because I’m off to the WI cake sale at noon.’

‘I’ll be ten minutes.’ Henry ended the call and stared down at his crusty roll. Sighing, he picked it up and ate quickly. His mum would want to know more about the mysterious woman she’d seen him with, and he knew she’d be pinning her hopes on Rosa being aperson of interest. She was desperate to see him settled, as she always put it, and telling her he wasn’t interested never seemed to convince her.

After he’d finished his breakfast, he took the plate and mug to the counter and thanked Ellie again. Then he left the café and walked through the gardens and up the slight incline to the bench that had an amazing view of the sea. There was a large oak tree behind the bench and autumn had painted the leaves in tawny gold and russet hues. Some lay on the ground around the bench like autumn confetti, while others hung on, rustling like crumpled paper in the sea breeze.

Henry got his phone from his pocket and scrolled to the last caller, then swiped to call his mum. The phone rang twice, then her face appeared on the screen, familiar and comforting as always with her grey bobbed hair with a blunt fringe, bright blue eyes behind red framed glasses and pearly pink lipstick. He knew she would smell like white musk, clean, soft, and powdery. It was a scent that reminded him of clean washing and of his childhood.

‘Hi, Mum.’

‘Hello again, Henry.’

‘Look at this a moment.’ He flipped the camera on his phone so she could see the view, then moved it around so she could see the surrounding gardens.

‘Goodness, that’s beautiful.’

‘I know. You’d love it here.’ He returned the camera to his face.

‘I’m sure I would.’ Her eyes shone as she smiled at him. ‘But the best view is right in front of me now.’

‘Ha! Thanks, Mum.’ Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes in embarrassment. ‘You’re always so kind.’

‘You’re my baby boy and I love seeing your handsome face. I miss you so much.’

‘I miss you too, but you know you’re welcome to come and stay anytime you like. I have the space.’

‘I know, darling, and I’m grateful for the offer. I’m just?—’

‘Very busy there, I know, and you worry about Dad.’

His mum pursed her lips. ‘I don’t like to leave him to fend for himself.’

‘I’m sure he’d manage. He’s an adult, you know.’ Henry swallowed down what he wanted to say next. His father was a grown man and he would cope perfectly well on his own, but he knew his mum was afraid he wouldn’t. His father would then blame her, and she would face the fallout — his prolonged sulking, while denying he was upset, and it would go on for weeks.

‘He needs me,’ she breathed.

Henry gave a small dip of his head, not wanting to make his mum feel bad. His parents had been married a long time, and he knew they loved each other. His dad was a hard man though. Before retiring recently, he’d been a highly successful corporate lawyer. Bruce Clay valued ambition, self-discipline and a strong work ethic. Coming from a long line of lawyers, he’d had high expectations for his only son and Henry knew he’d found him disappointing. Hell, Henry had found himself disappointing, but he knew it stemmed from how his father saw him and it was hard sometimes to rise above that. When he’d been working in finance, his father had been proud, but now he was teaching, his father disapproved. Teaching was not the route to secure finances and career success, his father believed, and nothing else mattered.

‘How’ve you been, Mum?’ he asked, a note of tenderness in his voice.

She told him about the latest WI projects she’d been involved with as well as her work at the food bank and he listened, enjoying the sound of her voice and watching how her eyes lit up when she spoke about helping others. She was a kind woman, and he knew he hadn’t always appreciated how compassionate she was when he was growing up. As a teenager, he’d seen her caring nature as a weakness at times, and occasionally told her as much, especially when she was trying to keep the peace between him and his father. Now, though, he saw exactly how strong she was and how her kindness was a strength few people possessed. He wished she’d be more selfish, but it wasn’t in her nature and he knew she’d always put others, especially her husband and family, before herself. She’d worked as a counsellor for young carers for a while, and he knew she’d carried a lot of that with her for years. Seeing youngsters struggling to act like adults had often left her tearful and wishing she could do more. Feeling powerless to help others was the thing he’d once thought could be her undoing. But she endured, and she kept helping and she kept being there for her family.

‘That all sounds great.’ He smiled and her cheeks turned pink.

‘Thanks, darling. So…’ She licked her lips. ‘Who was that lovely young woman at the café?’

‘Her name is Rosa, and she owns the bookshop in the village.’

‘A bookshop, eh? I’m sure you’re spending lots of time there.’ She laughed, aware that Henry had a serious book buying addiction.

‘Some, it’s true. You know me and my reading habit.’

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