Page 15 of Autumn at the Cornish Garden Café

‘Oh he was, sweetie. Henry likes you. An idiot could spot it a mile away. The way he watched you so intensely when you spoke to him and his wistful expression when you invited him to join us…’

‘How could you hear that?’ Rosa frowned.

‘Honey, I have three children. My ears are tuned in to a different frequency than most people’s.’

Rosa giggled. Sita had always been funny and had an ability to make her laugh even when she was feeling blue.

‘And if I’m not mistaken, having known you as long as I have, then I think you like him, too.’

Rosa was about to deny this, but Sita held her gaze, her big brown eyes fixed on Rosa’s. Sita had known her a long time, since she was a child when she’d holidayed in Porthpenny with her aunt. She’d been crab fishing at the harbour one day when a small girl with black curly hair and big brown eyes had approached her and given her some tips on how to catch a crab. Sita had introduced herself and they’d become friends, and every time Rosa visited the Cornish village after that day, she’d always looked out for Sita. They’d spent many summer days splashing in the sea, sunbathing on the golden sand and chatting about life. Nothing had changed now they were adults. Sita was married with three boys but she was still the same bubbly, funny, caring person, and Rosa was delighted that she got to see more of her since her move. It was Sita who had encouraged Rosa to move here and set up her dream bookshop, and Rosa was incredibly grateful for her support.

Rosa sighed. ‘He’s very handsome, sweet and intelligent and he loves reading, but that’s all there is to it. You know why I can’t ever bring myself to date again. I just can’t.’ She bit her bottom lip as tears stung her eyes and Sita reached over the table and took her hand.

‘I know you were hurt, and that’s hard to overcome, but I also think you deserve someone who loves you in return. Just because it went wrong before doesn’t mean it will do again.’

Rosa blinked away her tears and met Sita’s eyes. ‘I know you mean well, but you don’t understand because you’ve never been through what I have. I’m sorry … that sounds patronising. But you have Niels and he’d do anything for you. Rejection leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and so does…’ She swallowed hard, not wanting to say the words and bring the betrayal into this moment with her friend. ‘It’s just hard to move on.’

‘I know, darling. And I know I haven’t been through what you have, but I did have my heart broken once … before Niels. There was a lad who came here for his summer holiday and I fell for his bright blue eyes and square jaw, his muscular build and surfing ability.’ She grimaced. ‘I spent several nights sneaking out of my parents’ home and making out on the beach with him. Then his holiday came to an end, and we exchanged numbers, but I never heard from him again. I tried the number he’d given me and it was fake. A woman called Nigella answered and when I asked for him, thinking it must be his mother, she said she had no idea who I was taking about. I tried again, replacing one or two digits of the number he’d given me in case he’d made a mistake, but to no avail. The poohead had given me a fake number and so that was that. I never got to speak to him again.’

‘I’m so sorry. You never told me about this before.’

Sita shrugged. ‘I felt like such a fool. He’d strung me a few lines just to get into my knick — my good books…’ She winked. ‘And then after he got what he wanted, he left without so much as a backwards glance.’

‘What a poohead.’

‘Exactly.’ Sita laughed. ‘I was gutted at the time and blamed myself. If I’d been prettier, slimmer, funnier, known more about football … blah blah blah, then he’d have wanted to be with me. At the end of the day though, he was who he was and nothing was going to change that. Anyway…’ She took another bite of muffin and chewed thoughtfully. ‘I was on Facebook recently and he came up as a recommended friend because we have a mutual friend.’

‘So you did what any self-respecting person would do and had a nose at his profile?’

‘Of course I did!’ Sita laughed. ‘And what a lucky escape I had. Seems he’s got fat and bald. He was handsome when he was younger in that sharp youthful way, but now…’ She shuddered. ‘Not that looks are everything, of course, but I think his meanness has emerged through his skin and now he looks mean too. Of course, he was a teenager back then and probably played the field a lot before he settled down. He’s married now with children, well, teenagers by the look of it and he plays in a band.’ She sniggered. ‘There were some photos of him at gigs with what little hair he has left in a small ponytail — unless it’s a stick-on one — and he was on stage acting like he was Rod Stewart.’

‘Oh dear…’

‘Exactly.’ Sita nodded. ‘I had a lucky escape. Just like you.’

‘Things were further along for me though…’ Rosa said.

‘Of course they were. And I am so sorry for what you went through, my darling. So sorry. But … what I was trying to say to you is that we all get hurt at some point, but it doesn’t mean we can’t love again. Look at me and Niels.’

‘You guys are the perfect match. I’m so glad you found him.’

‘Well…’ Sita sipped her latte. ‘He kind of found me, didn’t he?’

Niels had come to Porthpenny twelve years ago on a business trip and met Sita there. He fell deeply in love with her and proposed before the week was over. Niels had moved to Cornwall, and they’d married six months later and had three boys — Johan, ten, Daan, eight, and Willem, five. It was the perfect romance story and Rosa wished she could have the same, but for her things had been very different.

‘Anyway … as I was saying, I think Henry likes you and you could do a lot worse than a sexy teacher.’

‘I’ll keep him as a friend, thank you very much.’

‘We’ll see!’ Sita giggled. ‘We will see. Trust me that Sita Vandermeer has a funny feeling about this. Something good is coming your way.’

‘Hopefully it’s another apple streusel muffin.’ Rosa waggled her eyebrows, and Sita laughed hard.

‘If all else fails, there’s always cake, right?’

‘Always.’

9

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