Page 3 of Autumn at the Cornish Garden Café

HENRY CLAY

Waking in a pool of sweat was not the way Henry had envisaged today starting, but the nightmare had been horrid, and he was glad to escape its clutches. Sometimes real life was horrifying enough to leave people scarred and there was no need for nightmares about zombies and other monsters. His nightmare had centred on the London boardroom where he’d spent so much time dealing with clients and businesses, sometimes feeling he’d have to sell his soul to reach a satisfactory solution. And then, of course, there had been other things that he’d felt trapped by, but those he’d prefer not to dwell on right now on the first day at his new job.

Stripping off his damp T-shirt and shorts, he changed into his running gear, grabbed his key, and let himself out of his cottage. He did a quick warmup, then set off towards the hill that led up to The Garden Café and the coastal path beyond.

He breathed deeply as he climbed the incline, his feet pounding the ground in their trainers, his body loosening as he let go of the nightmare and eased into movement. There was nothing like running for purging difficult emotions. It freed him to exist in the moment and allowed him to clear his mind, which was what he needed before his first day at the local primary school.

The sun rose over the sea, bathing the sky in lavender and peach hues. He passed the café gardens, then ran along the coastal path; the sea spread out to his right like a navy velvet blanket—cold, dark and deep beyond comprehension.

Checking his smart watch, he saw that he’d run over three kilometres and had just over an hour to get ready, so he turned and ran back the way he’d come. When he reached the village, the sky was lighter, and the air was fragrant with aromas of bread and pastries from the bakery and with a hint of wood smoke. It was very different from Reading, where he’d grown up and gone to university, and London, where he’d worked first in finance and then as a teacher, and it was a welcome change. Without this change, he’d worried he’d stay there all his life and never experience something different, like working in a village school. He was thirty-six, which was still young, but forty was looming and he didn’t want to get to fifty and find that he hadn’t done all the things he’d dreamt of doing. So here he was, taking a leap of faith and starting over in Cornwall.

He jogged towards the bookshop he’d visited yesterday as if drawn there by a mysterious force. Henry had always been an avid reader, and he loved browsing bookshops, so knowing there was one in the village excited him. He suspected Rosa and Vinnie would see a lot of him.

Slowing down, he paused in front of The Book Nook and peered through the window. The shelves and tables of books filled him with joy because within their pages, there were worlds he’d not yet discovered, and things to learn that would fill his mind and his days.

He looked down at his watch to check the time, and when he looked back up, he spotted Rosa smiling at him through the glass. His heart gave a little jump and reminded him of how he’d felt last night when he’d first seen her. With her white-blond hair with purple streaks that fell to her waist, her amber eyes, and pretty face, she’d been very pleasant to look at and he’d had to try not to stare. A pretty face did not easily sway Henry these days, but Rosa was a true beauty. Not in a conventional way, perhaps, but in a unique way, and he thought she was enchanting.

Rosa opened the door and came outside. ‘Good morning.’

‘Morning.’

‘You’ve been running?’ she asked, her eyes flicking over his attire.

‘Yeah. It gets me started for the day and it helps me shake off bad dreams.’

‘You too, huh?’

‘Sorry?’

‘You suffer from nightmares?’ Her eyes held his, and he wondered how they were such an unusual colour. They were coppery yellow-brown with a warm, honey-like hue that made him think of warm summer days.

‘I do. And you?’

‘Unfortunately.’ She shrugged. ‘It makes getting out of bed in the mornings easier. I’m hoping that settling here will help with them, though.’

‘Me too.’

They stood smiling at each other and then Rosa said, ‘Would you like a coffee?’

‘Oh, I … uh…’ Henry looked down at his shorts and T-shirt. ‘I’m a bit sweaty.’

‘I can pour it into lidded mugs and we can take it down to the harbour and sit on a bench if you prefer. Only if you have time, though.’

Henry paused for a moment, then nodded. ‘Coffee would be great.’

‘Wonderful! I’ll be back soon.’

Rosa went inside the bookshop and when she returned, she held out a reusable mug. ‘I forgot to ask if you like sugar and milk.’

‘Black is great.’

He accepted the mug, and Rosa locked the door then they strolled down to the harbour and sat on a bench. The landscape was a rich tapestry of late summer as it clung on and early autumn creeping in to cloak the village with her colourful changes.

‘How long have you been in the village?’ Rosa asked, turning on the bench so she was facing Henry.

‘Only for a month. I bought a cottage but was waiting for the contracts to be finalised. There was a delay as the seller was in a chain and the house they were buying fell through, but then they found another one. Lucky for me.’

The gentle breeze caressed Rosa’s long hair and the morning sunlight made it glow like spun silver. With the purple streaks that looked more lavender in this light, her hair made him think of sunrises he’d seen here in Cornwall and her amber eyes were as golden as the sunsets had been.

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