Page 7 of Autumn at the Cornish Garden Café

‘Sundried tomato brioche, pecorino cheese, Nocellara olives, and some pistachio cannoli.’

‘Oh wow. She’s so kind.’

Vinnie handed her the bag, then picked up his jacket again. ‘I’ll put this in the staffroom, then make us a coffee and you can tell me what we’re ordering from that catalogue.’

‘Great idea.’

Rosa opened the bag and gazed inside it, her mouth watering at the delicious treats it contained. Small acts of kindness could make such a difference to someone’s day, and she was always grateful for them when they came her way.

* * *

The next day, Rosa, and Vinnie opened the shop and at ten o’clock, she set off for Christopher’s home in her van. The white van bore the shop’s name on the side, and Rosa felt a swell of pride every time she got behind the wheel. She had built this business alone and there was no one to thank for it but herself. Once upon a time, she’d been told — by a man — she was a dreamer who would never achieve her goals, but now she was living a life that resulted from her dreams and determination.

She drove through the village, past the school and the row of fishing cottages and then along a quiet country lane before pulling up outside the large, detached house that Christopher had told her about. She cut the engine and got out of the van, then walked to the front gate.

Surrounded by hedges, the four-storey grey stone house was double fronted with large bay windows, a wooden front door complete with a lion head brass knocker, and a spacious front garden. Pots lined the path from the gate to the front door, but they were empty or filled with weeds; one was smashed, and brown earth oozed from the hole like dried blood. Mole hills dotted the overgrown lawn, rising like dark acne on the green.

When she got close to the house, she could see that the paint was peeling around the windows and the glass was dirty. Christopher had been smartly dressed yesterday in his pressed trousers, shirt, cardigan and blazer, so she thought he must be a proud man. The state of his front garden suggested that he may be struggling to stay on top of everything, and her heart ached for him. In that moment, she knew she would do what she could to help him — as long as he was happy to have her assistance.

She raised the lion’s head and knocked on the door then waited for Christopher to answer. Barking came from inside and then she heard footsteps and the door swung inwards.

‘Ahhhh … morning, Rosa.’ Christopher smiled at her and a small dog that she recognised as a Jack Russell ran past Christopher’s legs and jumped up at her. ‘Bobby! Get down now.’

Bobby stopped bouncing and ran back inside and Christopher apologised for his exuberance, then said that the dog was happy to have a visitor.

‘He seems lovely,’ Rosa said as Christopher invited her inside.

‘Oh he’s a friendly little chap, but he gets very excited.’ Christopher closed the door and held a hand out. ‘Come through to the kitchen and I’ll make us a drink, then I’ll take you to the library.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

Rosa followed her host through the hallway, past a central staircase and into a large kitchen that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in one of the historical dramas on TV. And while Christopher made tea, she made a fuss of Bobby, who brought her ball after ball, dropping them at her feet as if he was auditioning for a role courtside at Wimbledon.

4

HENRY

Within a week, Henry felt he had settled in well at the village primary school. This school differed from his London school; it was smaller, and its pupils were village children, not city children. Of course, they were all children, but some of their life experiences to date had been different. The children in Porthpenny seemed more relaxed if anything and he wondered if that was because they lived near the sea in a small, friendly village. He felt more relaxed there, freer; he thought, and it was because he could head down to the beach and walk along the sand, gaze out at the seemingly endless horizon and breathe deeply of the salty air. London had sometimes overwhelmed him; here, he found a welcome tranquility.

He’d dismissed his class for break and was tidying his classroom before he had his planning and preparation time. Another teacher would take the pupils in his class for their PE session while he caught up with planning and marking. He also had a meeting scheduled with an external advisor about literacy, something he was passionate about. He felt happy — happy to be in Porthpenny, happy to be teaching at this lovely little school, and happy in general.

Of course, there were other things in London that had made him long to move away, to escape somewhere he could be anonymous and where no one knew about his past. Not that everyone in London had done, but there were people there who knew him and knew what had happened to him. People who knewher, and that had been tough. A shiver ran down his spine and he wriggled his shoulders, then rubbed at the back of his neck. He didn’t want to bring those memories here to this fresh start. Instead, he gazed out of the window at the playground, where the leaves on the trees were turning shades of orange, red and brown. Those that had already fallen skittered across the grass, lifted and teased by a gentle autumn breeze. Autumn was a season of change, of quiet transformation — and Henry believed it could bring change for him too, here in this village, in this school. Now, he could be the person he aspired to be, free from the future his father had once envisioned for him — and from the oneshe’dwanted for him. Trying to live up to people’s expectations never went well and often led to their disappointment and sometimes a sense of failing people that left a sour taste on his tongue.

‘Knock! Knock!’

Henry turned to see Pete Malik standing in the open doorway holding two mugs.

‘Morning,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’

Pete was the Year 4 teacher, and he’d been very kind to Henry since he started at the school, telling him he was there to answer any questions he had or to provide any support he may need.

‘Got you a coffee.’ Pete held out one of the mugs.

‘Thanks. That’s very kind of you.’

‘Pleasure.’ Pete smiled. ‘How are things?’

‘Great.’ Henry nodded. ‘I have PPA after break and a meeting with the literacy advisor. So lots to do, but it’s all good.’

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