shrugged. ‘You know how word gets around these places,’ he said. ‘Chinese whispers. I suppose I should be grateful they’re not discussing me for a change.’ He eyed me over his tea. ‘So, you’re saying you’re not selling?’
I took a deep breath, feeling flummoxed. ‘I . . . I haven’t actually decided what I’m going to do yet,’ I confessed, leaning back against the tiled wall. It felt cold under my palms. ‘Maybe I will have to sell it eventually. I live in Oxford, so it’s not exactly practical for me to run it. But that’s why I came down here, to work out what to do. I don’t know why everyone’s already jumped to conclusions and started slagging me off, when I haven’t even decided anything yet. God!’
My voice shook, and he held his hands up. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I should know better than to pass on gossip. I should have known it was cobblers, after the rubbish they invented about me.’
‘What’s your story then?’ I asked, to change the subject. ‘Why have you been gossiped about?’
‘Oh, lots of reasons,’ he replied carelessly. ‘I haven’t lived here for the last two hundred years, so obviously I’m a suspicious outsider, like you. And I’ve driven them nuts, not telling them much about myself, so they’ve had an utter field day – a field month – speculating and guessing about who I am and why I’m here.’ He grinned. ‘They thought I was some kind of fugitive at first, apparently, on the run from the law. Why else would I be hiding in their village out of season?’
I grinned back. ‘I’m surprised no one made a citizen’s arrest,’ I told him.
‘You and me both,’ he said. ‘The truth is far less exciting, though. I’m dog-sitting for a mate while he’s working abroad for a couple of months. Getting away from it all, you know.’
‘Ahh,’ I said. ‘And . . .’ I was about to ask exactly what he was getting away from when a young couple came in with a baby in a sling. I smiled at them politely. ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘What can I get you?’
By the time I’d served them, the man was getting to his feet. ‘Thanks,’ he said, bringing over his empty mug. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Oh God, did I forget to charge you?’ Embarrassment coursed through me. I wasn’t going to win Professional Businesswoman of the Year if I kept giving out freebies. ‘Oops. One pound fifty, please.’
He handed over the money. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said. ‘I’m Ed.’
‘Evie,’ I replied. ‘Nice to meet you, too. And you can tell those gossips from me they’ve got their facts wrong.’
‘Will do,’ he said, then turned and strode out. ‘Come on then, Lola,’ I heard him say. ‘Time to go.’
I had a straggle of customers to deal with – teas, coffees and a couple of rounds of toast – but it was ten o’clock before any of the other members of staff put in an appearance. Seb was first, the lad who helped out at weekends, and he looked horrified to see me there. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, turning bright red. ‘I didn’t think we’d be open yet. Last week, Carl said – ’
He didn’t finish his sentence, but I could guess the rest. Carl had said not to bother coming in at the usual time as he wouldn’t be opening up till later. No doubt he’d anticipated a hangover after the poker party.
‘No worries,’ I said lightly. I was too relieved to have someone else behind the counter to be really cross with him.
Just then a couple of twenty-somethings came in for a coffee and bacon roll each. Seb and I looked at each other. ‘I’ll do the coffees,’ he said.
‘Right,’ I said, hurrying into the kitchen before anyone could see the panicked look on my face. It was only bacon , I reminded myself. I could cook that. Anyone could fry up a bit of bacon, even me. It was just . . . Where was Carl? I hadn’t expected to have to do any actual cooking while I was here; it was hardly my specialist subject. Stress!
I made the bacon
I took a deep breath, feeling flummoxed. ‘I . . . I haven’t actually decided what I’m going to do yet,’ I confessed, leaning back against the tiled wall. It felt cold under my palms. ‘Maybe I will have to sell it eventually. I live in Oxford, so it’s not exactly practical for me to run it. But that’s why I came down here, to work out what to do. I don’t know why everyone’s already jumped to conclusions and started slagging me off, when I haven’t even decided anything yet. God!’
My voice shook, and he held his hands up. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I should know better than to pass on gossip. I should have known it was cobblers, after the rubbish they invented about me.’
‘What’s your story then?’ I asked, to change the subject. ‘Why have you been gossiped about?’
‘Oh, lots of reasons,’ he replied carelessly. ‘I haven’t lived here for the last two hundred years, so obviously I’m a suspicious outsider, like you. And I’ve driven them nuts, not telling them much about myself, so they’ve had an utter field day – a field month – speculating and guessing about who I am and why I’m here.’ He grinned. ‘They thought I was some kind of fugitive at first, apparently, on the run from the law. Why else would I be hiding in their village out of season?’
I grinned back. ‘I’m surprised no one made a citizen’s arrest,’ I told him.
‘You and me both,’ he said. ‘The truth is far less exciting, though. I’m dog-sitting for a mate while he’s working abroad for a couple of months. Getting away from it all, you know.’
‘Ahh,’ I said. ‘And . . .’ I was about to ask exactly what he was getting away from when a young couple came in with a baby in a sling. I smiled at them politely. ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘What can I get you?’
By the time I’d served them, the man was getting to his feet. ‘Thanks,’ he said, bringing over his empty mug. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Oh God, did I forget to charge you?’ Embarrassment coursed through me. I wasn’t going to win Professional Businesswoman of the Year if I kept giving out freebies. ‘Oops. One pound fifty, please.’
He handed over the money. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said. ‘I’m Ed.’
‘Evie,’ I replied. ‘Nice to meet you, too. And you can tell those gossips from me they’ve got their facts wrong.’
‘Will do,’ he said, then turned and strode out. ‘Come on then, Lola,’ I heard him say. ‘Time to go.’
I had a straggle of customers to deal with – teas, coffees and a couple of rounds of toast – but it was ten o’clock before any of the other members of staff put in an appearance. Seb was first, the lad who helped out at weekends, and he looked horrified to see me there. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, turning bright red. ‘I didn’t think we’d be open yet. Last week, Carl said – ’
He didn’t finish his sentence, but I could guess the rest. Carl had said not to bother coming in at the usual time as he wouldn’t be opening up till later. No doubt he’d anticipated a hangover after the poker party.
‘No worries,’ I said lightly. I was too relieved to have someone else behind the counter to be really cross with him.
Just then a couple of twenty-somethings came in for a coffee and bacon roll each. Seb and I looked at each other. ‘I’ll do the coffees,’ he said.
‘Right,’ I said, hurrying into the kitchen before anyone could see the panicked look on my face. It was only bacon , I reminded myself. I could cook that. Anyone could fry up a bit of bacon, even me. It was just . . . Where was Carl? I hadn’t expected to have to do any actual cooking while I was here; it was hardly my specialist subject. Stress!
I made the bacon
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