later …
Nell heard the creak of the door and looked up, startled, ‘Hey, I can’t believe you’re up so early. I noticed the light on.’
Bea was standing in the doorway of the Nollie, her breath misting. She was wrapped up tightly in her duffel coat, sporting a warm smile and clasping a white paper bag.
‘Come on in and shut the door, it’s freezing out there.’ Nell smiled up at her best friend.
Bea unbuttoned her coat and scooted over to the seat next to her.
‘I couldn’t sleep, I’ve had a bit of a restless night,’ admitted Nell.
Bea touched her hand affectionately, ‘Ollie’s birthday?’ Her voice was suddenly wobbly.
Nell met her gaze and they shared a sad smile.
‘Yes, Ollie’s birthday. The first of February.’
For a moment, they sat in silence, ‘Cuppa?’ Nell asked. ‘I think I can squeeze a couple more cups out of the tank and have a shower before the water needs filling up this morning.’
‘Yes please, and in there is a couple of warm croissants,’ Bea slid the paper bag over the table towards her.
‘Have you already been to the deli?’
She nodded, ‘I couldn’t sleep much either. I’m way ahead of schedule today.’
Bea owned the delicatessen in the hub of the marina called The Melting Pot, which was famous for its hot chocolate, savouries and scrumptious homemade cakes. Nell used to work for her part time, taking care of the accounts, but since Ollie had passed away Bea had taken her under her wing and she now worked for her full time behind the counter of the deli, serving customers, which was a welcomed distraction.
From the first day of high school Nell and Bea’s friendship had been cemented over a pair of laddered tights. Bea had saved Nell with a spare pair she’d whipped out of her bag and from that moment they’d become best friends. They’d sat next to each other for the next five years, then from the age of eighteen frequented the local pubs together. Bea had attended catering college and spent most of time testing out new recipes on Nell. Her work ethic was faultless and she’d soon landed a job alongside a well-known chef in the city of Lichfield. This had been Bea’s ticket to freedom, and she had escaped her suffocating parents, flown the nest and rented a flat above the delicatessen at the marina.
When the owners of The Melting Pot had decided to sell the business, Bea had immediately snapped it up for herself, whipping it into shape with counter array of cakes, speciality cheeses and flapjacks to die for.
Nell had beamed with such pride for her friend on her first day of opening – the deli was a dream come true for Bea.
Bea was married to Nathan and they had one five-year-old son called Jacob, who was the cutest thing Nell had ever set eyes on. But as his godmother, Nell knew she was biased.
When Ollie had been alive, the four of them had been firm friends and had enjoyed most weekends in each other’s company, rambling around the marina and eating Sunday lunches at The Waterfront. Life had been perfect.
‘What are you doing after work today?’ asked Bea, ‘Would you like to come over to the cottage for your tea? Jacob would love to see you.’
‘I’d love to see him too, but I’m having tea with Mum, after we’ve visited the lake.’
Bea nodded, ‘How is Gilly? I’ve not seen her for a couple of weeks.’
Gilly lived down the lane from Bea in Bluebell Cottage, the same property in which Nell had lived for the whole of her life. Gilly was the proud owner of a vintage bicycle with a basket and a bell and could often be seen cycling around the marina.
Nell rolled her eyes and smiled, ‘She has her hands full at the moment!’
‘Intriguing. What’s she up to this time?’
Gilly, who was in her mid-fifties, but appeared much younger than her age, had been drowning in her own grief. Her husband, Nell’s father, Benny, had unexpectedly passed away from pneumonia five years ago – an event that had rocked their world. Since then Gilly had thrown herself wholeheartedly into every local crafty organisation in the village, from basket weaving, painting antique furniture and had even joined the pottery club.
‘Last week she was ferreting around in the greenhouse at the bottom of the garden when she found a tabby cat curled up in an old blanket on top of a bag of compost. She took it into the cottage and made it up a bed in front of the Aga. She thought it seemed a little unwell and a little plump and decided to make it an appointment at the vets for the following morning. There was no collar or tag. She didn’t even know its name, but by the time next morning arrived Mum found three extra bundles of fluff curled up next to the mother.’
‘Kittens?’
Nell nodded.
‘How wonderful!’
‘The little mews made my heart melt; utterly gorgeous to say the least.’
‘What’s Gilly going to do with them?’
‘She’s placed a notice in the vets and the local post office, but as yet no one has come forward to claim her. At the moment she’s named her Rosie, because she was lying on the bag of compost she uses to plant her roses, and knowing Mum I think she would be quite happy to keep them all!’
‘Maybe I could talk Nathan into homing one. I just need to make him think it’s his idea and we’d be on to a winner,’ she grinned. ‘Jacob would love a kitten.’
Nell smiled at Bea. She pictured her curled up in front of the fire after a long hard day at the deli with a kitten snoozing on her lap.
They both finished their tea, then Bea glanced at her watch, ‘The scones are due out any minute; I’d best nip back to the shop.’
‘What time is it? I feel like I’ve been up for hours.’
‘Just gone 6.45.’
‘I have been up for hours.’
‘I can easily sort out some cover if you don’t feel up to coming in.’
Nell shook her head, ‘Thanks, but I need to keep busy. I’ll be along as soon as I’m ready.’
Bea gave her a quick hug before flicking the latch and stooping down to climb through the door. Her footsteps echoed on the plank that connected the towpath to the boat as she ambled across towards the deli.
‘Right, Nell Andrews, it’s time to paint a smile on your face, life must go on,’ she murmured to herself, unconvinced, standing up and running her hand over Ollie’s photograph while she blinked away the tears. Birthdays and anniversaries always hit her hard.
Five minutes later, she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. ‘Jeez, Andrews,’ she said out loud, smoothing down her wild hair and washing away the smudged eyeliner.
‘I really need to learn to take my mascara off before climbing into bed,’ she muttered, reaching
