then turned and walked back down the hill. As she did, she passed the old bank building. The closing of Berecombe’s only bank had caused huge distress, especially among her older customers. Not used to online banking and unwilling to trust it, they were now having to go into Honiton or Axminster to do any banking business. More alarming for Millie, a lot of them, having made the journey, were staying on there for coffee and lunch. She’d lost quite a lot of trade that way. She bit her lip; she might have to rethink one or two things to keep her going through to the busy summer season. She just wished she knew what.
She paused to study the elegant Georgian facade. The building work had been going on for some time now and no one seemed certain about what was going to open. All sorts of rumours abounded. At the moment, its windows were resolutely boarded up and hostile- looking, giving away no secrets. She shivered in the sea fog that was yet to go out with the tide. It really had been a long, dismal winter. The promised snow hadn’t appeared but she hoped Arthur was right when he’d said spring was on its way. Walking fast, she clicked her tongue at Trevor to follow and made her way home.
As she unlocked the café, her best friend Tessa arrived, carrying a tray of freshly made breads.
‘Alright then, our Mil?’ she called out in her broad Brummy tones. ‘Got you a load of granary, a couple of white bloomers and fruit bread. That should see you through.’
Millie eyed it thoughtfully. She would have to freeze a lot of it. ‘Should see me through a few days the way business has been lately.’ She held open the café door and Tessa followed, putting the heavy tray down with a sigh of relief.
‘That bad, eh? Time of the year, though.’
‘Hopefully. Got time for a coffee?’
‘Always got time for one of your coffees, bab.’ Tessa plonked herself on the chair nearest the kitchen door and shouted through. ‘Looks crackin’ in here.’ Then she fell silent as her phone pinged and she scrolled through a message.
Millie came through with a cafetière and plate of biscuits and joined her. ‘Zoe touched up some of the paintwork on Saturday as we went a bit quiet. She’s a good girl.’
Tessa put down her phone and looked around. ‘Always loved this pink and blue theme Ken did.’ She watched as Millie poured the coffee.
Ken was Tessa’s artist husband. She had met him while on holiday, fallen in love and, three children later, was still in Devon.
‘How did his show go?’ Millie yawned and stretched out her long legs. She slipped off her Uggs and tucked her feet underneath each other. Glancing at Tessa she thought her friend seemed unusually tense.
Tessa pulled a face. ‘Okay, but we only sold a few paintings. And that gallery in Exeter charges a fortune to host an exhibition. Don’t think we covered our costs, to be honest.’
‘That’s a real shame. You’d both worked so hard on it. Here, have a gingerbread man. I made them last night.’ Millie pushed the plate over. ‘I hadn’t realised they charged.’ Maybe that was the reason for Tessa’s mood.
‘Oh yes, they charge alright.’ Tessa snapped a biscuit in half viciously. ‘We’ll have to find somewhere else to do it next time. Maybe provide our own fizz. Got to find a way to cut costs,’ she waved a gingerbread man leg in the air, scattering crumbs. ‘Otherwise it just ain’t worth doing.’
‘Can you do another in the summer, when there are more people around?’
Tessa shrugged. ‘Maybe but holiday-makers don’t want to buy Ken’s paintings. Too big to get in the back of the hatchback to trek up the M5, like.’
Millie put down her half-eaten gingerbread man; she’d lost her appetite suddenly. It wasn’t like Tessa to be so negative. Something else must be worrying her. ‘These would be better iced, I think.’
‘Why don’t you do them to match the caff? Blue and pink buttons!’
‘I might just do that.’ Millie laughed, relieved her friend sounded momentarily brighter. She reached for her coffee. ‘Speaking of colour, Zoe’s got purple hair at the moment.’
‘Love that girl!’ Tessa nodded. ‘Yeah, Ken said as much. She’s been hanging round the studio a bit lately.’
‘She’s having a crisis over whether she wants to go to uni to study English.’
Tessa nodded again. ‘Ken says she’s got real artistic talent. You should see the water-colour sketches she does; they’re ace.’
‘Maybe that’s what she really wants to do? Probably doesn’t want to let her parents down, though. Under all that punk make-up and fluorescent hair, she’s a softie. Wants to keep them happy.’
Tessa pointed a stern finger. ‘Yeah, but what does she want? Going off to study books for three years isn’t going to make her happy. All she’ll end up with is debt.’
‘That’s exactly what she said to me. It’s awful that kids have to think like that.’
‘Well, Ken reckons she ought to get herself to art college.’ Tessa pulled another face and spread her arms. ‘And not going to uni didn’t do us any harm, did it?’
Millie raised her eyebrows. ‘No. We’re just sitting here at six in the morning, wondering how best to make ends meet.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Tessa got up. ‘A poxy English degree ain’t necessarily going to fix that. Agreed?’
‘Maybe.’ Millie grinned. Tessa’s antipathy to academia stemmed from disappointment in her eldest son. Sean had little scholarly ambition. The Tizzards’ hopes were now focused on their middle boy.
Just as Tessa got to the door, she turned. She hesitated before speaking. ‘Have you heard what’s going into the old bank building?’
‘No, what? I walked past there earlier but there was no clue.’ Millie began clearing their plates and mugs.
Tessa took a breath. ‘It’s another caff, Mil. I’m sorry, kiddo.’
‘A café?’ Millie sank back onto her chair on suddenly weakened legs. Another café. Coming to Berecombe. And opening up as a rival.
She looked around at the sunny turquoise walls, the fairy lights, encased in feathers and twinkling, lovingly put up by Zoe. The tray of tempting breads waiting to be eaten. The tables scrubbed and laid ready for her customers to flock in. Except they hadn’t exactly been flocking in recently, had they? And with competition opening up, it could just about sound the death knell for Millie Vanilla’s.
Oh God.
‘Sorry, Millie,’ Tessa repeated. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. School run. Laters, bab.’
She disappeared before Millie had the chance to answer.
Arthur wandered in later than usual and, very unusually, without Daisy. He rejected a cooked breakfast and sat morosely nursing a solitary mug of tea. In sympathy, Trevor whined
