Portia MacIntosh - Summer Secrets at the Apple Blossom Deli - A laugh out loud feel-good romance perfect for summer

Next up are the people who feel sorry for me, who think about how awful it must have been for me to find myself pregnant and alone, just 22 years old with my entire life ahead of me. You see their pity in turn of their mouth and the weight of their eyelids, and while it comes from a good place, it never makes me feel good.

Worst of all though, of the varying reactions to my ‘situation’ I’ve endured over the years, it’s the ones I receive from single men that bother me the most, because they don’t judge me, nor do they feel sorry for me. Instead they look at things from an entirely selfish point of view, quickly writing me off as ‘damaged goods’ because while I’m sure there are men out there who have taken, or would take on another man’s child, none of them have been any of the (four) men I have been on dates with since Frankie was born.

‘Yep, just us,’ I reply. ‘Always has been.’

I look over at my son fondly, only to see him wolfing down his food.

‘Frankie,’ I squeak. ‘Are you enjoying that?’

‘Yes,’ he says almost reluctantly, looking at his plate as he responds. He’s always maintained that he would never find a chicken nugget to rival his beloved McDonald’s, but he has insisted even harder that he would never enjoy a vegetable of any description – obviously, excluding chips and the occasional roast potato. I’ve tried covering his broccoli in cheese, hiding carrots in his pasta sauce, and even roasting parsnips and trying to convince him they were chips, but my tricks have always failed me. And yet here he is, consciously and contently eating peas.

‘He doesn’t usually like vegetables,’ I tell Clara, unable to hide my happiness.

‘I cook them with bacon and a bit of honey,’ she explains. ‘I haven’t met a person yet who doesn’t love my peas.’

‘Well you’ve definitely got yourself some new, regular customers,’ I laugh.

‘You’re not customers today,’ she says. ‘Consider this our “welcome to the neighbourhood” gift to you.’

‘Clara, you’ve done so much for us!’

‘You’re our neighbour now,’ she points out. ‘Think nothing of it.’

I pick up my apple juice and take a sip – it’s delicious. I can’t wait to get to see what I can do with the ones in my garden…not that I’m an especially good cook. I’m just excited to try. Things maybe have got off to a bumpy start but I really do feel like we’re going to be happy here.

‘So, what brings you here then?’ Clara asks. ‘Just a fresh start?’

‘Yes,’ I reply, although that’s not strictly true.

Nervously, I take a long drink from my glass and, thankfully, by the time I come out of hiding from behind my apple juice, Clara has shifted her attention to Frankie, asking him questions about his hobbies.

Now isn’t the time to tell a woman I’ve just met about what I’m hiding from.

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