Jennifer Joyce - The Little Bed & Breakfast by the Sea

‘You can.’ Corinne tapped at the till and plonked the coins into the tray. ‘I’m the boss and what I say goes. So go.’

‘But…’

Corinne held up a silencing finger. ‘We’ll be fine, honestly. And think of that poor woman having to kip in a bloody tent on her own. Think of the cold, the spiders.’ She shuddered. ‘Plus, you’ll be losing out on money if you leave that room empty. Think of Hannah – your granny would never forgive me if I let her great-grandchild starve.’

‘I hardly think Hannah is going to starve,’ Mae started to protest, but Corinne was already guiding her out of the pub and pressing her handbag into her hands.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Corinne said as she nudged Mae towards her car. ‘Frank says you’re letting us have Hannah for the day. You’re not down on the rota so we’ll pick her up from yours in the morning, give you a bit of time to yourself.’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Mae said, but Corinne rolled her eyes.

‘No, we don’t have to, but we don’t get the chance to spoil our goddaughter often enough.’

‘You spoil us both too much,’ Mae said, but Corinne gave a dismissive wave of her hand.

‘Nonsense.’ She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss Mae on the cheek. ‘Now, go on, before it’s too late.’

Mae knew Frank and Corinne didn’t necessarily need her help in the bar as much as they claimed to, that the offer of the job at the Fisherman had been nothing less than a charitable act. They’d have simply handed over a sum of money every month to help her out if Mae hadn’t been too proud to accept it, but at least with the bar work she could feel independent. She hadn’t returned to Clifton-on-Sea to sponge off her loved ones, though she knew she was incredibly lucky to have the support of her mum, Frank and Corinne.

Climbing into her car, she blew a kiss through the window and headed towards the station, hoping it wasn’t too late for either her or Willow.

Thorpe Lane was short and narrow, with a row of little cottages on one side of the cobbled road and a row of shops on the opposite side. Just six houses and six shops made up the lane, but even if the lane had stretched further across the town, Willow and her shop wouldn’t have been too difficult to spot. You could hardly miss the rowing boat, which had been stripped and polished and now appeared to contain a custom-made mattress, being lugged from the shop to a waiting van squeezed between the two pavements. Willow was at one end, her head poking around the side to guide the boat towards the van, with a couple of blokes taking up the opposite end and the middle. Together, the trio staggered from the shop, with Willow calling out directions.

‘Do you need a hand?’ Mae asked as she climbed out of her car and scurried towards the rowing boat party.

‘From you?’ one of the blokes asked before snorting unattractively. ‘No offence, love, but we wouldn’t want you breaking a nail.’

Mae looked down at her hands, fingers splayed and nails facing upwards. The pillar-box red was stark against her pale skin, but she wasn’t about to apologise for painting her nails. These nails never got in the way when she was changing barrels at the pub, and if one did happen to break or chip, it was no big deal. She liked to make an effort with her appearance, but she had no qualms about rolling up her sleeves and getting stuck into a task.

‘Take no notice of this plonker,’ Willow said between puffs and groans as she navigated the kerb. ‘We’d love a hand, thank you.’

‘Plonker?’ the bloke spluttered, either through indignation or the fact he was manoeuvring a rowing boat through the street. ‘That’s the last time I offer to help you.’

‘This is the first time you’ve offered to help me,’ Willowed huffed. ‘And, if I recall, you didn’t actually offer to help out at all. Your mam threatened to whack you with her rolling pin if you didn’t – and I quote – “get off your fat arse for one day in your life”.’

‘I could have said no,’ he muttered as Mae reached the middle of the boat and took some of the weight.

‘You bloody well try, lad,’ a voice, which Mae presumed belonged to the bloke’s mum, called out from one of the houses across the street. ‘This is the most work I’ve seen you do in the last thirty-six years. And no, playing on that Playstation-Cube-whatsit doesn’t count.’

‘What is this, anyway?’ Mae asked as they reached the van and jostled the tip of the boat inside.

‘It used to be a boat.’ Mae gave the boat a shove and it began to slide across the van’s floor. ‘But now it’s a bed. I upcycled it and Malcolm’s just bought it for his son.’

The other bloke, who had yet to speak, gave a nod.

‘You made this into a bed?’ Mae stepped aside as the boat was completely swallowed by the van. ‘Wow.’

Willow wiped her hands down the sides of her dungarees. ‘It’s what I do. I have a shop.’ She indicated the premises behind her. ‘You can go in and have a look if you’d like, though I’m not technically open at the moment.’

Leaving Willow to talk business with Malcolm, Mae wandered into the shop, her eyes widening as she took in the assortment of products on offer. There were larger items of furniture, all given new and vibrant leases of life, smaller household objects transformed into beautiful, decorative items, and things that might have been thought useless given a new purpose. Old light bulbs had been filled with small, delicate flowers and hung from a chandelier, mismatched glass goblets and flutes had been turned into stylish candles with white, fragranced wax, and old jars had been scrubbed, their lids painted in pastel shades, ready to be filled with sweets, buttons, cotton buds – anything small that was looking for a new, chic home. Mae could picture the jars in her bathroom or the guest bedrooms, and the champagne-flute candles would look divine on top of the chests of drawers in the rooms.

‘This is all amazing,’ she told Willow when she returned a few minutes later. The van trundled past, its horn beeping, and Willow waved through the open door.

‘Thank you. It all started off as a hobby, but it’s really taken off.’ She looked around her shop, a contented smile on her lips. ‘I love it.’

‘I feel the same about my bed and breakfast,’ Mae said. ‘Which is what I’m here about. I’ve had a cancellation, so if you’re still looking for a room…’

Willow threw her hand up to her mouth to catch a gasp. ‘Oh my God. Are you serious?’

Mae nodded. ‘The call came through while I was on my break. By the time I came back through to the pub, you’d gone. The room’s only available for two weeks, but it’ll give you a bit of breathing space to find somewhere more permanent until the work on your house is done.’

‘Thank you!’ Willow launched herself at Mae, throwing her arms around the woman and squeezing hard before she got a grip of herself and let go. She giggled, her cheeks turning pink. ‘Sorry. I’m just so relieved.’

Mae laughed. ‘I bet you are. I hope you haven’t bought a tent since I last saw you?’

‘Thankfully not.’ Mae giggled and did a little jig on the spot. ‘I should let my husband know I’ve found somewhere. He isn’t here at the moment. He’s working away, but should be back in a few days. Will it be a problem if I’m still at the B&B when he returns?’

Mae shook her head. ‘No problem at all. The room’s a double.’

‘Brilliant.’ Willow heaved a huge sigh of relief. ‘I could do with moving some things over to my room. Luckily most of our stuff is in storage, but I need clothes and my essentials. When would be okay to drop them off?’

‘Whenever you’re ready. If I’m not there, my neighbour can let you in and show you where everything is.’