Jennifer Joyce - The Single Mums’ Picnic Club - A perfectly uplifting beach-read for 2018!

‘It’s tough, especially in the beginning.’ George pushed herself up from the bench and returned to the table, where she pulled a flask of hot chocolate from the tote bag.

‘I thought I knew who I was, where my life was heading. Now I have no idea. I feel like this was all done to me, and I have no control of my life anymore.’ She cringed as George pressed a plastic mug into her hands. ‘People must think I’m mad. You must think I’m mad. I’m not even sure why I’m telling you all this. Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It sounds like you’re having a rough time.’ George indicated the mug. ‘Now, drink that. It’ll warm you up a bit.’

‘Thank you…’ The woman paused, the hot chocolate held aloft. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name and I’m boring you to tears with my life woes.’

‘It’s George.’ She patted the woman on the knee. ‘And you’re not boring me to tears. We all have tough times. It’s good to get it out rather than bottling it all in.’

The woman shrugged. ‘I guess.’ She took a sip of the warm drink. ‘I’m Katie, by the way.’

‘It’s nice to meet you, Katie.’ George patted her knee again before she headed for the table. ‘Now, can I interest you in a slice of cake?’

Katie smiled, genuinely and brightly. ‘I never, ever say no to cake.’

‘That was the best Victoria sponge I’ve ever tasted.’ Katie licked the jam and cake crumbs from her fingers while George batted away the compliment with a wave of her hand.

‘I don’t know about that. It was just something I whipped up.’ Despite her protestations, George felt her chest swell with pride. While she scrubbed other people’s homes and places of work for a living, baking was George’s true passion. She had catering qualifications, specialising in patisserie and confectionery, as well as files stuffed with recipes handed down from her grandmother.

‘It’s true.’ Katie shrugged and was about to say more when her attention was caught by something happening outside the hut. Or rather, something not happening. ‘Hey, it’s stopped raining. When did that happen? Just how long have I been rabbiting on for?’ The sand was still wet, but the grey clouds had dispersed, revealing the suggestion of blue sky. ‘I should go home and lick my wounds before the kids get home from school. I was hoping to have a bit of a tidy up before…’ Katie’s next words were snatched away as a voice bellowed outside. A huge, shaggy dog appeared in the doorway of the hut, panting as it took in the inhabitants, and then it was inside, its claws clattering on the wooden floor. It sniffed at George and Katie in turn before it barked once and tore off out of the hut again.

‘I’m so sorry.’ A man was jogging towards the beach hut, a red lead dangling from his fingers, as George stuck her head out of the doorway. ‘He’s a bloody menace. Jake!’

And then the man was gone, speeding up as he spotted the dog leap into the sea.

‘Well, that was bizarre.’ George chuckled. ‘But at least it didn’t try to scoff the cake.’ With the day turning brighter, perhaps she’d get to bring Thomas down to the beach hut after all.

‘I really should get going.’ Katie pushed herself up from the bench. ‘I’ve got a hot date with the dishwasher and vacuum cleaner. Unfortunately, it’s the only date I’ll have for a long time.’

George patted her on the shoulder gently. ‘Everything will work out in the end.’

Katie nodded, but the grimace wasn’t so encouraging. ‘Thanks for the cake and the hot chocolate. And for listening. You were right – it does help to get it all off your chest, even if only a little bit.’

‘It was nice to meet you, Katie.’

‘You too, George.’ Katie stepped out of the beach hut but shuffled back when she heard the distant bark of the dog again. She peered out, checking the coast was clear before she ventured out.

‘Jake! Slow down, you absolute nutter!’

Katie took another step away from the door as the dog bounded by. The owner was sprinting after the dog, but he was powerless to stop the beast from leaping up at an unsuspecting jogger, sending her – and the paper bag she was carrying – flying and landing with a thud on the damp sand.

Chapter Six

Frankie

It felt fantastic to be out, gulping the fresh sea air after over a week cooped up in the house with the twins. The muscles in her thighs were crying out for her to stop as she charged up the cliffs, but she couldn’t stop now. She hadn’t realised quite how much she’d missed the freedom to just go wherever her body took her until now, how much she enjoyed pushing her body to its limit. She’d been a bit of a gym junkie in her early twenties, though that was mostly down to the fact she fancied one of the personal trainers. She’d spent hours on the treadmills and cross trainers back then in the hope of glimpsing Bradley and his toned-to-perfection body. She never would have plucked up the courage to speak to him had it not been for the malfunctioning treadmill that sent her flying when it suddenly cut off without warning when she was sprinting (she always upped her speed when she spotted Bradley in order to impress him). He’d rushed over to help her, and although she’d been embarrassed after going arse over tit, she did end up with his phone number (as well as a grazed chin). Before the twins, they’d led an active lifestyle, running half-marathons, abseiling, whitewater rafting, even bungee jumping from the Colorado River in Costa Rica. They’d taken risks Frankie wouldn’t even dream of taking now.

She felt herself slowing as she made the ascent and she half-ran, half-ambled her way up to the top of the cliff, her chest heaving as she looked out across the sea, a safe distance from the edge. The view was amazing from up here. You could see all the way to the opposite end of the beach, with the pier jutting out into the sea, the Ferris wheel still now the kids were back in school. She turned, taking in the view of the town. The hotel, pub and shops along the seafront, the pretty Georgian houses, the rooftops of the mishmash of properties beyond. Frankie could stand there taking it all in forever, but she had to buy her lunch and get back to work before the weather nudged from the threat of rain to a downpour.

Her trip down the cliff was much quicker than her trek up had been, but she slowed down once she reached the pavement at the bottom, clutching her side as she sucked air into her lungs as though it was her first introduction to oxygen. She jogged slowly along the seafront, heading towards the pier, where she knew there was a sandwich shop nearby that, according to her brother, was to die for. She found the shop and ordered a hot Cumberland sausage and egg roll (as recommended by Isaac) but it had started to rain while she was inside. She sheltered under the awning of the neighbouring shop until the rain had abated and she started her jog back home, taking a small detour via the beach. The sand was wet, and the wind was a bit wild down there, but she was hooked on the feeling of freedom now she’d had a taste. She felt like her old self again. The Frankie she knew before, the Frankie who thought nothing of throwing herself from bridges with nothing but an elasticated cord preventing death.

‘Whoa!’ Too late, she spotted the furry missile heading straight for her. She didn’t have a chance to dodge out of the way, so one minute Frankie was jogging – albeit slowly along the wet sand – and the next she was on the ground, her knee throbbing with the impact while her assailant nudged its way into the paper bag it had knocked out of her hand.

‘Oh, shit!’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Are you okay?’

She heard a chorus of voices as she heaved herself up into a sitting position, hissing as pain shot through her left knee.