Samantha Tonge - The New Beginnings Coffee Club - The feel-good, heartwarming read from bestselling author Samantha Tonge

‘Thanks. I really appreciate it,’ I mumbled.

He nodded his head.

More slowly this time, I headed back to my car, feeling ashamed of the niggling voices in my head that still popped up, saying that Mrs Zachary Masters couldn’t possibly work in a café. It would be embarrassing. My pace quickened. Yet what choice did I have? Those voices were wrong. A job was a job – especially for someone like me who was considered unsuitable for most employment. And Noah was right. Now, at least, I had a plan, even if the thought of it made my legs feel weak.

I liked Elle and Noah, and they’d become familiar – if vaguely intriguing – members of the village, but I didn’t know them well. And April and I were used to Dot’s meals. To comfy bedrooms. To not worrying about paying for the next food bill or tank of petrol. My marital home was a cosy space where April and I had everything we wanted.

Tracing my steps back to the car in a daze, I tripped over a steep cobble. If April was here how we would have giggled. How long would it be before we found the little things funny again? Whatever Noah said – however much my heart was breaking – I suspected, deep down, that my marriage had no future. Not after all these months of deception regarding Chanelle and our finances.

Halfheartedly, I hummed April’s favourite pop song to myself, hoping it would cheer me up, but it didn’t work.

Did I really have what it took to go it alone?

Chapter Five

I strode onto the decking porch of the summerhouse at the bottom of our garden. It was seven days on from the Sunday when Noah had made me the job offer, two weeks since Zak had dropped his bombshell. Yes, time moved slowly and I counted not only every day, but every painful hour as well.

I’d returned home to a massive argument. Zak had decided any more discussion was pointless and simply wanted all the new arrangements quickly set in place. No doubt Chanelle was the driving force behind this. Whenever I asked for details about exactly when he’d developed feelings for my ex best friend and all the places he’d taken her, and what their intentions were, he just raised his palm in my face and refused to answer. He said that dissecting the past wouldn’t help us plan the future. That what was done was done.

Cue the last one hundred and sixty-eight hours of stony silence. I don’t think he believed I’d move out, take a job, start over. This helped me reach a rapid decision about accepting Noah’s offer – for April’s sake. She needed stability, not to exist in an uncomfortable limbo. When I mentioned the job at The Coffee Club, Zak pursed his lips – and confused our daughter by rolling his eyes every time I broached the subject of her and me leaving The Willows. Honestly. Zak needed to face reality. If I pressed him he would talk of impatient creditors and trying to avoid more layoffs. Our house had to be put on the market as quickly as possible.

Reality bit him firmly, yesterday, when he spied the packed bags that I’d started to move over to Noah’s cottage. Cue another argument, thankfully out of April’s earshot. Although I didn’t need to worry too much about my daughter overhearing – these days her earphones seemed permanently stuck in her ears. Time and time again I’d insist she remove them, with Zak remaining tight-lipped, clearly thinking I was making a fuss over nothing. I swallowed. Perhaps the more laid-back Chanelle was a refreshing change from me, especially lying on sheets, enticing him with her surgically perfect figure.

I sighed.

I needed to get a grip. A sob unexpectedly rose in my chest. Zak and I were two halves of a whole, weren’t we? With April at the centre? I pursed my lips, determined not to let that bubble of emotion escape my lips. We’d decided not to tell our daughter about the money problems – understanding our separation would be tough enough. That meant, as far as she was concerned, Mummy being cross with Daddy was the sole reason I’d got a job and found a new home. I was prepared to be the bad cop if it protected her – even if her anger towards me made me want to curl up and die.

Feeling a bit shaky, I sat down in one of the chairs. The summerhouse stood just in front of a weeping willow tree. I remembered how a very young April used to love hiding under the drooping branches. She’d chase next door’s cat across the lawn or play dead whilst butterflies landed on her colourful summer clothes. I gave a small smile. What fun we used to have, when she was a little older, lying in deckchairs, me with a book, her with a ‘tween’ magazine. The garden had served no purpose to her over the last year, now she’d become part of Skye’s sophisticated set. I closed my eyes. However, over the last week it had been home to her bewildered sobs.

‘I don’t understand, Mum. You tell me to make up with friends after fallouts. Why can’t you and Dad do the same?’

My stomach churned. What response could I possibly give?

‘When you marry someone there has to be more than friendship …’

‘You mean the love stuff?’ Her voice had wobbled slightly, as we’d sat next to each other, on her bed.

I’d nodded.

‘And the love stuff has gone?’ Water had pooled in the corners of her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.

I’d held my breath, not wanting to affirm this. ‘Yes,’ I’d finally whispered, unable to ignore her piercing stare. My throat had ached as if someone was strangling every last puff of breath out of me, and as if I, and I alone, had thrust a spear through my daughter’s heart.

‘Can’t you get it back?’ she’d asked, panic rising in her voice.

I shook my head. ‘No. Magic like that usually only has one life.’

‘Will your magic feelings for me run out one day, too?’ she’d mumbled, brow furrowed.

‘No! Never. Parent magic never dies. You will always be the most loved thing in Daddy and my lives.’

‘I don’t understand,’ she’d sobbed and burrowed her face in my chest.

Me neither, I’d secretly added as I hugged her tight. Oh, so tight. She didn’t deserve this pain.

Then she’d pulled back and wiped her eyes. A determined look had crossed her face. ‘But Daddy says we can still live here. You’re more cross with him. He must have magic left for you.’ She’d folded her arms. ‘It’s so unfair. You’re ruining everything. I want to stay.’

Cue a week full of sulks and small pointed fingers – at me. Doors slammed. Feet stomping. It was as if she’d been propelled into early teenage-hood. This was all Zak’s fault, but I didn’t want April to know that.

I opened my eyes and gazed at the summerhouse again. Zak had built it for me as a first anniversary gift. I’d squealed and jumped up and down at the time, gushing over the gingerbread-house windows, slanted roof, and flowerpots on the decking. Plus the front door bore a metallic butterfly that glinted in the sunshine.

‘It’s too much,’ I’d said, after being led down the garden to see it, eyes shut, still not used to Zak’s wealth. ‘You are the best husband ever.’

My shoulders drooped now, at the thought of how I’d subsequently thanked him, under the nearby weeping willow tree. I always remembered every detail of our lovemaking. Yet … funny, wasn’t it? Other memories of our relationship seemed blurry in comparison.

‘Has April actually packed?’ said a tight voice that brought me back to the present as Zak sat down in a chair. Sunlight fell on our faces. Birds chirped. The grass still smelt fresh after being mown yesterday. Everything was idyllic – apart from the fact my husband was in love with another woman.

‘Almost,’ I said as he wrung his hands, dressed in a bright polo shirt and trousers. ‘Although why you’re suddenly so bothered about her welfare I have no idea.’ I faced him, anger that had been simmering for days really starting to bubble.