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

Chapter One

Celebrity glossy hair. Cerise-pink painted nails. A beige dress with matching nude sandals. I tore my gaze away from April and felt a lump in my throat – she looked so grown-up. It was hard to believe my daughter was only ten.

My friend Chanelle, who owned this nail salon, had just thrown a party for her little girl, Skye. I say little girl, but as I gazed at the posse of mothers and daughters, preening in front of large mirrors, apart from their height they all looked the same. I’m talking designer handbags, straightened hair, and the most on-trend clothes, as if it was just a different uniform to wear, outside of the girls’ posh private school. But it made me feel comfortable, contented, to belong to some sort of clan.

A border full of plants in bud promising a colourful summer caught my attention. It reminded me of my own childhood building treehouses and getting close to nature in the field behind our two-up, two-down. Once I’d caught a frog to see if it really would turn into a prince. My gentle kiss on its head left me disappointed, and with a slimy lip-gloss effect that made Mum laugh hard.

How I’d loved baking with her and making feeders for birds. It had taken me a while to get used to the highflying life of my husband. I rarely cooked now. Nor spent much time in the garden. A heavy sensation briefly tickled my chest. I’m not sure why, because times changed, right, and no one wanted to be left behind?

‘April has been so excited about today,’ I said to Chanelle, who bobbed forwards and air-kissed my cheeks. My face broke into a smile as I scanned her tight dress, which hugged every unnatural inch. The boobs had been a thirtieth birthday present and the bum implants marked an anniversary. The generous curves suited my generous friend.

I glanced again at April and reflected, as I often did, that life was good. More than good, in fact, with my heartbreakingly handsome husband and luxurious family home. It was the perfect scenario to safely raise a child, thank goodness, because no one warns you that from the moment you give birth, the world suddenly looks like a dangerous place.

I squeezed Chanelle’s shoulder and tickled behind the ears of Prada, the pug in her arms. The horizontally striped dress also hugged every good-hearted bone in her body. Since April had joined Skye’s playground clique a year ago, after her best mate moved to Dubai, clothes horse Chanelle had vigorously welcomed us both into her life. How thrilled she’d been to know me, the wife of Zachary Masters, the head of her favourite fashion house Elite Eleganz.

Chanelle gave me a wide grin with her Julia Roberts mouth – although today there were no twinkly eyes to match.

I gazed around. ‘So … how’s business going? Still on the up since you found that investor?’

Her cheeks pinked up. ‘Not bad at all. Thank God. It was risky of me to plough all of my divorce money into expanding the place but I can’t complain now. Finally we’re enjoying a decent turnover.’ She cleared her throat and gave another super bright smile. Something didn’t seem right. ‘It’s been sheer torture not being able to enjoy my yearly cruise.’ She said it like it was a joke, but with Chanelle you could never be sure.

Travel was as important to Chanelle as her credit card and facials. I took her cheery cue to change the subject. You see, our conversation never went much deeper than the Clarins concealer on her face. Chanelle always veered away from really personal chat. Instead we shared countless shopping trips and dissected celebrity gossip. It was a far cry from my student days, when I used to drink cheap lager, wear homemade tie-dye tops, and analyse the meaning of life with friends.

‘Thanks again for having April over.’ I studied her tired face, wondering how perky it actually looked like beneath the thick make-up. ‘Let me help tidy up. You must be shattered.’

‘No, it’s fine, thanks. It won’t take long. And anyway, as if Skye would have a party without her bezzie! April’s a real credit to you, Jenny. Such good taste. Always picks the classiest shade of nail varnish. Plus she understands exactly why any self-respecting female should love glamorous reality shows …’ She was rambling now.

My mind drifted as I gave Prada another stroke. A credit to me for those qualities? Unusual, perhaps, considering her young age. But then celebrity is a modern religion and it’s difficult not to get sucked in. An image of my own mum popped into my head, with her straggly hair and hands always covered in flour, soil, or soap. She’d taught me the different colours of garden birds, plus the importance of cooking and reading. Jeez. I gave a wry smile. My childhood sounded like a chapter from an Enid Blyton book.

‘Did you have fun?’ I bent down to give April a hug. She wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed me tight. My chest glowed. If I could bottle that happy feeling, I’d become an addict overnight. We left the salon. It was a lovely May day. The sun shone. Laventon and the surrounding area was iconically English in appearance, with yellow rapeseed fields and low-ceilinged cottages. Yet it was only forty minutes from London, near enough not to miss out on that diverse city’s offerings.

April peered up at me from under her brunette fringe and gave me a lipsticked smile. ‘Fab-u-licious,’ she said in her singsong voice. I grinned at her new favourite word. ‘We watched two episodes of the Kardashians whilst Chanelle and Skye’s auntie did our make-up.’

I thought back to a few weeks previously, in the month of my daughter’s name. I’d asked her what sort of trip out she would prefer for her birthday – at her age I’d gone ice-skating, pottery painting, or the cinema maybe. She’d rolled her eyes at all three, preferring a disco limo or makeover party.

‘She’s only ten!’ I’d mused with Zak that night, as he got in late from work again. He’d loosened his tie, revealing a patch of that toned, tanned chest, and poured a whisky. My husband epitomised sexual attraction with his dark looks and undressing-you eyes. At parties, women flocked to him as if he were a sweet treat and they were flies.

‘Kids grow up faster these days. April’s probably imitating you, what with your weekly manicures and designer clothes.’ He’d smiled. ‘Where has young Jennifer Jarvis gone – the fashion student with her geometric hairstyle and outlandish dress sense?’

Hmm. Good question. But nothing stayed the same – I’d become a wife, a mum. I’d grown up. Still, over the last couple of months, I’d spent an increasing amount of time thinking about my old sketches from college. Now that April was older, a yearning had struck me to restart my studies. The very thought made my stomach flutter. I’d never finished my degree. It would have taken a woman of strong mettle – make that metal – to resist Zak sweeping her off her feet at a zillion miles per hour.

I drove my yellow Mini back through Laventon, a chocolate-box village with its cobbled pavements and window boxes. We trundled past The Coffee Club, a new café that had opened last year. Before that, the little village had only had quaint teashops, whereas this one specialised in all things caffeine, like powerful espressos and artistically decorated lattes.

‘Shall we pick up a latte for Daddy?’ said April, as if reading my thoughts. ‘He doesn’t believe the ones at The Coffee Club could be better than Starbucks.’

I smiled. The shop’s owner, Noah, might have taken umbrage at that. He lovingly nursed each cup, creating appealing designs on top. I didn’t know him well, but could tell he was passionate about coffee. He’d get this boyish grin on his face when a customer told him they’d thoroughly enjoyed their cuppa.