The Beach Cabin by Fern Britton

Author:Fern Britton
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008146412
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2015-07-08T12:47:18.279000+00:00

4

Typically for an English summer, a day of sunshine and blue skies was followed by a gloomy, overcast morning with ominous grey clouds threatening rain. The weather seemed to affect the mood in the cottage and, despite Ed’s entreaties, Alex was refusing his offer of a vegetarian fry-up.

‘I only want toast, Dad.’

Alex was huddled up beneath the duvet in her bedroom, wrapped in her hoodie. Ed thought she looked much younger than her fifteen years.

‘Come on, kitten,’ he coaxed. ‘A bite to eat and then we can take a trip somewhere. There’s a lot to see around here. How about driving to Tintagel? There’s a castle.’

‘I don’t want to tramp round a boring castle.’

‘It’s not boring – they say King Arthur was born there.’

‘Who?’

There’d been a time when Ed could shake his daughter out of a moody spell in minutes. Alex had been a naturally sunny child who was easily reduced to helpless giggles. He realised with a pang of disappointment that those days were gone. Getting a laugh today would be like getting blood out of a stone.

‘Brown or white?’

‘Brown. White bread is full of additives.’

‘So virtuous – aren’t you supposed to be living on McDonald’s and alcopops at your age?’

Ed’s attempt at playful banter merely drew a roll of the eyes before Alex pulled the duvet over her head, signalling an end to the conversation. Defeated, he headed back downstairs.

Charlotte was putting on her waterproof and Sam was in his usual spot on the sofa, watching an episode of The Big Bang Theory.

‘Off somewhere?’ he asked his wife.

‘I’m going to take a walk down to the beach hut with Molly.’

‘But it looks like rain. I was going to make breakfast.’

‘Not for me.’

‘Oh. What about you, Sam? Not going to reject the only meal I’m any good at, are you?’

‘Nah, I’m starving. Is it ready now?’

Ed looked in the fridge. Their supplies had been somewhat depleted since yesterday. ‘We’ll need to go on a foraging expedition. We’re running low.’

‘Try that shop I was telling you about in the village,’ suggested Charlotte.

‘Huh?’

‘Ed, you’ll have me doubting that you hang on my every word if you say things like that. I nipped in there for a paper yesterday morning – you can’t miss it: the windows are lined with yellow cellophane and crammed with old boxes of Black Magic and York Fruits. It’s as if the last fifty years never happened. The owner’s an old Cockney—’

‘Oh, you mean Queenie’s shop. She does lovely pasties – or “oggys” as they call them round here. You have to order them in advance though. The crew practically live off them when we’re filming.’

‘Well, I think you’ll find she sells groceries and everything else we need to top up our dwindling supplies. I can’t believe you’ve been coming here year after year and you don’t even know where to buy a loaf and a pint of milk.’

‘OK, Queenie’s it is, then. Fancy a trip out, Sam?’

‘Aw, I’m watching this!’

‘You can watch that any time. Queenie’s has to be seen to believed.

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