Christmas at the Beach Cafe: A Novella by Lucy Diamond

Author:Lucy Diamond [Diamond, Lucy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Tags: Contemporary, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Fiction, Contemporary Fiction, General, Contemporary Women, Holidays, Women's Fiction, Family Life, Romance, Domestic Life
ISBN: 9781447262084
Google: -efIAQAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00FX0N68A
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2013-11-07T03:01:31+00:00

Chapter Seven

Later on, when we were snowballed out, with virtually no feeling left in our extremities, Ed, Amber, Jake and I tramped back inside the café and turned the heating up to its maximum. We peeled off our wet clothes and draped them over all the radiators in the flat, then Ed got to work whizzing up some spicy vegetable soup for lunch, while I made everyone huge mugs of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and grated chocolate on top.

After lunch, I was at the sink, washing the soup pan, when I saw through the window that a silver Golf was crawling down the snow-covered road from the village towards the café. Paranoid that it was going to be another reporter, I wiped the steam from the window so as to get a better look . . . just as the car lost control and made an inelegant skid all the way into the café’s back yard. The Golf missed my Panda by inches, but crunched straight into the small wall of the brick enclosure that housed the bins, making sizable crumples in the bonnet.

‘Oh shit,’ I said. ‘Someone’s just crashed into – ’

Then I stopped, recognizing the car. And stared, recognizing the people in the front seats. ‘No way,’ I murmured. ‘I’m losing the plot now.’

‘What’s up? What was that bang?’ Amber asked, coming to see. Then she gasped. ‘Is that your parents?’

‘Looks like it,’ I said, still staring. What were they doing here?

‘I didn’t know they were coming to stay,’ Amber said, puzzled.

‘Neither did I,’ I replied. ‘God knows what they’re up to. I only spoke to my mum last night and she didn’t say anything about coming down. Why on earth would they drive through snow blizzards from Oxford just days before Christmas, unless . . . ?’ Oh no. Now I was panicking. ‘Unless something terrible has happened,’ I said, with a gulp.

I shoved on my wellies again – ugh, they were still wet and cold at the bottom – and pulled on my coat, dimly remembering all those texts that had come through on my phone earlier: Mum, Louise, Ruth. I’d been in such a rush to get out in the snow that I had forgotten to even look at them. Maybe the texts weren’t all bare-bum-related scoldings, as I’d assumed.

I dashed out the back door and slithered down the steps into the yard, desperate to find out what was going on.

‘Hi!’ I cried anxiously. My dad was already out of the car, inspecting the newly corrugated appearance of his bonnet, while my mum was opening the passenger door, a squirming Monty in her arms. ‘Is everything okay? I wasn’t expecting to see you.’

My mum beamed and waved. ‘Surprise!’ she called gaily.

Well, I was surprised all right. ‘Are you – what – I don’t understand,’ I confessed.

My dad gave me a hug. ‘Hello, love,’ he said. ‘Will you look at that. We got all the way here, no problem – last ten yards, crash. Bloody typical, that is.

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