Boy, she could do with those strong arms around her. But it was all futile. There would be no more mixed messages.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. Can you please leave?’ It took all her resolve to say those words. She knew silent tears were building up. She had that horrid tightening at the back of her throat as she tried to keep them at bay. He could not see her cry.

‘Okay … well, I had to try.’ He gave a gentle, sad smile.

Emma opened the back door for him. He turned to leave, and she couldn’t speak. Alfie, who had appeared by her side, gave a little whimper.

‘Bye, Em, take care.’

She wanted to say, ‘You too.’ But she knew she couldn’t talk.

He gave a last glance over his shoulder before he closed the courtyard gate. She just stared sadly, gave a slow nod.

That might just be the last she’d ever see of him.

28

Saturday morning rolled around.

‘Hi, Em.’

‘Hey, Holly. Thanks for coming in a bit earlier to help.’

‘That’s no problem. It’s so exciting about the café. I can’t believe it’s really happening and that our chat sparked the whole thing off. I can’t wait – nor can my friends.’

‘I know. It’s brilliant, it really is, but there’s lots of work to be done first.’

‘Yes, and you’ve got to cram it all into one weekend, so I hear. Adam says if there’s anything he can do to help, just ask. I think he has the Sunday off that weekend. Oh, and his gran wants to help too. Apparently, she’s a bit of a whizz with the sewing machine.’

‘Hmm, that might come in handy. We’ll see where we’re at. But that’s lovely, thank them both from me. Right then, I’d better be getting off to this car boot and there’s an auction on at the sale rooms too. I’m on a mission for the furniture and crockery – I’m thinking old-fashioned porcelain cups and saucers, in pretty patterns to mix and match. Give it that vintage look. What do you reckon?’

‘Oh yes, perfect.’

‘Right, well let’s see what I come back with. Thanks so much for covering.’

Four hours later Emma parked her car, which was piled high inside, out front. She had cups, saucers, gorgeous tea plates, cutlery, the cafetières, and twelve glass mugs for hot chocolates. At the auction, she had bid for and won two – mismatched but ideal – large round wooden tables for the window-seat areas, and six wooden chairs. Apparently, they’d come from a pub that had closed down.

‘Sounds like you’ve done brilliantly, Em. Shall I get us a cuppa to celebrate?’