to think about changing the name,’ Sophie carried on. ‘I rather like the ray of sunshine thing you just said. Something like, Sophie’s Sunshine Café might be fun.’
‘Absolutely,’ I agreed, already imagining the cheery external livery and social media headers. ‘I think that would be perfect.’
*
With the weather only steadily improving, I ended up spending much of the day in the café. Drinking Sophie’s delectable rum-laced hot chocolate was a treat and I chatted to the slow trickle of customers, even cleared the odd table and made a point of calling Sophie over to hear what a couple of people had to say.
‘We searched online when we knew we were coming to Wynmouth,’ the young woman explained, ‘but there was no mention of this place. We would have definitely remembered it and come all the sooner had we known about it.’
‘I see,’ nodded Sophie, ‘that’s useful to know.’
She had definitely got the message now and her daughter was going to find herself inundated with work when her mum handed over the many notes we had made throughout the course of the day. Sophie had even started listing more potential new names, but we kept going back to Sophie’s Sunshine Café and I reckoned that was the one she would stick with. With such a warm and charming character running the business, I felt that Sophie herself would be as much of a draw for customers as her unique fusion menu.
She told me this was the fourth year she had been running the café. It had taken her years, and one big birthday, to take the plunge and I hated the thought of her venture failing. Hopefully now she had agreed to embrace the internet it would make all the difference. I had even suggested that she could open on occasional evenings, offering slightly more formal dining. The place could be an intimate and romantic hotspot for loved-up couples. The combination of candles, the beach and Sophie’s spicy curries would get pulses racing and make the perfect date place.
‘Do you have a spotters’ board?’ an eager-looking guy with a pair of binoculars asked just as I was beginning to imagine myself sitting across a table from Sam and staring into his bewitching eyes.
‘A spotters’ board?’ I repeated back at him, grateful for the timely interruption.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you know, a board to record the local bird and wildlife that’s been seen around here.’
‘Oh,’ I said, looking about me, ‘I don’t think so, but what a great idea.’
Sophie was quick to catch on.
‘What have you seen?’ she asked the chap. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘A couple of grey plovers,’ he said excitedly, and Sophie gave a little gasp. ‘I’ve never seen them here at this time of year before and, of course, the sand martins are out in full force further along the cliffs.’
‘They’re such lovely little things,’ said Sophie fondly.
For all I knew they could have been talking a different language, but they were clearly thrilled about what the guy had seen.
‘It would be great if you had somewhere to record daily sightings,’ the keen twitcher then suggested, ‘then other folk could add to the list throughout the week.’
‘Why not use part of the chalkboard?’ I said to Sophie.
Almost half a wall was taken up with a menu board and, in truth, it looked a bit empty, with just the dish of the day written in Sophie’s cursive hand. It was easy to reach and would make a great focal point.
‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ she agreed.
‘Great,’ smiled the chap. ‘And perhaps you could add the daily tide times, they’re always handy to know.’
‘And a weather symbol of two, for the morning and afternoon,’ Sophie suggested.
I left the café feeling content and as if my holiday was finally underway. Helping Sophie had pulled me out of the fug I had fallen into and even though I still had lots to think about I realized I needed to strike a balance if I was going to make some real headway. Shutting myself away in the cottage with only Mum’s diary for company and the temptation to turn my phone on was definitely not the way to go. Succumbing to dark thoughts and isolated misery wouldn’t help me make any progress at all.
*
‘Well now,’ said George when I walked into the Smuggler’s that evening, ‘we’d all but given up on you, hadn’t we, Sam?’
‘I have to admit,’ Sam confirmed, with a twinkle in his eyes, ‘that I was beginning to think the weather had got the better