The Little B & B at Cove End
‘The perfect book to take on holiday!’ Pretty Little Book Reviews on Summer at 23 The StrandEscape to the seaside this summer!A wonderfully uplifting holiday read, perfect for fans of Lilly Bartlett, Tilly Tennant and Eve Devon.
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The Little B&B at Cove End
LINDA MITCHELMORE
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
This edition 2019
1
First published in Great Britain by
HQ, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Copyright © Linda Mitchelmore 2019
Linda Mitchelmore asserts the moral right to be
identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is
available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters
and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s
imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,
without the prior permission of the publishers.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade
or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without
the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than
that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Source ISBN: 9780008330972
E-book Edition ISBN: 9780008327743
Version: 2019-04-24
‘The perfect book to take on holiday.’
‘It’s inspired me to go on a little holiday of my own.’
‘By the end of the book I wanted to sit on the veranda with a glass of wine, eat fish & chips and visit the local café.’
‘A wonderful summer read.’
‘Charming and uplifting.’
‘Such a delightful, uplifting and heartwarming read.’
‘A lovely book to read on holiday.’
‘Fabulous.’
Table of Contents
Mike and Barbara Adams – for a lifetime of support, generosity, and love.
‘But Mae, we have to eat!’ Cara said, standing in the hallway, the flyer for the art festival in her hand: LARRACOMBE TO CHALLENGE ST IVES 3rd–7th AUGUST, it said in fancy script. There was a list of artists who would be showing their work and giving talks and workshops – Elisabeth James, Janey Cooper, Stella Murphy and Tom Gasson-Smith amongst others, although Cara hadn’t heard of any of them. The festival was six weeks away, but she was thinking fast. She would have enough time to get her B&B up and running, and a bit of experience under her belt. August was high summer when high prices could be charged. There would be lots of people coming from further afield to the festival, people wanting somewhere to stay. There was even a number to ring for anyone able to host artists. Cara would ring just as soon as she had calmed Mae down a bit and reassured her that Cove End would still be very much their home, even though they’d need to take in paying guests to survive.
‘Didn’t Dad leave anything, Mum? Anything at all?’
Mae was practically screaming the words at her.
‘Sssh. Don’t shout, darling. We don’t want everyone to know our business.’
‘Huh. You tell Rosie everything.’ Mae tossed her head of auburn curls and dragged her fingers through her hair, straightening and then tweaking the curls she loved and hated in equal measure, depending on her mood. Cara had a feeling she hated those curls at that moment.
‘Keep your voice down. It’s not nice to talk about people behind their backs. Rosie can probably hear you.’
Mae gave a couldn’t-care-less shrug and Cara did her best to remember how it had been when she’d been on the cusp of womanhood herself – the moods, the angst, the lack of self-confidence sometimes.
Cara’s friend, Rosie, was still in Cara’s kitchen. She’d come over for Sunday lunch as she often had since Cara had been widowed, and the three of them – Cara, Mae and Rosie – had created a family of sorts. Yes, they were good friends and looked out for one another, but Cara did not tell Rosie everything.
‘I do not tell Rosie everything,’ Cara said, keeping her voice calm. ‘But to answer your question, all your dad left us was the house.’
And that had always been in my name anyway in case of bankruptcy, but there was no need for Mae to know that.
‘I want to believe you, Mum,’ Mae said, screwing her eyes up tight, which Cara knew was just so the tears that were threatening didn’t fall, ‘I really do, but I can’t quite. I mean, Dad loved us, right?’
In his way, Cara wanted to say. But just not enough to stop gambling; not enough that he didn’t sell anything he could to fund his addiction; not enough that he wasn’t open and honest with us both.
