New beginnings by the su.., p.29
New Beginnings by the Sunflower Cliffs, page 29
Barely able to resist, Sacha breathed in the delicious aroma as Alessandro patiently waited for his to be prepared. Once he’d been handed his cone, she gave the assistant several euros and they sat down in silence at one of three small metal tables in the tiny parlour.
Sacha took a lick, closing her eyes in bliss as the enchanting flavour hit her taste buds, cooling her throat. ‘Heaven,’ she murmured, taking another mouthful. Neither of them spoke as they devoured their gelatos. The sheer pleasure was worth every second it had taken to get there on sore feet.
‘I would walk miles to have this again,’ she said.
‘Si, and me,’ Alessandro said, smiling at her. ‘Is very good, no?’
‘Oh, yes. Its texture is a little different to the ice creams at home,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I wonder why that is?’
He smiled. ‘It is because they are made in a slightly different way.’
Fascinated, she asked. ‘How though?’
‘The gelato is um, churned at a much slower rate. This way less air is brought into it and leaves the gelato denser than your ice cream would be.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ She thought back to the taste and how the gelato had felt in her mouth. ‘It was silkier and softer, somehow.’
‘It is because gelato is served at a slightly warmer temperature than ice cream. It softens the texture. There is also a lower um, percentage of fat than in ice cream, so that the main flavour that’s added to the mixture, like maybe strawberries, comes across slightly stronger.’
‘Wow, I never knew that.’ She’d learnt so much about ice cream since taking over her father’s café, especially the sundaes that she specialised in, but hadn’t realised there were different ways to make it. ‘I simply thought that gelato was the Italian word for ice cream,’ she said, aware she probably sounded rather silly. Giles, her ex, had never resisted an opportunity to mock her when she got something wrong. She knew he was in the past and that her confidence was slowly building again, but sometimes found it hard to believe in herself.
‘I don’t think many people know the difference.’
She laughed. ‘You do, though.’
He winked at her. ‘Maybe it is because I eat gelato most days.’
Her stomach did a little flip. There was something intriguing about him and it wasn’t only his gorgeous looks. Maybe Aunt Rosie had done her a favour, after all. She glanced at him from under her eyelashes. He was still lost in his own world of bliss as he continued eating his gelato. He’d been funny and kind, despite having to bring her here, and to the other places she had wanted to see, under duress. She decided to be as generous to him when he visited the Channel Islands. It was the very least she could do.
They finished and wiped their hands, then strolled back towards the hotel. Their slow pace gave her feet a chance to adjust to the heat.
Sacha had to concentrate on navigating the cobbles while taking in the splendour of the buildings and trattorias as they walked. She pointed up at an abundant display of flowers on a stone balcony just as her foot slipped on one of the cobbles. Alessandro grabbed her left arm a split second later, stopping her from falling over, and then bent to retrieve her hat from the ground.
‘That was close,’ she said, smiling at him and taking her hat. ‘It’s difficult to focus on where you’re walking when there are so many intriguing sights to enjoy.’ She replaced her hat on her head and they began walking again.
‘The cobbles are not easy for women wearing their heeled shoes.’
‘I’m wearing flats, so don’t really have an excuse for my clumsiness,’ she said, giggling as she pictured how silly she must have looked when she stumbled. ‘There’s so much to take in,’ she added. ‘I don’t want to miss anything.’ She watched an elderly couple cross the road holding hands as the man whispered something to his partner, making her laugh.
‘They remind me of my grandparents,’ Alessandro said.
‘Do you get forced to show many tourists like me around the city?’ She hoped he didn’t mind her question.
To her relief, he laughed. ‘Am I a good guide, do you think?’ he asked, smiling at her, his blue-grey eyes twinkling in a rather flirtatious way.
She couldn’t help being amused by him. ‘You are.’
He shrugged. ‘You are the only person I have agreed to show around. Because your aunt is unwell and my aunt and uncle asked me to help you enjoy your first time visiting Rome.’
‘Well, it’s very kind of you.’
‘No.’ He pushed his hands deep into his chino pockets. ‘I do not mind. I have enjoyed this afternoon very much.’
She was glad to hear it, a little more than she expected. ‘Thank you, so have I.’
They reached the entrance to the hotel and Alessandro stopped. ‘If your aunt is no better tonight, will you come with me for dinner? I can take you to a small restaurant with views I think you’ll appreciate.’
She didn’t have to think for more than a second before replying. ‘I’d like that very much. How will I let you know?’ she asked, delving into her bag for her room key card.
‘Er, I can wait for you outside the hotel, here at half past seven? If you do not come I will know that you are with your aunt.’
‘Okay, thank you,’ she said, excited to have plans instead of spending the evening alone in her room. If she was travelling alone she’d think nothing of setting off to see everything by herself, but she knew how Aunt Rosie fretted about her and didn’t want to give her any cause to do so while she was suffering so badly. ‘I’ll probably see you later, then.’
She gave him a wave and stepped into the hotel lobby where she was instantly surrounded by cold air, and hurried over to the elevator. As she waited, she slipped the espadrille off her right foot, and rested the sole of her foot on the cold floor tile. It was utter bliss. Forgetting others could possibly see her, she stepped out of the other shoe and stood, eyes closed, unaware that the lift had reached her floor.
‘Ahem.’
She opened her eyes, horrified to see another guest glaring at her with distain. She quickly pushed her feet back into her shoes, wincing as the pain in her toes jolted through her, just as the lift doors drew back, and stepped aside. ‘Sorry. Hot feet.’
The man pressed the button for the second floor and raised his eyebrows in question.
‘Oh, third floor for me, please.’
He pressed the third button and glowered at her and then down to her sore feet, before emitting a deep breath to show his disgust. The lift stopped at the second floor and as the doors drew back he stepped forward and without bothering to look back, said. ‘This is a hotel, not a hostel.’
‘It must be nice to be so cheerful,’ she said as the doors closed, eager to go back down to find him and give him a piece of her mind.
It dawned on her as she walked along the corridor that maybe he had a point. Her aunt would have said the same thing, or certainly commented on it to her when they were alone. By the time Sacha reached their room she was embarrassed that she’d been caught without her shoes on.
She listened at the door for any sound then, hearing none, carefully pushed her key card into the slot and slowly pushed down the door handle. Opening the heavy door, she walked inside the darkened bedroom and saw the shape of her aunt lying on the bed.
‘It’s all right,’ Aunt Rosie whispered. ‘You don’t have to be afraid to move. This migraine isn’t nearly as bad as I’d dreaded.’
Sacha kicked off her shoes and sat down on the brocade chair at the side of the bed. ‘Do you think you’ll be well enough to come downstairs for some supper?’ she asked doubtfully. ‘Or we could have a bite to eat up here, if you’d prefer.’
‘No, darling. I’ll just stay put and keep my eyes closed for now. If you’d rather go out somewhere though, do so. I don’t want to hold you back from enjoying this incredible place.’
They sat in silence. Sacha didn’t like to disturb her aunt and it was a relief not to be wearing her shoes.
‘Did you have a lovely time with that delicious looking man?’
Sacha smiled, glad the heavy curtains were keeping out most of the light, and that her aunt’s eyes were still closed. ‘Yes, thank you. He was very kind.’
‘Kind? Tell me where he took you and what you saw.’
Sacha told her everything, leaving out the bit about the man in the lift telling her off about her shoes. ‘It’s a stunning place. I love Rome, I can’t believe I’ve never made the effort to come here before now.’
‘Nor can I,’ her aunt said. ‘It’s where I had my first holiday romance. I was twenty-one and travelling on my own for the first time without my parents.’
Sacha hadn’t heard about this before. Rosie was her aunt, but also her godmother. She was sixty and very young at heart, as well as glamorous, with a charm and charisma that intrigued men of all ages. Sacha hoped she could learn a few things from her aunt during this holiday. How to be a bit more self-confident, for a start.
‘If you don’t need me to stay with you this evening, Alessandro has asked me out to dinner. He’s going to show me more of the sights.’
‘I’m so relieved,’ her aunt said. Sacha could tell she was smiling as she spoke and knew she’d approve. ‘I have only met him once before, several years ago, he was charming then. I can imagine he’s great company. He’s an interesting young man, you know.’
She wasn’t sure how her aunt could know such a thing if she’d only met him once, several years ago. ‘He was,’ Sacha admitted.
‘Good. You go and enjoy yourself. You’re not even thirty. You should be having an exciting time. I keep telling your father you work too hard in that café.’
‘I don’t, not really,’ Sacha said, not wishing to go over their usual argument. ‘Working in finance all those years was far harder for me. At least running the café, I get to walk about in the sun if it’s quiet, and I enjoy meeting the customers and seeing them enjoy their sundaes.’
She thought of Betty, the oldest resident on the boardwalk at ninety-three. She was also the local heroine, having helped a young French man desperately trying to get back to his family in 1941 to escape the Nazis. Sacha had grown up seeing the stone monument, placed at one end of the boardwalk in the seventies to honour Betty’s bravery. She recalled asking her father when she was a teenager why it had taken so long to honour the lady, and been surprised to discover that Betty had never told anyone what she had done. It was only when the Frenchman returned to the island to find her in the late sixties, and reported her actions, that anyone found out.
Sacha enjoyed chatting to Betty on the mornings when she came in for her chai latte and Jersey Wonder. Betty loved the local doughnut, so different to the ones on the mainland that were coated in sugar and filled with jam. These plain doughnuts were typical to the island, and delicious. Sacha always had to resist temptation when a fresh warm batch was delivered to the café by Mrs Joliff.
Then there were the retired statesmen. They were well known on the island, their decades long differences in politics causing many a front page headline over the years. Sacha found it amusing how they met up at her café each morning and put the world to rights over a couple of coffees. She was grateful to have such a pleasant job.
‘When it’s quiet, I get to go out to the boardwalk,’ she continued. ‘I can make the most of the sea air, rather than spending my day cooped up in an air-conditioned office, sitting at a desk with my head in some files.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘I know some people enjoy their office jobs, but it’s just not for me.’
‘Personally, I always thought it must be wonderful to dress up in a suit and go to meetings with clients. Being a florist was fun, but there wasn’t much call for me to spend time in a boardroom.’ Her aunt moved slightly and winced in pain. ‘I can’t wait for this to pass,’ she said, her forearm over her eyes.
‘The novelty of working in finance wears off, or it did with me. You probably like the thought if it because you’ve never done it.’ Sacha thought of the bags of suits, blouses and court shoes she’d donated to the Salvation Army clothes bins the day after she’d left her office job. Her mother had been sure she’d need them again, but she was determined to make the café work, and saw the donations as the closing of an era of working in finance that she never imagined repeating.
‘And you don’t mind living in that tiny box flat above the café? After all, you were used to that large apartment in town when you were with The Little Shit.’
Sacha shivered. Hating to be reminded of The Little Shit. It was a name her aunt had always used to refer to her ex, Giles. Although Giles, being six-feet-one and a part time rugby player, was hardly little.
‘I love my flat. It’s cosy, and the view of the boardwalk, and the sound of waves rolling onto the beach couldn’t be better. Really, I’m very happy now, and Giles has moved on. I heard he was getting married to the estate agent who sold our apartment. Good luck to them, I say.’
‘Rubbish, he’s a pig and deserves someone doing to him what he did to you. It wasn’t as if he stayed with that girl he dumped you for either, moving on to the next one within weeks of leaving you. He thought he was so clever, and it never occurred to him that someone as nice as you wouldn’t put up with his philandering and might just dump him.’
Sacha pushed away the memory of the one occasion he’d come round to her tiny flat, a bottle of red wine in his hand as he tried his best to persuade her that they’d enjoyed something magical, and she should give him another chance.
‘Can we change the subject, please?’ she said, feeling that familiar pang of humiliation whenever the subject of Giles and what he’d done to her was brought up. ‘We’re in a beautiful city and we’re going on a cruise in two days. That’s if you’re well enough to go,’ she added, when it occurred to her that maybe they’d have to cancel their time on the ship.
‘I’ll be fine. I always am. Don’t start worrying about me. Worse things than a ruddy migraine have failed to hold me back from having fun. Right, you can top up my glass of water from that jug if you don’t mind and then you’d better freshen up for your date with the lovely Alessandro.’
Relieved by this change in the conversation, Sacha laughed. ‘Fine.’ She filled up her aunt’s glass, then walked over to the wardrobe and selected one of her new sundresses; a raspberry and green cotton shift. She carried it into the small shower room to get ready.
We hope you enjoyed this exclusive extract. Summer Sundaes at Golden Sands Bay is available to buy now by clicking on the image below:
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my wonderful and slightly eccentric extended family, whose actions never fail to provide me with an endless supply of inspiration for my books. One of those is my gorgeous friend, Andrea Harrison, my inspiration for Shani Calder, and Andy Le Lievre, my inspiration for Paul.
Also, to my husband Rob and children, James and Saskia and to my constant writing companions, Jarvis, Claude and Rudi – not forgetting my darling Max who was with me the entire time I wrote this book.
Thanks must also go to the wonderful team at Boldwood Books, especially my copy editor, Gary Jukes and editor, Rachel Faulkner-Willcocks.
Most important of all I’d like to thank you for reading this book and to all the book reviewers for bringing books to readers’ attention and for sharing their love of reading.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Georgina Troy writes bestselling uplifting romantic escapes and sets her novels on the island of Jersey, where she was born and has lived for most of her life.
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ALSO BY GEORGINA TROY
The Sunshine Island Series
Finding Love on Sunshine Island
A Secret Escape to Sunshine Island
Chasing Dreams on Sunshine Island
The Golden Sands Bay Series
Summer Sundaes at Golden Sands Bay
Love Begins at Golden Sands Bay
Winter Whimsy at Golden Sands Bay
Sunny Days at Golden Sands Bay
Snow Angels at Golden Sands Bay
The Sunflower Cliffs Series
New Beginnings by the Sunflower Cliffs
First published in Great Britain in 2023 by Boldwood Books Ltd.
Copyright © Georgina Troy, 2023
Cover Design by Alexandra Allden
Cover Illustration: Shutterstock and Getty Images
The moral right of Georgina Troy to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Paperback ISBN 978-1-80426-108-8
Large Print ISBN 978-1-80426-107-1
