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Weathering THE STORM

Woman's Weekly

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October 21, 2025

Lucy hoped she had left heartache behind – but life was never plain sailing, was it?

Weathering THE STORM

Chocolate on your cappuccino?’ I ask brightly, looking up at Tom.

I'm not really expecting a reply, but hope springs eternal. In all the months I've been serving this particular fisherman at the Jetty Cafe, I don’t think I’ve ever had more than a grunt in response, and today is no different. But it’s a routine we go through every day when Tom and his crewmates pop in for a coffee after offloading their catch, and it feels wrong to change things at this stage in what I (ironically) think of as our ‘relationship’.

I hold up the cocoa pot and shake it provocatively, hoping he'll at least notice my irritation. When no reaction is forthcoming – he doesn’t even look me in the eye – I slam it down and turn away.

Skipper Greg is next in line and as I take his order, my Labrador Max follows Tom to his table, whining affectionately. Tom ignores him as always, but Max has a good sniff of his trouser leg, then collapses by his feet with a contented sigh.

‘Max, come here!’ I call, annoyed that he’s ruined my halfhearted attempt to show Tom that when it comes to bad manners, two can play at that game.

Naturally, Max chooses that moment to pretend I don’t exist.

‘He’s probably smelt the lobsters,’ says Greg. ‘Plenty this morning, I’m glad to say.’

‘He definitely won't get any conversation,’ I mutter.

“Very true!’

Greg grins and I try to shake off my annoyance. ‘What can I get you, love?’

‘Latte, extra hot, thanks, Lucy.’

As I blitz the coffee beans, I glance out of the window. It’s another picture-perfect day. The North Norfolk sky is at its best, turquoise dabbed with white. A light breeze wafts in every time the door opens, bringing with it a wave of deliciously salt-tanged air.

FLERE HISTORIER FRA Woman's Weekly

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