Afternoons at the Park

By Camilla Kelly

Love stories, feel-good tales, and the magical in daily life – a collection of 20 coffee-break reads that will leave you with a warm glow.

 

A girl trying to get over a broken heart gets a job witnessing other people's weddings. A grumpy waitress gets drawn into a cute footballer's pre-match superstitions. A woman shelters under an umbrella with a stranger and realises that fate has brought them together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Camilla Kelly
• Release date: May 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201206314

Book preview

Afternoons at the Park

Cosy Short Stories

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Camilla Kelly

Copyright © 2021 Camilla Kelly

All rights reserved.

Cover Design by James,  GoOnWrite.com

Contents

Snow Moon

Imaginary Conversations

Ghost Hunting with Friends

Things I Know by Heart

Match Day

Wedding Season

The Worry Box

The Etiquette of Cloud Sitting

All the Secrets I’ve Never Told

Afternoons at the Park

The Red Shoes Variable

Things My Mum and I Argue About

The Shy Girl

Saturday Night Hop

Clive and Sherlock

Daredevils

Fireworks

The Snow Beau

Loves Stories

The Midnight Tree

Snow Moon

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Holly’s mum said it was nothing but an old wives’ tale that a full moon could cause insomnia, but Holly swore it was true.

Every time she woke in the middle of the night, restless and spooked and full to the brim with feelings she couldn’t quite name, she’d go to the window and open the curtains, and sure enough there would be a big empty plate of a white moon looking in at her.

In February they call it a Snow Moon.

In a book that she borrowed from the library, she read that every month’s full moon had a name, like a guest. Some of them had beautiful names, like April’s Pink Moon, and June’s Strawberry Moon.

March is a Worm Moon, which doesn’t sound so nice, she commented as she read from the book while sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs.

Would you please get down from there? Milo said, trying to manoeuvre around her with his arms full of shiny purple aubergines. They had a birthday party booked in at the restaurant tonight and he’d had to make a last-minute change to the menu.

I thought you’d be interested, Holly said, hopping down and straightening the skirt of what would have been called her uniform, if there had been any other waiting staff to be uniform with.

Milo’s family’s restaurant was what they liked to call boutique. Holly knew the locals found it pretentious, but genuine foodies would travel a long way to their small village to eat there.

I’ll be interested later, after I’ve figured out what the starters are going to be. Maybe something heart-shaped, with Valentine’s Day coming up. Are you going to help?

Is Ewan not around this afternoon? Holly said.

Milo’s brother, as a partner in the business, really should be helping out.

I don’t know, he said he had some errand or something. Milo sighed. It wasn’t the first time Ewan had disappeared at prep time.

Holly covered her clothes with an apron and set about the mountain of potatoes with a peeler. They were only serving a party of six tonight, but Milo liked to have plenty of food, and Holly didn’t mind because it meant there were usually leftovers she could have.

Anyway, in February it’s called a Snow Moon –

It’s not snowing, is it? Milo said, startled. He almost dropped an aubergine as he ducked back a step to look out the window.

Not when I last checked, Holly said, amused.

Good. That would have really messed up my plans for later. I’ve already got the telescope and the camera set up on the roof. I could do without being snowed on.

You’re the one who got me interested in this full moon stuff, with your photography project, Holly said. So do you want to hear about it?

Sorry. Go ahead.

Apparently, a Snow Moon makes you dream about being somewhere else.

She fully understood this. It wasn’t only her nights but her days which were full of dreams. Winter had gone on so long. She’d open her curtains in the morning and look out on the sleepy village she’d grown up in and wonder what was going on in bigger, busier places.

Did I tell you I’ve been dreaming about London again? Not a Beefeater this time; Trafalgar Square, and Harrods and the West End.

She lowered the potato peeler and looked at Milo to check he was listening, and found him watching her, his own busy hands still for the moment too.

He smiled sadly. You’re really thinking of leaving, aren’t you?

In June Milo invited Holly to come and look at the Strawberry Moon from the roof of the restaurant. They took plates of champagne cheesecake left over from the fortieth anniversary dinner they’d just catered and sat on a picnic blanket lit by candles, eating with their fingers.

Another clear sky, Milo said with delight, looking up at the stars and the pink-tinged moon.

You should get some great photos tonight.

I hope so.

It was lovely to see him happy, he’d seemed so down recently. And Ewan still hadn’t been pulling his weight.

What are you going to do when you’ve got photos of every full moon of the year? she asked.

I’ll look at them and remind myself everything is always changing, even things that have been around for ever.

He leaned back on his elbows as if to let the moonlight fall on his face. For the first time she noticed how much the silvery light suited his dark hair and pale skin.

What do they say about a Strawberry Moon? he said.

That it’s a good time to ask for forgiveness.

He was quiet a moment. Then he said, You won’t get skies like this in London, you know. Too much light pollution.

Don’t worry about me, she said wickedly. I’ll be much too busy to look up. She couldn’t help laughing at his expression. That’s just about the worst thing you can imagine, isn’t it?

No. He plucked the husk from a strawberry on the side of his plate. Not the worst thing.

August... Holly couldn’t remember. What was an August Moon called? She could only remember reading something about it making you feel restless and overwhelmed. She’d known that by August she’d be two months into her new city life, and she was determined not to let it overwhelm her.

Milo was right: she couldn’t see the stars here. She only glimpsed the moon, half-covered by clouds, as she stepped out of a taxi with her new flatmate, before they went into a pub to meet some friends from work.

Greta was chatting about going shopping tomorrow before their shift at the hotel, to get new swimsuits for a pool party at the weekend, and Holly had only the merest moment to picture Milo sitting on his roof, angling his telescope towards the silent moon. Then she was pulled away from the fresh summer evening into the close and noisy pub.

She missed September’s moon completely, and didn’t even realise: the Harvest Moon, when farmers (and waitresses) worked long into the night.

But October’s Hunter’s Moon brought back her insomnia, and at two a.m. she was standing on her balcony in her PJs and coat with a mug of tea, googling the folktale about this particular moon.

Ask an October moon a question, and you might get an answer.

That would be handy. Holly lowered her phone but she couldn’t see the moon anywhere behind the dense dark cloud. She might not even be looking in the right direction.

Milo would be appalled about that, with his star maps and compasses and constant awareness of the North Star.  Milo probably never felt he was in the wrong place.

Before she turned her phone off, she saw she had an email: the full moon had made Milo think of her too! Happily, she read his short message: Hope all is well with you. Swamped here – Ewan’s never around and the restaurant misses its best waitress. Anyway, thought you might like to see these photos. What’s an October moon called?

Attached were two pictures of the moon. He must have taken them just hours ago – maybe even minutes. She liked to imagine him on his roof right now, bundled in his red hat and gloves.

At home the skies were clear and mild, and Milo’s moon filled the whole screen with wise and noble clarity.

It’s a Hunter’s Moon, she wrote back immediately. And maybe you should try asking it where Ewan is!

Milo said he always asked the moon questions; he didn’t know it was polite to wait until October.

November’s was a Beaver Moon, a time for setting traps; a time for last chances. They emailed and texted nearly every day. He almost came to see her, but had to cancel when he found out Ewan had booked a hen party in at the restaurant and forgotten to tell him.

Holly was in a foul temper all day. Even Greta commented on her mood.

Milo’s not coming after all, Holly griped.

Greta didn’t pause in applying her mascara in the bathroom mirror. Who’s Milo?

Greta could barely keep up with the people in her own life, let alone Holly’s. But it made Holly feel especially lonely that day. The city seemed busy and empty all at once and Holly found she was only content when she went for walks in the park or the arboretum and read Milo’s emails.

She made a trip home in December. Since she had to work over Christmas, she timed her trip specially to coincide with the full Cold Moon. She wanted to surprise Milo; she wanted another long chat on the roof, eating dessert while he took his photos.

But when she got to the restaurant everything was different. Milo had opened up the whole dining area and the place was cosy and inviting. No more boutique tables for small parties. This was a place that served wholesome comfort food in big bowls, and Holly recognised many of her old neighbours among the diners.

You didn’t tell me you were doing all this! she said to Milo after he greeted her with an enormous – and quite un-Milo-like – hug.

"Well, I asked the moon what Ewan was up to, like you suggested. And the moon told me that Ewan had very little interest in the restaurant these days. And then she told me it was my restaurant now and I didn’t have to keep running things the way Dad used to. And then she asked me what I wanted to do."

The moon did all that? Holly was discombobulated.

Well, the moon... and you.

Me?

He looked at her with affection.

You inspired me, Holly. You went off and did what you’d been dreaming of doing. So I tried to do the same.

He glowed with pride and confidence. His restaurant was now a place of community and welcome, not a place tourists passed through.

They didn’t get up onto the roof that night. But Holly didn’t mind; she didn’t want to leave.

For February’s Snow Moon Holly was back again. She left her parents’ house and walked to Milo’s restaurant, marvelling at all that had passed since the last Snow Moon.

The restaurant was closed. She tapped on the window, and Milo opened the door immediately.

I saw you from the roof, he said, beaming at her.

Is it OK that I’m here? she said. I thought you might like some company for the last night of your project.

Yes, he said, tugging her scarf more snugly around her with a familiarity that was thrilling. It’s OK that you’re here.

January’s Wolf Moon was also called a Hunger Moon, Holly recently found out. She’d watched the cold disc of it rising behind one of the hotel windows in London. She’d looked away, at the small sauce stain on her apron, and then at Greta, who was flirting with the bar manager.

Everything she wanted wasn’t here.

On the roof Milo offered her his mug of coffee and she warmed her hands on it. He had his usual red bobble hat on, pulled down over his ears, and was almost comically