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The cafe sits in a corner of the beach, near the old stone breakwater that makes a wide arc into the water. It’s useless as a breakwater -- there’s a modern cement-and-steel one much further out -- but pleasant as a walk and often used by tourists who want to get a panoramic view of the beach and the town.
The cafe itself is an old building, built in the late 1950s, weathered and faded from many years of exposure to the wind and the sea and the sun. Its original bright blue has faded into something only a shade or two away from grey. The white trim along the gutters, windows, and doors is the brightest color because it has been re-painted the most recently.
The walls that face the sea and the beach are mostly windows, broad glass panes with thin strips of wood dividing them. There are storm shutters that are folded back against the walls most of the time. The door faces up the beach towards the road, keeping it safe from all but the worst weather.
The cafe was washed off its foundation once by a particularly bad winter storm in the 1980s and shifted back by construction equipment. One corner of the roof sags slightly as a consequence and the stairs from the back kitchen door have never sat properly since.
In front of the cafe, the beach is a broad, flat curve interrupted only by the two piers and rimmed by the boardwalk that runs along the road above. The road itself is moderately busy, connecting as it does at either end with the motorway that curves around the outskirts of the town. There’s a paved footpath for pedestrians on both sides. The beach side is often clogged with bicycles, scooters, and mopeds since there’s no other parking space.
Sand drifts up over the boardwalk and the pavement, even into the road if the wind is particularly strong. Residents in the buildings of flats facing the sea complain about it, occasionally, and talk about building a retaining wall or planting sea grass to root the sand. Neither of these things will ever happen.
Inside, the cafe is mostly light and space -- none of the owners have seen fit to clutter it with knick-knacks or give it a ‘nautical’ theme. A regular coat of clean paint and, recently, a refinishing of the wooden floorboards is about the extent of the interior decoration efforts. When Christopher Foyle inherited it from his parents, he stripped it further before locking it and leaving it -- except for a regular autumn and spring inspection -- for twenty years.
When he came back a little less than two years ago, the only changes he made immediately were to have the floor well-cleaned, purchase comfortable chairs, and replace the lightbulbs. Everything else by way of decor he left to his son, Andrew, who was using the place as something of a practice piece for a degree in architecture and design. Andrew and Samantha Stewart-- another student from the local university who runs the front of the cafe most days -- have been responsible for the clean new yellow paint on the walls, the pictures, the clock, the plants on the counter, the colored lights in the corners.
Forty years ago, the cafe was a well-known spot along the beachfront, bright and humming and modern, something very new. Now it seems to have worn soft and comfortable; locals who deplored its closing come back with pleasure and bring their grown children or grand-children, direct visitors to it, give tourists directions by it. The last summer season -- the cafe’s first in two decades -- started slowly but business built to a steady level by the time the pier shut down in the autumn. The winter was quiet but with the addition of soup and hot chocolate to the menu, the cafe did well enough. This spring, things are going briskly and there is often someone waiting on the bench out front when either Sam or Christopher comes to open the doors at seven a.m.