Loe raamatut: «The Cornish Cream Tea Bus: Part Three – Scones Away!»

From Charlie’s spot on Penzance Harbour, St Michael’s Mount was a regal, impressive structure. It sat above the sparkling blue water like a beacon while, around it, a summer mist gave everything a hazy, dreamlike quality. But inside The Cornish Cream Tea Bus, it was anything but dreamlike.

The tables were full, upstairs and down, and Charlie had spent a frantic morning putting scones in the oven, arranging mini Danish pastries – pains au chocolat, almond croissants and pecan plaits – on her cake stands to go with cups of strong black coffee or frothy cappuccinos. Penzance was much bigger than the quaint seaside village of Porthgolow, but she hadn’t anticipated quite how much attention her bus would get in the town.

There were people taking photos and peering in through the cab window and she’d had to start a waiting list for customers who, when she’d told them the bus was full, said they were happy to sit in the sunshine until a table became available.

Charlie had decided that, in order to promote her bus, and the weekly food markets she had started in Porthgolow, she was going to take Gertie to every town in Cornwall. If the others were even half as busy as this, then it would be worth it. She just wished she’d brought Juliette with her so she wasn’t running the bus by herself, but her best friend was at home, working on a marketing project, and had offered to look after Charlie’s Yorkipoo, Marmite, so he wasn’t stuck on board. It was the right decision, but Charlie missed having her little terror with her.

‘Oh my God, The Cornish Cream Tea Bus!’ squealed a voice. Charlie followed it to where a young couple was standing outside, the woman gazing up adoringly at the double-decker. ‘This is the one I was telling you about Matt, in Porthgolow? We have to go to their food market. Liz and Phil were there last weekend and said it was epic. Just swam and sunbathed and went back for more food whenever they felt like it.’

Charlie smiled to herself as she put her finger sandwiches on a tray and took them to a family sitting upstairs. They had asked for two traditional cream teas and two half-sized ones for their young children. Charlie hadn’t thought of doing a children’s cream tea until now, but she was going to add it to her repertoire.

‘If you need anything else,’ she said as she stood back from their table with a flourish, ‘just ring the bell.’ She pointed at the cord that ran around the edge of the bus. It was one of Gertie’s most popular features.

Running The Cornish Cream Tea Bus was a constant learning curve. There were always new possibilities to explore, certain elements needed to be changed or adapted, and ideas popped into her head on a daily basis. It was exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. When she went back downstairs, she added children’s cream teas to her ever-expanding to-do list.

She closed the bus once the sun had begun its descent, and made the long, winding journey back to Porthgolow, cutting over the lower half of the county, the glistening sea falling out of sight behind rolling green hills, the statuesque towers of wind farms like alien armies on the horizon. As she went, she got honks and waves.

She was getting used to it now, the number of people who noticed her on the roads, and every time she felt a surge of pride, sitting high up in the cab while drivers or cyclists gave her a cheery thumbs-up or sounded their horns. She thought about her uncle Hal, how wide his smile would be if he could see what she’d achieved. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but she was going in the right direction. No regrets, Charlie, he used to say. Keep moving forward.

For the most part, that was what she was doing. She knew that she had to learn from her mistakes to make any kind of progress, but what had happened last weekend, after the market had finished, had been playing on her mind ever since.

She approached Porthgolow from the south side, slowing her speed as she reached the area known as Crumbling Cliff. It was a sharp bend at the highest point above the village, with only a scrubby patch of grass between the road and the drop, which fell at least eighty feet to the promontory where Reenie’s little yellow hut sat, then the rocks and churning waves below that.

Ahead of her, beyond the bay of Porthgolow, on the opposite cliff, sat Crystal Waters. The place where, last week, she had allowed Daniel Harper to seduce her into his hot tub, ply her with champagne and kiss her. If she put it like that, she came out as an innocent party, totally at his mercy. But it hadn’t been like that at all.

She drove down the hill and parked Gertie in her spot on the hard-packed sand at the top of the beach. The sky was fading from blue to violet, the cloak of twilight settling over Porthgolow. Charlie breathed in the salty, seaside scent, and tried to move her thoughts away from Daniel. The village was quiet, with only a couple of cars in the car park, no sounds besides the churn of the waves and the occasional shout from the last family lingering on the beach. Myrtle’s pop-in was closed for the day but, next to it, the windows of the B&B were aglow.

Charlie’s gaze was drawn to the sea, as it so often was. She loved the way the light and the waves shifted in harmony with each other; still water mirrored by a placid sky, or a raging sea below racing, thunderous clouds. Out beyond the jetty, the lights were on inside the primrose-coloured cottage. As she watched, Reenie, now only a silhouette, emerged and stood at the edge of the rock. There was a flash, like the flicker of a torch beam, a wink of brightness piercing the dusk.

She stood there for several minutes, the light blinking intermittently. Then she went back inside her yellow house and stillness settled over Porthgolow. Jonah had said that Reenie was a mermaid communicating with her family beneath the waves. Charlie turned away from the sea, her mind racing. She wondered what Reenie was really doing out there.

The third Porthgolow Food Market got off to a good start and Charlie was both touched and relieved to see several locals wandering through the stands, shopping bags in hand, picking up fudge or sushi to take away with them, trying the tasters that the vendors put out to entice customers. Oliver was giving a group of women the full mixologist performance, juggling glasses and lemons and spinning shakers behind his back. The women were entranced, laughing and nudging each other, and it was clear that he was in his element.

‘It’s great, this,’ Amanda said, as she and Paul lifted Jem’s pushchair onto the bus, Jonah and Flora following. ‘I can’t believe the difference it’s making to the village. It’s like a brand-new place.’

‘On a Saturday, anyway,’ Jonah added, ever the realist.

‘Not true, my son.’ Paul ruffled his hair. ‘We’ve seen an increase in bookings during the week as well as on Saturdays. Charlie and her bus are getting Porthgolow’s name out there.’

‘I’m not the only one who’s working hard,’ Charlie said.

‘But you’re going out and promoting it.’ Amanda checked Jem was secure in her chair and smoothed Flora’s curls behind her ear. ‘I follow you on Instagram, and Penzance looked glorious yesterday.’

‘It was pretty busy,’ Charlie replied. ‘I felt as if I’d run a marathon by the time I got home.’ She’d forgotten that, by uploading everything on social media, people could see where she was at all times. She wondered if Daniel had watched her videos, made a mental note to check whether the Crystal Waters account appeared in her viewers’ list, and then immediately scrubbed it off her virtual to-do list. ‘What can I get you, anyway? No boats today?’

‘Later this afternoon,’ Paul said, ‘so we thought we’d squeeze in a cream tea to keep us going.’

‘And then we get burgers for dinner on the way home,’ Jonah added, peering at the sausage rolls laid out on the cooling racks. ‘It’s our Saturday tradition.’

‘Tradition?’ Charlie laughed. ‘It’s only been three weeks!’

‘It’s staying, though, right?’ Jonah asked, looking worried. ‘I can’t find a chicken burger with piri-piri sauce anywhere else, and Mum’s attempts are hopeless.’ He rolled his eyes dramatically.

‘Hey,’ Amanda said, laughing. ‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it, Jonah?’

‘Would you go back to our homemade ones after Benji’s blue cheeseburger?’ He pinned his mum with a stare.

Amanda grinned. ‘Not a chance. It’s definitely our new tradition.’

‘And you get on with Benji?’ Charlie asked. Out of everyone in Porthgolow, of course it would be Jonah who would make friends.

‘He’s going to show me how to make the perfect burger, as long as we don’t stop going to him. I tried to get him to tell me his piri-piri sauce recipe too, but apparently that’s a family secret.’

‘Everyone needs a USP,’ Paul said.

‘What’s ours, Dad?’ Jonah asked, sliding onto the bench next to him.

‘We’re the only boat trip that leaves from this beach, so we give a unique view of the Cornish coast to our visitors. And we’re right next to this, every Saturday.’ He gestured out of the window, where the market was in full swing.

Charlie wished Bea could see what she’d achieved – and maybe even Stuart. Irritation flashed through her at the thought of him, there and then gone. But, even though he was almost out of her system, his betrayal had made her wary. He was being replaced in her thoughts by someone else, but she just wasn’t sure exactly what that person was offering, or if she was ready to accept it.

The bus emptied out after tea time and Charlie was clearing the empty tables on the upper deck when she looked up to find three burly, bearded men standing at the top of the stairs. ‘Room for some little ones?’ asked the tallest of the three.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Come and sit down, browse the menu and I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.’

Charlie watched as they took instrument cases off their shoulders and laid them carefully on an empty seat.

‘Have you come to perform on the beach?’ she asked. ‘I’m Charlie, I organized the food market, so …’

‘Charlie, hello! Hugh has told us so much about you.’ The man’s blue eyes shone out above his curly beard. ‘I’m Silas, this is Artem and that’s Ken. Along with Hugh we make up the Cornwall Cornflowers. We weren’t planning on playing, but we could always be persuaded.’

‘Oh, sorry – it’s just that you’ve got your instruments.’

‘Band rehearsal,’ Artem said. ‘We’re off to Hugh’s after this. We’re performing in the pub at the end of the month. One of the villagers has a big birthday, apparently. Hugh said we should come and sample your famous cream teas first.’

‘I’m so glad you’ve come,’ Charlie replied. ‘You don’t know which villager it is, do you? I’ve only been here a few months, so I’m still getting to know everyone.’

‘Someone called Myrtle,’ said Ken. ‘We’ve not met her, but she’s into the traditional folk songs, so Hugh’s arranged a party in the pub and we’re going to be the musical entertainment.’

‘It sounds wonderful. I’d love to hear you play sometime.’

‘Come to the party,’ Silas said. ‘I’m sure Myrtle will want the whole village there.’

‘I’ll see what Hugh thinks. Have a look at the menu and I’ll be back in a moment to take your order.’ Charlie left them to it. She wasn’t sure she’d be welcome at Myrtle’s birthday celebrations, though she wondered if, in time, the older woman could come to see Gertie and the food markets as one of the local traditions. The Kerrs were already planning their day around it, and it seemed that, despite what some of the more stalwart villagers might think, the Porthgolow food market was starting to put down roots.

The following Thursday, Charlie lay in bed watching light patterns dance on the ceiling, Marmite snoozing quietly on her feet. She had another morning in the bus and then she was spending the afternoon with Oliver, Juliette offering to cover for her while she took some time off.

They walked down the hill in bright sunshine, Charlie mesmerized by the glittering sea, so still and calm, the deep turquoise of Caribbean waters. She didn’t realize something was wrong until Juliette’s arm-tugging became painful.

‘What’s—’ she started, then her voice disappeared.

Down on the beach, next to where Gertie stood resplendent in the sun, was what looked like a load of cross-legged people, all as still as statues.

‘What the hell?’ she whispered. ‘Is this some kind of bizarre art installation? Are those sculptures?’

‘Not sculptures,’ Juliette said, ‘yogis.’

‘What?’ Charlie rubbed her eyes and looked again. Juliette was right. There were about twenty people sitting perfectly still, wearing leggings and vests or shorts and T-shirts, all facing out to sea. Beneath each person was a brightly coloured mat.

‘It’s a yoga class,’ Juliette said, picking up her pace. ‘I’ve never seen one in Porthgolow before. What’s going on?’

‘I have no idea,’ Charlie said, her pulse returning to normal when she realized it was two days until her next market so they wouldn’t get in the way of the food trucks. She realised that, in a short space of time, she had come to think of Porthgolow’s beach as hers – at least on a Saturday. She knew she shouldn’t be so possessive, but she couldn’t help it.

‘Let’s go and find out.’ Juliette grinned and Charlie followed her friend onto the sand.

They waited for a break in the class and introduced themselves to the instructor, who was called Belle and looked like a young Cindy Crawford. The class was called Yoga by the Sea, Belle told them, and it was a popular pursuit in other countries, but rarely happened in the UK due to the unpredictable climate. The current warm weather had made it possible.

‘How did you find out about Porthgolow?’ Juliette asked Belle, whose perfect figure was sculpted into a sea-blue leotard and fuchsia leggings. ‘I had no idea you were coming and I check for new yoga events in Cornwall all the time – especially close to here.’

‘Oh, my husband and I stayed up at Crystal Waters a few weeks ago. We got chatting to the owner about Porthgolow and yoga, and this seemed like the perfect spot to try it out.’

‘It is beautiful down here,’ Charlie said, trying not to react at the mention of Daniel. She hadn’t heard from him since the hot tub incident, almost two weeks ago now.

‘How long are you here for?’ Juliette asked.

‘Oh, for a week, all being well,’ Belle said.

Charlie’s stomach flipped unpleasantly. ‘A week? Here, on the beach?’

‘Sure,’ Belle said. ‘We can use one of the spaces in the hotel if the weather turns, but from the look of the forecast we’re going to be fine. The sea air makes a huge difference.’

‘Wow,’ Jules said. ‘Can I … I mean, I’m busy today, but could I come tomorrow?’ She looked like someone had just offered her a million pounds.

‘Sure, Juliette. I’d love to have you. What about you, Charlie?’

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to run the bus.’

‘Oh, yeah.’ Belle laughed. ‘Don’t suppose you’re serving kale smoothies, are you?’

‘We’re not, I’m afraid,’ Charlie replied calmly. ‘We’re more full-fat hot chocolates and Cornish cream teas. But there will be a juice bar here on Saturday, when the market is on.’

‘Daniel mentioned something about that. It’s not noisy or anything, is it?’

Charlie stared at her incredulously. ‘It’s, uhm, a food market. With people and trucks and ice-cream vans. It’s pretty established now, so …’

Belle’s delicate nose wrinkled. ‘I’ll have a word with Daniel, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Lovely to meet you guys. So looking forward to welcoming you into the fold, Juliette.’

‘Me too,’ Jules said.

‘Into the fold?’ Charlie whispered as she unlocked the bus. ‘It sounds more like a cult than a yoga class. And what am I supposed to do? What was Daniel thinking, organizing this yoga week to clash with the food market?’

Juliette gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose. Maybe he just forgot – or wasn’t thinking?’

‘You’re his biggest fan now, are you?’

‘No, but he explained what had happened with the contract, and he gave us that spa voucher. I thought everything was smoothed over. What actually happened when you went to see him at the hotel? You were really vague about it, but you’ve been distracted ever since. Is everything OK?’

Charlie switched on the oven and the coffee machine, lifted Marmite up and, before putting him in his crate, gave him a hug. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘Nothing happened at the hotel. We had a misunderstanding and we sorted it out.’

Juliette didn’t say anything, but Charlie could tell she wasn’t convinced.

She knew that yoga was supposed to do wonders for your mood, but it was having the opposite effect on her. How could Belle’s class and the food market happen alongside each other? Yoga was supposed to be calming, serene, and her markets were anything but. As she unloaded fresh scones from her cake tin onto the oven rack, she wondered if she’d have time to go and see Daniel after she got back from her afternoon with Ollie. But the thought of another confrontation wasn’t remotely appealing, mainly because she knew he would find a way of smoothing things over. She wasn’t prepared for him to upend her argument – and her emotions – all over again.

Chapter Two

‘I don’t see how it’s going to work.’ Charlie stared up at the blue sky and the occasional puffy cloud that drifted above her. They were lying on the grass outside the large eco-domes of the Eden Project, their bellies full of Cornish ice cream. She glanced sideways, to where Oliver had his eyes closed.

‘Maybe it just will,’ he murmured. ‘Food trucks and yoga, in harmony with each other.’

Charlie turned her sigh into a deep breath, as Juliette had taught her to do. She didn’t want to acknowledge that yoga techniques were helping to calm her down. She had left Juliette on the bus, exchanging waves and smiles with Belle through the window.

‘Who holds a week-long yoga class outside anyway? I understand retreats for the truly committed, but Porthgolow is hardly the place, is it?’

‘It’s a beautiful, tranquil beach.’ Oliver held his hands up when Charlie glared at him. ‘I’m playing devil’s advocate. You’ve got to think of it from Daniel’s point of view, and then you can work out the best response.’

‘The best response is to ask all my market people to get there early, so Belle and her yoga class can’t stop it happening. I can’t believe he’s doing this.’

‘Can’t you?’ Oliver rolled onto his stomach, and Charlie did the same. Marmite, who had been snoozing between them, raced forward so he could stand in front of them and be unavoidable. Oliver ruffled his fur and Marmite lay down in front of him.

Charlie thought back to the night of the hot tub and the way Daniel had effortlessly parried all her accusations. How, on the day of her first event, he had placated Myrtle not with words, but with a bonfire and fireworks. He did whatever he wanted. ‘I suppose I can,’ she admitted.

‘So why is he doing it?’ A robin dropped onto the grass and began investigating the undergrowth, sounding its sharp little call as it went.

‘That is the million-dollar question.’ She wondered if it was a way of getting back at her for abandoning him after their kiss. But that seemed petty, and unlike him, and certainly not something she could discuss with Oliver. ‘Perhaps, even though he claimed to be supportive at the beginning, he doesn’t like the food market.’

‘Why doesn’t he like it?’

‘Because his hotel is all about calm and serenity, and the market gets quite noisy. But the cliff’s a long way up, and I know sound drifts, but it’s not like the hotel walls are made out of paper.’

‘But the outdoor swimming pool and gardens will be used a lot now it’s summer.’

‘It’s only one day a week.’ Charlie drew herself up to sitting. ‘I wonder if he’s had complaints from some of the guests? But then he should just come and talk to me about it, or turn it around – advertise it as a feature of Porthgolow and encourage them to take advantage of it. Surely they can’t all be so refined that they faint at the sight of a hotdog stand?’

Oliver laughed, stood up and held out his hand. ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think you should let him rile you.’

Charlie let him pull her to her feet. They stood facing each other, Oliver’s warm, open expression drawing her closer. She realized she wasn’t being fair to him, coming on a date and spending the whole time talking about Daniel. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I won’t. Not any more. I’ll do my thing, and work around him.’

‘Exactly.’ Oliver’s grin flashed, and when they started walking, his hand remained firmly around hers.

They strolled through the gardens, the sun beating down, and Charlie could almost feel her freckles popping to the surface. Oliver told her about his life childhood growing up near the Welsh border – not that far from where Charlie had been born – and how he’d loved going to the funfair and country shows as he grew up.

‘I loved them all,’ he said. ‘The atmosphere, that sense of everyone having a good time, finding something interesting or new, or indulging in their passion. I thought about getting involved in the gun dogs for a time. I always watched the trials but, as I grew older, I instinctively moved towards catering. It suited me, and so when Nat – my sister – suggested the cocktail stand, it felt right. I mean,’ he added, stopping on a wooden boardwalk that protruded into the middle of a pond, ‘who wouldn’t want to spend their days around people who are taking time to do something for themselves? Enjoyment, education, whatever it is. It wouldn’t be bad working here, would it?’

Charlie looked around, at the families and couples strolling, a woman sitting on a bench pushing a buggy back and forth, licking a green ice cream. ‘No,’ she agreed, ‘it wouldn’t. But we have more flexibility with our businesses. We’re our own bosses.’

‘How are you finding that?’

‘Good. Busy, though. I can only call on Juliette so often – she has her own work to do. But I don’t know if I’m ready to employ someone else. Everything’s a bit fluid – the markets, where I might end up.’ She watched as Marmite dangled a tentative paw in the water, got scared when a leaf drifted towards him and hid behind her legs.

‘You’re not staying in Cornwall?’

‘I don’t know,’ Charlie admitted. ‘I can’t live with Jules and Lawrence for ever. They need their own space. What about you, anyway? You don’t live down here.’

‘I’ve got a few mates,’ he said, his eyes sliding away from her. ‘As long as I don’t outstay my welcome on any one sofa then it’s not a problem.’

Charlie laughed. ‘You’re a proper wanderer.’

‘Does that bother you?’ His grip on her hand had tightened, his gaze returning to her face.

‘No, of course not, but—’

‘Charlie?’

‘Yes?’ She waited, the ice cream suddenly heavy in her stomach. Oliver seemed to be searching for the right words, but then he leaned towards her. His kiss was gentle and Charlie found that, after a beat, she was kissing him back. It felt good, comforting, but nothing like the sensation of Daniel’s lips on hers. That rush of adrenalin and desire. She shouldn’t be doing this. She stepped back.

Oliver’s smile downgraded from self-assured to tentative. ‘Was that OK?’

‘It was lovely.’ It wasn’t a lie.

His smile widened and he took her hand again. They walked off the boardwalk, back onto the path, only to find a small boy giggling up at them. ‘You made smoochies,’ he said, pointing an unapologetic finger. ‘Eww!’

‘You won’t feel like that when you’re older,’ Oliver said calmly, and pulled Charlie away.

After Oliver had failed to persuade Charlie to go on the zip wire that hovered terrifyingly over the Eden Project, Charlie drove them back to Newquay, the windows of Juliette’s car wound down to let in as much air as possible. When she pulled up outside his temporary digs, he turned to face her.

‘Come to the beach with me? There’s an area where dogs are allowed.’

‘I’m not sure,’ Charlie said. ‘I left Juliette on the bus, so I should just check …’ she pulled her phone out of her bag and saw that there was a message from her friend.

Doing an evening session with Belle on the beach. Hope Ollie was fun! Xx

Charlie bristled. ‘Beach sounds great,’ she said, forcing a smile.

Ten minutes later, she was showing Oliver how to skim stones across the breakers while Marmite bounded in the shallows, treating each new wave as if it was a tiny, Yorkipoo-eating monster.

‘You’re not holding your hand right. It needs to be more like this.’ Charlie stood behind him and twisted his hand. ‘And then, in one, fluid motion you need to go like this.’ She demonstrated with her own stone, which skipped across the water three times before it disappeared.

‘Right.’ Oliver narrowed his eyes. ‘So I go like this, then like this. And then …’ He threw his stone, and it skimmed once before disappearing.

‘Yes!’ Charlie gave him a high-five. ‘It can only get better from there.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve never been that great at sports.’

‘Skimming stones is hardly a sport, though I can get competitive about it. I won’t today, obviously, as it’s your first time. But next time, Oliver, you’d better watch out.’

‘Next time?’ He took her hand. ‘You think there might be a next time?’

Charlie swallowed. ‘There could be. If you show enough promise.’

‘Then I will try very, very hard.’

They walked at the edge of the sea, their shoes in their hands, while the summer evening played out beautifully around them. Charlie liked Newquay. It was always full of people laughing, surfing, jogging along the beach. There were families paddling, a few still swimming, the sky turning pink just above the horizon. A group of twenty-somethings were trying to light a bonfire on the beach, which made her think of Daniel.

‘What is it?’ Oliver asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You squeezed my hand.’ He released his grip. ‘Luckily I still have the use of all my fingers.’

His grin was usually calming, but Charlie couldn’t match it.

‘No shrugging,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Juliette is spending the evening with the yogis.’

‘And that’s bad because …?’

‘Because they’re Daniel’s.’

‘Daniel owns the yoga group?’

‘You know what I mean. I’m sure he set it up to piss me off, and now Jules has gone over to the dark side.’

‘You’re making this all very black and white.’

‘It is! He’s suddenly decided he doesn’t like my food market, and he’s sabotaging me.’ They started walking back to the car.

‘Or maybe the yoga has been organized for months and he forgot to tell you. Or he’s seen the positive impact your events are having on Porthgolow and has decided to put resources in to continue your good work, and bring even more people to the village? Look, I’ve only met Daniel briefly, and I told you before that there was something about him I didn’t like. But if you’ve got to know him, then why don’t you just talk to him? Get everything out in the open.’

‘Every time we see each other we end up sniping.’

They had stopped outside Oliver’s temporary home, and he glanced at the upstairs window, gave someone a quick wave and then ran his hand through his hair. By the time Charlie looked, there was nobody there.