The buffet appeared, and while Lawrence and Oliver claimed they were starving and got up immediately, Charlie hung back. The pub had become a battleground, with explosive mines waiting to detonate at every turn. She decided it was best if she got at least one of them out of the way. She was about to go and talk to Myrtle, when she realized the guest of honour was heading towards their table.
‘Oh God.’ She took a big swig of her drink and moved against the wall, so Myrtle could take Oliver’s place. ‘Happy Birthday, Myrtle!’ she said.
‘Good evenin’ Charlie, Juliette.’
‘Are you having a lovely time?’ Juliette asked.
‘’Tis a bit much, all this.’ She gestured around the room. ‘But Hugh’s a good friend, so I let ’im organize it. And,’ she added, smiling, ‘it’s pretty grand havin’ this all for me. It’s proper.’ She nodded decisively and Charlie and Juliette exchanged a relieved look.
‘And I wanted to say somethin’ to you, Charlie. My nephew, Bill, runs this food truck down in Devon. Vegan or some such thing, and he – well, we were both wonderin’ if he could, mebbe, come to your event. The Porthgolow food market,’ she corrected, as if she’d been practising this speech and wanted to get it right. ‘You don’t have a vegan truck yet, do you?’
‘N-no,’ Charlie stuttered. ‘Not yet. That – that would be wonderful, Myrtle. We’d love to have Bill at the market, and I’m sure he’d be popular. If you give me his details I can talk to him, arrange a start date, make sure I promote him before his first weekend.’
‘Good. Right. I’ll get his info for you. That’s great, then. Enjoy your evenin’.’
Charlie managed to wait until the older woman was back at her table before bursting into overjoyed, incredulous laughter.
‘High-five,’ Juliette said, looking as shocked as Charlie felt.
‘One mine eliminated,’ she whispered to herself.
The buffet food, all from Hugh’s kitchen, was delicious: mini Cornish pasties, avocados loaded with delicate crab meat, cod goujons and steak baguettes with beef from a local farm. There were Cajun vegetable skewers, tiny halloumi burgers and rolls full of creamy egg mayonnaise. Waiters laid out three huge Pyrex dishes full of Hugh’s trademark fisherman pie, all of which were close to empty within minutes. Charlie wondered whether she could convince Hugh to invest in an old camper van and convert it into a Seven Stars food truck.
As the queue at the buffet tables petered out, Silas, Artem and Ken settled in their chairs and tuned their instruments. Hugh took up position, brandishing his ukulele and, as the room hushed for the first time that evening, they launched into their opening number. The music was folky and melodic, at turns upbeat and melancholy, and while Charlie was unfamiliar with the songs, some people sang along.
She had to turn in her seat to watch them and could feel Oliver’s breath on her neck. He was being so attentive, touching her hand, checking whether she needed more food or drink, it was as if the four of them were on an impromptu double date. She had laughed a lot, and felt more carefree than she had in a long time.
But that didn’t stop her glancing in Daniel’s direction. Every time she did, she saw Lauren either talking animatedly to him or tapping away on her phone. He seemed quieter than usual, nodding at Lauren or staring into his pint glass.
Charlie felt suddenly, unexpectedly, sorry for him. He was usually so in control, but she got the sense that, here, he was out of his depth. He wasn’t known for integrating with the other villagers. Organizing things – fireworks displays, council staff to come and look at dangerous cliffs – that was fine because he could take charge, but plain, old-fashioned socializing seemed to be out of his comfort zone.
Oliver announced that he was nipping to the gents and, as he left, Charlie watched Lauren stand up, rest her hand on Daniel’s shoulder and then walk, slightly unsteadily, towards the bar. She didn’t give herself time to think.
‘Back in a minute,’ she said to Lawrence and Juliette, raising her voice to be heard above the music, and then walked across the pub and slid into Lauren’s empty seat.
‘Hello,’ Daniel said, running his eyes unapologetically over her dress-clad form. ‘You look good.’
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘You look miserable.’
He laughed. ‘That obvious?’
She nodded. ‘Why did you come if you knew you’d hate it?’
‘Because I thought you might be here, wearing something other than jeans and a stripy apron. I’m glad I was right.’
Charlie rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously, Daniel. You and Lauren look like a couple on the verge of a break-up. You haven’t spoken to anyone else in the entire pub and you seem totally out of sorts. This is meant to be a celebration.’
He leaned towards her. ‘Lauren convinced me to come,’ he admitted. ‘Or rather, she badgered me until I decided it would be a lot less hassle to give in. A few hours’ penance to stop her going on at me. This isn’t my kind of thing. A quiet drink with a couple of friends, but not this – the band, the buffet, all the forced goodwill for someone most people don’t know, and a few definitely don’t like.’ He shook his head, his jaw clenching.
‘So turn it into something better.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If you don’t like all this, then adapt it. You’re obviously not going to have fun if you sit there while Lauren communicates solely through the medium of WhatsApp. If you like having a drink with a few friends, then do that instead. Come and join us. You and Lauren – we can squeeze a couple more people round our table. And the band won’t go on for ever.’
Daniel glanced over at Charlie’s table. ‘With you and Oliver?’ he asked drily.
‘The six of us,’ Charlie confirmed, her heart skipping at Daniel’s obvious dislike of her being with Oliver. ‘Just try it. If, after twenty minutes, you can’t stand our company, then you can come back to self-pity corner. But anything has to be better than this, right?’
Lauren was snaking through the crowd, holding a pint and a large glass of wine aloft, and Oliver had taken up Charlie’s seat in the booth with Juliette and Lawrence, his shoulders moving in response to the Cornwall Cornflowers’ latest jaunty number.
‘Come on.’ She held out her hand.
Daniel stared at her, and Charlie was transported back to the hot tub, the moment when he’d lost his flippancy and was entirely, intently focused on her. A small voice in her brain suggested having Daniel and Oliver at the same table might not be the best idea she’d ever had. But it was too late.
Daniel reached out and took her hand.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Charlie brought Lauren and Daniel to their table, pulling over a couple of chairs to stick on the end, there were a few moments of bemused incredulity, until Lawrence stood up, slapped Daniel heartily on the back and kissed Lauren’s cheek. Juliette offered to get fresh drinks for those who needed them and the six of them sat around the table while the conversation stalled and stuttered like Gertie after her run-in with the Ross-on-Wye mud. When the band announced they were taking a break, the silence was almost deafening. Charlie wondered if – after putting them in this situation – anyone would believe her if she told them she had to go home and check on Marmite.
‘So, Daniel,’ Oliver said, taking a sip of his gin cocktail, ‘what’s it like running that posh hotel on top of the cliff? Was that always what you wanted to do? What do you think of the invasion of the little people on the beach each week, now that Charlie’s here?’
Charlie closed her eyes. His question had started off so well. She had thought that Oliver was incapable of having a tone, but clearly she wasn’t the only one who found matters less straightforward when it came to Daniel.
‘I’ve always wanted to run a hotel,’ Daniel said calmly. ‘I started off working as a general dogsbody in a boutique place near where I grew up, then got an apprenticeship at a corporate hotel in London, where I tried my hand at everything, from concierge to waiter to security. But it was
always with the intention of starting my own place one day, having it just as I imagined it, no cut corners or compromises.’
‘What was it like working in London?’ Juliette asked. ‘Was it glamorous?’
Daniel laughed. ‘The hotel was, but the work most definitely wasn’t. You bust your balls to give the impression of perfection, as if there are no wrinkles and it all works like clockwork, when it’s often a mad panic just under the surface. Crystal Waters is no different, really. You must feel the same about what you do.’ He gestured to Oliver. ‘With your cocktails, and with your bus, Charlie.’
‘I feel like I’ve pretty much got my routine sorted,’ Oliver said. ‘No wrinkles at The Marauding Mojito.’
Juliette levelled Charlie with a look that said: Why did you do this? Charlie wished she knew the answer. But she had expected the barbs to come from Daniel, not Oliver.
‘You must be very well practised,’ Daniel said, sincerely. ‘I still feel like I’m learning, and I know I couldn’t do it without Lauren and my other colleagues.’
Lauren put her hand on Daniel’s arm. ‘It’s my pleasure,’ she cooed. Charlie could see that she was quite drunk, and that, when she was drunk, her flirting was rather unsubtle.
‘Why did you pick Porthgolow?’ Juliette asked. ‘Other than that it’s the perfect place to live.’ There was polite laughter round the table.
‘My family used to come on holiday here,’ Daniel admitted. ‘And I loved it, even when I was little. It was always the dream to come back here, to open up a hotel with those views of the coastline, the perfect summer days.’ He sounded wistful, and Charlie knew she was seeing that other side to him, the one she’d only had glimpses of up until now. He was a man who had followed his dream, made it happen, and then worked hard to keep hold of it.
Oliver was on Charlie’s right, against the wall, and Daniel was at right angles on her left. Under the table, their knees were touching. She pushed hers more firmly against his, and he looked at her, surprised.
‘Porthgolow is special,’ Charlie said. ‘I thought that the moment I drove down the hill that very first day. I had no idea you came here when you were a child.’
‘Oh yes,’ Daniel replied, laughing. ‘I even remember Myrtle before she had grey hair – not that that’s made her any more fond of me.’
‘Was she always so scathing,’ Lawrence asked, ‘or did she get like that over time?’
‘I remember being in the Porthgolow Pop-In and picking up a toy,’ Daniel said, rubbing his jaw. ‘It was a Matchbox Porsche, I think. Silver, with yellow headlights and doors that opened. I just wanted to look at it, and she almost bit my head off. I was only about seven and I refused to go back into her shop for the rest of the holiday.’
‘Wow, Porthgolow back in the day,’ Juliette said.
‘It wasn’t that long ago,’ Daniel replied, mock-hurt. ‘Our holiday snaps aren’t in sepia or anything.’
‘Who else did you know?’ Lawrence asked.
‘God, I …’ Daniel blew air out through his lips. ‘Well, we used to have dinner with Reenie and her family.’
Juliette almost knocked her glass over.
‘Reenie’s family?’ Charlie said. ‘But she’s … she’s all on her own, out there in that little house. What happened?’ A lump formed in her throat.
Daniel shook his head. ‘Look, it’s not for me— maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s—’
Charlie put her hand over his. ‘It’s OK. Don’t tell us if you think you’re betraying a confidence. I was just surprised. It’s been a while since I saw her, actually. I had wondered if she’d come tonight, but I guess clambering back over the rocks in the darkness wouldn’t be much fun.’
Everyone else was quiet and Charlie’s laugh sounded far too loud. Daniel pressed his knee against hers under the table, returning the gesture.
‘So, Oliver,’ Lawrence said, clearing his throat, ‘where are you taking your cocktail truck next? Are you staying in Cornwall for the whole summer?’
‘Probably,’ Oliver admitted. ‘It’s got a much more tempting outlook than anywhere else at the moment.’ He slid his arm along the back of the booth and let his hand rest on Charlie’s shoulder.
Charlie glanced at Juliette and saw that she was trying hard not to laugh. She decided that her plan to cheer Daniel up hadn’t been as successful as she’d hoped, and yet she knew, with absolute certainty, that she would miss his company at the table more than she would miss Oliver’s. It was a sobering thought and she excused herself to go to the ladies.
She took longer than necessary washing and drying her hands, looking at her reflection in the mirror, at her bob which was growing out messily, reaching halfway between her chin and her shoulders, the red dye fading after so much exposure to the sunshine.
‘What are you doing, Charlie?’ she asked herself. The answer that came back was one of Hal’s favourite sayings, one that she had often rolled her eyes at, even though she liked the simplicity of it. All you can do is follow your heart and see where it leads. At this moment, her heart was holding a flashing, neon arrow that was pointing straight at Daniel.
When she walked out of the toilets, the change in atmosphere was obvious. Voices were muted, and all eyes had turned in one direction. But it wasn’t the direction of the band, and Hugh hadn’t suddenly announced there was an open bar for the rest of the night. Everyone was focused on Charlie’s table, and she saw that Oliver was standing up, his usually calm face contorted with anger.
She took a few, hesitant steps, expecting to see Daniel facing off with him, then realized that it wasn’t Daniel who Oliver was angry with, but Lawrence. Her best friend’s boyfriend was wide-eyed, his hands up in submission.
‘It’s all right mate,’ he was saying, ‘calm down. It was just a joke.’
Charlie spotted Amanda and made a beeline for her. ‘What did Lawrence say?’ she whispered.
Amanda shook her head. ‘I have no idea; we didn’t hear the beginning. Something about his cocktails, I think.’
‘Shit.’ Oliver was here because of her, and she had invited Daniel and Lauren to their table, so if he was pissed off – even if it was with Lawrence and had more to do with the number of drinks he’d had than anything else – then it was down to her. She exhaled and approached the table.
‘Oliver,’ she said, ‘can we sit down and sort this out?’
He ran a hand through his hair. His gaze was slightly unfocused, and there were points of colour on his cheeks.
‘Ollie?’ she touched his arm, but he flung her hand off. She tried again. ‘Whatever’s happened, I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.’
‘It was a fucking insult.’
‘I was joking,’ Lawrence said. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I loved that Porthgolow Sunset, or whatever it was, earlier. I was just saying that—’
‘No need to repeat it,’ Juliette murmured, and he nodded, contrite.
‘Let’s get another tune on, shall we?’ Hugh called, and there was a frantic scrambling as the band hastily took up their positions and launched into a loud, upbeat song.
Oliver stared at the table and everyone else waited, poised, to see what he would do. Charlie felt a hand squeeze hers and knew it was Daniel’s. It was quick, over in a second, but she felt instantly comforted.
‘Oliver,’ she said again, ‘do you want to go outside and get some air? Walk down to the beach?’
Oliver sighed, his hand worrying the back of his neck. ‘I should go.’
‘You don’t need to …’ she started, but he nudged her out of the way and made unsteady progress across the pub, the people who hadn’t been distracted by the band watching him go. Charlie gave an apologetic smile to the rest of the table and went after him.
Outside, the night-time breeze was refreshing, and the moon hung above the sea, leading a glittering path across the water to the sand. Oliver was trudging across the gravel in the direction of Porthgolow’s main car park.
‘O
liver,’ she called, hurrying after him. ‘Ollie, you’re not driving!’
He turned, his expression shifting from anger to guilt. ‘A mate’s picking me up. They’re only a few minutes away.’
‘I’ll wait with you.’
‘Charlie, you don’t have to. I know I messed up.’
‘You’re drunk, that’s all. Everyone will forgive you.’
‘Go back inside,’ Oliver said. ‘Go back to Daniel.’
Charlie inhaled sharply. ‘What do you mean?’ She wrapped a hand around herself as the wind picked up, chilling her bare shoulders.
‘I saw the way he looked at you. Don’t think I didn’t.’
‘No, Oliver, it isn’t … look, can we do this another time, when you’re—?’
‘Yup, sure. Whatever.’
‘I know we need to talk, that there’s … that I need to be straight with you, but I don’t think now—’
‘I said no problem. Look, here’s my lift.’ He gestured as a car drove down the hill, and then stopped, idling at the edge of the car park. The driver was a young woman, her long blonde hair highlighted by the light from the dashboard. Oliver climbed into the passenger seat and the woman gave Charlie a quick, angry glance. Charlie wondered who she was – Oliver’s sister, Nat, who had started the business with him, or a concerned friend?
The woman did a three-point turn in the middle of the road and then drove back up the hill, past Crystal Waters and out of sight. Charlie stood on the gravel and gazed at the moon, listening to the rhythmic churn of the waves against the sand. It was a sound she loved, but even that couldn’t soothe her right now.
‘This is exactly why I don’t like these kinds of events.’
Charlie turned to find Daniel leaning against the wall of the pub, his hands in his pockets.
‘It’s a melting pot of people,’ he continued. ‘Nobody really knows or likes each other, everyone drinks too much to cover up their insecurities, and this is what happens. Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘And things don’t always turn out this way; you’re just smug that, on this occasion, you were right. And this is my fault. I asked Oliver to come, then I invited you and Lauren to join us, so …’ She shrugged.
The Cornish Cream Tea Bus Page 21
