The Cornish Cream Tea Bus

by Cressida McLaughlin

  Charlie felt the anger and the determination leave her in a single, sickening swoop. She swayed slightly, the heat of her stomp up the hill catching up with her. ‘I shouldn’t have come,’ she said. ‘This was a mistake.’

  ‘Charlie, let me explain.’ Daniel’s voice was firm, his gaze locked onto hers.

  She shook her head. ‘You have company.’

  ‘Charlie, please sit down, just for five minutes. Josie’s a journalist!’

  ‘That’s lovely,’ she said, feeling slightly dazed. ‘I hope you’ll be very happy together.’ She offered what she hoped was a smile, but it might well have been a grimace. She tried to shrug out of his grip. He resisted for a couple of seconds, then let her go. ‘Bye.’ It seemed such an inadequate word for that moment, but she didn’t know what else to say. She walked towards the exit, her head pounding.

  ‘Charlie – wait!’ He sounded on the edge of panic, his control slipping.

  And then there was another voice, smooth and low and completely in command. ‘Daniel, let her go. Maybe now isn’t the best time. She’s clearly not in the right frame of mind.’ It was Josie.

  Charlie didn’t hear Daniel’s reply, but no footsteps followed her towards the glass doors.

  She crouched, putting her hand on the wall to steady herself, and then untied Marmite’s lead. Her little dog whimpered when he saw her, and she cradled him to her before standing, relieved that the journey home was downhill.

  Charlie walked into Porthgolow Bay just as the first rumble of thunder rolled in across the sea.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Apart from a couple walking a red setter along the beach, the village seemed deserted. Charlie reached the bottom of the hill, Marmite skittering ahead of her towards the sand, and she followed him, staring out at a sea that was more grey than blue.

  Despite the heaviness in the air, the water around the cliffs was choppy, hinting at the strong currents beneath. Charlie crouched on the sand and dropped her head into her hands. Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. When she saw it was Daniel, her jaw clenched, but she read it anyway.

  Josie is a journalist. I wanted her to cover the food markets and do a profile on you. I thought you could meet each other today, she could get a feel for the event and then set up an interview. I didn’t explain myself. I’m sorry. Are you OK? Dx

  She read the message several times, trying to equate what she’d seen with Daniel’s version of the truth. It was smooth – as always – and complimentary. But they’d made a habit of this: her confronting him, him coming up with a plausible excuse. She no longer knew what to believe.

  She watched Marmite chasing the waves back and forth, yelping whenever he misjudged them and got his feet wet. When he tired, they started the journey back to Juliette’s. The sky was an oil painting of grey and gold, the sun failing to break free from the clouds.

  When she opened the front door, Ray padded down the hallway and stared balefully at Marmite. Charlie rubbed behind his ears, pulled off her shoes and went into the living room. Juliette and Lawrence looked up from the film they were watching.

  ‘Charlie, what’s happened?’ Juliette asked. ‘Did something go wrong today?’

  Charlie sank onto the sofa. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Go back to your film.’

  Juliette extracted herself from Lawrence’s arms. ‘You are not fine. What is it? Did Bill not turn up? Or did … did you …’ her eyes widened. ‘Oliver was there?’

  Charlie nodded. ‘And Daniel. At the same time.’

  ‘Ouch,’ Lawrence murmured. ‘Bottle of wine?’

  Juliette nodded, and he slipped out of the room.

  ‘Tell me what happened, Char.’

  Charlie pulled her feet up under her and told Juliette everything. Lawrence returned with a bottle of wine and, half an hour after that, a plate of creamy pasta with bacon and mushrooms that Charlie devoured even though, if she’d been asked, she would have sworn she wasn’t hungry. She had reached the mortifying confrontation at Crystal Waters – the second one, she reminded herself – when her phone buzzed again. It was a second text from Daniel:

  I promise I’m not lying to you. At least let me know you’re OK. Dx

  ‘What is it?’

  She showed her friend the message, and Lawrence peered over Juliette’s shoulder to read it too.

  ‘Don’t you think you should talk to him?’ Juliette asked. ‘See what he has to say? If this Josie person really is a journalist, and he was planning all that for you …’

  ‘It’s a pretty good move,’ Lawrence added. ‘Pretty selfless, coming from Daniel.’

  ‘It is.’ Charlie read the words over and over until they blurred into nothing.

  ‘It’s understandable you were flustered and upset after what happened with Oliver,’ Juliette said. ‘But doesn’t that make the path clear, now? For you and Daniel? If you want it to be.’

  Charlie nodded, but she couldn’t meet her friend’s gaze. After their kiss on Sunday she had been so sure. She loved how alive she felt with Daniel, even if he sometimes infuriated her, and she wanted to spend more time with him. But now, after he’d used his knowledge about Oliver to score points with her, and after Josie, she didn’t know what to think.

  She gave her friends her most enthusiastic smile. ‘I’ll have to sleep on it. Thank you for all of this. I’m sorry I interrupted your evening.’

  Juliette waved her apology away, and they watched the second half of Spy together, though Charlie paid little attention to what was going on. Then Juliette and Lawrence said goodnight and she listened to them filling glasses with water, the pipes gurgling as they brushed their teeth, the bedroom door shutting.

  The house settled and all was still, except for Charlie’s mind.

  Ray, Benton and Marmite were asleep, Marmite snuffling quietly. Charlie finished the last of her wine and looked at her phone. She reread Daniel’s texts, constructed roughly the thousandth reply she had written in her head that evening, and then dismissed it.

  She unfurled herself from the sofa, pulled on her shoes and grabbed a light jacket, then stepped outside. The wind had picked up, and the air was heavy with the scent of rain. She walked down to the seafront, where the rhythmic tug of the waves was the only sound. The sea was a vast, dark nothingness framed between the cliffs.

  The streetlights picked Porthgolow out in patches, and Gertie’s red paintwork shone like a burst of colour in a black-and-white photo. It was too late for Reenie and her mysterious flashing light, and Charlie didn’t feel comfortable walking to the end of the jetty when it was so dark and nobody knew where she was.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and headed towards her bus, having some vague notion of sitting on the top deck, watching the waves crash against the shore while she worked out what to do.

  As she got closer, she saw that something had been stuck over Gertie’s door. It was a large piece of paper, though she couldn’t, from this distance, see what was written on it. She picked up her pace. Had Daniel done it when she’d left his texts unanswered? Was it some act of vengeance from Oliver? She turned on the torch app on her phone, holding it over the notice that had been secured with about a roll’s worth of masking tape. At first, she couldn’t understand what she was reading, but as the words sunk in, she went cold.

  STREET TRADING CONSENT REVOKED

  She read on, trying to take in the overly formal, legalese phrasing about how she was no longer entitled to sell anything from her Cornish Cream Tea Bus; but the words kept swimming together, so she had to go back and reread them. The consent that she’d applied for, all those months ago when Gertie was being transformed in Pete’s workshop, had been taken away. It explained that there would be a reassessment of her original application in light of new facts, but until that had been completed, she was unable to trade.

  Her pulse thumped in her temples and she rubbed them, trying to make sense of it. Who had taken time out of their Saturday evening to do this? Who could she t
alk to about it? It was unlikely that anyone would be at the council until Monday morning.

  She scanned down the document, reading to the very bottom where there was a small box. It had two headings: ‘Petitioned by’ and ‘Actioned by’. Under ‘Actioned by’ it said, unsurprisingly, Cornwall Council, but it was the name and address under ‘Petitioned by’ that made Charlie’s breath catch: The Crystal Waters Spa Hotel, Cliff Road, Porthgolow.

  She blinked and looked again, hoping there was some mistake. There wasn’t. Josie wasn’t a journalist, she was from the council. Daniel had brought her onto the bus with some story about how it was dangerous or unhygienic, but the confrontation with Oliver had meant she couldn’t shut Charlie down there and then. So she’d waited up at the hotel until everyone was gone, and then, on Daniel’s instruction, she had come to the beach and finished the job.

  This was what he thought of her events. This was how little respect he had for her. It had been a game to him from the very beginning. He hadn’t liked her bus on day one, but had put up with her for months, placating her while she’d set up the food market and brought life back to Porthgolow. He’d distracted her with mind games, and now he’d run out of patience.

  Her hands shaking, Charlie opened her messages. No time for mental rewrites now. Her fingers flew across the keyboard:

  You lying bastard. How could you do this?

  She pressed send and then, her body full of adrenalin, she stomped up to the end of the jetty and stared into the inky water, waves breaking half-heartedly against the sides. She didn’t realize she was crying until the first, salty tear reached her lips. Her phone rang and she stared at his name on the screen.

  On his third attempt, she answered.

  ‘Charlie, what are you talking about? What’s happened?’

  He sounded so concerned that her venom dissolved, the anger replaced by hopelessness.

  ‘You’ve shut down my bus. How could you do that to me? After everything you said?’

  There was silence, and then: ‘Hang on, what? Your bus … what’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve had my consent taken away. I can’t trade any more.’

  ‘But … Why?’

  He sounded as confused as she was, and she faltered. ‘Why don’t you tell me?’ she said, wiping her cheeks.

  ‘Are you at Juliette’s?’

  ‘The jetty.’ A second later she was listening to thin air.

  She didn’t turn round, didn’t watch him jogging down the hill from his house. But she heard his footsteps, the change from dusty road to the solid stone of the jetty beneath his feet.

  ‘Charlie!’ He was breathless, and when she turned he was leaning forward, his hands on his knees. He was wearing a navy hoodie and jeans, his dark hair untamed. ‘How did this happen? Who called you?’

  ‘Nobody called me. It’s there, on the bus. A large, obvious sign.’

  ‘Shit.’ He glanced at Gertie, then turned back to her. ‘It must be some kind of mistake. You’ll be able to fix it on Monday morning.’

  ‘Why did you do it? Why go to all that trouble to get Josie to shut me down, then pretend you were trying to help me?’

  His brows knitted together. ‘What? I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. Charlie, you really think I did this?’

  ‘It’s right there, on the notice. Petitioned by The Crystal Waters Spa Hotel. You can feign ignorance all you like, but you can’t explain your way out of this one.’

  His eyes widened. ‘I would never … Josie is a journalist, I swear it. God, Charlie. Come on. Do you really think that badly of me, that after all of this – everything that’s happened over the last few months – I’d just go “fuck it” and slap some kind of revoke notice on your bus?’

  Charlie chewed her lip. ‘But it says that that’s exactly what you did.’ She pointed at Gertie. ‘Why would it say it if it wasn’t down to you? This is just another one of your games, isn’t it? The tricks you play so you can stay in control of the village without anyone realizing. And this is the one where you get rid of me for good.’

  ‘That is the last thing I want, I—’

  ‘You offered Juliette that work and then took it away again.’ She didn’t want to let him speak, not yet. ‘You say that Lauren booked someone else without you knowing, but is that really plausible? You care so much about your hotel. Were you just throwing your weight around? Showing Juliette how much power you had?

  ‘Then you organized that meeting the morning of my first event, making me think nobody was coming, and then swooped in and put on the fireworks. It’s like you have to be in charge, manipulating things so they look like they’re going wrong, then you rush in and fix them, make everyone – me, especially – so grateful that you’re around. That’s exactly what you did with the yoga. And now this. Except maybe you didn’t realize the council would add your name to the notice, leaving absolutely no doubt about who wanted me shut down. How are you going to solve this one?’ She folded her arms over her chest. ‘Get them to give me my trading consent back, and expect me to thank you for it? Expect me to fall into your arms?’

  Daniel pressed his lips together. ‘I didn’t do this, Charlie. Whatever it says, whatever it looks like, I am not responsible for putting your bus out of action.’

  Her reply lodged in her throat. She had expected him to laugh, to tell her she was right about everything. How could he not, when it was written there in black and white? She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Sea spray hit her face. Behind Daniel, the village was made up of pockets of light and shade, as if it was a mirage slowly appearing out of the mist.

  Daniel walked up to her, until he was only inches away. She could smell the linen scent of fresh washing, felt the soft cotton of his jumper as he brought his arm up to stroke her hair off her forehead.

  ‘I have never done anything to intentionally hurt you,’ he said. ‘I am truly sorry if I’ve ever given you that impression. I care about you, Charlie. You have to believe me.’ He took a final step towards her, bridging the gap. Then he kissed her.

  The feel of his lips pushed everything else aside and she parted hers, responding, pressing herself against him. His hand found the back of her head, twisting her hair through his fingers, angling her face up to better meet his. Her body tingled and sang, betraying her anger, and she let it go, imagined it drifting away on the tide. Eventually, Daniel pulled back and untangled his hand from her hair. He ran his thumb tenderly across her cheek, wiping away a droplet of sea spray.

  Then he turned and walked away from her, soon lost in the darkness between streetlamps.

  Charlie pressed her fingers to her lips. She felt upended. Confused. Dizzy. She walked carefully down the jetty to the soundtrack of thunder, rumbling closer and closer across the sea. She was suddenly desperate for the warmth and light of Juliette’s house.

  First thing on Monday she would get in touch with the council, see if she could get her trading consent back, and find out who had set the wheels in motion. Daniel’s business had been on the form for all to see, but if he had been behind it, then why had he denied it so forcefully? Was he expecting her to blindly accept his version of events, as she had done with Rose and Frank’s eavesdropping, and with Belle’s yoga class?

  After that kiss, Charlie couldn’t believe it. As she gave her Cornish Cream Tea Bus a final glance, and a silent assurance that she would get it up and running again, she realized that Hal had been right, as always. He had told her that actions spoke louder than words, and Daniel’s kiss had given her more insight into his true feelings than any verbal promises could have done.

  Charlie was going to find out who had shut Gertie down, and then she was going to apologize to Daniel. She had a strong feeling, more than just a sneaky suspicion, that he might be part of the solution to her own happiness. And she was determined to find out if, on this occasion at least, her instincts were worth trusting.

  Part 4

  The Icing on the Cake

  Chapter Twenty-Five

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nbsp; ‘Is the council deliberately designed like this, so you go round and round in circles and they somehow make money off all the interminable phone calls?’ Charlie resisted the urge to bash her mobile on the table. She’d been sitting in Juliette’s kitchen all morning, being pushed from one department to the next, trying to get her trading consent for The Cornish Cream Tea Bus reinstated. It was sitting forlornly on Porthgolow’s beach, a gleaming café from which, for the moment, she could not sell a single cup of tea.

  ‘I don’t think the council makes money from phone calls,’ Juliette said, replacing Charlie’s empty mug with a fresh cup of steaming coffee. ‘Besides, don’t you have free minutes as part of your plan?’

  Charlie smiled her thanks and then rolled her eyes as the robotic voice said, for the millionth time, Please stay on the line; your call is important to us. ‘Is it, though?’ Charlie asked her phone. ‘Is it really?’

  ‘Tell me again what Daniel said.’ Juliette sat opposite her, cradling her mug.

  Charlie sighed. ‘Why are men so bloody complicated?’

  Juliette laughed, and Charlie joined in until there was a pause on the line, and she bit her lip, thinking that she might get to talk to an actual person this time. But no, it was just the tape looping. The electronic voice told her again how important she was.

  ‘So, Daniel,’ Charlie said, her stomach twisting when she thought of their recent encounter. ‘He told me that he didn’t shut down Gertie, despite Crystal Waters being named on the notice, then he kissed me and walked away.’

  ‘On the jetty, in the darkness. It sounds so romantic.’

  ‘Or overly dramatic, depending on how you look at it.’

  ‘And how do you look at it?’ Juliette asked. ‘You and Daniel have been so up and down since you got here, but I can tell you really like him. Though you’re being more cautious than you were when you met Stuart; understandably, because he turned out to be a total dickhead.’