Summer at the Cornish Cafe

by Phillipa Ashley

  I stop, I can’t tear my eyes away.

  Cal puts his arm around Isla and she lays her head on his shoulder and they look just like they’ve never been apart.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Bunting flaps wildly against the rafters of the barn when I hurry over after a very early breakfast the next morning. It’s the day before the launch and Polly is already working, chasing paper plates and serviettes around the floor, cursing and swearing. I rescue a leaflet before it sails out of the door and off into the sky. Outside, dirty grey clouds gather on the horizon, and the sun hasn’t even bothered to get out of bed. Please, don’t let it rain: not for the most important day of our lives. Kilhallon needs to sparkle tomorrow; we all need to sparkle.

  Yet my mind isn’t totally on the launch, and that makes me angry with myself, even more than with Cal. This is my big chance and I’m stressing about what he may or may not have done. I have to get a grip.

  By mid-morning, Andi and Robyn have arrived to lend a hand.

  ‘How many did you say you’re expecting at this thing tomorrow?’ Robyn calls from the bottom of the ladder while Andi loops the extra bunting over the rafters. They both look at me with puzzled expressions.

  I snap out of my daydreams. ‘Around seventy have confirmed but there were more who haven’t replied or couldn’t say for sure.’

  ‘Seventy? It feels like we’re feeding the five thousand,’ Polly mutters, covering the plates and serviettes with a table cloth weighed down with a stone. ‘We should have got the proper caterers in.’

  ‘We’ll manage with the help of Robyn’s mates from college.’

  ‘The catering students?’ Polly snorts. ‘And why did you have to invite dogs?’

  ‘We couldn’t cope without them,’ I say patiently. ‘And as we’re going to have a dog-friendly site and cafe, it seemed a good idea to invite everyone – animal and human – who’ll be using it.’

  Ignoring my reply – Polly rarely needs one – she casts her eyes around the bar. ‘Well, I’ll admit the old place has scrubbed up better than I thought it would and it’s better late than never, I suppose. You’ve worked very hard, I will say that much.’

  She gives me a smile. Slowly, I’m learning how to curate Polly’s sayings and pick the ones that she really means. Half the time, her bluster is to disguise her genuine worries about Cal and me. You’d think we were her family as much as her own children sometimes.

  ‘I’m hoping we’ll open for our first guests by mid- to late-September,’ I say with a lot more confidence than I feel. ‘It’ll be a “soft” opening to start with while we find our feet but we can do some unbeatable offers to tempt people in. Even though we’ll have missed the main tourist season we’ll catch the empty nesters and half-term visitors. Then there’s the Hallowe’en and Bonfire Night events we have planned, the Christmas craft fair, and Christmas and New Year itself. By next spring, the whole site should be up and running properly.’

  A gust of wind blows sheets of paper off the display table. Robyn dashes forward and stamps on one while Andi catches the other.

  ‘Oh thanks, I daren’t lose those. They’re the guest list and schedule for tomorrow.’

  Robyn scans the names on the guest list. ‘Ms Eva Spero OBE, Sir Kit Choudry? Rt Hon Yvette McCollum? Who are all these people?’

  ‘Eva Spero’s a food guru but I don’t know if she’s coming as she hasn’t replied, Sir Kit owns a travel business and the Rt Hon Yvette is a junior tourism minister. The rest are potential customers or people who can spread the word to guests, wedding planners, travel journalists, glamping bloggers and business people who might hold corporate events here.’

  ‘They sound important,’ says Robyn.

  ‘And scary,’ says Andi, helping herself to a mini veggie pasty from the tray on the buffet table.

  Polly glares at her. ‘Hey, don’t go scoffing all of those. I bought them out for Cal to try. There’s only one each.’

  Andi swallows and grins. ‘They’re very nice. Do you want one, Demi?’

  Polly rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s secretly delighted. She followed a recipe I showed her from Sheila’s cafe. ‘I suppose I could fetch a few more out of the freezer, if they’re that popular.’

  ‘Thanks, Polly, and I’ve already tried them. They’re delicious but I’m not really hungry.’

  The truth is I haven’t eaten properly for days. My stomach is in knots as I think of the list of VIPs who may turn up. I’m in charge of promoting the cafe and food outlets and ethos which makes me want to laugh hysterically every time I think of it. Six months ago I didn’t know what an ethos was; now I’m trying to sell it to a bunch of people who might hold the keys to my future.

  ‘I’ll get the washing in in case this storm blows in. Don’t go eating all them pasties,’ Polly says, bustling off.

  Shoving the list into the pocket of my cut-offs, I tell myself to calm down. ‘Come on, let’s get the cafe display set up.’

  ‘Oh, that reminds me! We’ve got the new branding designs in the car. I can’t wait to show them to you,’ says Robyn. ‘I’m sorry they’re a bit late but you know, we’ve been busy with college and other stuff.’

  ‘I hope you like them,’ says Andi nervously.

  ‘I’m sure they’ll be brilliant,’ I say. Mentally I cross my fingers, as anxious as the girls are about seeing their final ideas. I’ve seen the outlines before but Cal hasn’t had time. We’ve really cut it fine so I hope they’re OK and Cal likes them.

  ‘What about Cal?’ Robyn asks.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll love them too,’ I say breezily.

  ‘I hope so. Shall I go and fetch him so we can look at them together?’

  ‘Can you let me take a look first? Cal is busy pitching a couple of sample yurts in the field. We still need to furnish and decorate them before we go to bed. There won’t be time in the morning.’

  ‘What time do you want us to arrive tomorrow morning?’

  ‘As early as you can. We’re kicking everything off with a buffet lunch in here and people can help themselves to afternoon teas later. Then there’s a hog roast in the yurt field with more people invited, suppliers and neighbours. What time do your mates from the Tinner’s want to set up for the music?’

  Robyn takes a pasty. ‘Oh, they’ll rock up some time, I’m sure. Don’t worry about them.’

  The idea of Robyn’s Cornish folk band just ‘rocking up’ worries me but I keep quiet. ‘Fine. Can you and Andi be in charge of showing them where to set up? The electrician’s going to wire up all the sound and lighting they’ll need. I just hope it doesn’t rain.’

  ‘It won’t rain. Just chill,’ says Robyn, sneaking another pasty.

  ‘Am I turning into Launchzilla?’

  Andi, Robyn and Mitch all look at me with the same expression.

  ‘OK. Deep breath. Let’s see these designs.’

  Cal stands in front of the graphics display in the barn, resting his elbow on his hand, rubbing the other over his mouth. Andi and Robyn have made a sharp exit, too nervous to face his reaction, so it was left to me to present the designs. I can hardly keep still and my palms are sweaty. ‘I know we’ve cut it fine, showing you them now, but it’s been mayhem here, for all of us, and the girls have worked so hard. I think they’ve done an amazing job.’

  Without replying, Cal stands back from the boards to get a better view of the designs which are pinned up in small and larger versions to suit different media. The logo is a stylised silhouette of a tin mine with a Mitch-type dog sitting in front of it all on a background of deep aqua blue with grey granite trim.

  ‘Mmm,’ he says, picking up a mock-up of a promotional leaflet the girls have produced.

  ‘I worked with Andi and Robyn to come up with the initial design and the graphics agency tweaked it …’ I say, aware I’m babbling. ‘I also asked them to get some sample aprons made up and some marketing collateral. They based the colours on the water in Kilhallon Cove.’

 
Cal spends so long leafing through the samples he doesn’t seem to want to look at me and when he does, he doesn’t even smile.

  ‘I can change them if you hate them. We won’t be offended. We have to get this right. I can go back to the design agency and get them to come up with new concepts. I …’

  ‘Demi, I approve.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really,’ he says quietly. I keep wondering if he’ll mention his meeting Isla the other day but he doesn’t and now is definitely not the right moment to start interrogating him, even if I wanted to. I figure he’ll tell me if he wants to.

  ‘So I can tell them to get some proper quotes for the marketing collateral?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, you can. Thanks. They’re perfect.’

  ‘Perfect,’ he said. You can’t get any better than perfect so why do I feel like a deflated balloon left after a party? I will never fathom out Cal Penwith. There’s a clatter as the tray of pasties hits the barn floor. Mitch starts wolfing them down.

  ‘Mitch! No! They’re not for you. Polly will go mad!’

  I run forward but it’s too late. As I grab his collar, he hoovers up the final pasty and looks at me as if to say: ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Mitch. How could you! You stupid, stupid dog!’

  Cal’s voice is gentle, his hand is on my arm. ‘It’s only a few pasties.’

  ‘But they were for you to try. They were samples. This is the second batch she’s made today.’

  He shakes his head, smiling at me. ‘And I’m sure they were delicious. Mitch approves, which is fine by me.’

  ‘No, it’s not. I want everything to be perfect tomorrow. It has to be.’

  Cal rests his hands on the tops of my arms. His skin is rough and warm around mine. Surely, there can’t still be anything going on between him and Isla, beyond friendship?

  ‘It will be as perfect as you and I can make it,’ he says.

  ‘I’m not sure that will be enough.’

  He drops my arms and takes my hand. ‘It will have to be. You can’t do any more now. Come on, let’s get you out of here. I’ve got something to show you.’

  He leads me down the path to the far field where a soft glow lights up the twilight. Tea lights flicker in jars and tea cups placed on assorted tables outside the yurts. I recognise some of the china and the ‘up-cycled’ furniture. The yurt hollow is sheltered from the worst of the wind, which is why Cal chose it, and anyway, the wind has dropped since this morning. The clouds are crimson streaks across the ink of the sky. Outside the yurts, flames perform a crazy dance in the fire pit and the scent of wood smoke perfumes the evening air.

  ‘Wow. It looks like a fairy grotto.’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. It works then?’

  ‘Yes. It’s gorgeous. The fairy lights in the trees and the decorations are amazing.’

  Cal beams. I can’t believe how far I’ve come in the past few months but I also feel I’ve stepped onto a tightrope and I’m wobbling along it. The prize is so big and yet I’ve so far to fall.

  ‘Want to take a peek inside?’

  We duck under the canvas into the yurt which is much bigger than I’d expected. The futon is dressed with the patchwork quilt I bought from a boot sale and some squishy, brocade cushions Polly was throwing out of her own cottage. A large silvery storm lantern burns on the driftwood table that was made by a student friend of Robyn’s, while fairy lights snake around the central pole and the smell of incense fills the air.

  ‘I never knew you had such a creative streak, Cal.’

  ‘You’d done most of it and I just followed your plan for the finishing touches while you were busy with the barn display.’ He steps closer. I can almost feel his body heat penetrate my skin. ‘And anyway, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

  ‘That’s what worries me …’

  Our shadows flicker on the canvas and the air smells of sandalwood.

  ‘You do know I couldn’t have done all of this without you?’ he says.

  ‘I didn’t have anything to do with it,’ I say, wondering how he’d react if he knew that, fundamentally, Isla has helped to save him too. I feel I’m living a half-truth.

  ‘You know what I mean. Reviving Kilhallon, sticking at it when it seemed impossible, and putting up with my moods. Thank you.’

  He smiles at me and I know he really means what he’s saying but I don’t want his thanks, not even if I was able to tell him about my confrontation with Mawgan. I want his lust. I want him to need me, the way he needed Isla. Still does.

  ‘Thank me tomorrow when the place hasn’t gone up in flames or blown away and Mitch hasn’t eaten all the food or tried to shag any lady dogs. Ask me then …’

  ‘I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow.’

  In a heartbeat, his mouth comes down so softly on mine. It’s like kissing a dream, a fantasy. My body feels liquid and my bones thrum with lust. Despite every doubt, warmth spreads through me, and the knot shifts from my stomach to low in my belly. I want him so much it hurts.

  ‘No.’ I push him away. ‘I have to go. I have a lot to do. Tomorrow’s a big day for all of us.’

  ‘Demi, Wait …’

  I walk away from him and have the strongest feeling I should have done so that first day in St Trenyan.

  My jaw already aches from practising my customer-friendly smile but it’s almost midday and there’s no sign of anyone yet. Mitch lies by my side in the entrance to the barn, his nose on his paws. Even he knows something is up and that he has to be on his best behaviour. Shami and Nina are on the gate to Kilhallon while Polly has insisted on ‘supervising’ the catering students in the kitchen, poor things.

  And Cal? We’ve hardly seen each other all morning, we’ve been so busy.

  He strides across the yard towards me now, rolling back the cuffs on a sexily crumpled white linen shirt. His dark curls are damp and tiny droplets of water glisten in the springy dark hair showing in the ‘V’ of his shirt.

  ‘Hi. Sorry I’m a bit late. Just managed to freshen up after I finished tidying up some rubbish in the new cafe shell.’ He smiles. ‘You look pretty.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I blush, happy he’s approved of my new denim skirt and Kilhallon polo shirt. My hair is caught back in a mother of pearl barrette that belonged to my mum – the only thing I kept of hers when I fled the house – and I’ve made use of Tamsin’s tinted moisturiser and designer lip gloss. She was right: I do feel a tiny bit more confident – as long as people turn up.

  ‘Mitch looks smart. You both do,’ he adds.

  Mitch has a new collar complete with the kind of cute dog scarf I said I’d rather die than put him in.

  ‘I know it’s a bit OTT but I couldn’t resist it.’

  Cal ruffles his ears. ‘He could be our secret weapon and we need all the help we can get. Come on, then, let’s do this.’

  ‘What if no one turns up?’

  He checks his watch. ‘It’s not even twelve yet. They’ll be here soon enough and then you’ll be longing for them to go.’

  ‘But what if I told them the wrong day?’

  ‘You haven’t.’

  ‘I hope we’ve got enough food.’

  ‘If no one comes, you’ll have nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’

  He takes me gently by the shoulders. He smells shower fresh. ‘Demi, please stop worrying and try to relax. People will come and it’s all going to be fine. You’ve worked too bloody hard for it to go wrong.’ He drops his hands. ‘Listen, is that a car engine?’

  ‘Should we go up to the gates and meet them?’

  ‘No. Andi and Robyn are on marshalling duty for now, with a couple of volunteers from the dog rescue coming later. So many people wanted to support us.’

  I listen hard but can’t hear anything. Cal glances at his watch again. Secretly, I think he’s as nervous as I am. Mitch jumps to his feet a moment before I hear distant barking.

  ‘They’re here.’


  Cal straightens his shoulders. ‘I told you so. Come on, let’s do this.’

  We don’t get forty people, or even fifty, there are far more than that milling about the barn displays and taking tours of the yurts and checking out the work in progress on the cottages.

  I’ve been yakking so much, my voice is husky and it’s barely three o’clock. All the mini pasties have almost gone and the doggy cakes are being devoured. The hum of chatter, laughter and excited barks echoes around the barn. Nina’s mum has brought a couple of the better-behaved rescue dogs along to socialise with them.

  Mitch doesn’t know who or what to sniff first.

  ‘Demi? Is that you?’ A very short lady with a pink bob and a little black Pug hurries up to me. ‘This is a-mazing. I’m so impressed.’ She holds out her hand. ‘I’m Eva Spero, by the way, and this is Betty.’

  Betty the Pug gazes up at me from huge black eyes while I offer my clammy palm. Eva shakes it warmly but I’m trembling with awe.

  ‘I know who you are, of course. I’ve spent hours on your website and watching re-runs of your cookery show. I can’t believe you’ve actually come all this way.’

  Cringing inwardly, I feel my face heat up but she laughs. ‘Well, I had to come down to North Cornwall to do a feature on a celebrity chef’s new sea food venture and I hoped to get all the way down here but I wasn’t sure so I hope you’ll forgive the lack of RSVP.’

  ‘It’s fine. I’m so happy you made it.’ I feel lost for words but Mitch is in the mood to make friends and sniffs Betty the Pug’s bottom. My face is on fire. ‘Mitch! Stop that!’

  Eva laughs. ‘Don’t worry. Betty is a complete tart herself.’ She scoops up the Pug, who turns her big black eyes on me. Mitch gazes up longingly. I think he’s in love.

  ‘She’s very impressed by the doggy menu, aren’t you, Betty, darling?’

  I stroke Betty’s head and she licks my hand. ‘She’s completely adorable. Mitch has been my official taster. He can behave when he wants to, can’t you, boy?’