He smiles. ‘Even if you sometimes long for me to get lost, what would Mitch do without me? Whose crotch would he sniff? Whose best jeans would he drool on? I’d definitely miss finding soggy dog chews in my wellies.’
I’m laughing now, and almost crying too, but not quite, because it’s Christmas – well, actually it’s Boxing Day – and I’ve given myself a Polly-style talking to about getting emotional, because today was meant to be the day we all chilled out and finally got to relax and enjoy our break … That seems hard to do after what Cal told me. Then again, what can any of us do but get on with life?
Cal holds me and we just lie together for what seems like ages. Mitch will have to wait for his run. Cal needs me for now. Eventually, he lets me go.
‘Cal. I have a confession too.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘Sounds serious.’
‘Not really. With all the drama over the past few weeks, I haven’t got you a present. I meant to get you something but I never found anything I thought you’d love enough.’
He laughs. ‘But I’ve got my present. You here in the farmhouse.’
‘Is that enough of a present?’
‘More than enough, although I hope Mitch will agree to move in too. I’d better let him out,’ he says with a smile. Then he pulls on his jeans and a sweatshirt and goes downstairs to look after Mitch. I stay here a few minutes more, trying to make sense of what he’s shared with me, which is momentous, moving, frightening and amazing.
The sounds from downstairs reach the bedroom – Mitch’s excited yips, Cal’s voice, doors opening and cupboards closing – and remind me that whatever happened in the past is over. Cal’s here in the house. Safe.
He says it’s the whole story about him; and there’s nothing left to tell me. He says he’s laid himself bare to me. So many things about Cal Penwith make more sense to me now; although some don’t and maybe never will. I don’t want a man I know completely; I don’t want to tame him or predict him.
All I know is that what he told me was something that he could only share with one or two people in his life: his parents, if they were still here; not Polly or Robyn or even Isla.
Just me. This is my real and most precious Christmas present. Cal’s trust. Finally.
I pull on some clothes and go down to the kitchen. Cal leans against the worktop, sipping a cup of coffee. Steam curls into the air. His mug stops halfway to his mouth and he lowers it slowly to the counter. He looks at me as if I might have changed my mind about moving in, so I reach for him and pull him into a long coffee-scented kiss.
‘Nadelik Loweth,’ he whispers to me.
A cold wet nose pushes its way between us.
‘Who let that dog in here?’ he says.
‘You, I think, and it Mitch’s home now too. He’s entitled to some privileges.’
There’s a moment before the meaning of my comment sinks in and then I’m pulled against Cal in the biggest, tightest bear hug ever.
‘Nadelik Loweth,’ I say. ‘And may it be the start of many …’
Cal kisses me, almost lifting me off my feet in the process, as if he never wants to let me go. After what he just told me, I know how he feels. But we have a new day here, a fresh start and a chance to try and put the past behind us, if it’s possible. Cal’s story has made me even more determined to try to heal the wounds in my own family, no matter how difficult.
‘Have I ever told you I …’ Cal whispers to me, still holding me tight, but Mitch starts growling. It’s his warning tone. Cal groans. ‘For God’s sake, Mitch, can’t I have one snog with your mistress without …’
Mitch leaps out of his basket. He runs towards the kitchen door and woofs.
‘Mitch! Calm down!’ I say, annoyed with him for making a fuss. He ought to know us by now. He nudges the kitchen door open a crack with his muzzle and we hear voices from above. Raised voices, shrieks and wails and then the sound of someone thudding down the stairs. Mitch barks loudly. I let Cal go. ‘What the …’
The kitchen door slams back on its hinges and my dad stands in the doorway, white as a sheet.
‘Quick. Will someone call an ambulance? It’s Rachel. I think she’s having the baby.’
EPILOGUE
December 27th, late morning
I have a baby sister. I’ll say that again because I can’t believe it myself: I have a baby sister. She weighs 5lbs 2ozs and she’s called Freya Penelope, because my mum’s name was Penny. She arrived in the early hours of this morning and she’s a few weeks early so she and Rachel will be staying in overnight, but that’s OK, apparently. They’ll both be fine, so Cal has driven me home to Kilhallon Park.
A few months ago, a few weeks ago, I would have cried at the news, but not for the reason I cried when Dad came into the waiting room and told me and Cal that Rachel had had a little girl and that they were both fine and would we like to meet her. Cal shook his hand, said congratulations, and then Dad hugged me and I didn’t want to vom or scream. It was OK; it felt right in that moment and I’m mindful how lucky I am to have the opportunity to start again. I’m going to make the most of it.
Freya’s fingers are teeny tiny, like a doll’s, and she has a little tuft of hair the same colour as mine. She’s my half-sister but Dad and Rachel told me to think of her as a whole sister, a proper sister – even if she’s twenty-two years younger than me.
I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. So much has already happened, and so quickly, to us all, before Dad and I have had time to talk properly and before I’ve had the chance to get to know him and Rachel again.
The important thing is, as Polly and my mum might say, that we’ve given each other a chance. We’ve all given each other second chances – for Dad and me, this may be a twenty-second chance – and things are different now. Not that I’ve changed, or he’s changed, that much, not in essentials. We’re made of the same stuff as we always have been, but we’re both more tolerant and willing to give it a try. Lately, it feels as if everyone at Kilhallon has been through hell but come out the other side.
‘We’ll never ever forget Mum,’ he told me again when we saw Freya.
The thing is, I thought he had forgotten my mum, but maybe he only wanted to forget the pain of losing her and now he’s decided he’s ready to remember her. He told me he regrets every day that he didn’t let her know how much he loved her. I don’t need to regret not saying that, so I guess I’m much luckier than him.
Christmas is never perfect. Only a fool would expect it to be. There’s such a lot still to do for all of us, both at Kilhallon and St Trenyan. But Christmas at the Cornish cafe with my friends, my old family and my new – and especially with Cal – is as close to perfect as I ever dreamed.
Cal stops outside the cafe because we’re supposed to be opening today, but he says, ‘Demi. Come on, don’t go in today. Come home to bed.’
‘I can’t. I have to work. If we get a move on we can open up to get the post-Christmas ramblers and people fed up of turkey. I have pasties to bake and mulled wine to serve and so many people who need a hand. There’s a community to rebuild, remember?’
‘I know and I’ll help you in the cafe and we’ll do everything we can to get St Trenyan back on its feet, but promise me too that you’ll come back home to bed – with me – at some point.’ His voice is almost pleading. I can’t help but smile.
‘OK, it’s a deal, but you’ll have to put on an apron again,’ I say with a grin.
‘You know I look so sexy. Everyone will order lots more mince pies if I’m serving.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself!’
He leans in closer to me, and although I know he’s teasing, I could jump on him right this second in the Land Rover in broad daylight. ‘You know you want me,’ he says, raising one eyebrow in a cheesy, gorgeous, sexy way.
‘OK, yes, I bloody want you! Now come on, put that apron on, we’ve got a cafe to open.’
THE END
Recipes
Mince pie cook
ies
Family recipe
Ingredients:
200g mincemeat (even nicer with fancy mincemeat, e.g. orange and cranberry)
100g butter
150g caster sugar
2 medium eggs
200g plain flour
½ teaspoon mixed spice
½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
1. Bring the butter and eggs up to room temperature and turn the oven to 180C. Get two cookie/baking trays out and line with grease-proof paper.
2. Cream together the butter, sugar and eggs in a mixing bowl.
3. Gradually stir in the flour, then the mixed spice and bicarbonate of soda.
4. Finally, stir the mincemeat into the cookie dough.
5. These cookies spread out while cooking, so add small teaspoons of the mixture to your baking parchment and make sure they’re well spaced.
6. Check on them after 10 mins, take them out once they’re golden on the top. Leave to cool, then keep in an airtight box.
Special pumpkin pie with Cornish clotted cream
From my daughter
Feeds 12–16
Ingredients
425g can of Libby’s pumpkin puree
400g can of evaporated milk
170g granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon mixed spice (you can substitute with chai latte powder!)
Pecan halves
Pastry (make your own or use a sheet of readymade shortcrust)
1. Pre-heat the oven to 220C. Prepare the shortcrust to fit in a 10-inch loose-base pie dish, or very deep 8- or 9-inch pie dish. Leave plenty of excess pastry round the edges as it will shrink. Blind bake it for a few minutes to stop it going soggy. When the middle starts to rise, take it out – don’t let the edges brown.
2. While you do this, mix the dry ingredients and eggs in a large bowl (easy to do by hand). Stir in the pumpkin puree and then gradually stir in the evaporated milk. Pour this mixture into your pie shell.
3. Bake the pie in the oven at 220C for 15 mins. Then reduce the temperature to 180C. You can wrap foil around the top of it if the pastry is catching. Bake for 40 mins and add pecan halves round the edge to decorate. If a knife inserted near the centre comes out clean, it’s ready to serve, otherwise give it 10 more mins. Cool on wire rack for 2 hours or refrigerate (it will keep for 4 days in a plastic box in the fridge). Top with Cornish clotted cream to serve!
Simple banana bread
Recipe and introduction reproduced by kind permission of The Budget Food Mummy http://budgetfoodmummy.com/
I’m sure this is probably an obvious tip, but instead of throwing overripe bananas in the bin, make banana bread with them! It’s an easy recipe to make and there is a lot of mixing to do so it’s a good one to get the children to help with. It costs around £1.25 to make a loaf size.
Ingredients:
150g unsalted butter, softened (plus extra for greasing)
150g self raising flour
150g caster sugar
2 eggs, whisked
1 teaspoon baking powder
2–3 overripe bananas, mashed
1. Pre-heat oven to 180C. Grease either a cake or bread tin.
2. Cream together the butter and sugar. Stir in the eggs and half of the flour. Stir in the rest of the flour, baking powder and banana. Put the mixture in the greased tin, smooth it out to make it even.
3. Bake in the pre-heated oven for 30 mins, or until a skewer comes out clean.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
It’s been great fun to write a Christmas story while in real life blossom has been bursting out and summer has slowly arrived! Conjuring up images of frosty mornings, festive baking and fairy lights while writing this in my sunlit garden has been surreal at times. But I’ve had a wonderful time celebrating Christmas with Demi and Cal, and I hope you will too.
I have to thank so many people who’ve helped with research, support, coffee and cakes, including Nell Dixon, Liz Hanbury, Janice Hume, Sue Welfare, Marie Deakin, Hilary Ely, Ann Cooper, Kim Nash, Jules Wake, Alison Sherlock, Bella Osborne, The Budget Food Mummy and Wendy Dixon, to name a few.
Avon Maze, my publisher, has played an absolute blinder, helping to make the first Penwith novel, Summer at the Cornish Cafe, a summer best-seller. Huge thanks to my editors, Eloise Wood and Natasha Harding, for their hard work and sensitive editing. Thanks too go to clever copy editor Joanne Gledhill. In HarperCollins Marketing, Helena and Louis have also been amazing, tweeting and sharing news about my book to the Twitterverse and beyond.
To all the bloggers, authors and booklovers out there, thank you for your reviews, tweets and messages. I really appreciate you reading Cal and Demi’s story and telling me that you loved spending time at Kilhallon as much as I did.
And finally, to my parents and father-in-law, and my agent, Broo – and most of all, to John, Charlotte and James. Thanks for your faith in me and for sharing this fantastic journey with me.
About the Author
Phillipa Ashley writes warm, funny romantic fiction for a variety of world-famous international publishers.
After studying English at Oxford, she worked as a copywriter and journalist. Her first novel, Decent Exposure, won the RNA New Writers Award and was made into a TV movie called 12 Men of Christmas starring Kristin Chenoweth and Josh Hopkins. As Pippa Croft, she also wrote the Oxford Blue series – The First Time We Met, The Second Time I Saw You and Third Time Lucky.
Phillipa lives in a Staffordshire village and has an engineer husband and scientist daughter who indulge her arty whims. She runs a holiday-let business in the Lake District, but a big part of her heart belongs to Cornwall. She visits the county several times a year for ‘research purposes’, an arduous task that involves sampling cream teas, swimming in wild Cornish coves and following actors around film shoots in a camper van. Her hobbies include watching Poldark, Earl Grey tea, Prosecco-tasting and falling off surf boards in front of RNLI lifeguards.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Summer at the Cornish Cafe
It Happened One Night
Miranda’s Mount
Fever Cure
It Should Have Been Me
Just Say Yes
Wish You Were Here
Decent Exposure
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
Christmas at the Cornish Café Page 29
