Scones Away!

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘It was your idea,’ Charlie replied, parking Gertie next to a gleaming silver Range Rover.

  ‘I know. I guess I wasn’t sure we’d actually go through with it.’

  Charlie tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach at the thought of seeing Daniel. She was determined not to let him tie her in knots this time.

  ‘But you were right,’ she said, following Juliette to the door, ‘I need to stand up to him, show him how it feels to be on the receiving end of the meddling, and besides, we do need people to trial the tours before I start promoting them.’

  She had spent the last ten days, since their heart-to-heart at Cape Cornwall – when she wasn’t serving at the food market or taking her bus around the county’s towns and beauty spots – working on her tour, plotting a route with Lawrence and Google’s help, writing a script with details about all the scenic places they would visit, and cooking up new cakes and scone flavours to make the cream teas distinctive from those she was already selling. Now all that hard work was going to be tested.

  She wiped her hands down the back of her cropped trousers, and smoothed down her top, pressing out the kinks.

  ‘You’re nervous,’ Juliette said.

  Charlie gave her friend her widest smile. ‘I am, but I’m not going to let him see it.’

  They walked through the doors of Crystal Waters together.

  ‘Hi, Lauren,’ Charlie said, breezing through reception. ‘Just nipping to the dining room, if that’s OK?’

  ‘No, Charlie – excuse me …’ She heard the panic in the other woman’s voice and kept going, Juliette beside her, eyes fixed firmly to the floor.

  Charlie followed the signs on the walls, along wide, airy corridors, until she stepped into a large, open room with glass walls looking out over the sea. The restaurant was at the far end of the building, beyond the swimming pool, as far from reception as it was possible to get. She hoped that would give her the time she needed.

  She scanned the room, took in the blue, luxurious carpet, the slate-grey chairs and tables covered in pristine white cloths. The number of empty tables surprised her, though it was just after nine so it was likely many of the guests had already been and gone.

  She fixed on a family, a man and woman with two young daughters, one sitting on a firm cushion so she could reach the bowl of cereal on the table. The mum and dad were laughing over something, their other daughter eating a piece of toast and reading a Harry Potter book. There was an older couple close to the window, and a group of three – two men and one woman – tucking into English breakfasts.

  Charlie took a deep breath and clapped her hands together. Everyone looked up.

  ‘Hello,’ she said loudly. ‘My name is Charlie Quilter, and I’m the owner of The Cornish Cream Tea Bus. You might have seen it in the village, on the beach?’

  Nine faces looked blankly back at her. She reminded herself these people were on holiday. They might only have arrived the day before. She swallowed and kept going.

  ‘I’m a fairly new business and I’m running my first Cornish Cream Tea Tour on Monday. It’s a scenic route along part of Cornwall’s coastline, with an afternoon tea served while we go. Myself and my colleague, Juliette, would be honoured if those of you who are still in the area on Monday would be our very first guests. As it’s a new idea, we’re running it for free; you will essentially be our guinea pigs, so your feedback will be invaluable and will help shape all future tours. The bus is parked outside, if any of you want to have a look before you make a decision.’ She paused, trying to read the faces of the people she had ambushed, and then felt panic rise as footsteps echoed down the corridor behind her. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘Can we, Mum?’ said the youngest girl. ‘I love buses.’

  The three friends were exchanging glances and nodding, and the old couple looked positively bemused.

  ‘The tour will start at two o’clock on Mon—’

  ‘Charlie, Juliette,’ Daniel cut in, coming to stand in front of them.

  Charlie’s cheeks flamed, and she tried not to be distracted by the way his blue shirt clung to his torso, the firm body she knew was underneath, or how his dark eyes met hers in a way that seemed to rip through her, exposing all her thoughts.

  ‘Good morning Daniel,’ she said. ‘I was just inviting your guests to come on our first Cornish Cream Tea Tour on Monday.’

  ‘A tour?’ he raised an eyebrow. She could tell he wanted to say more, but that the need to be professional in front of his guests was winning out.

  ‘Their feedback will help us plan the best possible trips in the future. It’s a great opportunity.’

  ‘We’d love to,’ said the older woman, her voice reaching across the cavernous room. ‘We’ll still be here, and it does sound good, doesn’t it, Elber?’ The man nodded his agreement, and the little girl at the table raised her hand as high as it would go.

  ‘Us too!’

  ‘Sounds like a laugh,’ added one of the men from the party of three.

  ‘You see,’ she said to Daniel. ‘Why don’t you come, too? It’s the least I can offer after all your support with the food markets.’

  Daniel seemed rooted to the spot and she knew she’d got him. He could get away with saying he was too busy, but now his guests had agreed, he would want to seem amenable in front of them.

  ‘What do you think?’ She squeezed his arm.

  He didn’t take his eyes off her. She could see the battle going on behind them. The desire to turn her down, to take back control, competing with his need to be the smooth, charming hotel owner.

  ‘Two o’clock on Monday?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Leaving from here.’ Triumph surged through her, and she wondered if this was how sea fishermen felt when they’d hooked a barracuda. ‘I’ll meet you outside reception,’ she said to the wider room. ‘Just bring yourselves, your cameras and a healthy appetite. Great.’ She grinned, then had to look away from Daniel’s unwavering gaze. ‘Looking forward to it.’

  Chapter Four

  Before they’d even reached the pub, Charlie could tell that it was packed. The windows were glowing and snippets of conversation and laughter escaped every time the door opened, which was often. It was Sunday evening, and the sun was hovering over the sea, the sky above a rich turquoise. There was the faintest hint of a summer breeze. It tickled Charlie’s skin and made the skirt of her green dress whisper against her legs.

  Gertie stood proudly in her spot on the sand; around her, the beach was busy with families and groups of friends, dog walkers and lone strollers. It was the end of July, the summer holidays were in full swing and Porthgolow no longer looked forgotten. It looked at ease, somehow, still slightly shabby in places, but accepted for all that it was. Charlie felt that this was exactly how it was supposed to be and a smile bunched her cheeks.

  ‘Earth to Charlie.’ Juliette tugged on her arm. ‘What’s going on with you? Gertie looks fine.’

  ‘I know Gertie’s fine,’ Charlie said. ‘And I’m not worried about anything.’

  ‘Even though we’re about to walk into a party organized for the benefit of Myrtle Gordon, arch-nemesis of the Porthgolow food market?’

  Charlie rolled her eyes at Lawrence, who had donned a pale blue short-sleeved shirt for the occasion. Juliette was wearing a panel dress in navy and red that suited her slender figure and had tied her dark hair away from her face.

  Charlie felt a thrill of anticipation. They’d had lots of evenings in The Seven Stars, but none like this, with a reason to dress up. Since she’d been in Cornwall she’d had no need of her heels, but tonight she had dusted them off, their slow progress to the pub reminding her that they didn’t mix well with steep hills.

  Juliette pushed open the door and they walked into a wall of heat and light and chatter. It was busier than Charlie had ever seen it, the tables rearranged to make room for a cluster of chairs and music stands against the far wall. She remembered the musicians who had come aboard her bus and realized the se
t-up was for Hugh and his band, the Cornwall Cornflowers. She searched the room for familiar faces, but Juliette pulled her to the bar.

  ‘Hey, you three.’ Amanda lifted her wine glass in welcome. She was wearing a peach-coloured top and jeans, her curls tamed around her face. Paul’s dark shirt was slim fitting, and Charlie almost didn’t recognize them without their waterproofs and their windblown hair.

  ‘You look great,’ Charlie said, kissing Amanda on the cheek.

  ‘Likewise,’ Amanda replied. ‘I think everyone’s made an effort tonight.’

  Charlie had to agree. Stella and Anton were talking to another couple over by the window, Stella wearing a pair of impossibly high-heeled, golden shoes that matched the sequins on her top, and Anton in a lemon-yellow shirt that perfectly complemented his dark skin. Rose and Frank – who she now knew by sight as well as voice – were huddled at a table close to the improvised stage area, their heads bowed conspiratorially, and Hugh, for once not behind the bar, was wearing a blue shirt with a design of huge white flowers.

  ‘They look like inverted cornflowers,’ Charlie said, pointing.

  Amanda laughed. ‘That’s the kind of thing Jonah would say. Has he been spending a lot of time on your bus?’

  ‘Not as much as I’d hoped, actually,’ Charlie admitted. ‘He’s very helpful when he’s on board, acting as the perfect host and keeping up a constant stream of engaging conversation. Was he disappointed about not coming tonight?’

  ‘Actually, no,’ Amanda said. ‘He’s found a new app that’s teaching him about marine life. He wants to learn all there is to know about the waters around Cornwall, for when he’s a skipper.’ She gave Charlie an indulgent grin.

  ‘He’ll make a brilliant skipper,’ Charlie replied. ‘That’s already a given.’

  ‘Here you go, Char.’ Lawrence handed her a glass full of orange liquid.

  ‘What’s this?’ She took a sip. The flavours of orange and passion fruit burst on her tongue. ‘Wow.’

  ‘It’s called a Porthgolow Sunset,’ Juliette said, clinking her glass against Charlie’s. ‘Made up specially for Myrtle’s birthday.’

  ‘Speaking of which, where is the birthday girl?’ Hugh had assured them that all the villagers were welcome tonight, but Charlie was fairly sure she wouldn’t be the most welcome of all Myrtle’s guests.

  ‘She’ll be fashionably late, of course,’ Amanda said. ‘Now, go and find a seat before they all get taken.’

  They wove their way through the throng to a booth against the back wall, leaving Amanda and Paul to their stools at the bar.

  ‘Cheers!’ Lawrence raised his own Porthgolow Sunset. ‘Can’t believe how busy the pub is, especially on a Sunday night.’

  ‘Apparently Myrtle didn’t want to have it on Saturday because of the food market. What do you think about that?’ Juliette raised her eyebrows. ‘She didn’t want you and the others involved to miss out.’

  ‘Or she didn’t want the pub to be full of strangers instead of all her friends,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m not sure I would have been here if she’d had it yesterday. It was so busy!’ She couldn’t help grinning. The Porthgolow food market was showing no signs of slowing down. She might be exhausted on a Saturday night, but it was worth it to see the beach vibrant and alive, the other vendors making a good living, and Gertie getting the attention that Charlie felt, as Hal’s legacy, she deserved.

  ‘Speaking of the market.’ Juliette gestured to the door. Oliver was standing there, looking lost and running his hand through his tufty hair.

  ‘Over here,’ Charlie called. She waited for him to join them, then gave him a hug. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  He kissed the corner of her mouth. ‘You look amazing, Charlie. And this place is heaving. What are you drinking?’

  ‘A Porthgolow Sunset,’ Juliette said. ‘Does it live up to your standards?’ She handed him her drink and Oliver sipped it.

  ‘Not bad. A bit sweet for me, but it wouldn’t be out of place on The Marauding Mojito menu.’

  ‘You should talk to Hugh,’ Charlie said. ‘See if you and he can swap ideas.’

  Oliver laughed. ‘I’m heading to the bar. Everyone OK?’

  They all nodded, and as he sauntered away Juliette leaned in towards Charlie. ‘So, you and Oliver?’

  Charlie sighed. ‘I like him, and we see each other every week at the market, but it’s finding other time to be together that’s the problem.’ She also knew that she needed to tell him about her kiss with Daniel. Draw a line under it as a mistake, be honest with Oliver and start afresh. ‘He’s touring the fairs and shows with his cocktails, and I’m – well, you know what I’m doing. I thought it would be good to see him tonight. I hope Myrtle and Hugh don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course they won’t,’ Juliette said. ‘After all, this is still a public venue. It’s not like Hugh’s put a sign up saying it’s closed for a private party.’

  ‘True.’ Charlie moved over to let Oliver sit next to her.

  ‘Are you driving?’ Lawrence asked, pointing at Oliver’s glass.

  ‘Nope. I’ve got a lift organized. This is a Long Island Iced Tea. Now I’ll get to see what Hugh’s cocktails are made of. The quality of your Long Island proves how good you really are.’

  ‘Right,’ Lawrence said, failing to contain his grin. ‘The quality of your long island, eh? I’ll have to remember that.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Lawrence.’ Juliette hit him on the arm. Lawrence’s mock-innocent expression got them all laughing.

  Ten minutes later, Myrtle arrived, wearing a cream and yellow floral dress that made her look soft and summery. The pub erupted into applause and she looked, for a second, like a rabbit frozen in some very bright headlights. Charlie thought she might turn round and walk back out, but Hugh took her hand and, with a sweep of his arm, gestured to a table with a ‘reserved’ sign, in prime position for the band, and a long set of tables which, Charlie presumed, would at some point have food on them.

  After Myrtle had made her way to her seat, and Rose and Frank had joined her, the pub seemed to settle. Charlie could feel Oliver’s arm against hers and pressed closer to him. He was handsome, funny and laid-back, and had shown her nothing but kindness. She should be bold and encourage his affections. Her mind tripped a switch, presenting her, traitorously, with an image of Daniel in the hot tub.

  ‘What do you think, Char?’ Lawrence asked.

  ‘About what?’

  Juliette gave her a bemused smile. ‘About whether … ooh, Daniel!’ Her eyes flickered to the door.

  Charlie turned to see that Daniel was, indeed, in the pub, looking even more uncomfortable than Myrtle had as heads swivelled in his direction. Lauren stood behind him, searching for something in her clutch bag. She had on the world’s tightest black dress, her dark hair was loose around her shoulders and her eye make-up was dark and sultry. Daniel bent to whisper something in her ear and Lauren grabbed him by the hand and pulled him across the room.

  Charlie recognized the hard lump at the base of her throat as jealousy. Daniel was with Lauren. She didn’t know if they were there as colleagues, or something more, but she got the sense that it was the two of them against the rest of the pub, the outsiders from the swanky cliff-top hotel taking their chances in the heart of the village. Daniel had told her it wasn’t about taking sides, but – despite being here with her friends, and with Oliver – Charlie couldn’t help feeling as if she was on the wrong one.

  ‘Another round?’ Lawrence asked, and she nodded absent-mindedly.

  Lauren led Daniel to a booth next to the window that a family had just vacated and as Daniel sat down he caught her eye. He was wearing a white linen shirt that brought out his tan, and his dark hair seemed intentionally ruffled. He nodded a welcome, and though he was clearly uncomfortable, she saw that unmistakable twitch of his lips, as if every time he saw her, he remembered how easy she was to fool. Charlie gave him a quick, stilted wave. She wasn’t sure she’d breathed for about five minutes
. She turned back to her friends and got a smug, knowing smile from Juliette.

  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.