The Eclair Affair

by Cressida McLaughlin

  Checking Marmite was secured in his crate at the front of the bus, Charlie hopped onto the sand. She greeted everyone, taking short videos to upload to her Instagram stories, all with the hashtag #PorthgolowFoodFest. She had circulated it to her street-food comrades in the run-up to the day, hoping they would use it and help build the online buzz. They all seemed happy to be here, complimenting the view and admiring Charlie’s bus, and there was no hint of annoyance or incredulity that she’d picked the wrong date to run her event.

  ‘If you need anything, just shout,’ she told a young woman called Megu who was running the Japanese food stand. ‘I’ve advertised the start as eleven, but people could turn up any time.’

  ‘No worries,’ Megu said. ‘I’ve learnt to be ready as soon as possible. Once people smell the food they’re like vultures, which can only be good.’ She laughed.

  ‘Very good,’ Charlie said, snapping a photo. She hoped Megu was right, and had a sudden image of the Porthgolow residents descending on the beach like a herd of ravenous zombies.

  ‘Charlie.’ A hand landed on her arm, and she spun to find Oliver smiling at her. ‘It’s looking great!’

  ‘Thank you! It all smells so delicious, I’m sure I’ll end up buying something from every stall.’

  Oliver tapped his trim stomach. ‘Occupational hazard. It’s a good thing our jobs mean we have to keep moving, or our waistlines would be in trouble.’

  ‘Looking grand, Charlie,’ Amanda called, crossing the road to join them. ‘Can I nab a coffee before my tour?’

  ‘Your usual latte? Have you got a full schedule of boats going out today?’

  ‘As many as the tide allows. We’ve been pushing the festival on our website—’

  ‘I saw that, thank you,’ Charlie cut in.

  ‘And we’re hoping it will bring more customers in our direction at the same time.’

  ‘I’ll make sure I mention your trips to everyone who comes aboard, and you’ll do the same, won’t you, Ollie?’

  ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘You launch from the jetty, don’t you?’

  ‘That’s right. Nice to meet you, Ollie.’

  ‘You too,’ he said. ‘See you later, Charlie.’

  Charlie said goodbye to Oliver and walked with Amanda to the bus.

  ‘He’s a good-looking chap,’ Amanda said, pushing her wayward curls out of her face and leaning against a table. ‘Where did you cook him up from?’

  ‘I met him in Ross-on-Wye, actually. At my first, disastrous event, before Gertie looked anything like this. He was kind to me, and it looks like he’s spending the summer in Cornwall, too.’

  ‘Oh?’ Amanda raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s rather coincidental.’

  ‘He runs The Marauding Mojito. Cornwall is a prime spot for summer fairs and festivals, so it’s not that surprising he’s ended up here.’ She offered Amanda one of her warm sausage rolls.

  ‘But maybe there’s more to it,’ Amanda said, cupping her palm under the pastry crumbs and trying to hide a grin. ‘And there’s no harm in a summer fling, is there?’

  Charlie thought of her fun evening on the beach with Oliver, and then Daniel inviting her to Crystal Waters for a dip in the hot tub. Was she ready for a fling? It had been over six months since she’d broken up with Stuart, but there was still a dull ache whenever her mind returned to his casual betrayal, how much she’d loved and trusted him, and how quickly he’d shattered everything between them. She wasn’t sure her heart was ready, even for something fun and impermanent.

  As Amanda left the bus, Charlie was relieved to see Benji’s Burgers trundle slowly onto the sand, followed shortly afterwards by The Travelling Cornish Pasty Shack. Everyone was here. It was time to open the festival.

  An hour later, the beach was a melting pot of some of the most delicious smells that had ever assaulted Charlie’s nose. The sun was high in the sky, the steep landscape of Porthgolow acted as an attractive backdrop, and the sea sparkled ahead of them. It was a perfect day to be outdoors, trying new culinary delights then walking them off along the sand, but still the stand-holders outnumbered the customers.

  There was a middle-aged couple Charlie thought she recognized buying falafel wraps, and Juliette’s next-door neighbour was pondering the different fudge flavours, but other than that, everything was quiet.

  She felt sick. She had put so much time and energy into organizing this festival, promoting it online, being positive and energetic, and now all these business owners had come to sell their burgers and sushi and delicious Cornish pasties, and there was nobody here to buy them.

  When she saw Juliette and Lawrence approaching, she waved manically.

  ‘Quick!’ she said, ‘go round, buy everything.’

  Lawrence whistled, and Juliette turned in a full, slow circle. ‘It looks fantastic, Char,’ she said softly.

  ‘It’s the first-ever ghost festival. At least it will be remembered for something, but unfortunately it’s not going to be for my Cornish cream teas, which I’ve spent hours making.’

  Her friends followed her onto the bus and she gestured forlornly to the cake stands, the miniature slices of raspberry and white-chocolate cake, bus-shaped gingerbread biscuits with red and white icing, and tiny doughnuts filled with cream. Her fruit scones were waiting to go in the oven when customers were ready for them, and mini pots of jam and cream, along with tiny finger sandwiches filled with smoked salmon and cucumber, egg and cress and peppered beef and mustard were sitting in the fridge. It was all going to be wasted.

  ‘There’s some kind of meeting in the pub,’ Lawrence said, pulling out his phone. ‘I didn’t look properly at the message, but I reckon that’s why none of the locals are here.’ He opened WhatsApp and read it out: ‘Important. Someone lit a solstice bonfire at Crumbling Cliff last night. Meeting at 11.00 in The Seven Stars. We can’t let this sort of vandalism happen.’

  ‘Who wrote it?’ Once all her food trucks had arrived, Charlie hadn’t even glanced at her messages.

  ‘Myrtle,’ Juliette said. ‘Crumbling Cliff is dangerous, so I can understand why she’s worried. Nobody should be on the grass between the road and the edge, even if it is the perfect place for a solstice bonfire.’

  ‘Ugh.’ Charlie rested her elbows on the counter. ‘Maybe I’ve done this all wrong, and now the solstice is paying me back for having my food fest today.’

  ‘Um, Char,’ Lawrence said, pinching a sausage roll from the plate, ‘how can a day of the year wreak revenge?’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘It’s mystical, isn’t it? It has lots of meaning, especially down here, and it’s supposed to be honoured. I heard a couple of villagers muttering about disrespect as I passed them earlier.’

  Juliette rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t listen to the naysayers. Some people are against anything new on principle. Once those tantalizing smells reach them, they’ll be down here like a shot. It’s a shame about Hugh, though. I know he was looking forward to coming.’

  ‘What about Jonah?’ Charlie asked. ‘He can’t have been called to the meeting.’

  ‘If Myrtle’s in charge, then I bet he can.’ Lawrence wiped his hands down his jeans. ‘But it can’t go on all afternoon. She’s bound to let them out eventually.’

  ‘In the meantime,’ Charlie said, ‘go and find something to eat. I want to take a photo of you being glamorous festival attendees. I’ll zoom in so nobody can see you’re the only people here.’

  ‘I want a burrito,’ Juliette said immediately.

  ‘I’m up for that.’ Lawrence kissed her on the forehead.

  Charlie followed them as they walked hand in hand to the Mexican food truck, and took a photo of them being handed their burritos by the owner, George, whose smile was as bright as his multicoloured apron.

  She uploaded it to Instagram, Twitter and Facebook, with her hashtag and location tag, and HAPPENING NOW in capital letters.

  This couldn’t fail. She couldn’t breeze in to this beautiful, hopeful village with her shiny bus, promise
them new life, tackle the doubters, and then deliver absolutely nothing. Myrtle would have a field day. Daniel wouldn’t offer her champagne, but instead would give her a pitying look and say something clever and scathing about how Gertie and Porthgolow didn’t belong together.

  As she returned to the bus, Oliver gave her a sympathetic smile, and she forced herself to smile back. She didn’t want sympathy; she wanted success.

  She wondered who had gone to Myrtle’s meeting. It seemed like a huge coincidence that it was happening right that moment. She understood the importance of looking after the village, and if people were messing about somewhere dangerous then it needed to be addressed, but did it have to happen that morning?

  She had thought Myrtle was beginning to soften towards her. The older woman obviously had some clout in Porthgolow, with most villagers visiting the pop-in on a regular basis. She could drip-feed her opinions and the latest gossip to everyone who walked through the door, and would be trusted more than an over-eager stranger who ran a café on a vintage bus.

  Oliver jumped down from his truck and Charlie watched as he struck up a conversation with Megu, resting his arms on the counter of her stall. She could hear Megu’s delicate laughter as she responded to something he said. None of them would come back if it stayed like this all day, not even Oliver.

  A comment popped up on her Instagram post and she pounced on it like a hungry wolf. It was from SurfsUpSeb, the man with mirrored sunglasses she’d met at the surfing competition, and read: ‘This happening today? Cool!’ She replied: ‘Come down, bring all your friends!’ and crossed her fingers.

  And then a couple appeared at the edge of the beach. They were young, mid-twenties at most, and looked nervous about stepping into the middle of a deserted food festival. Charlie was wondering whether it would seem too overbearing to go and say hello, when Lawrence bounded over to them and started pointing out the different trucks. The couple smiled and glanced around, and then headed her way.

  ‘Welcome to The Cornish Cream Tea Bus,’ she beamed, handing them menus. ‘Feel free to pick a table down here, or upstairs, where there are great views over the sea.’

  ‘We’ll go upstairs, I think,’ the young man said, and the woman nodded her agreement.

  ‘I’ll be up to take your order in a moment.’

  She waited until they had climbed the stairs, then rushed up to the front of the bus. ‘High-five!’ she said to Marmite, but he just tipped his head on one side, so she ruffled his fur instead. She was going to teach him to be a high-fiving dog. If she could make this festival work, then she could do anything she set her mind to.

  Half an hour later there was a loud cacophony outside, as if a Harley-Davidson crew were rolling into Porthgolow. Charlie pressed her face against the window and watched as a convoy of cars and vans, some slightly battered, some with colourful decals or paint jobs, drove down the hill and into the car park. People began to emerge, walking across the sand towards the cluster of food trucks.

  A familiar man with mirrored sunglasses appeared in the doorway of her bus.

  ‘Surf’s Up Seb, it’s so lovely to see you.’ She held out her hand.

  ‘Likewise, Charlie.’ He took her hand and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. He smelt of vanilla and sea salt.

  ‘I’m so glad you came!’

  He gave a laconic shrug. ‘You asked. It looks great. And this place is a gem,’ he said, turning to face the sea. ‘It’s not got the right currents to create a big enough surf for us, which is a shame because the lookout is rosy as hell.’

  ‘There are boat trips running from the jetty all day.’ He raised an eyebrow and she added, ‘RIBs. They’re fast, fun – it’s exhilarating.’

  ‘I’ll be sure to check it out.’

  ‘Go, enjoy – and don’t forget to come back for a coffee!’

  ‘How could I forget?’ He gestured at the bus, gleaming proudly in the sunshine, and Charlie laughed.

  Seb wandered back to his friends and Charlie noticed Oliver watching her from the mojito stand. She gave him a wave and went to see if the young couple wanted more tea.

  The surfers were loud and cheerful and their laughter and good-natured noise filled up the space, making it seem busy and vibrant. They might all be one large party, but that didn’t make it any less of a success. And the photos she had taken, of the various food trucks busy with customers, and the bus surrounded by people, were bound to encourage more to come to the next event. She tagged Seb in some of the posts, hoping he’d get the hint and add his own to social media.

  ‘So, this is the first Porthgolow festival?’

  Charlie looked up from the cake stand she was rearranging, her mini doughnuts temporarily forgotten.

  Daniel was wearing jeans and a navy T-shirt, his eyes narrowed against the sun. Behind him were Lauren and Hugh, and Jonah almost running, Paul keeping a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. Behind them, miraculously, was Myrtle. Her walk was more of a trudge, and her expression suggested she was being led towards the fiery pits of hell rather than a festival on a sunny beach, but she was here.

  Charlie was at the door in minutes. ‘Hello.’

  Daniel smiled and approached, while Lauren made a beeline for the sushi truck. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘It’s looking busy.’ He didn’t try to hide the surprise in his voice.

  ‘Did you ever doubt it?’ Charlie asked, silently thanking Seb and his crew. ‘I told you it would be a success. How was the meeting?’

  Daniel sighed and tipped his head back. ‘Tedious. I understand that it’s a problem if teenagers are messing about up there, especially in the dark, but I don’t know what we can do except petition the council for some kind of barrier. I’ve told Myrtle that I’ve already done that and I’m waiting to hear back, but either she doesn’t believe me or she doesn’t think it’s enough. But whatever the answer, it didn’t need a two-hour meeting, and definitely not today.’

  ‘It did seem a bit coincidental.’

  Daniel laughed. ‘Don’t take it to heart. Myrtle isn’t backwards in showing her disapproval, but she’s like that with anyone who was born more than a mile away. She’s certainly not my biggest fan, even when I give up my Saturday mornings to attend her meetings. Anyway, she’s here now.’

  ‘Is that your doing, though?’

  Daniel glanced at the sea. ‘I just told everyone that I’d had enough and I was coming to check out the festival. I wasn’t the only one who was keen, and if there’s anything that Myrtle hates more than usurpers, it’s being left out.’

  Charlie wondered if that was true, or if he’d been more persuasive. Whatever it was, she was touched. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for? I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘I feel like … as if you might be on my side.’

  ‘It’s still not about taking sides, Charlie. You’ve done something new in Porthgolow. Some people will like it, some will hate it. You shouldn’t take it so personally.’

  ‘You sound like Uncle Hal.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘Should I take that as a compliment? I know he was a big part of your life, but—’

  ‘You approve of all this, do you Daniel?’ Myrtle appeared at his side, her gaze fixed firmly on Charlie. ‘Figures.’

  ‘Come on Myrtle, you know it makes sense to bring more life to the village. What have you got against it?’

  Charlie had thought that Daniel would have been shrewder than to give the older woman an open platform, but it was too late.

  ‘It’s mucking up the beach, and it’s not the right way to celebrate the solstice. At least those idiots on Crumblin’ Cliff had the right idea, even if they chose the wrong place. Lauren should have beaten ’em with her handbag. The size of it, she could’ve given ’em a proper hidin’.’

  ‘Lauren?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘She saw the bonfire on the cliff on her way home from work,’ Daniel said. ‘She spoke to Myrtle about it first thing and Myrtle called the meeting. I wasn’t going to go, but Lauren wante
d the moral support.’

  ‘Bleddy lot of use that did,’ Myrtle said. ‘And now this!’ She flung her arm wide, and a couple of Seb’s friends glanced in their direction.

  ‘So if this isn’t the right way to celebrate the solstice, what is?’ Daniel asked.

  Charlie shot him a warning look but he just smiled back, amused.

  ‘You want a good fire to symbolize the longest day,’ Myrtle said. ‘I know it was technically last night, but in Penzance they have fireworks and a festival and all sorts, running over the whole weekend.’

  ‘Well,’ Daniel said, laughing, ‘we’ve got the festival. If I can rustle up a bonfire and some fireworks – even if it’s a day late – will you be satisfied?’

  ‘Daniel, I—’ Charlie felt a swell of panic.

  ‘Where’d you light it?’ Myrtle folded her arms.

  ‘We could do it further down the beach now the tide’s going out,’ Daniel said. ‘And I’ve put on fireworks displays up at the hotel before now – I can get in touch with the team I’ve used in the past and see if they have availability at short notice. We can launch them from the end of the jetty. Celebrate the solstice and Charlie’s first festival at the same time. It won’t be as big as Penzance, but it will be unique to Porthgolow. What do you think?’

  ‘You can organize all of that in such a short space of time?’ Charlie felt control slipping away from her. How could Daniel be so calm about lighting a huge fire? What if the smoke overwhelmed the food stalls?

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Daniel said. ‘Only if Myrtle approves, of course.’

  Myrtle’s suspicious gaze flicked between Daniel and Charlie for what seemed like hours. Then she nodded. ‘I’ll go and tell Rose.’ She shuffled off in the direction of the pop-in.

  ‘Daniel,’ Charlie said, as soon as Myrtle was out of earshot, ‘do you really think this is a sensible idea? Are we even allowed to light fires on the beach?’

  ‘Come on, Charlie, live a little. You’ve worked hard for today and this will ensure it’s remembered. And I’ve done this sort of thing before. I can promise you that bonfires are allowed on this particular beach, and I’ll even telephone the fire authority and let them know what’s happening. I know what I’m doing.’