‘The publicity will be good for Kilhallon,’ he says, stroking Mitch’s ears.
‘Yes, but we wanted to manage the situation. We wanted to keep the event quiet until far closer to the day.’
‘I don’t think that was ever going to happen.’ He manages a crooked, sexy smile but I can see he’s distracted. The wedding plans of pampered celebrities aren’t high on his list of priorities at the moment, even if they are important to Kilhallon. I understand that. ‘Well, at least Ben and Lily are the centre of attention and their “people” will love that.’
‘We will have to promote the park, though. Sooner or later we’re going to have to raise our profile to keep the bookings rolling in. When Dog’s Dinner comes out, I’ll have to do media interviews with Eva Spero too.’
‘I know, and you’ll be very good at it. But I’ll be happy if I never have to appear in the press again. I just want to get on with my life, run Kilhallon and find Esme if I can. Beyond that, these days, all I want is a quiet life with you here at Kilhallon.’ Cal reaches for my hand. Spending a quiet life together at Kilhallon sounds idyllic but I know it will never happen.
‘I didn’t want to say anything about Carolyn’s email at first in case it turns out to be a false hope,’ he says softly. ‘You have enough to worry about.’
I lean over the table and kiss him, guessing that what he really means is that he was terrified of being disappointed and hurting himself.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A few days later Cal bursts into the cafe brandishing a newspaper. ‘Jesus, have you seen this?’
My heart sinks. ‘What? Is this about Ben and Lily again? Or Mawgan?’
‘If only. Look.’ He throws the paper onto the table and spreads open the pages. The headline leaps out at me despite a brown patch over part of the lettering.
CRAPPY EVER AFTER?
Lily Craig ‘losing sleep’ over nightmare wedding venue
For a few seconds I don’t get what he’s so worked up about: a few grainy pictures of sheds and a muddy field … then, my stomach clenches hard.
‘Oh. My. God. Is that … Kilhallon?’
‘I wish it wasn’t but, sadly, yes. Polly almost had a heart attack when she saw it this morning. That stain is where she spilled her tea over it.’
I groan and steel myself to take a closer look at pictures, even though they make me want to throw up.
Judging by the weather, the photos must have been taken yesterday. The dark skies, gloom and constant rain we had would make a tropical paradise seem miserable but in these pictures, Kilhallon looks like a prison camp. No one would believe that we’re now officially into ‘British Summer Time’.
‘They really have done a hatchet job on us. I can’t believe we didn’t notice them taking the shots.’ I wince as I take in the full horror of the shoot which promises more ‘exclusive pictures of the “boutique wedding venue”’ online.
‘Public footpaths cross the land and anyone with a camera could have shot these at any time. We can’t take people’s cameras away and stop them taking pictures on public land.’
‘I wish we had. This is crap. I hope Lily isn’t losing sleep over the wedding. Oh sh—’ Forcing myself to focus on the whole-page story again, I peer at the pictures. There’s Polly lugging a bag of empties to the dustbins behind the farmhouse. There are the newly pitched yurts marooned in a sea of mud before Cal had constructed the decking around them. Seagulls peck at the lids of the trade bins behind the cafe. One picture features a wet and scowling Cal carrying in some new sanitary bins to the ladies’ wash block. And, oh no, to top it all there’s a large picture of Mitch cocking his leg up against one of the log seats in the glamping glade where Lily and Ben will hold their ceremony. I could swear the pictures have been put through a dark filter too.
‘This is so unfair. They chose the one angle of Demelza’s that’s not lovely and customers don’t even see the refuse area.’
‘There are some even worse ones in the online version.’ Cal drops his phone on top of the paper but I can’t face looking at more yet.
‘All Kilhallon needs is barbed wire and an armed guard to look like a maximum security facility,’ Cal says, and he’s right. It doesn’t matter that none of these eyesores will be visible to guests at the wedding and everything will be ready. The copy is short but agonising. Words jump out at me from the feature: ‘rubbish’, ‘sea of mud’, ‘basic facilities’ and ‘stray dogs wandering around’.
‘Stray? Mitch is not a stray! And we’ll have posh bogs brought in and an event tepee. There’ll be gorgeous decorations and lighting and beautiful flowers. It might even be sunny!’
I sweep the newspaper away, close to tears. I have no idea how we can counter terrible publicity like this.
Cal tries to hug me. ‘It’s bad, I grant you, but people will forget it eventually.’
‘No, they won’t. Oh shit, I bet we’ve already had people cancelling their holidays and no one else is going to want to book here now either. I bet Jade and Addison have already persuaded Ben and Lily to cancel. I’m sure Mawgan is behind this.’
‘Maybe she is but maybe she isn’t. There are tons of people in the press who wouldn’t give a toss about running a story like this. They probably sent a pap down for this very reason.’
‘We’ll have to respond, of course,’ I say, shaking with shock and frustration. ‘I’ll call Lily now and talk to her about it.’
Cal’s phone rings. He glances down at the screen and winces.
‘You don’t have to. This is her on the phone now. Do you want to take it or wait until we’ve had time to think about how to respond?’ He holds up his phone, which buzzes angrily.
I take a deep breath. ‘Best get this over with. I hope I’m an even better actor than Ben.’
‘Wouldn’t be hard,’ says Cal and hands me the phone.
Soothing Lily turns out to be the least of my worries. By early afternoon, we’ve had a string of anxious people phoning to cancel their bookings at the cottages and yurts. We managed to reassure some that the photos painted a very unfair picture and that Kilhallon is still a lovely place to stay, though others still cancelled.
A few people wanted us to confirm that Lily and Ben were getting married here but we had to fudge that as the official line from Lily’s publicist is that ‘we don’t disclose details of our guests’ plans’. As well as the tabloid piece, the local press are all over us now too, demanding to know the full story. It’s difficult to be polite when we want to maintain a positive relationship with them while keeping our plans under wraps. Polly and Cal are finding the whole thing even more of a strain than me. Cal hates pretending to be something he’s not – even though he keeps his own secrets – and Polly is just … Polly.
It’s with enormous relief that I open the door to Rachel late in the afternoon. She’d left a message on my phone not long after we saw the newspaper, offering to come over. It’s after hours and I’ve had a busy day dealing with an unwelcome hygiene inspection and the press, but I’m so grateful to see her that I could cry. After my phone call to Lily, soothing a very anxious bride, I may have slightly lied and said that Rachel had already presented me with an ‘amay-zing’ plan for the wedding and that everything was in hand.
I wander around the cafe, trying to soothe a tired and grizzling Freya, while Rachel sets up her laptop in the cafe. Freya has hold of the knuckle of my little finger between her cherubic lips and is nuzzling it like a suckerfish with her eyes tight shut. At least she’s happy now.
Finally Freya falls asleep and is laid in her travel cot very, very carefully. Rachel is understandably anxious at the negative publicity but is trying to put on a brave face.
‘OK. I’ve been thinking and decided that it’s time to roll out Operation Wedding Rescue,’ Rachel says in a low voice. ‘There are two parts to this plan. One, we need to rebuild confidence in Kilhallon to counter those nasty photos in the newspaper. It’s not a great situation but I had to deal with something similar
a few years ago when there was a food poisoning outbreak after one of the Trevarrian Estate charity dinners.’
My confidence plunges. A food scare is my worst nightmare and the one thing guaranteed to have people avoiding Demelza’s for the next hundred years. Thank God we passed the hygiene inspection with five stars again.
‘Now, I suggest we hold a wedding fair here as soon as possible, dress the cafe for a wedding breakfast and set up some demonstrations of what Kilhallon can offer. It would mean sacrificing one of your Sunday opening days – but a Sunday afternoon is the best time to hold the event. The clocks have gone forward now and people feel spring is properly here. Even though their weddings may be over a year or even two away they’ll be in the mood for firming up their plans.’
‘I’m happy to blank off a Sunday afternoon but where are we going to find wedding suppliers to join in at such short notice?’
‘Kilhallon’s USP is that it’s quirky and unusual. You’re never going to get those couples who are dead set on a traditional formal wedding in a big hotel or stately home. That’s fine for the people who want that kind of ceremony and reception but Kilhallon can’t and shouldn’t try to compete. So I suggest we concentrate on smaller, more unusual wedding suppliers.’
Rachel’s idea gives me a flicker of hope. ‘The event tepee people are handling the fixtures and fittings for the interior. It’s included in the hire cost though I’m hoping people will be able to be outside for the ceremony and it’s a handfasting, back-to-nature theme anyway. I researched it and it’s an old pagan tradition but Lily and Ben don’t want a pagan or any other kind of religious ceremony. They definitely want their hands bound using ribbon from each of them. And Lily wants an owl to deliver the ring.’
Rachel pulls a face. ‘An owl? Okayyyy.’
‘Well, you did say you could get quirky suppliers. Don’t worry, Cal’s sorted the feathered suppliers. He phoned a birds of prey centre and they have a falconer called Holly and a tawny owl called Boris who’s experienced in ring delivery so I booked them both.’
Rachel raises her eyebrows. ‘Boris the owl?’
‘After Boris Johnson. Apparently, Holly’s mum fancies BoJo and this owl has a spiky tuft of feathers on his head.
Rachel pulls a face. ‘Eww. Some people need professional help. At least we don’t have to worry about owls if Cal’s got it covered. Are you doing all the catering yourselves?’
‘Not all; Demelza’s can’t handle that many people for an entire day.’
‘I agree. Do you have any caterers in mind?’
‘I’ve spoken to a few but … have we left it too late? Lily and Ben messaged about it and then dropped this on us but they’re obviously used to having stuff done no matter how late in the day.’
Freya lets out an unexpected burp in her sleep and we both laugh. ‘Hmm. It is very late but I’ll get on to it straight away. A few people spring to mind who have supplied catering for the estate’s events. I’ll see if they’re available. Maybe not the ones who caused the food poisoning though.’ She pulls a face and then smiles. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find a great caterer. What other ideas did you have?’ she asks me.
‘I thought of holding the main wedding “breakfast” in the tepee with afternoon teas and evening cocktails and canapés at Demelza’s, so we only need to worry about one meal. Lily’s mulling over a few options for the menu and is going to get back to me. I think she’d love it if guests could pop in and out of here for cream teas and cocktails in the evening.’
‘That sounds perfect … in fact, I had an idea about the cafe too: have you thought of putting a temporary awning over the outside seating area so that guests can make the most of those lovely views, whatever the weather?’
‘No. Being honest, I’d thought of using the regular cafe umbrellas, although I must admit, they’re already weather worn.’
‘If Lily and Ben are paying, we could get a fabulous canvas awning fixed from the cafe over the seating area and hire in tables and chairs and other decorations in keeping with Lily’s theme.’
‘Hmm. Lily wanted it to look like they’d done everything at the last minute.’
Rachel snorts with laughter. ‘That’s her fantasy. Reality takes months of planning. We’ll choose a quirky awning and decor and have the florist make up some natural floral displays. Have you got a florist in mind?’
‘Not yet.’ I feel very hopeless but running Demelza’s and developing the recipes for my book has taken up all my time, not to mention the huge dent to my confidence that the press photos created.
Rachel makes another note in her book. ‘I’ll look into the florist and the cost of hiring versus investing in an awning. Maybe you could use it for future events?’
‘Do you think the tepee company might do that?’ I ask.
‘They might. Have you thought about hiring the tepee for the wedding fair too? The suppliers are going to need shelter.’
Rachel reeling off these lists makes me feel I’m being grilled on a TV politics show. ‘Arghh, there’s so much to think about.’
She puts her notebook down with a sigh. ‘I know. I’ve spent ages making lists but we’ll only have to do it for the first time once!’ She brightens up. ‘After we’ve done one wedding, the next one won’t seem so scary to us.’
We need to get through this one first without a disaster, I think, but I put on my positive face. ‘It’s OK. I’d rather we’ve thought of every scenario than get caught out.’
I make a note on my tablet to ask the tepee people if they can supply a marquee at such short notice. Hopefully, as it’s very early in the year, they might. ‘If I offer refreshments from the cafe during the fair, I might make up the cash I’d lose from closing the cafe to the general public,’ I say.
Rachel laughs. ‘Bear in mind that lots of people don’t come to the wedding fair because they’re getting married. Lots of people just want a free cup of tea or Buck’s Fizz or to live out their fairy-tale fantasy. We held one at Trevallian and the wedding planner told me lots of stories.’
‘They really do that?’ I say, neglecting to mention I crashed a few events of this nature when I was ‘between sofas’. A free cup of tea and a sausage roll for Mitch were very welcome at times.
‘Yes, but even though some visitors may not want to plan a wedding immediately, they’re all potential customers for the cafe, and for holidays and events, so it’s worth offering a free cuppa to the first few or a free coffee with a slice of cake.’
I scribble ‘free tea’ on my notepad. ‘This all sounds great but how do we get a wedding fair organised at such short notice?’ I ask.
‘While I was doing my research, I found out there was a fair scheduled for a golf club near St Trenyan but they’ve had a fire and have had to cancel. I know a couple of the businesses who were due to attend so I thought we could ask some if they want to come along to Kilhallon’s fair at a reduced rate. They still get the exposure and save money. Do you know anyone?’
‘One or two people I suppose. There’s Tamsin who owns the spa in St Trenyan. She was going to offer pop-up and mobile services for our guests over the summer. Robyn could bring her jewellery along. She wants to set up in business after her course finishes. There’s her friends from the Cornish folk band too who played at our launch last summer. They were really quite good.’
Rachel scribbles in her notebook. ‘Ask them to come then. Get the band to play during the wedding fair.’
‘OK. I’ll have to get Cal on board to showcase the events tepee and set up the glamping glade – I hope it’s not raining. Maybe he could set up a small exhibition inside one of the yurts, with lanterns and decorations. Even if it does rain, that would still work. It is April. It could be horrible.’ I grimace. ‘Whatever happens, we need to get moving. It has to take place the weekend before Easter week – by then we’ll be too busy with guests and the campsite opens.’
‘We could pick the same date as the cancelled golf club fair?’ Rachel suggests.
; ‘Yes … that would work, I think, but it’s less than three weeks away.’
‘We have to go for it,’ Rachel says grimly. ‘I’ll email all the suppliers tonight. You get your contacts on board, and Cal. Can you contact the local press too? You could do it as a “this is what Kilhallon is really like” story. They’ll all want to come in case they can get any snippets about Lily and Ben. You don’t think either of them would come, do you?’
I shake my head. ‘No. No way. Even if Lily agreed, the Gruesome Twosome – that’s their agent and publicist – would never go for it. But you’d better meet her. I’ll arrange that.’
Rachel grimaces. ‘Oh. Even I’m feeling nervous now. Does she know I’m a novice at this?’
‘Um. I thought it was better not to mention that.’
Rachel swallows hard. ‘Good idea.’
A few minutes later, I lift Freya out of her travel cot and glance at the window. Outside, the sun is still bright in the sky. It really is spring.
Freya opens her eyes and, oh my God, makes a beeline for the ‘V’ in my top. ‘I think she’s hungry.’
Rachel laughs. ‘She’s rooting. I’d better feed her. Then we can get going on the rest of the plan. There’s no time to lose.’
Freya lets out a loud wail. Rachel winces then we both laugh. ‘OK. OK. Freya comes first. We know that, little one.’
While Rachel settles down to feed Freya, I pour Rachel a drink and make myself a hot chocolate. I’m so glad she’s on board because even though I’d made my own plans, there was so much I hadn’t thought about. Like the electrics for the lighting and sound and other services required out of doors. Cal might have covered this already but he hasn’t mentioned it so I’d better get it sorted. Rachel said that my dad had suggested he handle the electrics but hadn’t liked to ask me or put me under any pressure. That makes me feel a bit guilty and I resolve to take it up with him myself. It means we’re going to have to work together more, even though Cal will be in charge of the basic services to the site.
Rachel sips her presse while feeding Freya. We have nursing mums in the cafe sometimes and a mum-and-baby group meet here every couple of weeks so I’m used to little ones but it’s still strange to see my own little sister in my cafe. Strange but wonderful. It gives me a little tingle of pleasure.
Confetti at the Cornish Café Page 12
