Christmas on the Little Cornish Isles

by Phillipa Ashley

  If lusting over Patrick in a pair of faded Levi’s was a crime, then she was going down for a long time, but things were looking up. Her dad was doing well and it looked as if she’d hired a popular barman just at the time the Driftwood needed it most. Now, if she could avoid making a fool of herself again with Patrick, they might all get through the winter in one piece.

  Patrick straightened up, rubbing his palms on his jeans. Maisie shot back to tidying menus, a little too late. He caught her eye and smiled.

  ‘That should cheer the place up a bit. It’s so dark.’ He grimaced.

  ‘Missing Melbourne?’

  ‘The sunny skies, yes, but there are other attractions here.’

  Maisie was unsure if he was flirting with her nor not. Considering he’d pushed her away after she’d got back from the hospital, she couldn’t see why he would encourage her now. ‘I’ll be cracking the whip over you extra hard now that Dad can’t lend a hand,’ she said briskly.

  Patrick arched an eyebrow. ‘And that’s meant to be a threat, is it?’

  A glow touched Maisie’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the fire he’d just laid. She hadn’t meant her remark to be an innuendo.

  Ray walked into the bar. ‘I love a good blaze.’ He bent down in front of it and prodded it with the poker. ‘Hmm. Not how I’d have done it but it’s alight I suppose. That’s the most important thing.’

  Maisie winced at her dad’s bluntness but was secretly relieved that he’d interrupted her and Patrick. What was going on with Patrick? Warning her off one minute and flirting the next?

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ said Patrick mildly.

  Ray dropped another stick of wood on the fire and poked it again.

  ‘You’re supposed to be taking it easy, Dad.’

  He eased himself off his knees. ‘I’m not an invalid, love. I’m being well looked after by the docs and I feel a hundred times better. You’re as bad as your mother. She’d have me tucked under a blanket and wheeled round the island in a bath chair if she had her way.’

  As Ray stood back to admire his handiwork, Maisie and Patrick exchanged glances. She rolled her eyes and Patrick nodded, his mouth curving upwards in amusement. Despite her gentle warning to her father, Maisie was finally starting to relax a little and worry about him a little less. His tests had shown nothing sinister and his treatment was making a big difference. He’d been sent home with a warning to take plenty of gentle exercise but to avoid heavy work in the garden, so no wall building or roof-tile mending.

  He and Hazel had also been back to the GP and the hospital, journeys that required more planning than simply jumping in a car or popping down the road to the health centre. So Maisie had been on her own more often. At least for practical purposes, she was glad she’d taken Patrick on. She actually had to smile when she remembered his words to Judy on the phone. She did crack the whip … which reminded her again of Patrick’s joke.

  In danger of betraying herself with another blush, she gave her dad a peck on the cheek. ‘Fancy a cuppa, Dad? Patrick can carry on getting ready to open up, if he doesn’t mind,’ she added.

  ‘No problem,’ said Patrick evenly.

  She looped her arm through her father’s and could see he was taken aback by this unexpected display of affection. ‘Come on then, Dad. Come into the kitchen. I want to talk to you about some of the Christmas events.’

  ‘Sounds good. None of that herbal or decaff rubbish that your mum wants me to try though. Tastes like the shavings off my shed floor.’

  ‘I’ll make you a builder’s brew and I can even find you some chocolate digestives,’ said Maisie. ‘But don’t tell Mum.’

  That evening’s curry night was quiet due to heavy seas and high winds keeping anyone from the off-islands in port, but a dozen locals turned up and stayed on, mainly wanting to talk to Ray now that he was on the mend. Hazel whipped up a lamb balti and a veggie korma in the kitchen and people ate it in the bar area, soaking it up with hunks of naan bread.

  Ray joined the regulars for a couple of hours before heading up to the flat for a ‘cocoa and an early night’. Maisie could see he was tired and glad to get to bed, even though he’d put on a good show. He was still unwell, she reminded herself, and it was early days in his treatment, no matter how much of a brave face he put on.

  The next morning, Maisie was up early, sitting in the bistro with her laptop. With its airy views over the Petroc channel, she preferred it to the office. She’d been surfing the web to see what the other Scilly pubs and eateries were planning for the festive season. Hugo’s invitation was nagging at the back of her mind but she’d decided to accept it, if only to see what her ‘enemy’ had in mind and who else might attend the meeting. Outside, the mist had rolled in and it was a dark and gloomy morning, but the thought of seeing the Christmas lights in Hugh Town and decorating the inn had lifted her mood no end.

  She and her parents had already decided they wouldn’t open on Christmas Day but the pub would be holding some Christmas lunches and a ‘turkey and tinsel’ night if there was demand in the run-up to the big day. Ray had come up with the idea for a festive quiz, and then there was New Year’s Eve, of course.

  Ah. New Year’s Eve. The biggest event in the whole Gull calendar and her ‘special birthday’. Yippee. Jess had asked her if she’d like to go out for lunch at her favourite restaurant on St Mary’s in the daytime before the Driftwood New Year’s Eve party. She had to admit, being taken out for a lunch would be a lovely change. At least she’d be working that evening so the latter half of the day would just be another normal day for her, only even busier, with the Driftwood the centre of the celebrations. She decided to ask her father to choose and order in some fireworks. It was a job he’d always done and could carry out without doing himself any harm.

  Would Patrick want to go home to see Judy and her family? He must have originally planned to be in Melbourne for the holiday. Maisie wasn’t sure if she wanted him to leave or not. She’d started to rely on his help and support more than she’d care to admit.

  Anyway, back to the task in hand. She scrolled through half a dozen island websites, looking for ideas for Christmas events at the pub. There were fancy-dress parties, festive menus, Christmas craft fairs … they all sound great but … outside of the tourist season, the Driftwood’s catchment was always going to be limited. She’d really have loved to come up with an original idea for a seasonal event that could stretch from day into the evening. That way they could tempt other off-islanders and even a few day-trippers to the pub. There were still a few people who flew to Scilly for birding, storm watching and a break from the festive craziness of the mainland.

  Footsteps on the stairs from the bar below startled her, then Patrick appeared, in jeans and a chunky jumper.

  ‘Morning,’ he said. Maisie was surprised to see him around because it was officially his day off. He was sporting a couple of days’ stubble and his dark honey hair was damp and tousled. Maisie’s fingers clenched under the table at the sight of him.

  ‘Hello. What are you doing up so early on your day off?’

  ‘I needed some more cleaning stuff for the Piggery. Your mum keeps it up here so I thought I’d help myself, if that’s OK?’

  ‘Sure … Patrick, forgive me if this is a personal remark, but do you have some kind of cleaning fetish?’ She couldn’t resist it.

  He feigned a hurt expression. ‘Of course I have a cleaning fetish. I like to dance around the Piggery naked wearing only a pair of Marigolds when I’m on my own.’

  The image of Patrick jigging around without any clothes on was burned into her brain. She tried to scroll through the page in front of her but the cursor whizzed all over the screen under her shaky fingers.

  Instead of collecting his cleaning supplies from the storeroom at the back of the bistro, Patrick joined her at the laptop. ‘You’re working early too. I’d have thought you’d want a lie-in after the curry night.’

  ‘I’m trying to come up with some ideas for
a Christmas event that’s a bit different to the usual. At the St Austell pub, Christmas started in October, and I never had time to enjoy any of it, but strangely I feel full of enthusiasm here.’ He smelled of citrusy shower gel or body spray. Nothing posh, but the scent was doing potent things to Maisie’s senses.

  ‘Melbourne’s almost as bad as the UK. It’s a huge commercial opportunity and everyone cashes in, especially with the cricket season falling at the same time. I couldn’t wait for it to be over, to be honest.’

  ‘I never got home to Gull until the second week of January and I felt that the moment had passed by then. It wasn’t the same. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the customers at the big pub, the regulars and the tourists – mostly. That’s how I was promoted to manager. Because I seemed to be good at dealing with the difficult people. Maybe I gave too much to that job. I think I loved it too much.’

  Patrick took a seat opposite her. ‘What do you mean, you loved your job too much?’

  ‘I sometimes wish I hadn’t worked so hard. You know what it’s like running the bar. You get promoted, take on more shifts, end up covering for people and before you know it, it’s your life.’

  ‘This is your life too. Running this place really is a labour of love,’ he said, waving a hand at the bistro.

  ‘Yes, but it’s my place. I’m not slaving away for someone else, wasting my time and killing myself for their profits.’

  ‘Was the workload why you decided to come home?’

  ‘Partly. It was also partly to help Mum and Dad out. And as you’ve seen, I made the right decision.’ She hesitated.

  She wasn’t ready to tell Patrick about Keegan and the baby yet, if ever. It was one of the few secrets she had left. While some of the other islanders knew she’d split from her partner, only her parents and Jess and Will knew about the baby. Of course, it was a small world and the staff and a few customers at her previous pub knew what had happened. People did travel to and from the mainland all the time so news might have travelled with them, but Maisie didn’t think so. Losing Little Scrap had been a private thing. Maisie hadn’t wanted to talk about it with anyone but her closest family and friends.

  She realised Patrick was waiting patiently for her continue and perhaps reveal more. She felt a compulsion to be honest with him and tell him everything or maybe like most good bar staff, he was just a good listener. ‘You might as well know there was a man involved. We split up. He also happened to be my boss.’

  Patrick winced. ‘Ouch. When was this?’

  ‘New Year – can’t believe it was so many months ago … it’s flown by.’

  ‘Any regrets?’

  ‘No. Not about leaving him.’ She blew out a breath, already feeling she’d revealed too much and picked at an old wound that had almost healed. ‘Let’s talk about now and all your bright ideas for Christmas at the Driftwood.’

  ‘My bright ideas? How has the Christmas schedule suddenly become my problem?’

  ‘Because I have absolutely no clue what I’m going to do. I’m already behind with the planning. Some of the bars have had their events up on their websites for months.’

  ‘Good for them. I don’t like planning too far ahead. Decisions made off the cuff can be the best ones.’ There was a twinkle in Patrick’s eye as he said the words that left Maisie in no doubt that he was referring to him taking the job at the inn – or possibly their kiss on the beach.

  ‘There’s only so much we can organise in a small community. Only so many people to join in, but on the other hand, any gathering of islanders is a welcome relief in these long, dark nights. All ideas welcome.’

  Patrick scratched his chin. ‘Hmm. This is an idea I’ve had for a few days but you might think it’s way off the mark. I suppose we could have an Australian evening.’

  ‘Australian? What do you mean?’

  ‘The usual stuff we’d have at the Fingle. A barbie with kangaroo steaks followed by a cricket tournament and a good punch-up afterwards.’

  Maisie rolled her eyes. ‘Ha bloody ha. Mind you the kangaroo steaks and barbecue sound promising.’

  Patrick wrinkled his nose. ‘Not keen on ’roo personally, but we could have a barbecue if it’s not blowing a gale and an Aussie Rules tournament might go down well with the rugby crew.’

  ‘You know, that’s not a half-bad idea. I could get in some decent Aussie wines from the wholesaler. If there is such a thing as a decent Aussie wine, of course.’

  Patrick smirked. ‘You’ll be lucky. We only send the crap over here.’

  ‘Don’t be such a snob,’ said Maisie, and a wicked mood came over her. ‘Christmas Down Under: the more I think about it, the more inspired an idea it is. Gull will never have seen anything like it. In fact, Scilly won’t have seen anything like it.’

  ‘Now wait a minute. I wasn’t offering to organise the whole thing …’

  Maisie flashed him a grin. ‘Too late. I’d like the details by the end of tomorrow, if you don’t mind, and I’ll leave you in sole charge of sorting it. Thanks, Patrick. That’ll be sure to have the Driftwood rocking. I’ll put up some posters round the island and get it on the websites and local media.’

  ‘I guess I’ve dropped myself in it. I’ll mention it to Will and the guys when I see them later.’

  ‘You’re meeting Will?’

  ‘Yes. He’s asked me to try out for the rugby team. I played Aussie Rules at boarding school and a bit of rugby union, but that was a few years back. I’m very rusty.’

  ‘Even if you had a wooden leg, an eye patch and a parrot, they’d still take you. In fact, they’d even take me on if I’d do it. They’re desperate.’

  Patrick laughed. ‘They must be to invite me. Will says they have to play eleven a side sometimes. Adam Pengelly’s team have the same problem, but since the league has only the two teams, they have a gentleman’s agreement depending on who each team can muster.’

  Maisie raised an eyebrow. ‘Gentlemen? Are you sure we’re talking about the Pirates and Corsairs here?’

  He smiled. ‘Practice starts at four and there’s a curry night at the Harbour Inn afterwards, so I’ll be late home. Javid’s giving me a lift in his boat.’

  ‘Try not to get arrested.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve been there and done that.’

  Maisie smiled and then had another idea.

  ‘I’ll see you later then …’ said Patrick as if he’d seen her hesitate and thought she wanted him gone.

  ‘Yes, but … wait a minute. I’d like to ask you something.’

  He frowned. ‘Sounds serious.’

  ‘It is … sort of … or it may turn into a farce. Would you like to come with me to Hugo’s meeting? It’s about his plans for expanding his resort but in reality I think it’s an opportunity to show us how wonderful and powerful Scorrier Holdings is, and that resistance is futile.’

  Patrick hesitated. Maisie guessed she’d made a mistake. Why had she asked him? Because she wanted a bit of moral support and she didn’t want to bother her parents … but he looked as happy as if he’d been invited to a wake.

  ‘You really want me there?’ he said.

  ‘No. Yes. No, it was a terrible idea. It’s none of your business, I mean it would be boring for you …’

  ‘I can come if you like,’ he said. ‘If you think I’d be any use.’

  ‘I just wanted …’ She decided to be honest: ‘I wanted someone else with me who’s got no axe to grind. I’d like to know what you think about his proposals, give me an impartial opinion and also you might stop me from shouting at Hugo or causing a scene.’

  ‘I don’t think you’d do that and I hardly know the bloke, but I agree, he does get people’s backs up. What about Ray and Hazel? Won’t they want to go.’

  ‘I don’t think they’ve got wind of it yet, though it won’t be long and I know Dad has a doctor’s appointment on the Main Island that day. I’ll speak to Mum on the quiet. It might be better if Dad doesn’t go because it will only send his blood pre
ssure rocketing.’

  ‘OK. I’m happy to join you if you want a minder.’

  ‘A minder?’ She laughed. ‘I can handle Hugo myself, but I’ll introduce you as that, cause a bit of gossip.’

  ‘I’m sure me turning up will cause gossip, whatever you introduce me as. I’m happy to do that.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘A pleasure. See you later.’

  Patrick collected his bleach and loo rolls and left her, and although it pained to admit it, he also left an emptiness behind him. She didn’t begrudge him his day off but she couldn’t help thinking how good it would have been to spend the day with him herself. Maybe going for a walk, or a swim in her favourite haunts and afterwards …

  She glanced at the screen again but realised she had no interest in the Christmas festivities any more. All she could think of was Patrick joining the rugby team, being invited on a boys’ curry night and scrounging lifts on islanders’ boats. He had settled in very well, very quickly.

  Maisie got up and stared out of the window. A short while later, Patrick, now wearing a waterproof jacket, strolled down the side of the pub and along the road towards the jetty. He was whistling a tune that Maisie recognised but couldn’t place. She caught herself smiling. He could whistle a hundred times better than he could sing, that was for sure, and she felt pleased that he would be by her side at the meeting. It was comforting to know that she had at least one ally when she faced the might of Scorrier Holdings.

  Chapter 18

  By the time Ray heard about Hugo’s meeting, it was too late for him to change his doctor’s appointment. It was a miracle he hadn’t found out about it already. Ray wasn’t as upset as Maisie had thought about missing it, which could be a sign that he still wasn’t feeling as feisty as he once had been. He agreed that Maisie should go with Patrick, and report back.

  Maisie piloted the Puffin the short hop to Petroc Island and they tied up at the jetty. It was a few minutes’ walk from there to Scorrier House, where Hugo lived alone apart from Basil, a housekeeper and a team of gardeners who kept the extensive grounds in tip-top condition.