A Cosy Christmas in Cornwall: The most heartwarming Cornish Christmas romance of 2019!

by Jane Linfoot

  As Bill glances across at me, one eyebrow lifts. ‘Why would I be joking?’

  What a question. ‘Of course you bloody are, you do it all the time.’

  He’s biting his lip. ‘In that case it’s a good thing the coach house is full of spare buckets then isn’t it?’ He laughs. ‘So many romantic songs, it reminds me of that day I couldn’t prise you away from the wedding shop window.’

  I throw a gummy bear at him for that.

  By the time we’re pulling up in the car park outside my flat it’s so long since our lunch back at the castle that my stomach’s growling. But being hungry is great, because the desperate need to sort out food stops any awkwardness. Merwyn’s rushing up the stairs, barking to let us know how delighted he is to be back, but for me it’s like the marks on the car seat. Once I see the stairwell through Bill’s eyes I’m dying, and it’s the same in the flat but worse. As soon as I get over the worry of switching the heating on, and flicking the fairy lights on everywhere, after the big spaces at the castle it looks so much more minute than when I left it.

  ‘Come in, this is my totally teensy living room.’ As I do half a step and arrive in the middle of it I’m kicking myself for not doing better with the Christmas tree. To be honest, I reckon his wardrobe is bigger than my living room. ‘The good part is when I paint the walls I can do the whole room without moving my feet.’ I’m praying to my fairy godmother that he isn’t noticing the scratches on the waxed floorboards, or how scratty and bashed up they are compared to his. Or how un-smart the stripy rug is and how unmatched the cushions are. For someone who should be super-stylish at home, I’m failing at every judgement. I’m also desperate for him to ignore the line of black and white photos of Fliss and me drinking one of every kind of cocktail in the world ever when we were at uni. And specially not to look at the little one of me the day I was Fliss’s bridesmaid. Even though the dress she made me wear was my favourite ever, I’d just rather he didn’t have an excuse to get back onto weddings.

  ‘I like the dark blue.’ Bill’s nodding as he takes it all in. ‘And the way the stars scatter up the wall and across the ceiling.’

  I blow with relief. Of everything he could have landed on, my Farrow and Ball Hague blue estate emulsion walls and ceiling are the best. ‘I was going to get sticky stars and take them off again. Then I thought, bugger it, why can’t it be Christmas all year round, so I painted them on instead. That was three years ago, and I’m still in love with them now.’

  He smiles. ‘I love how unfailingly festive and optimistic you are. And how the stars are tiny like the ones in the sky.’

  I block out how much his teeth are killing me. ‘But mostly you’re laughing at the way I say bugger not bogger, like everyone else from London does.’

  ‘I admit, it’s an attractive trait.’ His grin stretches and his eyes dance as he moves back to safer ground. ‘Silver and rose gold for the stars too, they’re like the Cockle Shell gin labels.’

  ‘Are you ready to go and pick up that pizza we talked about? And let Merwyn have a walk on the way.’ Poor Merwyn, he’s going to miss tearing along the beach trying to catch the sea as it comes in, a park with grass is going to seem so dull after that.

  Bill’s still smiling. ‘I thought you’d never ask about pizza. I was beginning to think you were going to wait until I fainted, then tie me up and take me prisoner and keep me here forever.’

  I narrow my eyes. ‘And would you be complaining?’

  There’s that spark again. ‘Probably not.’

  ‘So what happened to you, Mr Markham, you’re suddenly very jokey?’ Flirty would be a better word, but I’m not saying it.

  He twitches his lips. ‘I just walked away from my responsibilities for a day, it feels like playtime.’

  Fuck. First my stomach leaves my body then it hits me, the trouble I could be in here. ‘So definitely without pineapple then?’

  He frowns as if he’s puzzled. ‘Is that code for a kink then … like vanilla?’

  ‘No, Bill, nothing so exciting.’ When I look into his eyes they’re dark brown with tiny yellow flecks. ‘I’m talking about pizza toppings.’

  He smashes his hand on his head. ‘Oh crap. Country boy coming back to the city, I’m way out of my depth here. Maybe we better had go and get them then.’

  Pizza, garlic bread and cheesy chips on the sofa, bottles of Peroni, Love Actually on DVD, then Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Why ever did I think this was going to be hard? So long as I keep two cushions between us, however irresistible his thighs look with the jeans stretched tight over them, I’m pretty confident – so long as I sit on my hands I’m not going to grab him unexpectedly. Now I’ve got over the immediate emotional stress of him being here, I’m starting to enjoy it more. Soak it all in. Savour the tiny electric charges of excitement zithering up and down my spine. The whole unexpected, delicious indulgence of it all. What an amazing treat it is.

  It’s all going really, really well. And then I reach into my bag to get my sparkly cashmere jumper to put over my knees, and as I pull it out a big sprig of mistletoe flops out onto the coffee table with it.

  ‘Shit, where the hell did that come from? I swear it wasn’t me who put it in there.’

  Bill smiles. ‘I know, I got one too, it was Willow.’ He stretches down and pulls a twist of stem and crushed leaves out of the front pocket of his jeans. ‘She told me, a sprig on your person will make sure you get good luck, protection and fertility.’

  Willow was going straight for the target there then with his front jeans pocket, but I’m not going to say that.

  ‘How does it work if it’s in your bag not your pocket?’

  He seems to find that funny, because there are crinkles at the corners of his eyes. ‘I’d guess it’ll still do the job or she wouldn’t have bothered to put it in there.’ He gets up, grabs a handful from the table and heads for the door. ‘Alternatively, you can hang it in doorways, like this.’ He fiddles for a moment, picks a pin off the pinboard and then it’s there. Dangling in the air. Tantalising and very dangerous. ‘Still giving good luck, but also handy for when you’re walking past.’

  ‘Great, thanks for that.’

  ‘Kissing underneath it is also good. You probably know that already though.’ He raises an eyebrow, turns, and holds out his hand to me. ‘Maybe you should come and try it out?’

  ‘Totally not.’ He’s already pulled me to my feet. That’s the trouble with tiny rooms, everything’s so easy to reach. If we’d touched lips on the sofa it would probably still have counted.

  ‘So what’s the problem, Star-girl? There’s stars on the ceiling and it’s light enough for me to look at you.’

  ‘Arrrgghhh …’

  He ignores my groan, and spins me round to face him. ‘It’s true, you are so like Audrey, but you’re so much more beautiful because you’re real and more kick-ass, and so much more special and unique because you’re you.’

  I’m dragging in that scent, his warmth, the smell of worn denim. Taking in the strength of his body, how wonderfully vital and alive and real he is. I let out another squawk. ‘Hair! Oh my, it’s days since I washed it, because of the broken boiler.’

  As he looks down at me his eyes go darker, and his finger lands on my lips. ‘Shhh, Ivy-star … we’ve got one night all on our own … there’s no need to panic … let’s just see where it takes us.’

  I’m buying time. ‘Do you mind the other people at the castle?’

  He laughs. ‘With Taffeta and Tulle lurking round every corner giving me side eye or trying to grill me about my taste in girlfriends and Libby glued to her phone sitting on my pillow there’s not too much opportunity for privacy.’

  I don’t take any notice of Merwyn as he opens one eye on the rug and catches mine. But I have to protest because even without my spoiled face I’m not the kind of woman Bill would choose. He’s completely out of my league. ‘I really don’t want to be your one night stand.’

  Even as I say it, my finger has l
anded on the button of his shirt on his sternum. And I know I’m totally and utterly lying here. I wouldn’t even ask for a whole night, I’d happily settle for half an hour. Five minutes even. My whole body is thrumming with anticipation. I’ve thought about how this would feel for so long. And now for some completely unknown stroke of luck, it’s been handed to me. All I have to do is let myself accept, and go for it. Grab five minutes to last me the rest of my life.

  ‘That’s totally ridiculous, Ivy, why would you think that?’

  ‘B-b-b-e-c-ause …’ There are so many reasons it’s pointless even beginning.

  My palms are on his chest now, and he’s looking down on me. Gently brushing aside the hair that’s hanging across my eye. Looping it back with his finger. He’s looking, just looking. Swallowing. So close I can feel his breath on my cheek, see the pin pricks of the pores, each spike of stubble. Then he lowers his face towards my forehead, and I feel his lips featherlight on my skin. As they brush across the twists of thin scarred tissue I shiver.

  ‘Are you okay with that?’ His voice is very low as his fingers barely trace a line along my cut, and his eyes are amazingly tender and soft as he looks down. ‘This is part of who you are, always remember, it’s every bit as beautiful as the rest of you.’

  And even if it isn’t true, my insides are melting because he’s thought to say the words at all – my heart is bursting with gratitude because he wants to reassure me. Then my hands are reaching up, sliding round the back of his head, I’m tugging my fingers through his hair. As I close my fingers on his scalp, his head is warm, I’m pulling his lips down towards mine, hearing the thud of his heart against his ribs.

  The fairy lights on the tree blur as my eyes go out of focus, and as the room starts to spin, for the first time since the accident, the past is going hazy too. There’s a fleeting moment when I think about the future enough to remember I don’t have any condoms. Then I push that away too and all that matters is being here in this moment, his mouth colliding with mine. How amazingly hot and soft and sweet it is, how he tastes of starlight and chocolate. How fast the room is spinning. How very right it feels, how it’s so amazing I want to climb inside him. And a long time later when my lips finally slide away from his as I clasp my hand to my mouth it feels like I’ve lost a part of myself.

  ‘Not so bad then, Ivy-star?’

  All I can manage is to moan for more. And as I press my hips hard against him, and I crash my mouth onto his all over again my whole body explodes.

  Monday

  23rd December

  31.

  This way to the North Pole

  ‘I certainly won’t miss the London traffic when we go back to Cornwall.’

  It’s Bill, and he’s tapping his fingers on my steering wheel – again. Just saying. It’s a novelty I could get used to.

  I take a sip of my third coffee and laugh across at him. ‘Ten minutes to get a hundred yards? It makes the three car queue at the roundabout by St Aidan station feel like nothing.’

  It’s one of those mornings after the night before, when there’s so much to do you can’t sit round talking about what happened, or even carry on doing it – you just have to leap out of bed and get on with the next thing. But as we inch our way along in a sea of cars on Hackney Road and watch the people on the pavements pulling up their collars to keep out the cold as they hurry to work, it almost feels like the last twelve hours didn’t happen at all. I might just have dreamed them. Then Bill’s hand comes across and squeezes mine, and as I look down at those beautiful knuckles and grin across at him I know I didn’t.

  When Bill woke me with coffee and toast at seven it felt as if we’d only just gone to sleep. Let’s just say, I finally found out what ‘chemistry’ is last night. For the record, we only made it to third base. Two healthy adults, a flat to themselves, and no protection – somehow rather than being a logistical disaster, it was nice to find out that no one was making assumptions.

  The bathroom cabinet was stuffed with the things at one time, but they must have left with George. Not all things are transferrable though. You could hardly wear someone else’s size nine wellies if your feet were a size ten. Not that I would compare, because what I had last night wasn’t like anything I’ve ever had before. Amazing doesn’t begin to cover it. As I sit here in my post-orgasmic daze I’m marvelling that I got so far into my thirties without knowing sex could be this good. Nothing I’ve experienced came even half way to getting close to this.

  Bill’s focused on the list of jobs because it ends with him getting to see Abby. ‘So, we’ve ticked off the boiler part, the next stop is Rob’s office on Islington Green. According to my phone we’re closing in.’

  ‘Brilliant, there’s parking around the back.’ If I’d been less busy cavorting under the mistletoe etc. I’d have been really worrying about this next bit. I’ve texted Rob and he’s expecting me. But even though I didn’t say why I was coming it’s pretty obvious I’m not dropping round for a chat about beams, bending moments and structural loading or whatever engineers spend their time obsessing about. When we finally get there I take Bill in too with the excuse that he’ll be cold in the car, but it’s more because I’m cacking it. Also, when you’re on delicate business trying to uncover your bestie’s other half playing away you never know when an extra pair of eyes will come in handy. As we walk in and the girl on reception looks up Bill’s right behind me murmuring.

  ‘Nice green plastic pixie ears.’

  He’s not wrong there. There’s a champagne glass and a bottle of Baileys on the desk in front of her, and as she smiles and takes a slug I’m wondering if it’s her bed Bill’s been sleeping in. As work is where he spends all his time, everyone female in the building is under suspicion here.

  ‘We’re here to see Rob.’ As I take in how pretty she is and the sequins on her pointy fake shell-pink nails I can’t help shuddering at the image of them raking down Rob’s back. I make a mental note to look for scratches on his neck as well as love bites and Baileys stains on his shirt.

  ‘Two floors up, you can’t miss it, there’s only him and Jane up there today.’

  Bugger. ‘Great.’ Who said engineering was a man’s game, there’s a woman round every corner in here. I scrub everything in my head already, and take the stairs two at a time.

  When Rob staggers across the office towards us as we walk in, with his bed hair, crumpled shirt and the dark circles under his eyes, he definitely looks knackered enough to have come straight into work after an all night shagging session. Although maybe I’m not in the best position to be sounding judgemental about that.

  ‘Ivy, and I assume this must be Bill from the castle, so hi, Bill. How can I help?’ Rob rumples his hair even more, just like he did on Facetime then he looks at me more closely and frowns. ‘Jeez, you look rough, is everything okay?’

  I raise an eyebrow. ‘And I love you too, Rob.’

  ‘Sorry, I just …’ As he does a whole lot more hair rubbing it strikes me how much he looks Oscar, just without the colander.

  I sniff. ‘Well, we’ve had a long journey.’ That’s my excuse out of the way. ‘And what’s your reason for looking like shite?’

  He lets out a sigh. ‘Working all the hours, unfortunately I can’t share why right now.’

  Nice try. ‘I’m sorry, Rob, but I’m not going to stand back while you cheat on Fliss. Working weekends – as if engineers do that! Hanging round in London when you should be in Cornwall.’ The calm voice I’d sworn I’d hold onto has already risen to a growl. ‘Well, unluckily for you I saw those pillowcases on Facetime that weren’t yours, Rob. You’ve been found out, the game’s up!’ It’s a complete yell now, because I’m so annoyed for Fliss, so gutted that he’ll wreck all their lives for a bit of sordid sex. ‘What have you got to say for yourself?’

  ‘Oh jeez.’ Rob’s face crumples and he puts his hands over his head. ‘You think I’m cheating on Fliss?’

  The fact that he’s not coming clean is making my
angry yell flare to a roar. ‘Don’t play the innocent with me, Rob! Why else would you have your head on someone else’s sodding pillow on a bleeding Sunday morning?’

  He lets out a sigh. ‘Because I was staying with a colleague round the corner to save making the trek home. So we could be back in at the crack to get this extra contract we’ve taken on – for Fliss’s benefit – finished and out.’

  My mouth’s gone dry. I hadn’t expected him to put up this much resistance. ‘A colleague?’

  ‘Yes – she’s called Jane, and she’s sitting over there.’ Rob rolls his eyes and points at the woman across the room. ‘She also happens to be gay.’

  The woman looks up, gives a teensy four finger wave, points at her Pride mug full of pens and pencils, and goes back to working on her laptop again and pretending to be deaf.

  ‘Oh fuck.’ Even though I’ve got my hat on, I’m doing the head rubbing thing myself now. I take a huge breath to fully inflate my lungs because if I don’t I might just crumple in a heap on the floor. ‘So what the hell’s going on?’

  Rob lets out a long whistle. ‘On the up side, I’m not shagging my way around Islington. But I’d rather not be the one to break it to you why I’m doing what I am. I’m afraid it’s not the best news for you or Fliss.’

  ‘Whatever it is, I’ll find out soon.’ If I was feeling deflated before, this flattens me. I edge my bum onto a spare swivel chair and lock my fingers around the seat edge. ‘Go on, I’m sitting down, tell me …’

  Rob’s nostrils flare. ‘It’s all confidential, the official emails aren’t going out until after Christmas … and I got it from someone at the squash club who found out by accident, so please don’t pass this on …’