The Little Shop in Cornwall: A heartwarming and feel good beach read

by Helen Pollard

‘I don’t know what to think. I am concerned about how my private conversations seem to have become public.’

  Tears formed in Evelyn’s eyes, making Claudia feel awful. ‘It wasn’t me! I…’ Evelyn shook her head and looked at Sarah.

  ‘We heard that, too,’ Sarah said briskly. ‘I know Evie likes to… get involved, Claudia, but she knew you wanted to keep it between us, and that’s exactly what we’ve done. We need to appear professional, just as you do. We’ve been asked what we think, even what you think, but we’ve been circumspect. I knew you’d think it was Evelyn…’ Her steady gaze bore into Claudia like a drill, making her want to bolt for the sanctuary of her own shop. ‘…So I did some digging. Without boring you with the long chain of who said what to whom, I ascertained that it was a guy walking his dog on the beach who heard you call them frauds. Now, from what I remember, that specific term wasn’t in the conversation you had with us, so I suggest you think about who you said that to and give Evie a little credit.’

  Feeling like a child brought before the headmistress for a misdemeanour, Claudia squirmed in her seat.

  ‘It was Jason, and it was his choice of word,’ she said with a sigh. ‘He was unhappy about Millie going into Hester’s and wanted to know what I thought. When I said they lacked knowledge, he asked if I was saying they were frauds. I qualified that in my answer to him, but if someone only heard a snippet…’ She took Evelyn’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Evelyn. I… I should go and open up.’

  Feeling sick, Claudia left her peppermint tea and fled. In Healing Waves, she phoned the florist on the beach road and ordered a large bouquet to be delivered to Evelyn, telling the florist there was no message, thank you (the less gossip available to the residents of Porthsteren, the better). She could only hope her peace offering would be enough.

  Worry over Libby’s accusations and guilt over her own words to Evelyn, combined with the continuous drizzle outside, made for a long, miserable day. Claudia was thankful she had Millie coming to make soap that evening. Soap-making soothed her. With scents that calmed her soul, from fresh and zingy to warm and spicy; the satisfaction of putting together her own combinations; the excitement of inventing new ones… It was just what she needed after a day like this.

  When Millie arrived, Claudia showed her through to her utility room at the back. Wide-eyed, Millie took in the catering-sized pan on the hob, the shelves filled with bottles of essential oils, jars of peel and dried flowers and bunches of dried herbs hanging from a wooden rack overhead, declaring, ‘It’s like a witch’s kitchen!’

  Claudia laughed. ‘I wouldn’t tell your father that, if I were you.’ Handing her a vinyl apron, she directed her to wash her hands in the deep ceramic sink.

  ‘First, we need to make colour for this batch because I’ve run out. You don’t have to use colour, but yellow suits this one.’ Claudia placed a small saucepan on the hob, had Millie measure turmeric and vegetable oil, simmer it until they got the right colour, then showed her how to strain and bottle it.

  ‘Now for the exciting bit. You can make soap completely from scratch, but I use this vegan melt – it’s much easier. We need to be careful, though – if we overheat it, it’ll go cloudy, and if we overstir it, it’ll get bubbles.’

  Millie stared at her. ‘It’s trickier than you’d think!’

  Claudia handed Millie the bottle of colouring to add a few drops. As with the stone-skimming and the sand-drawing, once Millie was concentrating, her attitude and scowls disappeared and contentment showed on her face.

  ‘Time for a selfie?’ Claudia pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped herself and Millie stirring the pot.

  ‘Can you send it to me?’

  ‘Of course! Okay. Scent next.’ Claudia reached for two bottles of essential oil. ‘Lemon and bergamot, I think.’

  ‘How do you decide which goes with which?’ Millie asked.

  ‘Trial and error. There are recipes online, or books, but I rely on instinct nowadays. Although if I try something new, I make a small batch first, to be sure it works.’ Claudia sprinkled lemon peel slivers into the pot, and Millie gently stirred them in. ‘Don’t heat it too long, or the scent will evaporate. Let’s pour it into the moulds now.’ Pulling large oblong pans from a cupboard, she said, ‘You can get fancy shapes, but these are easiest for large batches – I can just slice it into bars. Sterilise them first, though, because we’re not using preservatives.’ She supervised Millie as she poured the mixture into the moulds, then said, ‘Now for the washing up.’ She laughed when Millie made a face. ‘It’s an important part – lingering scents can taint the next batch.’

  Millie showed no sign of being bored, so when they’d cleared up, Claudia fetched two trays of olive oil and mint soap, carefully turned the blocks out onto a large chopping board and let Millie slice them.

  ‘How’s drama club?’ Claudia asked.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘It’s a good way to make friends.’ Claudia glanced sideways at her. ‘Were you okay after the sand-drawing? I was worried about you.’

  Millie’s trademark shrug appeared. ‘I needed to cry. Hadn’t done it for a while. Felt better.’

  ‘Your dad was pleased.’

  ‘Well, that’s twisted, isn’t it? A dad pleased that his daughter couldn’t stop crying?’

  ‘That isn’t the way it is, and you know it,’ Claudia said gently.

  Another shrug. ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘He worries about you. Maybe you could cut him a little slack sometimes?’

  ‘Hmmph.’

  Oh dear. ‘You said something about counselling. That didn’t help?’ She knew it hadn’t – Jason had said as much – but she wanted to hear it from Millie.

  ‘I didn’t like talking to a stranger about Mum and me. About Mum and Dad.’

  ‘Perhaps you weren’t ready. Maybe you could try again?’

  Millie shook her head. ‘I liked the sand-drawing. I did it again, on my own. It helps.’

  ‘Good.’ Claudia reached into a drawer for a small net bag. ‘I put together a crystal combination for you. You could keep it in your pocket or put them in a dish in your bedroom.’

  Millie poured the smooth crystal chips into her hand. ‘What are they?’

  ‘Rose quartz, amethyst and moonstone. A good mix for grief.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Let’s carry these through and put them in the right basket.’

  That done, Millie turned to Claudia, her eyes bright. ‘Can I help again some time?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t want your dad telling me off for taking up too much of your time or interfering with your homework.’

  Millie curled her lip. ‘Dad’ll always find something to complain about.’

  Claudia inwardly winced. ‘I’m sure he has good reason most of the time. It’s a parent’s role, after all.’

  ‘S’ppose.’ And there she was again – the Millie that Claudia had first come to know, sullen and awkward. But for one whole evening, Claudia had seen the other side of her. Distraction was a great technique when it came to healing your troubles. Claudia knew that from her own experience. The problems and pain might not go away, but they could be forgotten for a while and were often a little less, somehow, when you came back to them.

  Perhaps Millie could help more often. Claudia didn’t mind the company.

  Texting her dad for a lift as she walked to the door, Millie said, ‘I went into the new shop.’

  Not my favourite subject right now. ‘Oh?’ Best not let her know that Jason had already spoken to her about it. ‘With your friends?’

  ‘Yep. They like your shop, by the way. And they love Hester’s Cauldron.’

  Claudia tried not to take offence at them only liking her shop while loving Hester’s. ‘How about you?’

  ‘I love the way it’s done out, and they sell great stuff, and Amber and Raven are brilliant!’

  Claudia’s heart sank. ‘Did you buy anything?’ she asked, already knowing the ans
wer.

  ‘Just a bath bomb and a necklace.’ Millie pulled the pentagram from under her T-shirt. ‘And a witch’s ball. Amber said they’re for protection. I looked it up when I got home. There’s loads on the internet.’

  ‘Yes, there is.’ Claudia hesitated. ‘Be careful, though. Most sites are fine, but a few aren’t. And some might be best taken with a pinch of salt.’

  At that, Millie’s face fell. ‘You’re just like Dad.’

  Ouch! That hurts. ‘Millie, I couldn’t reach your dad’s level of cynicism if I practised for a decade!’ Tone it down, Claudia. ‘Look around you.’ She gestured at the oracle cards, the crystals.

  ‘You’re right. Sorry.’ Millie stepped outside. ‘But witch stuff’s different. You don’t do that at Healing Waves.’

  ‘That’s because I’m not an expert.’

  ‘Have you even been to Hester’s Cauldron?’

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘Didn’t you think it was cool?’

  Be careful, Claudia. Your mouth has already got you into trouble this week. ‘Like you said, it’s… aesthetically appealing.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘It’s not my cup of tea, that’s all.’ Claudia scanned the beach and saw no one. This is Millie. Jason will never forgive you if you don’t say something. ‘Just make sure you know what you’re buying there. Amber and Raven are busy ladies, what with it being a new shop, so their advice… Just make sure you check for yourself, okay?’

  Millie gave her a mutinous look. ‘Are you saying they don’t know stuff?’

  ‘I’m only saying they might not know everything right off the bat.’ Claudia gave a sigh of relief when she heard a car. ‘That’ll be your dad. Thanks for your help. I enjoyed tonight.’

  Millie managed a smile. ‘Thanks. I enjoyed it, too.’

  She might as well have added, ‘But not the lecture’, Claudia thought as she watched her clomp around the building.

  Deflated, Claudia headed upstairs to the comfort of a warm cat on her lap, a cat who asked no questions and didn’t put her in difficult situations – other than demanding extra helpings. By trying to help Jason out, Claudia had spoiled the mood of the evening.

  She just couldn’t win.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Have fun soap-making last night?’ Jason asked his daughter over breakfast, he with his trusty bacon butty and Millie with the grudging slice of toast he insisted she eat.

  ‘Yup.’ Millie gave him a look. She was very good at giving him looks. ‘Stop pretending to take an interest in something you couldn’t care less about.’

  The old Jason might have snapped at her for that one. The lately-Jason was too worn down by interactions like these. He let it slide.

  ‘I admit I have very little interest in the intricate process of soap-making. I’m more a chuck-it-in-the-supermarket-trolley-with-the-baked-beans man myself.’ The twitch at Millie’s mouth encouraged him. ‘I am, however, interested in whether you enjoyed your evening. I’m your father. So sue me.’

  At that, Millie did smile.

  Hurrah for small results.

  ‘Yeah, it was good,’ she conceded. ‘Claudia showed me the whole process.’

  ‘You and Claudia get along well, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. She doesn’t treat me like a two-year-old.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s because she’s not your parent,’ Jason snapped, quickly adding, ‘I’m glad you had a good time.’

  ‘She said we can do it again. If you don’t object.’ With that, his daughter stalked off to get ready for school, leaving Jason with his half-eaten butty and an empty space where a conversation used to be.

  If Millie had stayed, he could have told her he wouldn’t object. He could also have told her that that was quite magnanimous of him, considering that after dropping her off at Healing Waves, he’d strolled to the harbour and back, only to see his daughter and Claudia silhouetted in a window, stirring a large pot, for all the world like a witch and her apprentice huddled over a cauldron. All they needed was for Tanya to join them, and it would have been like the opening scene from Macbeth.

  Pushing his unfinished butty aside, he picked up his mug of strong tea to help him start his day. It was reputed that his Great-Uncle Douglas had been in the habit of pouring whisky over his breakfast cereal instead of milk. If Great-Uncle Douglas had had kids like Millie, Jason could understand why.

  That evening, Jason strolled along the seafront, listening to the rhythmic swoosh of waves. Millie was at Phoebe’s, and he needed fresh air and space to think.

  Work was still a struggle. Millie had been difficult this week. He had the prospect of driving to Devon with her tomorrow to spend the day with his in-laws. Oh joy.

  And he’d found Claudia’s request for photos so much harder than he’d thought it would be.

  Assuming she planned to make a photo album for Millie, he was both touched and annoyed. That was something he should have done. But there had been so many things to do after Gemma’s death – paperwork and legal stuff; deciding on a new start and where; selling the old house; finding a job, a new house and Millie a school place. If Claudia wanted to do this, he shouldn’t complain.

  The past couple of evenings, after Millie had gone to bed, he’d stayed up late with his laptop. Even though Claudia only wanted mother-and-daughter photos, something had compelled him to start right back at when he’d first met Gemma and work his way through.

  Memories had come flooding back – funny, painful, touching – charting his life with Gemma from their first date all the way through to the awkward years as they grew further apart.

  Jason had laughed. He’d cried, even choked on sobs for a marriage that had become so broken, it could never be mended.

  ‘Don’t you wish we could be the way we used to be, Jason?’ Gemma had asked him once at the beach, ostensibly on a happy family holiday in France, a ten-year-old Millie splashing like a three-year-old in the waves.

  Jason had turned to look at his wife, but she was concentrating her gaze on their child. Her profile was stark. Rigid. A tear had escaped and run down her cheek.

  Jason had touched her arm, and when that elicited no response, grasped her chin in his hand and turned her to face him. The sadness in her expression might have broken his heart, if it hadn’t already been broken.

  ‘Things change, Gemma. We’ve changed. We can’t help that. We’re doing our best.’

  ‘Well, it’s just not good enough!’ she’d said, her voice fierce.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  She’d sighed. ‘We both are. Should we… should we think about divorce?’

  ‘Divorce?’ He’d looked back to the shallows. ‘What about Millie?’

  After a long moment, Gemma had nodded sadly. ‘Okay. But, you know, Jason, this is only like pulling the plaster off slowly, instead of ripping it off quickly and getting the pain over with.’

  Gemma had been right. Jason knew that now.

  At least the photos reminded him there had been good times. The unhappy years had dominated his memories so much, he’d almost forgotten the youthful joy of being in love; the wonder at the birth of their daughter; the blooming of their careers. Their shared pride as their child learned to walk, to talk; her first day at school, her first sports day medal.

  As he walked, the insistent sound of the sea invaded his consciousness and his melancholy gradually quieted. The sound was hypnotic, the light breeze pleasant. For one mad moment, he considered walking barefoot… but he resisted.

  At Healing Waves, the shop windows were dark, lit only by the twinkling of fairy lights strung through the display. His gaze drifted to the upstairs window, not quite in darkness but with a hint of light – knowing Claudia, candlelight – beyond the gauzy curtains. One of these days, she’d set off a conflagration with those things.

  Just as he thought it, there was a flash of light, and Jason realised with horror that it was the yellow of flame and most definitely not from a candle. His feet were mov
ing before his brain could register the fact, charging across the sand and up the steps to Claudia’s flat.

  Praying the door wouldn’t be locked, he got his wish as he shouldered his way in to see flames rising from the coffee table. Grabbing a vase of flowers from the nearest shelf, he dumped the lot over the flames. They sizzled disappointedly for a moment, then died. His heart pumping, he looked for Claudia.

  She was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, her eyes wide in the candlelight, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. Pudding remained curled in his armchair, although he deigned to open an eye to observe proceedings.

  Jason let out his breath in a whoosh. ‘You’re alright?’ He rushed over and squeezed her tight, his heart pounding. When she squeaked in protest at being smothered, he pulled away and, dissatisfied by the candlelight, switched on a lamp.

  Claudia might appear startled by his sudden entrance, but she didn’t seem at all perturbed about the fire in her lounge.

  He waved his arm at the coffee table. ‘What the hell…?’

  ‘I could say the same thing,’ Claudia said calmly. ‘What was that all about?’

  She unfolded her legs from beneath her and stood, looking down at the detritus of ash and soggy flower stems and ruined petals. Water spread across the tiled surface and dripped onto her rug. With a tut, she trotted into the kitchen area and fetched a towel to mop up the worst of it.

  Jason watched her in bewilderment, his legs – now like jelly – rooted to the spot. ‘I saw the flames from the beach. I thought your flat was on fire!’

  Claudia looked at him in astonishment, then shook her head. ‘Only this bowl was on fire. Its contents, anyway.’ Dismayed, she looked down at it, grumbling, ‘I’ll probably have to do that all over again some time.’

  Jason ran an agitated hand through his hair, making it stand on end. ‘This was deliberate?’

  ‘Of course! You don’t think I’d just sit there on the sofa while my flat was alight, do you?’

  ‘You could have been asleep.’

  ‘I wasn’t. I was visualising.’ Claudia carried the sopping towel to the sink, squeezed it out, shoved it in the washing machine, walked back to the coffee table for the bowl, poured what she could of the water down the sink, then unceremoniously tipped the rest of the contents, flowers and all, into the bin. Finally, she opened windows to let out the lingering smoke. ‘Tea?’