A Perfect Cornish Christmas

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘I know that, and if they do split up – and maybe they won’t – I’ll have to make other plans. Maybe if you want to stay in Porthmellow we can get a flat or a house together. If we keep saving up what we’d have had to fork out in rent, that would help. If you are staying, of course.’ Scarlett’s voice lifted hopefully.

  It was happening again – temptation was being put in her way. The house, Aaron, the community and now Scarlett luring her to linger. Maybe Scarlett was right. This was an omen – a series of omens – that meant she should stay in Porthmellow.

  ‘I don’t know what my long-term plans are. I do like it here and I must admit that I’m very tempted to stay. I’d love to have you … as long as being in Porthmellow again doesn’t stir up unhappy memories.’

  Scarlett huffed. ‘I won’t be going into that pub again, that’s for sure, and it’ll be awkward to even be around the town to start with, but I thought I could see how things go and try to keep a low profile.’

  ‘OK.’ Ellie shook her head, a smile on her face. ‘When are you thinking of coming?’

  ‘Um. Two weeks’ time?’

  ‘Two weeks?’

  ‘Actually, less than two weeks. I plan on coming down a week on Thursday. Is that OK? One of the neighbours has offered to bring some of my stuff down in his van when he visits his boyfriend in St Ives the following weekend. I can manage with what I can fit in my car until then.’

  Bloody hell, Scarlett really did have everything worked out. She must have been thinking this over for a while. ‘Yes … it’s slightly short notice, but why not? Let me know what I can do to help.’

  Ellie spent a while making more arrangements and then put down the phone. She went into the kitchen to cook some supper, realising that she was now starving. Even after a day at the café, she found it relaxing to slice a few mushrooms, grate some Gruyère and whip up an omelette.

  While she chopped and cooked, her mind worked overtime on the latest surprise this day had delivered. Having her sister around would be different. It could be a lot of fun but it would also cause disruption. She’d become used to her own company, and she and Scarlett did argue sometimes, but Scarlett was obviously hell bent on this plan. Ellie had been reminded of how much her sister had been affected by the revelations on Christmas Day. Finding out her father wasn’t her biological dad must have left an enormous hole in her life, and their mother’s continued state of denial and unspoken anger with her daughter wasn’t helping at all. In one fell swoop, Scarlett had lost both parents to some degree. This change in lifestyle might be her way of getting through it.

  And all of this happened just after the split with her boyfriend and the loss of her core client. It was no wonder Scarlett felt her world had been turned upside down. Whether moving almost three hundred miles to a new home that might only be temporary was a good idea, Ellie wasn’t sure.

  There was something else. Scarlett had listed her reasons for moving as if it was the most rational decision in the world, but Ellie had a powerful feeling that she hadn’t heard the full story yet. And as for ‘keeping a low profile’ after her dramatic entrance at the Christmas lunch … in a place like Porthmellow, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance of that.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Hello! How was the journey? I was worried you might be held up by the road works on the motorway.’

  Scarlett’s spirits lifted as Ellie met her on the drive of Seaholly Manor. It had been a long journey but Ellie’s welcoming smile more than made up for it.

  ‘It was OK until the mist came down. Look at it. It’s like something out of the Hound of the Baskervilles!’ Scarlett tried to make out the house through the October mist, which hung in wispy threads among the tree branches and seemed to press on the roof of the manor. Although it wasn’t as sharply cold as it was in the Midlands, the damp clung to everything, leaving pinpricks of moisture on her teddy coat.

  ‘It’s a real pea-souper that rolled in after lunch. I don’t think it will clear until morning,’ Ellie said.

  A shiver ran through Scarlett, and not for the first time since she’d handed back the keys to her flat and said goodbye to the neighbours. She’d shed a few tears as she’d driven out of the city suburbs, past her favourite balti restaurant where the owners didn’t even need to take her order they knew her so well. She would miss the Victorian swimming ‘baths’ where she ploughed up and down twice a week and the park where she met up with her friends for a coffee in winter and a picnic in summer.

  Seaholly Manor was isolated, and so far from her parents and Marcus. With dusk approaching on a gloomy autumn evening, she was half-tempted to turn the car around and head back to the bright lights of Brum.

  Oh God, what had she done?

  As if reading her thoughts, Ellie gave her a hug. ‘Come inside. I lit the fire in the sitting room as soon as I got in from work, and the kitchen will be nice and cosy too.’

  Scarlett dragged up a smile. The lamplight glowed from the window of the sitting room. That was cheery at least.

  ‘Is your car fixed, by the way?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, it’s er … at the garage in town. We’re waiting for a part.’

  ‘What a pain. How do you get to work?’

  ‘I walked over the coast path. The fog wasn’t as bad then, though I definitely wouldn’t try that path in this murk. Come on, I’ll give you a hand with your stuff.’

  After abandoning Scarlett’s luggage in the hallway, they sat at the kitchen’s oak farmhouse table. The warmth from the Aga enveloped Scarlett and sparked another memory: of last Christmas Day when she’d stepped into the Smuggler’s Tavern’s Lunch for the Lonely.

  However, with Ellie chattering away about the latest local gossip while she made them both hot chocolates, she soon perked up. She had to face the locals again sometime and it wasn’t as if the people at the pub hadn’t been friendly. In fact, they’d been too friendly. Which could be both a good and bad thing. Good for finding out gossip about her real father; bad for stopping it from spreading.

  Scarlett had always prided herself on being honest with Ellie, so she felt doubly guilty about being economical with the truth this time.

  Yes, the lease was up on her flat. Yes, she was struggling with the rent and, yes, she did want to make a fresh start. What she’d left out was the part about how she’d discovered that her ‘biological father’ was – possibly – from Porthmellow and she desperately wanted to know who he was.

  His identity had occupied her thoughts since last Christmas and she’d been listening out for any clue from her mother, not that her mum had even admitted she might have had an affair. Scarlett had worked out when she must have been conceived, and from old photos in a family album had pieced together that her mother had been staying with Auntie Joan during that time. So the ‘deed’ was very likely to have taken place in Porthmellow.

  Plus, there was another, more compelling clue to her origins. When she, Ellie and their mother had been sorting through Joan’s stuff, Scarlett had found a postcard with a message that had struck her as weird. It hadn’t meant that much at the time, but had taken on much greater significance since, and Scarlett couldn’t recall the exact words. She’d meant to show it to her mum at the time, however, in the chaos of sorting out her auntie’s vast collection of books and papers, she’d forgotten about it. Of course, she could be clutching at straws and probably was, but once the idea that the postcard might be related to her mum’s affair had formed in her mind, she couldn’t get rid of it.

  She lay awake at night, trying to envisage what her biological father might look like. What kind of a man was he? Not the most upright kind, if he’d had an affair with a married woman … unless he hadn’t even known her mother was married? Had it been a full-blown affair, or only a one-night stand? Did he have a family of his own now, or even then?

  If he did, that meant she would have half-siblings she didn’t even know about. In fact, it was more than likely she did.

  The questions constant
ly pecked at her mind. Was he short, tall, fat, skinny? Did he even look that much like her? Despite having half of his DNA, she could easily resemble her mother with very little trace of her father.

  Was he even alive? Scarlett had asked herself that one many times, but hated to think of it. It made her go icy, because that meant she would never know him at all.

  Perhaps that’s why her mother refused to say who he was, or even admit what she’d done – because she knew the man was dead, and there was no point trying to find him? Or if he was alive, her mother might be protecting him and his family because he was someone they knew …

  Night after night, she’d tormented herself with all these questions, and no matter how hard she tried to accept that she might never know, she found it impossible.

  In her calmer moments, she had considered her mother’s feelings, even if she’d never told her that. What had it been like to keep this secret all these years? If, of course, her mother had even known that the mystery man was her father … she might have assumed that Roger Latham really was Scarlett’s dad.

  Despite trying to put herself in her mother’s shoes, as Ellie had suggested, Scarlett was finding it hard to accept Anna’s complete denial of the facts. No amount of persuasion or pleading from Scarlett in private would tempt her to say anything. However, Scarlett had seized on the idea that her dad might be Cornish, and that, combined with her troubles with Rafa and loss of business, had helped her decide to make the move to Porthmellow.

  Ellie, bless her, hadn’t hesitated – OK, only a teeny bit – to say she could share Seaholly Manor with her. Scarlett knew she would have to come clean at some stage but until – and unless – she knew her hunches were right, she didn’t see much point in stirring up more trouble.

  ‘Here you go. Come on, let’s have these in front of the fire.’ Ellie handed Scarlett a steaming mug topped with a whirl of clotted cream and cinnamon. Scarlett took them into the sitting room where the flames glowed in the hearth and a tang of woodsmoke hung in the air. Ellie followed soon after with a plate of mince pies.

  ‘Not too soon, is it? Honestly, people would eat them year-round if we made them. We had some left at the café so I took them home. It’s definitely not too early for the customers but the damp and fog kept many people indoors today.’

  Scarlett took one of the sugar-dusted pies. ‘It’s never too soon for a mince pie.’

  Once she’d finished her mince pie and unwound a little, Ellie helped her take her bags upstairs.

  ‘I put you in Auntie Joan’s old room. I hope that was OK?’ Ellie said. ‘It’s the biggest and it’s had a new bed and a bit of a makeover since she passed, but some of her stuff is still here. It won’t upset you, will it?’

  ‘Of course not. I love being surrounded by her treasures. I’m glad Mum and Dad decided to keep her dressing table set and knick-knacks. Are you sure you don’t mind? Don’t you want the biggest room?’

  ‘They’re all pretty spacious and mine is closest to the bathroom. You can even get a glimpse of the sea on a clear day,’ Ellie said.

  ‘I don’t feel so bad, in that case.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to unpack while I put some dinner on.’

  ‘I don’t want you waiting on me hand and foot,’ said Scarlett.

  Ellie put on a stern face, which funnily enough reminded Scarlett a hell of a lot of Auntie Joan – minus the perm and pearls of course. ‘Actually, after tonight I was hoping you’d be waiting on me. You’ll be wishing you were Cinderella when I give you the household rota.’

  ‘Better enjoy tonight while I can, then,’ Scarlett said with a smile, thinking how happy her sister seemed. Living in Porthmellow really suited her.

  ‘Better had.’

  The stairs creaked as Ellie jogged back downstairs. Hearing the clang of pots and pans and Ellie humming in the kitchen below, Scarlett drew the curtains and sat down on the bed. Her pulse quickened as she looked around the room. Auntie Joan’s dressing table was a 1950s mahogany affair and Scarlett knew that its drawers held treasured reminders of her. Joan had been her mother’s auntie, so Anna had been in charge of deciding which possessions to keep or give away. Most of the book collection was downstairs in the floor-to-ceiling fitted bookcases that lined Joan’s study, but a few were kept here in Joan’s bedroom in an alcove full of shelves.

  Taking a deep breath, Scarlett crossed to the shelves and scanned them. Inside one of these books was the postcard that she’d been waiting to examine ever since they’d sorted through them the previous summer.

  Although she couldn’t remember the exact inscription, she knew it had something to do with a ‘special night’ or a ‘memorable night’ and had been addressed to her mother, with love and kisses at the end. It was definitely more than a friendly card, or she’d thought so at the time. However, even though the card had struck her as odd, she’d dismissed it from her mind until her parentage had been called into question.

  Whilst hunting for it felt disloyal to her dad, who she loved dearly, she couldn’t let the chance to know about her roots pass her by. There was a yawning chasm in her life story that no amount of reassurance or denial could fill. She couldn’t rest until she’d found the truth and now that she had an opportunity, she was filled with nervous excitement and dread.

  She tried to calm down. She was searching for a book with a distinctive cover of painted seashells and a starfish. She ran her finger over the shelves, looking for the slim volume. Treasures of the Cornish Seashore. Or something like that.

  It had been on the bottom shelf, if she remembered rightly, when they were sorting out Joan’s things. A faded softback from the 1970s with the postcard of St Ives inserted – hidden? – in the centre.

  She gave the bottom shelf a closer inspection, sure she must have missed the book, but still couldn’t locate it. Frowning, she checked the middle and top shelves; the alcove was narrow so it wasn’t likely she’d missed it, but she was tired after the drive … On her third careful pass over every spine, she had to admit defeat. Damn, she wanted to pull out every book just to make sure. Had she completely misremembered the title? There were guides to flowers and birds and rocks and minerals, but no treasures of the seashore.

  The book definitely wasn’t on the same shelf as before.

  She felt completely deflated, and had to remind herself that she hadn’t moved all this way only to track down a postcard.

  She was about to double check all the shelves again when she heard the front door open and Ellie’s voice.

  ‘Hi! It’s horrible outside. Come in, quick.’

  Scarlett crossed to the bedroom door, which was open a little way. She put her ear to the gap, intrigued by the fevered edge of excitement in Ellie’s voice. Ellie laughed and then the front door closed and a man’s voice could be heard.

  ‘I saw the car. I’m not stopping, because you have visitors, but I wanted to say that I’ve finally got hold of the new door panel for your car.’

  Scarlett listened even harder. Wow. Ellie and her mystery man both sounded like dogs with two tails. They were obviously very happy to be in each other’s company.

  ‘Scarlett!’

  At the sound of footsteps trotting upstairs, Scarlett shot back towards the bed and unzipped her bag.

  ‘Are you decent?’ Ellie asked at the door.

  ‘Course I am. Just unpacking. Come in.’ Scarlett pulled out some stuff and tossed it on the bed.

  Ellie stepped inside.

  ‘Aaron’s here. He popped in to update me on my car. He lives down by the cove. He can’t stay long but do you want to say hello?’ Ellie lowered her voice. ‘Don’t worry, he’s not one of the lonely lunch people. In fact, he’s almost as new to Porthmellow as you, and I thought it might be a good idea for you to meet someone who isn’t part of the establishment.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea. I’d love to meet him.’ Scarlett gave Ellie a knowing look. ‘Aaron, you say?’

  ‘Yes. He’s Troy and Evie’s son. They were at th
e pub on Christmas Day, actually, but don’t let that bother you.’

  ‘I look a bit of a mess after the journey,’ Scarlett said, indicating her old jeggings and hoodie.

  ‘Oh, Aaron won’t care. That doesn’t matter. We’re all casual round here, you know that.’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘Besides, doesn’t look as if you got very far with the unpacking.’

  ‘No, I only just started. To be honest, I was knackered and lay on the bed and chilled out,’ Scarlett said, feeling guilty for fibbing to her sister. ‘There’s loads of time for sorting my stuff tomorrow.’

  ‘True. Do you want to stay up here and chill out, then?’ Was that a hint of disappointment in Ellie’s voice, or did she want to be alone with this new guy?

  Scarlett decided she wanted to see him, anyway. ‘No way. I’d love to meet the new neighbour.’

  Ellie beamed. ‘Come on then, let’s unleash you on Aaron.’

  Whatever Scarlett had been expecting from Aaron, she wasn’t prepared for the gladiator of a man sprawled over the love seat in the sitting room. He looked perfectly at ease there, as if he’d been in the house numerous times before. So, thought Scarlett with secret amusement, not such a ‘new guy’ after all, and yet Ellie had never mentioned him.

  ‘This is my sister, Scarlett.’

  ‘Hi. I’m Aaron, Ellie’s wicked new neighbour,’ he said, eyes glinting mischievously. ‘Your sister thought I was a serial killer when we first met on the lane in the dark because my Transit has no windows.’

  ‘I wish I hadn’t told you that!’ Ellie burst out. ‘Anyway, I thought you were a kidnapper or a burglar, rather than a serial killer.’

  ‘Scarlett,’ Scarlett said, holding out her hand and laughing. ‘Ellie’s wicked younger sister. It’s my fault she thinks anyone with a van with no windows is a kidnapper. Just one of my little jokes,’ she added quickly in case Aaron thought she’d once been abducted herself.

  With a grin, he shook her hand firmly but briefly and sat down again. ‘To be fair, no one had told Ellie that I was moving into Cove Cottage. I only decided myself a couple of weeks before.’