The Cornish Cream Tea Christmas

by Cressida McLaughlin

  ‘We moved to Scotland,’ Hannah explained. ‘I don’t think it was possible for us to come all this way after that.’ She could tell Hugh had truly cared for her mum, and must have been devastated when it ended. She wondered how her mum had felt. ‘I’m sorry,’ she added.

  Hugh shook his head. ‘We both knew it couldn’t last.’

  ‘What about afterwards?’ She presumed Hugh hadn’t been married during the years he’d been seeing her mum, albeit only for a fortnight every summer. Had Hugh spent his life pining for someone he could never have? Hannah thought of Noah and unease slid through her, slippery and cold.

  ‘I’ve had other relationships since,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to think that, after Susie, I couldn’t reconcile myself to seeing anyone else. But I find that, with this place to run, I’m more suited to my own company. Your mum was very special to me, Hannah. Susie and I truly respected, and loved, each other. But maybe you can understand why she has been reluctant to tell you.’

  Hannah took a sip of wine before replying. Her hands were shaking slightly. ‘I’m still trying to prove to my dad that I’m worth his time. That’s a big part of why I became an eco-consultant.’ She shrugged. ‘I can see why Mum wouldn’t want me to know about you, what happened between you. She thinks I still idolize my dad, though I’m beginning to realize that my feelings are quite a lot more complicated than that.’ She remembered how Noah had spoken to her so frankly about it, how he had seemed to get to the truth of it when she’d struggled.

  ‘But now that you know …?’ Hugh’s eyebrows rose. There was a lightness to his expression that hadn’t been there when he’d sat down; the relief of getting it out in the open, she supposed.

  ‘I’m glad my mum had someone,’ Hannah said. ‘I’m glad she did something for herself, and I should … be kinder to her.’ She ran her finger over a grain in the table, the whorls rough against her skin. ‘Did you know, the first time I came into the pub?’

  ‘You’re not that different to when you were small, Hannah. Same blonde hair and those intense, clear eyes. The moment Charlie introduced you, I knew it had to be you, even though it seemed staggerin’ that you’d suddenly turned up here, and especially since you seemed to have no idea about the connection. I realized Susie hadn’t told you, and I understood why, which is why I didn’t answer your questions to begin with.’

  ‘But you relented.’

  He smiled at her. ‘I saw how pragmatic you are. I realized I could tell you and that you would weigh everythin’ up, see it from your mum’s point of view. I can see what a kind, responsible woman you’ve become.’

  Hannah blushed at the compliment. ‘I wish Mum saw me like that, too. I wish she’d trusted me enough to tell me.’

  ‘She’s much closer to you, and has more to lose. If I’d misjudged your reaction …’ He fiddled with his collar, and Hannah reached out and took his hand. It felt strange, doing something so intimate. He wasn’t her dad, but he’d been her mum’s lover. He had taken the photo she treasured.

  ‘You didn’t misjudge,’ Hannah said. ‘If anything, I’m at fault because I haven’t made it possible for Mum to confide in me. I’ll tell her that, too.’

  ‘Let me call her first, Hannah. I need to let her know I’ve told you. Pave the way. If you’re happy to give me her number?’

  ‘OK. I’ll wait for her to get in touch with me. I’m glad she had you and Porthgolow, when Dad deserted her.’

  ‘So am I. And thank you, for bein’ so understandin’. I loved spending time with you, you know. All three of you. Mike wanted to play games all the time. He’d pull out all the board games, spread counters and dice all over the floor.’ He pointed to a haphazard stack of boxes piled on a shelf, the colours faded as if they’d been there for decades.

  ‘What about me?’ Hannah asked. She wanted to know how he’d seen her back then.

  ‘Even when you were tiny, you were interested in food. You were desperate to go into the kitchens, and the last year you visited I took you in there and showed you how to make my fisherman’s pie. It’s a family recipe, passed down the generations, but by then you felt like family to me. I wrote it down for you, as a memento. You slipped it in the pocket of your dungarees, but—’

  ‘Your fisherman’s pie?’ Hannah sat back in her chair. She’d thought his had tasted similar to the one she made. She pictured the large, blue-covered notebook that she’d filled with recipes over time, copying them from cookery books, some given to her by family and friends. She must have held on to Hugh’s piece of paper – or maybe her mum had, slipping it inside one of her own cookery books for Hannah to rediscover later, when she’d forgotten where it had come from. All those years she’d been making it, oblivious to the fact that it had come from this tiny village on the Cornish coast where, it turned out, she did have a connection.

  She refused Hugh’s offer of a lift to the hotel – she needed time to think about what she’d found out, to let it settle inside her. But when she left the Seven Stars, she hugged him, tight. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for telling me. And for being there, back then. For making my mum happy.’

  She walked back to Crystal Waters with her coat wrapped tightly around her and the moon shimmering on the surface of the sea, a feeling of calm settling over her like snow.

  Chapter Five

  Her mum’s phone call didn’t come until later, when Hannah was in her room with the side lights on and the window cracked open, letting in a tantalizing waft of sea air. It had taken all her willpower not to make the call herself, but she had trusted Hugh to do as he’d promised, and instead stayed in her room, toying idly with the pages of a book before realizing she had too much in her head to take in anyone else’s words.

  She felt bad for not seeking Charlie out, but she didn’t want to talk about what she’d found out until she’d spoken to her mum, so instead she’d ordered room service; a steak fajita made with local beef, with chilli sauce and chunky guacamole, and listened to the sound of people walking past in the corridor outside her room, footsteps appearing and then drifting into the distance, voices and laughter loud and hushed.

  Christmas was four days away, and even in this slightly dislocated hotel world there was a bubble of anticipation. The rule book no longer applied: chocolate could be eaten for breakfast and champagne drunk with lunch; pyjamas could replace work clothes – though she wasn’t sure Daniel would react favourably if she wore them in the restaurant – and films could be watched all day. Hannah hadn’t reached that state yet; the conversation with her mum was unfinished business, and she was awash with nerves.

  When her phone lit up and buzzed gently on the duvet cover, Hannah snatched it up and stared at the photo of her mum standing on top of Arthur’s Seat, Edinburgh’s stunning backdrop behind her. She answered it after five rings.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hannah?’ Her mum’s voice was thick with emotion.

  ‘Hugh told me,’ she rushed. ‘I’m so sorry, I—’

  ‘I shouldn’t have kept it from you,’ her mum said, interrupting her. ‘I should have told you as soon as you said you were going to Porthgolow. I thought I could feign ignorance until you came back, but of course I should have known you would get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘I didn’t really,’ Hannah said, tucking her legs under her. ‘I’d given up, after talking about it with Mike. It was Hugh who came to me. You’re not mad at him, are you?’ She felt childlike all of a sudden, and wished she could see her mum, have this conversation face to face.

  ‘No, Hannah. I was shocked, of course, but it was so easy to talk to him, even after all this time. I just wish I’d been brave enough to tell you myself.’

  ‘I’m happy that he was there for you, when Dad wasn’t. Hugh’s lovely. You know, immediately, who he is. He’s so straightforward.’

  ‘He was a breath of fresh air,’ her mum said softly. ‘He reminded me that I could be loved for me, that I could be more than just a struggling single mum.’

&
nbsp; ‘So then why …’ Hannah swallowed. ‘Why didn’t we move to Cornwall instead of Edinburgh? If Hugh was there and you loved each other, why did you choose to go in the opposite direction?’

  She heard a loud sigh down the phone. ‘So many reasons,’ her mum said. ‘And I still wonder if I made the right decision. I was going through the divorce, and I didn’t want to put Hugh through that right at the beginning of a relationship. The work was in Edinburgh – there were so many more jobs than in Cornwall, and I thought you and Mike would thrive more in the city. But also, those holidays were magical, and I was … scared. Scared that it wasn’t real, that if I took the plunge and tried to make it last, it wouldn’t. I was still hurting from your dad, and in the end, I took the safe option.’

  Hannah lay back on the bed. ‘I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry I made it hard for you to talk to me. If you thought that you couldn’t be open because of Dad.’ She was realizing more and more that she had never made it easy for her; doting on her absent dad, being harsh on her mum because she was the one who was there, having to be the parent. Whereas she saw now that her mother had been the one who’d been working so hard to keep her and her brother safe and happy.

  ‘I was worried you’d think less of me,’ her mum replied. ‘And really, you have every right to. I just hope you can forgive me for finding comfort with someone else, and for not telling you sooner. You’ve always had such a strong sense of right and wrong.’

  ‘Of course I forgive you,’ Hannah said. ‘It hurt that you didn’t want to tell me straight away, but now I understand why. And with you and Hugh, there’s nothing to forgive. I get it, completely. Dad wasn’t there, and Hugh made you happy. I know that feelings don’t follow any rules, not even the ones you set for yourself.’

  Her mum sighed, and it sounded like static. ‘I thought that you were punishing me – staying in Porthgolow for Christmas.’

  ‘I was a bit,’ Hannah admitted. ‘After all our arguments, I wasn’t relishing the thought of coming home. But it’s as much about the people I’ve met here, and the fun I’ve had, as it is about us. I really want to do this, Mum.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ she said eagerly. ‘Tell me who you’ve met and what’s happened.’

  ‘Now?’ It was nearly eleven o’clock.

  ‘Unless you’ve got somewhere else you need to go?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. I’m just going to make a cup of tea.’

  ‘Good idea. Do that and call me back.’ She hung up and Hannah stared at the phone, wondering if her mum had been replaced by an imposter. She hadn’t sounded that enthusiastic about anything for ages. Hannah made herself a peppermint tea and settled back against the pillows to return the call.

  She ended up telling her everything. She hadn’t intended to, but her mum – who she would never be able to think of as Susie – was receptive in a way Hannah wasn’t used to. It was like slipping into a pair of comfortable old pyjamas, and she couldn’t resist. She told her about Charlie and the Cornish Cream Tea Bus, about Lila and Sam – genuine celebrities – turning up at the hotel, and how down-to-earth they were. She told her about finding Spirit, about Audrey and the tragic story of Anna Purser and Henry Medlin, and the dog finding the carved stone down by the swimming pool.

  ‘Goodness,’ her mum said after a moment’s silence. ‘Anyone would think you hadn’t done any work at all! What about your contract, working with that local chap? Didn’t you enjoy your first job away from the office? When you leave something out, there’s usually a reason.’

  And so, after only gentle prompting, Hannah filled in all the gaps she’d left empty because they included Noah. She told her mum about that first frosty drive to the hotel and the way he’d gently thawed; about the night of the ghost hunt, meeting up with him in Mousehole and spending time with his family. She tried not to sound too wistful about that, remembering her less than generous comparisons to her own family Christmases.

  ‘So you see,’ she said at the end, ‘I can’t be judgemental about you and Hugh, because even when I thought Noah was with Beth, I wanted something to happen between us.’

  ‘You say that, Hannah, but you were the one who stopped the kiss. I don’t believe you could have enjoyed being with him, knowing he was with someone else. You’re not a cheater, and you wouldn’t want him to be either, because if he could do it to Beth, then he could do it to you, too.’

  ‘Do you think?’ Hannah whispered.

  ‘I’m certain of it,’ her mum said. ‘While it remains firmly in the “could have been” category, you can play out any fantasy you want. The feelings only hit you when you can’t take it back.’

  ‘Did you feel guilty, about Hugh?’

  ‘Maybe a flicker at the beginning. But your dad and I – I knew by then that our marriage was over. He was away for months at a time, and when he returned it was more like a bed and breakfast, with me as his unwilling host. It took longer than I’d hoped to finalize the divorce, because my solicitor couldn’t track him down. But no, there wasn’t much guilt with Hugh. I loved him.’

  ‘You wouldn’t consider revisiting it? Coming down here and seeing him again?’

  Silence hung in the air for a long time before she replied. ‘I honestly don’t know, Hannah. It was twenty years ago.’

  ‘He talks about you so fondly.’

  ‘He does?’ Hannah could hear the smile in her voice.

  ‘It’s something to think about, at least. Porthgolow’s not that far away.’

  ‘Says the woman who used a long train journey home as her excuse for staying in Cornwall weeks longer than she was supposed to.’ Her mum laughed. ‘Now I know why.’

  ‘Yes,’ Hannah said, sighing. ‘But it’s pointless, isn’t it? All the time I thought he wasn’t available and he was; then the moment I find that out and have the chance to tell him how I feel, he’s back with Beth. I’m happy for him, of course, but … I’m gutted, too.’

  ‘I’m so sorry it hasn’t worked out with Noah, Han, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy your Christmas there. With Charlie and the actors and Audrey. Focus on those things instead, and then come home – unless you’re planning on moving to Cornwall?’

  Hannah laughed. ‘Of course not! I’ll be back before the New Year. Maybe we could have our own Christmas a few days late? I could do all the cooking, to make up for bailing on you at the last minute.’

  ‘I’d love that,’ she said. ‘Just the three of us.’

  Hannah nodded, tears springing into her eyes. She should have been this open with her mum weeks ago – perhaps years. ‘I love you, Mum.’

  ‘I love you too, Hannah. Now go and get some rest, it’s almost tomorrow as it is.’

  Even though it was late, and Hannah had got up so early – she could barely believe the Secret Santa Tour had been that day – she wasn’t tired. She hadn’t changed into her pyjamas and, having spent the whole evening in her room, decided she needed a change of scene. She took her key and pushed her door open slowly, not wanting to make too much noise, then crept along the corridor and up the stairs.

  There was nobody behind the reception desk, though Hannah knew the night staff would be about somewhere, perhaps getting through paperwork in the office while it was quiet. The spotlights above the desk and front door were muted but welcoming, and the Christmas tree twinkled in the corner next to the snug, her favourite room for once in total darkness.

  Unsure what to do now she was here, she sat on the sofa, her back to the window with its cascade of golden lights. The Christmas tree was to her right, its pine needles smelling of promise and presents. She’d been there a couple of minutes when she heard a scuffling sound, and a moment later Spirit came out from under the tree. He jumped on to the sofa and lay down beside her, his head on her lap.

  ‘You’re not supposed to be up here with me,’ she said softly. ‘I thought I left you sleeping. How did you sneak out behind me, without me realizing?’ The way he behaved, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he could open
doors. She stroked his warm fur, felt the rise and fall of his small body under her hand.

  She felt completely calm, as if the conversation with her mum had broken down years’ worth of barriers between them. She also knew, now, that she hadn’t been wrong about her mum keeping something from her. She had been right to trust her instincts. But then, she’d trusted them about Noah, too, and that had been a mistake. And now she’d lost her chance.

  ‘Oh Spirit,’ she said. ‘I need to have a word with myself, don’t I?’

  He lifted his head off her lap, and she thought how intuitive he was, how alive to human emotions. But he wasn’t looking at her: he was staring out at the dim reception, his body tense, his ears pricked up.

  A cold wave of dread washed over Hannah, and she found she was pinned to her seat by fear. It was after midnight, so she’d missed the ghostly footsteps – unless Chloe had got it wrong and the time varied? Ghosts were the opposite of an exact science, after all. She closed her eyes, but that made it worse. She was here now: she had to face whatever it was.

  She waited, eyes and ears alert, for the first steps. They came from the Christmas tree, supposedly, but she couldn’t even turn her head to glance at it. She heard a whimper, and realized it had come from her. Spirit was standing now, his front paws digging painfully into her thigh as he glared ahead, his body vibrating. Fear was an acrid taste in her mouth, her tongue fat and useless. She dared not blink.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, but eventually the dog relaxed. He turned his head and looked up at her, his eyes dark pools.

  ‘Was that it, then?’ Hannah said, laughing with relief. ‘Has it gone?’

  Spirit barked once, loudly, and as he did a waft of air passed by Hannah’s face, a cool breeze that had come, inexplicably, from the centre of the room. It moved past her, as if heading through the glittering window and out into the gardens. For a few seconds the scent of lavender was so strong that Hannah almost choked on it, and she felt an overwhelming sadness, as if not only would she never be able to kiss Noah or tell him how she felt, but she would never see him again. It was a deep, hollow ache that came upon her so suddenly that her breath lodged in her throat.