Page 17 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery
Are you sure it’s not Alf? Imagine if it was?!
I don’t think so. Says he’s tall. Alf isn’t that tall. I think it’s another one of the lads.
Argh! Just read it and put us both out of our misery!
Smiling to herself, Lola quickly tapped back:
Don’t they say patience is a virtue?
The door being unlocked and slammed back into place by the wind made Lola jump, her phone skittering onto the floor. She listened. One set of footsteps. As much as she adored Angelo, it had been a long time since she and Freya had had the chance for a catch-up.
‘Lola?’ Freya called.
‘In the front room. No Angelo?’
Freya pushed open the door and headed straight to the fire to warm her hands. ‘It’s turned really chilly out there. No, he’s downed the wallpaper scraper and has retreated into the shed, which I reckon is a health hazard with its rotten roof, muttering something about angels and mermaids.’ Freya shrugged. ‘I think that means he might be working on something for the tree.’
‘Ooh, that would be wonderful, but I hope we didn’t put too much pressure on him.’ Angelo had a slightly tetchy relationship with his artistic side.
‘No, it’ll do him good. He was a bit distracted when I turned up which means he’s on to something. Now I can get up early and get on with my next painting.’
‘How’s it going?’
Freya made a face. ‘I hate it. But I think all artists need to go through a hating their work stage. I found it exciting displaying my work in the St Ives gallery but now I think I’d prefer to paint smaller pictures again. Sell them online. I’m not sure I like them taking all that commission . . .’ She trailed off as if wrestling with the dilemma.
‘I’d be happy to display them in the café again. Especially next summer,’ Lola suggested, quickly warming to the idea, ‘bill it as a sort of artist in residence. I know the gallery has been a fantastic opportunity but you’re not beholden to them, you can sell your work wherever you like and I’m happy for you to use the café.’
Freya was silent for a while as she took this in. ‘Thanks, Lola. Angelo said the same. There’s been so much pressure to get the painting done and it’s been stressing me out. I think we should get Christmas out of the way and then I can make some decisions in the New Year. So much has happened this year what with coming here, meeting Angelo, him buying Bayview. I’d like to have some time to just digest it all. Also, Mum said yes to coming to Christmas. She’s already booked into the pub B. & B., so, no going back now!’
‘As if I would! I don’t know why everyone is so worried about me hosting Christmas dinner. I volunteered, after all. If people want to muck in and peel potatoes then they can.’
Freya reached for the bottle of Baileys and poured a glass. She took a sip and studied the creamy liquid. ‘I never know why I don’t drink this other than just at Christmas. What are you making?’ she asked as she settled back on the sofa.
‘A Christmas jumper for Alf.’ Lola held up her knitting. ‘I’m going to make a matching one for Scruff.’
Freya laughed. ‘That is too adorable! I’ve ordered one online for Angelo and I’m going to surprise him with it on Christmas Day.’ She fixed Lola with a mischievous look. ‘Come on, Lola, it’s not just Christmas that’s coming up is it?’
Lola laughed. ‘No, it isn’t!’
‘What do you want to do? It’s not every year you turn forty,’ Freya pointed out.
Lola continued to knit and gave a little shrug. ‘I’ve not really thought about it.’
‘Liar!’ Freya exclaimed. ‘You love a party, so I don’t believe that for one second.’
Putting her knitting aside, Lola sat forwards. ‘OK, OK, of course I’ve thought about it! But it’s a funny time of year to have a birthday. There’s always so much going on.’ Lola sighed and admitted, ‘A party would be nice, lots of fizz and balloons and a disco. No Christmas tunes,’ she stipulated. ‘And cake, a nice sponge cake to offset all that rich fruit cake.’
‘So, no, you’ve not thought about it at all.’
Lola couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I thought about having it at the pub but I’ve not had a chance to catch Steve to ask him about hosting.’
Freya topped up their glasses. ‘No, Lola, I’ll ask him. I’ll plan it for you.’
Lola froze. She was the planner, the one who had everything under control. ‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘But I want to.’ Freya shrugged. ‘Anyway, what more do I need to do than get Steve to agree, get some balloons and bake a cake.’ Freya paused and revised this, ‘Or buy a cake as we know my baking skills are no match for yours. Or I might rope Mum into helping. I’m digging a hole here, aren’t I?’
‘Yes, and honestly, I can make the cake.’
