Page 28 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery
‘I was thinking about them before I came out,’ Lola said as she smoothed the blanket over the sand, ‘of them sneaking off on his boat away from everyone. Her friends weren’t best impressed so I don’t blame her not telling them much. This feels very much in the spirit of Ruby and Charlie.’ She signalled around them.
‘Moonlight picnics on the beach? Yes, it is terribly romantic.’ Tristan cast a glance at her as he assembled his portable fire bowl.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked, feeling slightly at a loss.
‘Nope, just sit and relax, you do enough looking after me every morning.’
Lola shrugged but found she was actually enjoying the novel sensation of someone doing things for her and she started to relax. She swallowed back the shame that accompanied any realisation of how awful her previous relationship had actually been, how she had done all the work for no reward. Not to mention how upset she had been when it ended. Still, she reminded herself as she smothered the anger, she was in a much better place now and her life was everything she’d ever dreamed of; who wouldn’t want to be living by the sea and running a café? Lola couldn’t imagine anything better. To distract herself from any more thoughts of Jared, she pulled out the bottle of whisky from the bag, and sank its bottom into the damp sand. She watched as Tristan set to work filling the fire bowl with logs he’d collected before lighting it, the orange flames slowly starting to lick away at the darkness.
‘Won’t that spoil our view of the stars?’
‘Maybe a bit, but it’ll keep us warm. I can’t have you freezing to death, Alf would never forgive me for depriving him of the best scones he’s ever eaten.’
Lola laughed. ‘I never really paid much attention to the word Polcarrow written next to Nannie’s recipe, but now, it feels, I don’t know, like fate, perhaps? It’s easy to think Ruby got the recipe when she visited here. What if she got it from Alf and Charlie’s mum? Imagine that! Maybe that’s why he likes them so much? Maybe I’m just being fanciful .?.?.’
‘It’s not fanciful if it could be the truth. I think they’re pretty special, although I’ve not eaten quite as many as he has,’ Tristan said to her as he set up a camping gas stove and popped a tiny little kettle on top of it. ‘For tea.’
‘This is all very Boy Scout,’ Lola remarked, affection creeping into her voice, touched by the effort he’d gone to.
‘Well, I was a Boy Scout,’ Tristan confessed. ‘You name it, I did it – Scouts, Duke of Edinburgh, summer camps.’
‘It all sounds very wholesome. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who was in the Scouts before. That said, the sort of people I used to hang out with would never have admitted to it even if they had been. Thanks.’ She accepted a cup of tea.
‘I don’t have milk, that’s why the whisky is there, keep us warm.’
Lola tipped in a slug before passing the bottle to Tristan. ‘You’re very prepared. Do you do a lot of camping?’
He joined her on the blanket. ‘Yes, we used to have camping holidays when I was small. The only reason they stopped was because my sister decided she’d had enough of roughing it and not being able to use her hair straighteners,’ he laughed. ‘I’ve always enjoyed the outdoors, camping, walking. I keep thinking of taking myself off wild camping for a night but even in the wilds out here I bet someone would find me.’
Lola laughed at the thought of someone tracking him down in the wilds of Cornwall to complain about something trivial. ‘I’ve not properly camped for years. It was never my parents sort of thing but I tried it with friends in my late teens and loved it, the freedom, being under the stars with a bonfire. What? Don’t look at me like that! Just because I can execute the perfect eyeliner flick doesn’t mean I don’t like to camp. I was on the road for years remember. Camper vans though, so a little more luxury.’
‘Do you miss travelling?’
Lola sat and gazed out in the direction of the sea and sighed. ‘Maybe a bit, but mostly because it was what I was used to. If something went wrong, I just packed up and moved on. Now, that’s not so easy. Also, as a coping strategy it’s probably just classified as running away. Now if I make a mistake I have to fix it. I miss the people, but they all moved on too. I guess part of me found it exciting – meeting people from different walks of life, trying different jobs. Now it seems like it happened to a different Lola. The permanence of being here is a bit scary sometimes, but mostly I like it. It’s given me a chance to relax, to just be.’
‘Would you ever go back?’ Tristan’s question was asked lightly but Lola sensed the weight behind it.
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘No. There’s nothing for me there anymore. The people I knew have all moved on, evolved, and settled down. I was the last to go. I miss it in a rose-tinted, nostalgic way, like pining for my youth. It is hard work constantly packing up, moving on, never knowing who you’re going to see at the next destination. I used to alternate between helping friends at festivals and finding temporary work in bars, cafés and kitchens. There was always a pub that needed someone to bash out desserts at the end of service and I made sure to keep my food hygiene certificate up to date.’
‘Was food always your passion?’
‘Cake was,’ Lola corrected him. ‘I love that people use cake to both celebrate and commiserate. Birthday cakes for children, tea, cake and sympathy when something goes wrong. Baking cakes is my duty. I, erm, sidelined this dream for years, which was foolish really.’
‘What made you decide to come back to it? Or open a café even, that’s quite a big thing to do.’
‘It was Ruby really. When she died I realised I needed to sort my life out, I couldn’t keep flitting about. She always wanted to see me settled somewhere, see me happy. If I couldn’t do it in her lifetime, then it felt right to do it in her memory. After she died she left me an inheritance and instantly I knew what I wanted to do with it. At the time I was with a guy called Jared, he was a musician and a magician, he could put on these really enchanting shows. We’d sit up, a bit like this this, with a bonfire, talking about the future. I had this crazy notion of opening a magic-themed café. I’d do cakes, cocktails, afternoon teas and he’d do tricks.’ Lola laughed at the idea of it all. ‘Thank God I decided to take an extended stay at my grandmother’s after she died. It gave him time to find someone else and show his true colours.’
‘Oh, Lola, that sounds awful, I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be! I was devastated at the time, mostly because I had no idea what to do next and I wasn’t one to normally be out of ideas. He met someone else. I think he rather fancied getting some of my inheritance and keeping this young woman on the side. Honestly, Tristan, the scales dropped from my eyes and I saw what he was really like, but it was just a knife in the wound of losing Ruby.’ She sipped her tea and wondered if there was any chance of having just a tot more whisky. Tristan seemed to read her mind and added an extra dash.
‘Thank you. So, anyway, we don’t want to give Jared any more time than he deserves. I cried my tears over him long ago. Last Christmas, being in a little village in Oxfordshire really helped heal my broken heart. I decided I’d resurrect my café dream. I never planned to come to Cornwall, but I found the name Polcarrow next to the recipe in Ruby’s book and I just had this feeling I had to come here.’ Lola shrugged. ‘And the rest is history. I honestly never thought I’d end up by the sea, but it’s been very healing. It just felt right to stay here.’
‘You’ve had quite the time of it, Lola. I’m sorry to hear Jared couldn’t treat you the way you deserve.’
‘Thank you. I honestly think if I had stayed with him, my grandmother would’ve come back and haunted me until I dumped him . . . so . . . maybe it was for the best. It’s strange how all these things that feel awful at the time work out in the end.’ Lola took a swig of her whisky-laced tea. ‘What about you? Any hidden heartbreaks?’
Tristan laughed. ‘Not at all. I was seeing someone at my old parish, Anna. She was, let’s just say, rather keen on becoming a vicar’s wife. I thought that was what I wanted for a while too. We were well matched but I wasn’t ready for her at the time. We ended amicably, or as amicably as it’s possible to end things when one person has high romantic hopes. I did feel I’d let her down, but I’d also not promised anything.’ He glanced into his cup.
