Page 32 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery
Makeup removed, her hair smelling slightly of the bonfire and the salty sea, Lola sat on her bed going back over the stories they had shared, snippets of each other lives ready to be woven together. They had spent the best part of the year sharing morning pleasantries over tea and toast, checking in on each other as they found their feet in a new home and became firm friends. Lola may have had huge reservations about crossing the friendship barrier but tonight had left her in no doubt that it had totally been worth the risk.
Lola mused about how both she and Ruby had come to Polcarrow and found love. Love? Lola flushed at the thought – was it too early? They had known each other all year, they were friends but something had always been burning beneath the surface, but love, it felt too soon, like a gift that needed to stay wrapped up just a little longer. She picked up her grandmother’s diary, ran her fingers over the cover, but did not open it. She didn’t want the sadness of Ruby parting with Charlie to seep into her own evening. She gave the book a kiss brimming with gratitude that her grandmother had led her here, to Polcarrow, to a place she could put down roots.
Could those roots now include Tristan? The starlight had tipped them over the friendship edge and although her brain issued a warning that they needed to proceed with caution, her heart was drumming a full speed ahead tattoo. Tonight, it had come together, the whole package had been delivered bundled up against the cold. It was like Lola’s birthday and Christmas had been rolled into one and arrived early. No more wavering, no more worrying about ruining the friendship, she knew this was exactly what she wanted.
With a wistful smile Lola thought back over all her previous relationships. They had started with a bang, with what she believed was a burst of love at first sight. Burning fast and bright, these romances had been peppered with arguments and accusations, tears and tantrums. Lola cringed as she recalled that what she had believed were passionate affairs had, in fact, been immature connections, full of desperation and distrust. Lola recalled the one time Ruby had met Jared. She hadn’t liked him; she’d made this clear and now Lola wondered why on earth she hadn’t paid her grandmother’s advice any heed.
Lola knew Ruby would approve of Tristan, she’d have seen all along that he was a good man, the sort of person you’d want at your side whilst you traversed through life. Lola reached for her tarot cards and began to shuffle them, more out of habit and comfort than wanting an answer. Did she want the future revealed in a spread of cards? She paused. Or did she want to see it play out like a surprise?
Lola restacked the cards. She didn’t need to know anything yet, she wanted to just enjoy it, the possibility of the future fizzing on her tongue like sherbet. She tingled with it, the idea of new love, and the twinkling joy of discovering that Tristan felt the same. Polcarrow liked to gossip but Lola wanted to keep everything between herself and Tristan while it was fragile and new, and enjoy it just for what it was – friendship blooming into something more.
Chapter Twenty-One
Thursday, 7th September, 1950
Dear Diary,
It seems to have become a thing me sneaking out of the house to meet Charlie. I must confess it’s absolutely thrilling, like something from a book. His face always lights up when he sees me and that makes me happier than I could ever imagine being. This morning we sat on the beach eating some scones his mum had made. They were divine. I made so much fuss about them that he’s going to ask his mum to teach me the recipe so I can make them when I get home as a memory of Cornwall. Cornwall and Charlie being nothing more than a memory was like a black cloud across my sun. I told him that and he was silent for a moment, then he turned to me, looked me in the eyes, like he was properly seeing me, and after a deep breath he suggested that if we wanted, we could make this more than a holiday. I didn’t know what to say so instead I kissed him and he had to go off on the boat, but when I see him next I’m going to tell him yes, let’s make this more than a holiday romance.
So, there it was, written in black and white in Ruby’s hurried, girlish writing, confirmation that the scone recipe had come full circle back to its home in Polcarrow. Lola tried, but failed, to comprehend the strange, almost magical set of circumstances that had led to this twist of fate.
She carried out a fresh batch of scones and put them in pride of place on the counter. She then made her way to the window, pulling up the blinds, as if waking the café up for the day. Lola gazed out of the window at the flat grey sea. As much as Polcarrow buzzed in the summertime she was fond of an out-of-season seaside town, it was like a showgirl minus the makeup. She glanced around the café, all decked out for Christmas and took a sip of her gingerbread latte. Unable to sleep following her date with Tristan, she was up early and had already baked a batch of gingerbread men, a chocolate cake and the orange and cranberry scones, which had been going down a treat.
Glancing at her to-do list, Lola crossed off the bakes and quickly scrawled down her daily gratitude list, making sure that Tristan didn’t take up all three points. She’d washed the scent of the bonfire out of her hair that morning, but as the memory of cosying up around the flames filled her mind, an idea began to form, one she sat back and let brew whilst she watched the seagulls soaring outside as she finished her coffee. The sea was always instantly calming, a reminder that nature was a bigger force than any human and that the world would roll on and on long after she was gone. The thought was huge but strangely comforting.
Putting down her mug, Lola picked up her pen to write, but paused, not quite ready to commit the slowly forming idea to paper. There was a yearning in her to do something special, something different, something Polcarrow probably hadn’t seen before. She wanted to show them something from her world, something a bit deeper than gingham bunting and a perfectly risen Victoria sponge. All the buzz surrounding the lobster pot tree made her think the village wanted new and different experiences. Lola leaned into the comfort of her idea. Now that it was growing, she knew she wouldn’t be able to let it go.
As much as she loved the bright promise of a rose-tinted, never-ending summer’s day, there was something about the short dark winter months that appealed to Lola’s more pagan side. Something about the winter solstice always stirred her, a chance to reflect on the year that had passed, to put it to bed before the Christmas celebrations kicked off. An opportunity to give thanks for everything she had been blessed with. A way of welcoming in the coming light. Lola had always performed her own ritual – lighting candles, meditating and purifying herself and her surroundings with sage – but what if she offered the people of Polcarrow the chance to do the same, to partake in the ritual together? A bonfire on the beach to say goodbye to the old year.
She chuckled to herself imagining Cathy’s horrified face. The village stalwart was hugely opposed to change. Still, if no one wanted to join in, she’d do it alone. That would give everyone something to gossip about. It was important to Lola that she did something to honour her first year in Polcarrow, to give thanks for all she had achieved and the friends she had made. Ruby would definitely approve. She had always enjoyed listening to Lola’s tales of partaking in fire walks, forest retreats and dawn yoga sessions. Gosh, she hadn’t done yoga in years, she realised. So many parts of her old life had been parcelled up and packed away, but now Lola wondered if it was time to pull out the hairpins and unleash that side of her, provide an antidote to the ever-encroaching commercialism of the season.
Lola quickly added ‘Plan Solstice Ritual’ to her list and vowed to run the idea past Tristan, to see what he thought and, hopefully, if he gave it his seal of approval, the rest of the village would too. Some had raised eyebrows at her offering tea and tarot but many had been intrigued enough to have their cards read so she felt confident that enough people would be interested in celebrating the solstice as well.
Tristan and Alf arrived at the same time, just after opening, and Lola was surprised that Alf didn’t suspect anything had shifted between her and Tristan with the matching smiles that spread across their faces. Lola didn’t get a chance to speak to Tristan properly as Alf had commandeered his attention and then the early morning coffee rush began. It was only when he came to pay for his breakfast that Tristan cast a quick glance over his shoulder and asked in a low voice, ‘Are you doing anything tomorrow night?’
Lola pretended to think about it. ‘I guess I could fit you in.’
Tristan laughed. ‘Great, I’ll pick you up at seven.’
‘It’s a date,’ Lola said, grinning at the cheesy line and realising it was true.
In lieu of a kiss, Tristan gave her hand the briefest squeeze.
The following evening, they were ensconced in very cosy, rustic pub in a village further down the coast, famous for its fish pie and local ales. Lola had decided to try both. Glancing around whilst Tristan placed their order at the bar, she admired the way the establishment was decked out in all sorts of seafaring paraphernalia and entwined with fairy lights. Sea-shanty-style Christmas carols were playing in the background. Lola relaxed into the vibe.
‘This place is gorgeous,’ she said as she chinked her glass against Tristan’s. ‘How did you discover it?’
‘I was looking for somewhere nice to take you and this place had such a good write-up. Plus, it’s away from home, so we won’t have anyone eavesdropping into our conversation.’ Tristan rubbed his face. ‘Being a vicar means you’re considered public property and honestly, I could sometimes do with a break from Cathy popping around to complain about the hymns I’ve chosen or telling me which bits of my sermon she didn’t like. I don’t think she’s ever forgiven me for being under seventy and having all my own teeth.’
Lola laughed. ‘Well, I’m very glad you’re under seventy and have all your own teeth. All those old vicars must have been young once,’ she mused.
‘Some people just struggle with change,’ he said diplomatically. ‘I understand it, life’s constants are what keep us feeling safe. Cathy had the ear of the old vicar. It gave her status in the community so I can understand why she doesn’t like me coming in and changing things. I’ve had to use a lot of compassion and tact.’
Lola considered this for a while. ‘You are very wise. I guess it comes with the job?’
‘Something like that—’ he smiled ‘—but it’s more that I’ve allowed myself time to observe people. I see them at their happiest at weddings and christenings and then at their lowest at funerals and grief counselling. It teaches you a lot about humanity. It’s taught me a lot about myself too. I guess you find that as well with your alternative therapies?’
‘“Alternative therapies”, I like that.’ Lola sipped her drink and considered this. ‘Yes, I do. People mainly want reassurance, they normally know the answers but just need a little help finding them.’
