Page 8 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery
Lola let Freya go just after the post-school rush, which consisted of groups of teenage girls buying marshmallow-laden hot chocolates and occupying the sea view table pretending to do their homework whilst sharing gossip about the boys they fancied. They were just on their way out when Tristan arrived, bundled up against the cold, concern etched across his face.
‘Lola what’s up?’ he asked as he swept through the café, eyes darting over her. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, I’m sorry, it’s just something I need to talk to someone about, someone who is wise but who I also trust,’ she said as she loaded the empty hot chocolate cups onto a tray and carried them towards the counter.
‘Honoured, though I think Alf might be a better candidate on the wise front.’
Lola grimaced. ‘I’m a bit worried it’s about Alf.’
Tristan’s face flashed with concern. ‘Is he all right? I thought he’s been walking a bit slower since the cold weather’s arrived.’
‘I saw that too, but he won’t like us fussing. Sit down and I’ll explain. I have some Victoria sponge that needs finishing off if you want to join me?’
Tristan grinned. ‘Like I could ever say no to you, Lola. Looking lovely and festive in here,’ he said as he removed his coat and hung it over the back of a chair. ‘That gingerbread bunting is quite cute.’
Lola smiled. ‘Sadly, I didn’t make it, but it is rather adorable. Freya and I decorated this afternoon. Can you flick the sign to “Closed” if you don’t mind, I’m almost out of most things and I need a sit-down.’
Tristan did as he was told with the sign and settled himself into the window seat. Lola brought the tray over and laid out the cups and saucers, a pot of Earl Grey tea and the remains of the cake sliced into two large portions.
‘I don’t care what Alf says, there’s nothing like a nice refreshing cup of Earl Grey.’ Tristan lifted the teapot and poured out the tea. ‘These little dainty cups remind me of my grandmother. She always used to get hers out on special occasions.’ Tristan held one up, the cup adorably small in his large hands.
Lola pushed a generous slice of cake across to him. ‘What? It won’t be as good in the morning and I’m sure we’ve both earned a little afternoon indulgence.’
Tristan took a bite of the cake and smiled with pleasure. ‘I can always run it off in the morning.’
‘Very brave of you, going running in this cold,’ Lola said. As she sipped her tea she began to relax. There was something wonderfully easy about sitting with Tristan and having a chat over tea and cake. He never judged, he always paused before answering and he was warm, comforting company. He was the first man Lola had met with whom she didn’t have to put on any sort of act or mask. She didn’t care to dwell on what this said about her previous relationship with Jared, other than it wasn’t all she’d cracked it up to be.
‘How was your day?’ Lola asked to buy herself some time.
‘I spent most of it sorting out the Christmas trees that have been stored for the annual Christmas tree festival. Sadly, church budget doesn’t stretch to buying new ones. They’re a bit tatty looking so I’m hoping fairy lights and tinsel will help disguise that. Would you like to decorate a tree?’
‘Of course! Is there a theme?’
‘No, no theme. I tried to come up with one but in my experience no one sticks to it. You can’t ask a bunch of primary school kids to do deep and meaningful handmade decorations, can you? I just want it to be fun.’
‘Fun, I can do fun.’ Their eyes met for a moment. Something shifted inside her making her suddenly nervous.
Tristan smiled almost shyly at her before signalling to the cake with his fork. ‘This is delicious. How on earth do you decide what to make every day?’
Lola paused before confessing, ‘Part of it is my sixth sense, I get a sort of idea what people might be after with the weather. Also, there’s the favourites that always go down well.’ She signalled to the Victoria sponge. ‘No one ever says no to a classic. I’m thinking of doing ginger cake and mini strudels.’
‘A strudel would be an excellent post-run treat.’ Tristan smiled at her, their eyes meeting again and Lola felt safe, knowing she was with someone she could trust with anything.
Taking this as her cue, she said, ‘Tristan, there was something I wanted your advice on.’
‘Of course, you can ask me anything, Lola, in any capacity, friend or vicar.’
Lola nodded. ‘Bear with, I just need to fetch something.’ She darted up and headed into the kitchen to grab her handbag before returning to the table. ‘Did I ever tell you why I came here?’
‘You said you needed a new start after a break-up. That and all the stuff about being drawn here on the wind.’ He winked.
‘Yes, well remembered. Actually, I know I joke about it, but the wind thing isn’t too far from the truth, but I feel a bit silly saying it. I found a postcard tucked inside my grandmother’s recipe book last Christmas. I was so down, so lost, that I took a chance, coming here because I felt I was called to. I don’t know if that sounds silly.’
‘Not at all, my calling was to the Church. It was something I felt deep inside me rather than being a job I searched for in a newspaper.’ He smiled encouragingly at Lola.
‘I knew you’d understand. Well, my Nannie Ruby led me here. We were very close, very similar. Mum once told me she was jealous of our bond, which is one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard. Anyway, when Ruby died she left a lot of money to me to make my wish of opening my own café come true. I don’t think Mum was properly happy with how the will was split, it caused a bit of tension. My grandmother also left me this.’ Lola put the recipe book on the table ‘Her recipe book.’
Tristan reached forward to touch it before stopping. ‘Can I?’
