Page 6 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
Chapter Three
Port Karadow, Thea’s home for the next three weeks, was a place that she held close to her heart, despite having only been here once before. As she walked into town, it shone with charisma, as if preparing to do battle with the clouds that were now racing overhead; as if it knew how much it meant to her and was showing off in her presence. Its cobbled streets and quaint seaside houses – many of them in soft, pastel colours like a display in an ice cream shop – were welcoming in a way that made the knot in her neck loosen.
She’d changed into shorts and T-shirt, and had a small rucksack containing her phone, a light jumper she was positive she wouldn’t need, and the bag of fudge from the hamper, her full water bottle secured in the side pocket. Her walking boots, bought specifically for this holiday and not subjected to enough wearing-in, were already pinching her heels. She had a tendency to be unprepared for things she was reluctant to do, in some vague hope that beforeshe had to do them the plans would change, and today this approach was biting her on the bum.
There had been no sign of Ben or Finn when she’d walked out of Sunfish Cottage, though both the Ford van and a grey Alfa Romeo, which she presumed was Finn’s car, were parked outside, so they could have been watching from the windows. Her plan was to buy a sandwich and set off along the coast path, take in the sights and enough photos to satisfy Esme. Then, by the end of her first whole day, she would have ticked off an item on their list.
She turned onto a steep, gently cobbled street with shops running down either side. This was an itemon her own, personal to-do list: exploring every corner, every alleyway, of Port Karadow, to see if it was suitable for life beyond a three-week holiday – if it was everything she’d remembered and dreamed of.
A glance down a side street showed her a glint of blue water, which must be Port Karadow’s picturesque harbour: there were photos of it on every website that mentioned the Cornish town. Thea didn’t know if all the shops and cafés would be open on a Sunday, and she needed to see it at its busiest and quietest, in sunshine and in rain, and find someone who could tell her what it was like during the winter months, too. Her thoughts tripped back to Ben and Finn, and she thought that Finn, at least, wouldn’t mind her asking some questions.
‘No, leave all that now!’ said a loud voice, startling Thea out of her daydream. She noticed a man with dark, thinning hair, wearing a suit, shirt and tie despite the heat, backing out of a doorway. The shop’s name was Cornish Keepsakes – the place her fudge had come from – but thesign on the door saidClosed,despite the door itself being open.
Thea approached, the man still talking to someone inside. He stopped mid-sentence and glanced at her, his smile widening. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid we’re not actually open right now.’
‘Ah, no problem,’ Thea replied, glancing through the doorway. There was a display of hampers in the centre of the space, the shelves against the walls holding candles, trinkets and boxes of edible goodies. ‘It looks like a lovely shop. My welcome hamper had some of your fudge in it.’
‘Excellent! I hope you enjoy it.’ The man rubbed his hands together. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘Not too far from here, a place called Sunfish Cottage.’
‘Oh, I know it: one of Mel’s properties. Are you having a good time?’
‘So far,’ Thea said. ‘I only got here yesterday.’
The man nodded in response, like one of those toy dogs that couldn’t stop. ‘You’ll have a grand time. And don’t worry about the clouds; the weather here changes as swiftly as a … summer swift, I suppose. The sun’ll soon be back.’
‘Good to know,’ Thea said, her voice weak as she thought of the walk ahead. ‘I don’t want to keep you. Especially not if you’re off to … church?’
The man chuckled, rocking back on his heels. ‘No, not church. My wife and I have a lunch to go to.’ He smoothed down his tie, which was pale pink with bold white daisies adorning it. ‘You know, we willsoonbe open on Sundays,’ he added, his tone suddenly conspiratorial. ‘My colleague is intent on bringing us screaming – well, laughing,hopefully – into the modern age, and Sunday openings are part of that.’
Thea smiled. ‘A tourist town like this, I’m sure you’ll be busy. It’s fairly hectic now, and it’s still early.’ There was a steady stream of people passing them from both directions, a few throwing frustrated glances their way as they had to change course to go around them.
‘That’s what Meredith keeps telling me. I have to get going, I’m afraid. Come on, Enzo, we can unpack the delivery on Monday,’ he called through the doorway. ‘You don’t want to be inside for much longer!’
There was a shouted response from the bowels of the shop, and Thea took a step back. ‘Nice to meet you,’ she said.
‘Oh, you too!’ the man called. ‘Enjoy your holiday.’
Thea found a café next door, a pretty place called Sea Brew, with gingham tablecloths and old-fashioned, illustrated postcards in frames on the walls, that offered sandwiches to take away. She ordered a cheese and pickle baguette, hoping it wouldn’t wilt too much in the heat, and waited by the window while it was prepared. It was the perfect place for people watching, for eavesdropping; it had an intimate, small-town feel, tourists mingling with locals who all knew each other. In fact, the man with the daisy tie had mentioned Meredith: wasn’t that what Finn had said his girlfriend was called?
She remembered Alex’s reaction to her and Esme’s planned holiday when she’d told him about it a few weeks ago. He had been outside the library, assessing an uneven paving slab that was causing him concern.
‘Cornwall?’ he’d said, his curly hair ruffling in the breeze while he crouched in his grey suit and peered at the slab,which was sticking up at a jaunty – and dangerous – angle. ‘So this is the start then. You’re really doing it?’
Thea had swallowed, wondering why it felt so terrifying admitting it to the one person who knew what she was planning. ‘I’m going to look at some properties while we’re there,’ she had said.
‘And Esme knows?’ He’d raised an eyebrow, his blue gaze fixing on her with its usual intensity. It was one of the things she liked most about him, except at that moment.
She had shrugged. ‘There’s no point mentioning it when it’s still just an airy fairy dream. I’m going to tell her when we’re there, in Cornwall. Get her to come with me to the viewings.’
Alex had pressed his lips together, and even though she was almost certain that he wouldn’t tell Esme if she didn’t want him to, it had still felt precarious. ‘You know,’ he’d said casually, getting out his tape measure and the slim camera he carried with him, ‘Bristol could withstand another independent bookshop, and the library offers so much more than the book loaning service. You wouldn’t be competing with it if you chose to open your business here.’
‘I know that,’ Thea had replied, glancing around her to check her colleagues weren’t looking for her. ‘But I want the whole dream, Alex. A bookshop by the sea. It’s what I’ve been working towards, what I’ve saved up for, for all these years. I’m not going to be half-hearted about it.’
It had felt both scary and empowering to say it, to tell her friend that she wasn’t compromising on the plans she’d had for over a decade. Determination wasn’t her default position: she didn’t think anyone who knew her well would ever accuse her of being too forthright, and some people– her mother included – would surely say the opposite. But on this one thing, her dream of opening a bookshop close to the sea, she wasn’t going to waver.
She had never intended to tell Alex what she was doing – she hadn’t known him that well, when it had happened: when he’d surprised her on her lunch break, seen her working studiously on something on her laptop, and coaxed the truth out of her. Since that day, he’d offered her advice, his business degree putting him in the perfect position to assist her in the areas where she lacked knowledge and experience.
