Summer at the Cornish Cafe

by Phillipa Ashley

‘Said anything. Like what? You mean declare undying love?’ I laugh. ‘Why do people have to assume we’re together when all we do is work together?’

  Robyn carries on talking, but all I can think of is that Cal lied, or at least was economical with the truth about his trip to St Trenyan. He probably did go to St Trenyan on the way to or from Bosinney, although he was only out for a couple of hours max. Why wouldn’t he say he’d been visiting Isla? Perhaps he didn’t even know she’d be home from London?

  I grimace as we reach the farmhouse. ‘Let me get out of these clothes. I never thought I’d be so glad to be in my overalls again.’

  After a good night’s sleep, I’ve thrown myself into my important to-do list. I was just googling personalised dog outfits in the office when Eva calls me, exploding like a firework in my ear.

  ‘Demi, darling! The photos are incredible. You look amazing.’

  ‘Um. Great. I’m glad. I can’t wait to see them.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll whizz them over now. Look, I have a proposition for you …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know you’d never leave Kilhallon but if you ever did think of moving on to even bigger and better things, I’d snap you up in a flash.’

  I drop the towel on the chair. ‘What?’

  ‘Come and work for me in my cafe. You can have some training from one of my top patisserie chefs and we’ll give you some coaching in the PR side of things. You’re young, you’re gorgeous and talented – I’m sure with my backing and your talents we could get a book deal. We could do a Cornish recipe book and a book of doggy treats. We could have a brand, “Proper Dog” or “Betty ‘n’ Mitch”. It would be amazing.’

  ‘That’s fantastic but I don’t know what to say. Would it mean moving to Brighton?’

  ‘Well, yes, sweetheart, but you’d love it here. This is the seaside just like Kilhallon and the customers would adore you. I’d make sure you had lots of coverage.’

  ‘But Brighton’s not the same. I’m sure it’s lovely but it’s not Cornwall.’

  ‘You’d get used to it in two wags of Mitch’s tail, and Betty’s if she had a proper one, the little love. I know this has come as a shock, darling, but why not think about it? Opportunities like this don’t come along very often, do they?’ Eva’s tone hardens subtly. ‘Unless, of course, there’s something else tying you to Kilhallon. Or someone else?’

  ‘I – well, not really. Thank you for thinking of me. I’m a bit overwhelmed at the moment. Can I think about it?’

  ‘Of course, but don’t take too long. Anyway, ciao! Love and woofs to Mitch.’

  The phone goes dead and the silence in the study is a huge contrast to Eva’s onslaught. She’s mad as a box of frogs, I think, but clever too and famous and oh – why am I even hesitating to accept her offer? She’s giving me the chance of a lifetime and I’d be crazy not to accept but it would mean leaving Kilhallon before it’s even up and running, and leaving Cal too.

  I lay my head on my hands on the desk, wishing the world would stop so I can get off. Things are moving so fast, with my job and Cal, I can hardly think straight. The phone buzzes again and it’s a few seconds before I realise that it isn’t mine, but Cal’s.

  Isla’s name flashes up.

  The phone buzzes and throbs, demanding his attention but he’s down at the building site. Should I take it to him? Or take a message? Ignore it?

  I press the green button.

  ‘Cal! Thank God I got you!’

  ‘Isla, it’s Demi.’

  ‘What?’ she asks sharply.

  ‘I’m sorry. Cal is out on site somewhere. He left his phone in the office and I didn’t know whether to answer it or not.’

  ‘Oh … Never mind, then.’ Her voice has a brittle edge.

  ‘D’you want me to give him a message?’

  ‘No. Just tell him I called, please.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Thanks. Bye.’ Click.

  I stare at the phone. Before I have chance to tell Cal, an email from Eva arrives.

  Wow. The photos from the shoot are amazing. Is that really me? I thank Eva, but reply without saying anything about her offer. I then print a couple of pictures and go out to find Cal.

  He smiles when I arrive, near the field where he’s labouring for the builders as they put the final touches to the shell of the cafe. The sound of hammering and shouts of the builders echo across the field. Cal lays down his wheelbarrow and walks over to meet me.

  ‘How’s it going?’ I ask.

  ‘Good. It’s almost watertight now, so the following trades can start on the inside.’ He looks proud and takes a swig of his water bottle.

  ‘Great. Eva sent the photos.’

  He grimaces.

  ‘Want a quick look?’

  ‘Do I have to?’ He takes the print out and his grimace softens to surprise and something resembling pleasure.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I suppose they’re not bad.’

  ‘They’ll be great for business.’

  ‘Yes.’ He hands them back.

  ‘And while I was in the office printing them, Isla called your mobile. I saw her name and so I answered it. I hope that was OK?’

  His brow furrows. ‘What did she want?’

  ‘Nothing urgent.’ Am I lying? Isla sounded upset. ‘She asked me to tell you she’d phoned.’

  He pauses then nods. ‘Thanks. And thanks for bringing the photos. I’m glad you forced me into doing them now.’ He catches my hand and brushes my mouth with his lips while the builders’ backs are turned. ‘You look gorgeous in those clothes, but even better out of them.’

  His sexy words and the tingle of his lips on mine, make me long to drag him off to bed right this moment, still dusty and hot in his work clothes. For a moment, I feel as if I could fly back to the house. I should drink in the smouldering looks he gives me, and the kisses when no one is around. I should be enjoying Cal sneaking over to the cottage at night to make love to me.

  Instead I keep wondering about Cal’s ‘secret’ visit to Bosinney and now what to do about Eva’s offer. I’ve lost count of the reasons there are to grab it with both hands. I can’t think of a single one in favour of staying – except, of course, I’m in love with Cal Penwith.

  And that is the biggest reason of all to leave.

  I’m worse than Mitch with his bone, gnawing at the questions, and ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ until I feel ragged. I should ask him why he went to Bosinney and lied about it. I must ask him. I have to for my own peace of mind because I’m blowing that one little lie – not even a proper lie – out of all proportion and I’m sure there’s an explanation. I have to hold on to my instinct. Tomorrow, I’ll ask him.

  Despite all my doubts and uncertainties, I stayed over at the farmhouse again last night. Polly has gone to see her new grandson and won’t be back for a week. I woke up to a breeze rattling the new window and the realisation that I need to talk to Cal about his visit to Isla or I’ll go mad. While I’m getting dressed, I hear voices downstairs. It sounds as if there are people talking in the kitchen but the words aren’t clear. The kitchen door creaks open and voices are more distinct. Cal’s deep tones and a woman’s, low and not quite steady.

  Hastily pulling my T-shirt over my head, I tiptoe to the top of the stairs, cursing every creak of the ancient floorboards, listening.

  ‘Cal, I’m so sorry to do this but I didn’t know who else to turn to.’

  ‘It’s fine. Look, sit down, you don’t look well,’ he says. ‘Can I get you a drink? Tea? Coffee? A glass of water?’

  ‘No. No, I couldn’t drink anything. I feel sick.’

  ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’

  ‘No! That would be a disaster. I mean, a disaster at this stage. We’re not married yet, not that I care about being married before I start a family, but I’m so busy with my work and having a baby would be terrible timing with Luke working so hard too.’

  I hold my breath and will my heart to stop thumping so loudl
y though they couldn’t possibly hear it from up here. By creeping down a few more steps I can hear what they’re saying but every creak of the stairs makes me wince. Then again, I doubt if Cal can hear me any more because Isla is crying.

  ‘Sweetheart. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Oh Cal, I have to tell you though he’d go mad if he knew I was pouring out my heart you. Luke’s in trouble.’

  ‘What kind of trouble?’ he asks, more sharply than I’d expect.

  The kitchen door gently swings with each gust of wind, cutting off parts of the conversation like the dodgy radio signal in the Land Rover.

  ‘He’s been working late a lot and spending a lot of time at the country club.’ There’s a long gap and then I hear a sob. ‘I’m worried he’s having an affair with Mawgan.’

  ‘Then he’s out of his mind. I could kill him!’ Cal’s voice is savage and I clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.

  ‘No. Don’t say that. You can’t say that …’ Isla pleads.

  ‘I can’t help it. He’d have to be blind to do that to you. What the hell makes you think he’s seeing her?’

  ‘It’s not one thing; he’s spent so many nights away from home since we came back from holiday. He told me he was at the country club with the boys at an all-night drinking session but there’s been some gossip around St Trenyan. He’s been seen coming out of Mawgan’s place. I can’t be sure but she’s had her claws into him in every other way so I can’t help but think the worst.’

  Isla sobs and Cal makes soothing noises, the kind he’s never made to me, perhaps because he’s never had to, or he thinks I’ve never needed him to. It’s true that I don’t want his pity and comfort.

  ‘What will you do?’ His voice is taut with anger, I can almost feel the tension in his body even though I can’t see him.

  ‘I don’t know. Like you say, I could be wrong about Mawgan.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could help you though I don’t know how. Why didn’t you tell me all of this before?’

  ‘Because you have enough troubles of your own. Because this is my mess and I’ll have to sort it out. Because you have other things and people to worry about. Besides, you are helping, just by being here. By being you. Oh, Cal, I’ve missed you so much.’

  I grip the banister, my heart in my mouth. I hate Isla at that moment. I hate myself for the jealousy that keeps me here, terrified of hearing something that will break my heart. I hate feeling this vulnerable. Now, when I thought I was stronger than ever, I’m weaker. I was better off on the streets: me and Mitch, with no one to care for us or anyone to care about.

  ‘Right now, I’m only worried about you. Here, dry your eyes.’ Cal sounds tense. Maybe I missed part of his reply to her. I just don’t know.

  There’s a pause and I hear Isla saying. ‘I shouldn’t have come here.’ Her voice is firmer but tinged with regret.

  ‘Yes, you should. I’ll always be here for you, Isla. Whatever happens. You know I’ll always care for you. More than care …’

  ‘You can’t say that to me and I’ve said enough too.’

  A window rattles upstairs and the kitchen door slams shut. My heart almost jumps out of my chest. Damn. I’ll never hear them now! I’ve no choice but to creep down the rest of the stairs and stand at the bottom, ready to dash back up again if there’s any sign of them coming into the corridor. I listen until I think my ears will bleed.

  Isla’s voice is stronger now and falsely bright like she’s putting on a brave face for Cal’s sake.

  ‘Where’s Demi?’

  Cal hesitates. ‘Asleep, I think.’

  ‘Oh, is she having a lie-in?’

  ‘She might be. I don’t really know. She’s in her cottage.’

  I grip the banister tighter. So Cal couldn’t bring himself to tell Isla that he slept with me last night and that I’m in his bed – supposed to be in his bed – at this moment?

  ‘She works hard,’ Isla says. ‘You’re lucky to have her.’

  Whatever Cal says in reply, sounds like a grunt to me.

  ‘I’m glad she can’t see me like this. I’ll go now. Thanks for listening to what I had to say.’

  ‘You can always talk to me.’ There’s a gap and Isla sniffs loudly then blows her nose again. ‘I’ll take you home,’ he goes on. ‘And maybe you should tell Luke about your suspicions. It might shock him out of whatever’s going on in his head. For what it’s worth, I think you’re wrong about Mawgan and Luke having an affair.’

  ‘You can’t swear to that.’

  ‘No, I meant what I said. Luke may be stupid and reckless, but he’s not completely barking mad. He can’t be, to be marrying you.’ Cal’s voice lightens, jollying her along. ‘I’ll always be here if you need me, at Kilhallon. For any reason.’

  There’s a pause, during which I’m pretty sure Cal is holding Isla and comforting her. He may be kissing her. I just don’t know but my imagination is working overtime.

  ‘I shouldn’t say this …’ she starts again. ‘I hope I haven’t made a mistake with Luke.’

  I hold my breath.

  ‘No. You haven’t. You think that now because you’re so worried about this affair, which is probably nothing, but I’ll help you all I can,’ he answers.

  ‘I know you’re right but it’s hard not to have doubts.’

  There’s an agonising silence again, when my imagination works overtime then I hear Cal saying gently. ‘Isla, sweetheart, let me take you home.’

  The sound of the back door opening jolts me into life. I run back upstairs, jump into bed and drag the pillow over my head, hoping the world will go away.

  ‘Well, aren’t you going to say something?’

  We’re in Cal’s study when I tell him about the job offer the next morning. Nowhere seemed the ideal place so I just went for it after he’d come in from working on the new buildings.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, other than, congratulations.’ He sits down at his desk, leaving me standing like I’ve been called into the boss’s office for an interview. Yet he doesn’t know that I’m testing him, gambling on his reaction and I already know that I have just lost.

  I force a smile. ‘I haven’t accepted the job yet.’

  ‘But you’re going to?’ He shakes his head at me. ‘You have to, Demi. You can’t possibly pass up an opportunity like this.’

  ‘No, I suppose not, but it’s a big decision.’

  ‘What? Leaving a half-built Cornish holiday site that may or may not succeed – to train with a celebrity food guru? Leave the bright lights of Kilhallon for the back end of beyond that is Brighton?’ He smiles. ‘I’m surprised you aren’t already on your way.’

  ‘Well, I only found out a couple of days ago but I needed time to take it in. Consult Mitch and ask you. But if you really think I should go. I thought you might want me to stay, need me to stay. Who’ll run the cafe?’ I try to sound cheery but every word makes me sick. I picture Polly’s face too.

  ‘What I really think doesn’t matter. This is amazing for you, Demi. I can’t stand in your way.’ He gets up. ‘Congratulations again.’

  ‘So that’s it, then?’

  ‘What’s what? You don’t think I’m going to ruin the rest of your life by asking you to stay? I care for you too much to do that.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I mutter, fighting back tears.

  ‘Will you come over for dinner with me tonight? Polly’s away …’

  ‘No. No, I can’t. I have a lot to do, a lot to think about. Goodbye, Cal.’

  His hand is on my arm but I shake it off. ‘Wait. I’ll cook. We’ll open some more champagne. Treat ourselves.’

  ‘Sorry. I’ve lost my appetite.’

  ‘Wait! Demi!’

  ‘So now I know,’ I tell Mitch when I’m back in the cottage. ‘If he’d wanted me to stay, he would have asked me. Instead he literally breaks out the champagne.’

  Mitch licks a tear fr
om my face and stares curiously at my snotty nose and red eyes. ‘In fact me leaving Kilhallon must be the answer to Cal’s dreams because he can go to Isla now. She’s free, she loves him, and I’m off the scene – not that I was ever on it – and yet …’ Mitch barks, worried now, and I bury my face in his fur, knowing that it’s too late. Kilhallon has become part of me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  For the final time, I take Mitch’s lead from the peg by the cottage door. Though he was dozing in his basket, his ears prick up at the rattle of the chain. He looks at me, hopefully, asking:

  ‘Are we going somewhere?’

  ‘Yes, boy. We are.’

  He nudges the backpack on the door mat. His tail thumps against it and he gazes up at me. I can tell what he’s thinking: this will be a long walk with lots of rabbit holes to explore and trails to sniff and other dogs to meet and greet and boss. I clip the lead to his collar and sling the backpack on my back. It’s heavy, much heavier than I remember but I am going soft now. I’ve spent too long in one bed.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  He jumps off his bed. I pick it up and he tilts his head on one side: where would he be walking that needs a dog bed?

  ‘You’ll get used to it. We both will.’

  If I don’t get out of the cottage this second, I may never have the courage to do it and the misery and uncertainty will grind on and on until I’m forced to leave. Not that I think Cal will catch me and try to stop me: I saw him leave this morning and I know he’s gone to Bosinney. Polly told me he’d left without even having any breakfast although she had no idea the effect it would have on me. I haven’t even told her I’m going, and that stabs at my heart. I’m a coward but I just can’t face the pain of any more goodbyes.

  Lugging a rucksack and a dog bed, while trying to control a confused and excited hound, is harder than I thought. Even harder when you can barely see because tears are streaming down your face. Closing the door on the cottage that’s been my home for these past few months was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Almost as hard as letting my mum go; even harder than walking out on Dad.

  I reach the old milestone on the moor and know I only have a mile to the main road and the bus stop. From there it’s half an hour to the station and six more hours to Brighton. I kept the mobile Cal gave me: I’ll call Eva on the train and tell her I’m on my way. She said I could have a flat there too.