Can I do that? Do I deserve to?
While we laugh together and drink too much wine in the sitting room, Kit Bannen’s name comes up more than once, from Demi and from Isla. Before she leaves for Bosinney House, Isla signs Bannen’s book about her last drama with a personal message and puts his card in her handbag without comment. Robyn calls for her in the Mini and Demi walks back to her cottage at the same time, without a kiss or any comment to me. She’s seemed quiet but not subdued this evening, more relaxed in Isla’s presence than I’ve seen her before, and it went way better than I could have hoped.
I shut the kitchen door behind them, leaving it unlocked as I always have – as all the Penwiths always have – but tonight I wonder for a second or two if I should lock it. I’ve no idea why: maybe that stupid nightmare rattled me more than I realised. I put the book on the reception desk so that Polly can hand it to Bannen when he calls tomorrow morning, without having to come in here to find it. Not that she’d invite him into my house, but you never know.
Possibly – probably – I’m being completely paranoid, but I have the feeling that Kit Bannen is definitely not ‘only a guest’. I do believe that he’s an author of techno-thrillers or a journalist on a solar energy trade publication. But I’m also one hundred per cent certain that he’s a chancer who would love to get in Demi’s knickers – and possibly Isla’s too. I’m convinced he’d say anything to charm anyone who might be of use to him, including Polly and Mitch.
Beyond those facts, I’m not sure about anything where Bannen’s concerned, but I’m bloody well going to find out.
In my study the following afternoon, I’m trying to grapple with the accounts for the holiday park when Isla arrives. She finds me peering at the laptop and getting nowhere.
‘Sorry to disturb you, but I didn’t want to leave without saying a proper goodbye. We’re finished up here now.’ She hovers in the doorway to the study as if she’s not quite sure how deep she dare venture into my space.
‘You’re not disturbing me. I’m grateful for the distraction.’
She steps inside and shuts the door behind her.
‘Thanks again for letting us use Kilhallon. I’ve already thanked Demi and her team for their catering, which was awesome, and I’ll send her some flowers and a card too from the whole cast. She can start blogging and tweeting about us being here now we’re gone. We have to be more secretive these days because my leads, Dylan and Jojo, are becoming hot property and it’s hard to work when the hordes descend, even though most are harmless and we’re glad of the publicity.’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve spent the past hour unblocking a toilet because a toddler called George insisted on stuffing his soft toys down it. Yours is a very different world.’
She perches on a chair. ‘Sometimes I would definitely swap.’
‘No, you wouldn’t.’
‘Oh, I would. I yearn for a simpler life and have those “how the hell did I get here?” thoughts. It’s weird. But aren’t you going to be splashed all over the press soon, anyway? Demi said the magazine fashion piece is coming out any day.’
‘Is it? I hadn’t even thought about it. Demi handles all the PR stuff and I don’t think “all over the press” is right. It’s only one Sunday features magazine that a handful of bored people flick through while their quail are roasting. Or whatever.’
Isla laughs. ‘She’s one in a million.’
‘Yes.’ I decide to plunge in now we’re alone again and can’t be overheard. If I don’t ask this now I may never do it.
‘Isla, there’s something I have to thank you for.’
‘Thank me for?’
‘Yes. Last summer, I don’t know how you did it, but somehow you persuaded Mawgan Cade to drop her opposition to our plans for Kilhallon. I thought it was impossible, but whatever you did, it made a massive difference to us. To me and to Demi. She wouldn’t be running the cafe and have her dream now, if you hadn’t intervened.’
Isla frowns. ‘Cal, no …’
‘Don’t try to deny that you stepped in to help us. I knew it was you. Mawgan likes you and whatever you think about her and Luke having an affair, she listened.’
‘Stop. You have it all wrong. I didn’t speak to Mawgan about changing her plans. I swear it.’
‘What? But I thought …’
‘No. I promise it wasn’t me.’ She crosses her heart. ‘And Luke and Mawgan weren’t having an affair, you were right. I shouldn’t have come whining about my problems to you and saying I’d made a mistake with Luke. It was very wrong of me. I do love him, Cal. I really do.’
I wait for the kick in the guts at hearing those words but I feel only mild regret and amazement at Luke’s good fortune.
‘I need to tell you that I went to see Demi while you were out and told her about the pressure he’d been putting on Robyn to leave Andi,’ she goes on, toying with a glass bird paperweight that my father gave my mother.
I catch my breath at her words. ‘You went to see Demi? When was this?’
‘One morning in the summer while Mawgan Cade was trying to block your plans for developing Kilhallon. Luke told me that Mawgan wanted to stop Andi and Robyn from moving in together. She persuaded Luke to put pressure on Robyn to end the relationship. Mawgan has always been unstable, but she’s turned into a truly bitter and twisted woman.’
I shake my head. ‘I already knew the depths Mawgan could plumb, but I didn’t realise the Cades had such a tight grip on Luke.’
‘They owned your Uncle Rory and Luke’s business premises and they’d loaned money to the actual business too. What Luke did was wrong but he was under enormous pressure and not thinking straight …’ Isla says, her cheeks tinged with pink. She’s obviously ashamed of Luke’s actions, although they’re not her fault. ‘Luke told me that he’d go bankrupt and we’d lose everything if Robyn took Andi away from Mawgan and her father. I thought the information might help Demi put things right for Robyn and Andi, somehow,” she adds.
‘Now I know why you and Luke were so keen to move to London.’
‘Luke and Rory sold all of their assets and with my help they were able to pay off the Cades. Luke’s working for a financial advice company in London and he seems much happier. Now we’re in London and Rory has sold up, we’re out of the Cades’ reach. Making a fresh start was the best thing we ever did.’
Although I can, just about, understand Luke’s motives for treating Robyn and Andi so cruelly, I can’t understand how Demi fits in. Or why she let me assume Isla had helped me. ‘What did you think Demi could do with the information? Does Luke know you came to talk to her?’
Isla shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking straight at the time myself. I suppose I hoped she might tell Robyn and Andi. Perhaps Andi was so upset she finally made Mawgan see sense about what really mattered to her family. I remember that I was desperate to help in any way I could. I care about Kilhallon, the history and heritage and everyone here. I’ve betrayed Luke in one way, but I’d do the same again, because in the end, things turned out OK, didn’t they?’
She looks around her at the study which looks no different to how it always has, even though so much has changed in the past few months.
‘Thank you for telling me this,’ I say, stunned by her revelation.
‘I’m not sure my interference had anything to do with the outcome. Someone else saved you, Cal, not me.’
She stands up. ‘Now, I have to go. I’m staying over at Rory’s again this evening and I promised to have dinner with him and Robyn. Despite his new lady friend coming over these days, your uncle still misses having family and friends around the house.’
‘Is that a hint? You’re right and I’ll make time to visit him. I’ve been too wrapped up in working here lately.’
I get up and we embrace. Isla kisses my cheek. She smells of the cold, clear Cornish air and leaves me with memories neither of us can afford to dwell on any longer.
She walks away and I walk in the opposite directi
on. Is it wrong of me to still fancy her like crazy? To think of what might have been? Is it wrong to be sad to see her walk out of my life again, even though she’d never walked back into it? I can’t rejoice in the idea of her with another man, my best mate, a man who’s not worthy of her – not that I ever was either.
Is it wrong not to be as eaten up as I would have been six months, or even six weeks, ago?
Is it wrong that, as Isla leaves the car park in her Jeep, I’m thinking – longing – for another woman who drives me just as crazy? Even though I suspect she may love me, and I could hurt her the way I hurt Isla.
I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. It’s time I did the right thing. But I’m damned if I know what the right thing is where Demi is concerned.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Monday November 4th
Demi
After the crew left last Tuesday morning, I had Wednesday off and we were back into the ‘normal’ cafe opening session from Thursday to Sunday. On Monday, so many families descended for the half-term holidays that we decided to open for the rest of the week to make the most of the business while we could. I’ve had no choice but to work most of the days straight through, even though Cal, Robyn and Polly tried to help as much as they could.
By yesterday evening – Sunday – I was so worn out I virtually crawled home to the cottage and didn’t wake up until eleven o’clock this morning, a grey and gloomy Monday. In all the mayhem of the past weeks, I was too busy and tired to blog about the filming, so Robyn and Andi wrote the post for me and finally uploaded it last night, a week late, along with some ‘exclusive’ photos from the shoot for social media channels. With a bit of luck it should attract a few more bookings and customers.
Now I’m finally awake, I crunch on a piece of toast in my cottage and switch on my tablet.
Wow and wow. The hits on the Demelza’s Cafe and Kilhallon blog have rocketed and I can’t even begin to reply to or even like all the retweets of the photos on our Twitter account. We’ve almost doubled our followers on Instagram and our Facebook page likes have soared. The photos of the shoot have been shared hundreds of times, possibly thousands. In a way, I’m relieved we didn’t blog about it until now because I don’t think we could have coped with all the extra custom and attention during the busy half-term week.
Checking the Kilhallon Park booking app, I see that lots of new reservations for the cottages have already come in and Christmas and New Year are now full. My phone hardly stops ringing with enquiries from people wanting to arrange festive lunches and afternoon teas in the cafe.
Just when I think there will be time to grab a sandwich while I start on the cafe accounts, a copy of next week’s Sunday magazine supplement pings into my inbox from Eva Spero’s journalist friend. It’s in the lifestyle section and combines a fashion shoot with a short feature on Cal and me, and Kilhallon.
The photos have been retouched, of course, and made meaner and moodier. I expected the Photoshop effects, but I barely recognise the figures as us. There’s me in a floaty dress sitting on the platform of the engine house, and lying in the meadow wearing a pair of dungarees (and nothing else.) Oh God, you would almost see my nipples in one picture, if it wasn’t for a well-placed shadow.
Then there’s Cal. As far as I’m concerned, he needs no grooming or enhancement to look red hot, but the photos have taken his natural rugged sexiness and raised it to superheated level. To me, he’s far more gorgeous than the star of Isla’s drama. It’s weird to think these photos will be on thousands of doorsteps and probably thousands of tablets and mobile phones all over the world. In fact, I’m not sure I like sharing him with so many people.
I’m a bit nervous of how he’s going to react when he sees the photos, even if it does mean good news for the business. I’ve been worried about him. Ever since Isla left, he hasn’t been himself. He seems subdued and quiet. No matter how much I tell myself not to be silly, their relationship is over – and I can’t do a damn thing about it if it isn’t – and that I shouldn’t expect anything more from Cal than I already have. I can’t help but get goosebumps.
It has to be done, though, and instead of forwarding the pictures, I take my tablet up to the house and show him myself.
He goes deadly quiet as he scrolls through the PDF of the feature. There are three pages of it, with the headline ‘The Cream of Cornish’.
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ I say cheerily, as he toggles back and forth through the photos. ‘Bookings have gone through the roof since the film shoot and this magazine hasn’t even landed on people’s doorsteps yet.’
He grunts, flicking over the pages and back again. It’s all I can do to not explode with the agony.
‘Well?’ I say, cracking.
‘You look great. Very sexy …’ he mutters
‘I don’t think I look like that in real life.’ I say.
‘Well, you can wander around in skimpy dungarees for me any day.’
‘Cal!’
A smile tugs at his mouth, then disappears. He shoves the tablet away as if he’s ashamed. ‘I look a right pillock.’
‘Pillock isn’t exactly the word I’d use,’ I say, unable to bring myself to tell him that I’m surprised the screen hasn’t set alight.
He pulls the tablet to him again and starts poring over the words. He frowns, mutters a rude word every so often and then puts down the tablet with a gasp of disgust.
‘That’s not true. They’ve made up some total crap about me “risking my life to save others in a war-torn hell hole”. I never said that. I told the reporter I was part of a charity team, but this piece make it seem as if I’m boasting about having saved the world single-handedly.’
‘Hmm. I must admit I was a bit surprised when I saw some of the quotes.’
‘Oh Jeez … what’s this?’
He pokes a finger at a section of text on the tablet. ‘This so-called quote from me makes me sound like a sanctimonious twat to boot.’ He glares at me. ‘Did you tell them anything?’
‘As if! Don’t overreact. I don’t think you come across like a boastful hero or sanctimonious twat, but I was surprised you’d given them any quotes at all about your work, even though Eva said that it would make a good story.’
‘A good story? It was real life for those people who had to live and die there.’
‘Cal, calm down. I’d never say anything to strangers or anyone else about your time in Syria, mainly because I haven’t got a clue what did or didn’t happen to you. I just think they’ve taken the bones of the story and stretched the truth.’
He snorts. ‘Stretched it? There’s nothing true in here.’
‘But it won’t matter, will it? This is a lifestyle feature. It’s the publicity for Kilhallon that counts. You can’t deny that Kilhallon looks incredible. Added to the buzz over the film shoot, this feature will be fantastic for business. We need all the help we can get to take us through winter into next season.’
‘I guess so, but I’m still pissed off about them making up this rubbish. I don’t like people thinking I’m some kind of hero. Do you think it’s too late to change it?’
‘Probably, and I don’t think journalists like interviewees having approval of their articles. It gets in the way of their story.’
He puts down the tablet, still shaking his head. ‘The thing is, I’m going to be meeting up with some of my old buddies from the charity sooner than I thought.’
‘Meeting up? When?’
‘I’ve got to go to London next week. The group is having a reunion and I want to go along and catch up with a few old friends afterwards, though God knows what they’ll make of this rubbish when they see it.’
‘I’m sure your mates will know what journalists are like and you can explain to them in person that the reporter’s used poetic licence. That’s if they ever see this article. I doubt they’re the type of people who’d bother to read this lifestyle supplement, are they?’
‘God, I don’t know.’ He glances at th
e tablet again and sighs. ‘Shit.’
I put my arms around him. ‘You worry too much. When are you going to London?’
‘Next Monday. Will you be OK here on your own while I’m away?
‘I won’t be on my own. I have Polly, Mitch and the guests, and I think I can manage without you.’
He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm but I’m glad he can’t read my mind. There’s no way I would voice my fears about him being persuaded to go back to work in the Middle East again.
I don’t even know why I think that myself. Perhaps it’s his passionate reaction to the magazine shoot. Working in a warzone in life or death situations must have been an incredibly intense experience. I often wonder if he misses it.
But surely Cal wouldn’t abandon Kilhallon now, after expending so much blood, sweat and tears reviving it? Yet I know his time there has left him with scars we don’t know about, inside and out. When I first met him he was thin and tired and nursing some injuries. It looked like he’d had an accident or been wounded, but he didn’t say anything about it and I didn’t ask. Polly and Robyn both think he suffered a breakdown or post- traumatic stress disorder and had to be sent home, and he did mention to me something about having to be rescued once so I suspect he was airlifted out of a bad situation. The prospect of reliving his time out in the warzone, even if it’s only by seeing people he worked with and hearing about all the latest troubles, is bound to bring back bad memories.
‘Does it bother you, being reminded of what you did and saw out there?’ I’m dying to ask him exactly what happened.
‘Mind? Why would I? It’s not as if I’m going on assignment. It’s only a meeting … even if it is in that highly dangerous zone they call London.’ He smiles. ‘You’ll be lucky to get me back in one piece now I’m a celebrity. I must admit, I’m revising my opinion of those photos by the second. I think I look pretty damn hot. In fact, even I’d shag me.’
Christmas at the Cornish Café Page 10