Polly’s eyes widen and her mouth opens then closes. My heart sinks. Oh no, not here, not now. She must have known about me and Cal – she must have – but it’s one thing thinking you know something and another finding out that Cal and I are a ‘couple’ in public, in front of a stranger. As for Kit … it was only a moment, but unmistakeable: the look on his face of anger, disappointment and bitterness. Surely he can’t be jealous of Cal? Not that jealous?
‘You do what you like,’ Polly says tightly, hiding her hurt with brusqueness, as she often does. ‘I’m off to bed. I suppose you’ll be here anyway for breakfast then, Demi, if you’re staying over,’ she adds, her eyes drilling into me.
‘I don’t know … I have to collect Mitch.’
‘Not that early.’ Cal cuts across me. ‘Demi needs a good night’s sleep.’
‘I expect she does, and she’d be better off in her own bed,’ says Polly. ‘Goodnight. Glad everything turned out all right. You know where I am if either of you wants me. Not that you will.’
‘Thanks, Polly!’ I say.
‘I’m glad you’re both safe,’ she replies quietly, snatches up her coat and hurries out into the yard.
Keeping a hand on my shoulder, Cal turns to Kit. ‘Thanks for coming out in this weather, mate. You’re supposed to be a guest here. It wouldn’t have looked good if you’d broken your neck.’
Mate?
Kit manages a smile but his eyes hold fury. ‘Anyone would have done it,’ he mutters.
‘I don’t think so,’ I cut in, fuming inwardly at Cal’s presumption, not to mention his arrogance, in ‘claiming’ me in front of Polly and Kit out of the blue. ‘You were brave to go out in the fog when you don’t really know the land that well. Anything could have happened.’
‘Something did happen …’ he begins, directing all his words at me.
‘But all’s well that ends well,’ Cal snaps. ‘You’ll have to come over for a meal with us, mate, as a thank-you. Won’t he, Demi?’
‘Yes. Yes, that would be lovely.’ I try to say everything in a look, that I’m embarrassed, apologetic and shocked – all without being openly disloyal to Cal, although he deserves it.
Kit stops by my chair and looks down at me. Cal’s fingers tighten subtly around my shoulder.
‘Great. I expect I’ll see you tomorrow then. Let me know how Mitch is, will you? And take care of the ankle.’
Minutes later, it’s just Cal and me in the sitting room. I’m gripping the handles of the armchair and trying not to wince while Cal kneels by the stool and straps up my ankle. He’s not exactly rough, but he’s definitely being businesslike, and I’d rather chop my foot off than let out as much as a squeak. He was right, he does know what he’s doing, but I don’t care.
He stands up. ‘There. Keep your weight off it for as long as possible.’
‘No chance. I have to open up the cafe in six hours time.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘Aside from any walkers who might drop in, I’ve got a twenty-strong WI group in for an early Christmas lunch and a full cream tea to serve to a dozen Americans on a Poldark tour. And I have to collect Mitch. How can I put my feet up when there’s only Jez and Nina in?’
‘Quite easily. You bloody well will not work in that cafe today. I already texted Jez, and Nina and Polly have offered to help me with your group bookings.’
‘Polly! She’ll frighten away all my customers. And you’d be the final nail in the coffin.’
‘No, she won’t, and I can behave. I look after the cottage guests and the yurt campers and they haven’t complained so far, apart from that scary woman who wanted me to mow the camping field with my top off – but that was hardly relevant. Hell, you can’t do everything, Demi, and I won’t let you.’
‘You won’t let me? Since when did you start saying what I can and can’t do?’ I try to stand up but wobble after Cal’s brand of first aid. ‘And by the way, I can see why you never made a doctor. Your bedside manner is crap!’
‘Crap? You’re the worst patient in the world. Where do you think you’re going?’
‘To bed. My bed.’
‘No way. You’re staying in the farmhouse with me.’
‘No, I’m not. What will Polly have to say about that? Did you see her face when you so kindly announced to the world that we’re shagging each other?’
‘I don’t care. It’s time we stopped hiding our relationship from everyone. I want you in my bed tonight.’
I shake my head. ‘Is this about Kit?’
‘What do you mean? About Kit?’
‘You wanted him to know I was yours, didn’t you? You don’t like him, even though he risked himself to come after me while you were swanning off in London.’
He snorts. ‘First, I was not “swanning off” and second, this is nothing to do with Bannen. I’m not trying to score points off him. I want you to stay with me, and I’m sick of sneaking between the cottage and farmhouse and pretending we’re just friends. I thought you were ready to take the next step and let people know we’re together? Not that they haven’t guessed. Isla saw straight through us and was amazed we aren’t living together.’
‘Isla? You mean you discussed me moving in here with her before you asked me? That’s great!’
‘Don’t make a big deal of this, Demi. You’re tired and in shock. We both are.’
‘What? I may be tired and in shock but I’m also furious that you talked to Isla about asking me to live with you before mentioning it to me. It would also have been nice, don’t you think, if you’d asked me to stay the night, rather than informing me in front of Polly and Kit? And for the record, you are so wrong about Kit. He’s a nice guy, kind, helpful, thoughtful – which is more than I can say for some people!’
‘Thoughtful and helpful? Especially with hanging decorations, eh?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I snap.
‘Polly’s told me that he was helping you put them up in the cafe. She said you two were in there when Kit left the door open and Mitch escaped.’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous. It’s not Kit’s fault that Mitch ran off. He probably took off after a rabbit and got lost. It could have been me who left it open or you – if you’d been here!’
‘But I wasn’t here, was I?’
‘No, you weren’t. You were in London.’
‘You have a problem with me going to London? What is it with that? I had to go. I had no choice.’
I snort. ‘I thought it was only a reunion. A social occasion. You could have stayed here.’ Even though I’m angry, I also know I’m being unreasonable in this respect. I honestly don’t mind Cal going to London, but I can’t turn off the tap now. All my doubts and fears about Cal flood out. He is so unpredictable. I thought this uncertainty suited me, but now realise that it is the opposite of what I need in my life.
‘This is getting us nowhere. I’ll give you a hand to the cottage.’
‘Don’t change the subject. How could you do that? Ask me to stay over in front of Polly and Kit without warning me – without asking me first if it was OK?’
He shrugs. ‘I assumed it would be.’
‘Then you assumed wrong.’
‘Why? You wanted me to tell Isla about us. You almost ran away because I didn’t tell her we were sleeping together, so why is it different with Polly and Bannen? Because if you’re bothered about what Polly might think, you’re not the woman I thought you were. Don’t you think that she’s guessed already. She knew.’
‘I don’t care what Polly thinks of us sleeping together, but I think she was hurt that we hadn’t told her officially that we’re an item – I hate that word but you know what I mean. Instead, you just announced it in front of a stranger. No wonder Polly was taken aback.’
‘Kit? A stranger? Hardly. Are you actually more worried about what Kit thinks than Polly? Do you care that he might be hurt?’ Cal says sarcastically.
‘You’ve got Kit all wrong.’ I fire up again, even thoug
h my head has started to throb as hard as my ankle.
He snorts. ‘I may still not know what he’s doing here but I’ve got one thing about him absolutely right.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing.’ He shoves his hands through his hair. ‘Can we please stop talking about him? I asked you to stay with me because I was going to ask you to move into Kilhallon House with me, but now …’
I’d drop a sarcastic curtsey if I could, but instead I kick off again and I don’t care who hears me. ‘Don’t do me a favour. I’m not some waif and stray you rescued. I work for you and I don’t want to move in here.’
‘Don’t want to?’
He frowns, as if he’s genuinely gobsmacked that I’m turning him down. My hands are shaky.
‘Is it so hard to believe I might not want to?’
‘I … thought you would. I thought … Why not?’
‘Because … because I don’t trust you, Cal. Because I want my independence. Because if I give that up, and give you everything, I’ll only get hurt even harder when it all goes wrong. And then I’ll have nothing, not even a space to call my own, and I’ve needed that for so long. When it all goes wrong between us, I want that space.’
Cal’s jaw drops. He’s stunned at my words. ‘If … if that’s how you feel …’ he squeezes the words out eventually.
‘I can’t do this. I have to go to bed.’ I push myself out of the armchair, but feel as if I’m standing in a sinking rowing boat on a stormy sea.
‘Let me help you,’ he tries to take my arm.
I shrug it off. ‘I can manage.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’
A look from me silences him. He steps back. ‘Have it your way, if you must.’
‘I think it’s for the best.’ Hurting even more inside than out, I limp past him. His face is agonised and angry, but I don’t care. I refuse to let him help me.
I hobble out of the doorway. The fog has cleared but my feelings are as confused as they ever were. Cal wanted me to move in with him? Argh. The tears come now, and they sting my eyes, but I will not let him see me crying. I know he’s watching me. I can see the light from the open doorway spilling out ahead of me. I’m half expecting, half hoping that Cal will follow me and that he’ll come and hold me. But in the mood I’m in, I’ll probably shove him away.
Behind me, the door closes and the light goes off. Every step is painful and when I finally reach my cottage, I virtually fall through the door and collapse onto the sofa. Hugging a cushion that’s covered in hairs and smells of dog, I can’t hold back the strain and worry of the past few hours. What if I hadn’t found Mitch? What if Cal and Kit hadn’t found me? Why did Cal have to behave so arrogantly in front of Polly and Kit?
Why am I so upset that he asked me to move in with him? Why don’t I want to? Do I want to? Do I love him?
Moving in with him would mean taking a huge leap of faith and giving up my independence, but that’s not why I’m holding back or so disappointed that he chose tonight to ask me, no, tell me that he wanted us to be ‘an item’. I don’t want to move in with him just so he can prove a point to Kit or to Isla – or to himself. I long to trust him with my heart, but I don’t know if I ever can or will.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The night was a restless one for me – what was left of it – and I ease myself out of bed mid-morning to take a very careful shower before Nina arrives to give me a lift to the vet’s. Before we leave, Cal drops by the cottage on his way to the cafe to see how I am, but the conversation is conducted in grunts on both sides and he only stays a few minutes. He’s obviously still stinging from my refusal to move in with him and I’m upset that he can’t understand my reasons.
Our problems will have to wait. Mitch is my priority for now. I almost weep in relief when we arrive at the vet’s to find him enjoying a meal and being fussed by the veterinary nurse. He’s definitely on the mend. However, I have strict instructions to keep him as quiet and still as possible, which is very difficult. He keeps trying to race around the place on his bandage support, almost giving me a heart attack. He looks so pathetic and makes me feel guilty every time I see his big brown eyes gazing up at me. It’s so tempting to drop everything and spend the day cuddling him, but I daren’t.
Finally, with Mitch settled in the farmhouse kitchen under Polly’s watchful eye, I tear myself away and head for the cafe to see what havoc Cal has wreaked. Polly hasn’t mentioned what passed between me and Cal last night but she isn’t exactly warm towards me. I don’t know if that’s because she can’t bear the thought of another woman living in the house – and bedroom – that used to be Mrs Penwith’s, or if she’s worried that Cal and I will end up badly hurt.
My ankle is sore by the time I hobble through the rear door of the cafe around 2.30. Jez is finishing up after the lunch service while I hover between the kitchen and door to the service area, spying on Cal. I put my finger over my lips as Jez joins me. ‘Shh. Don’t tell him I’m here.’
The combined scent of cranberry sauce, Christmas pudding and custard wafts into my nose when I poke my head around the serving area for a sneaky look. The garlands look very festive and someone has placed extra vases of red-berried holly twigs and glossy greenery in the window alcoves. Carols from the local Fisherman’s Choir are playing in the background, not that you can hear them over the din of women chatting and laughing.
Nina is serving coffee and mince pies to the WI group, while at the other end of the cafe Cal unloads a tray of cream teas. On any other occasion, the sight of him in an apron, dishing up scones while charming the knickers off the WI and a dozen American ladies, would make me drag him off to bed and shag him senseless.
Not today.
‘How’s the leg? I heard about last night. Nasty,’ Jez whispers as I watch Cal.
‘It’s OK. A bit sore, but much better than I thought it would be.’
‘How’s Mitch?’
‘Feeling slightly sorry for himself and lapping up the attention. The vet says he’ll make a full recovery if we can stop him from racing about too soon. What about you and Cal? How’s he doing?’
Jez pulls a face. ‘Apart from us coming to blows several times, OK. Only joking! He’s good front of house but he does try to be boss. Shall I call him into the kitchen?’
‘No way. I want to watch this a while longer.’
‘So tell us, just why do the Cornish have the jam on first?’ a woman in a Poldark sweatshirt calls to Cal. She waggles a scone at him with a cheeky grin.
Cal has his back to me but I can picture him smiling back sweetly. The American lady is certainly agog at his gorgeous voice and brooding charm.
‘Ah, now, that’s a very good question. Some say …’ he begins.
Listening to Cal launch into a complicated and completely made-up explanation of why the Cornish have the jam on scones first, I ought to laugh, but his behaviour from earlier this morning has frozen any warm, fuzzy feelings I had for him. He does look gorgeous, though, his dark curls tangled, his blue shirt open just enough to reveal a glimpse of springy hair on his chest. Without letting Cal know I’ve even been in the cafe, I walk gingerly back to the farmhouse to check on Mitch. It’s still only three o’clock, but the coral-pink sun is sinking low in the sky and the air is cooling rapidly under the clear skies. I doubt we’ll have a frost this close to the sea, but inland it might freeze. Winter is coming and, after last night, everyone at Kilhallon has caught the mood.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Stars glimmer in the velvety sky above St Trenyan when Cal drops me off in the harbour car park the Monday after Mitch’s accident. Since the night of the Great Fog, as Polly calls it, Cal and I haven’t spoken about him asking me to move in with him and we definitely haven’t slept together. I’ve only seen Kit in passing, and apart from a terse enquiry about my ankle and Mitch, he’s kept well away from me and the cafe. He said his deadline was looming, but I think that was only an excuse to avoid contact.
Stray le
aves blow in the gutters and I button up the top of my coat on my way down into town via the harbour. The ice-cream kiosk is shuttered and won’t open until next Easter and the harbour deckchair man shut up shop weeks ago. Even the chip shop where I used to sleep in the doorway is shut. Like Demelza’s, some of the larger cafes will only open weekends now, and a few of the guest-house and restaurant owners are grabbing a break somewhere warmer if they can afford it. The streets are the quietest I’ve ever seen them, only a few locals, fishermen and students venturing out for a pint or a pizza.
There are some signs of life. A small group of guys are clustered around a hi-lift cab that’s hoisting up the final string of lights onto the wall of the harbour office. Lighting frames have already been fixed in place around the harbour walls and garlands of lights strung across Fore Street shiver in the wind. St Trenyan needs to spark back into life again. It’s a good job the Harbour Lights switch-on is only ten days away.
I wobble down the steep cobbled streets in my heeled boots, still a little wary of my ankle. The warren of alleys between Fore Street and the main beach is the oldest part of St Trenyan. It’s the heart of the town and is made up of terraced fisherman’s cottages huddling together for shelter from the Atlantic storms. Their doors and tiny courtyards face inwards to escape the worst of the gales and high waves. Nowadays, almost all of the pastel-coloured buildings are second homes or holiday lets, and they cost a fortune to rent or buy. However, in one of the courtyards just off Fore Street is Tamsin’s Spa, my destination this evening.
Tamsin convinced me that a manicure and make-up session would soothe my jitters, and I do need to carve out some time to look my best. I’m sure I won’t have time for pampering when the festive-lunch season kicks in.
After I’ve had the facial and Tamsin has done my nails and make-up, we head off to a bar that is shoehorned between a gallery and a shell shop in the narrow back streets of St Trenyan, owned by a mate of Tamsin’s.
It’s called Sharky’s and has a wooden sign in the shape of a shark suspended over the entrance so it looks like you’re walking down the steps into the shark’s mouth through razor-sharp teeth. St Trenyan spreads up and down a steep valley and many of the buildings are built on a slope. Even though the front entrance is on ground level, you descend a flight of steps into the bar area which has a huge window overlooking the town beach. The street lamps around the harbour are reflected in the black water.
Christmas at the Cornish Café Page 14