There's Something About Cornwall

by Daisy James

  Matt probably didn’t want to see her again and she could have just as easily apologised to him over the phone or via email. What she had experienced with Matt was just another failed attempt at a relationship. Anyway, what chance was there to find out if they had a future together when they lived at opposite ends of the country?

  She was about to leave the queue and make her way back inside the station when the next cab arrived. She shrugged her shoulders and climbed in. Hadn’t she promised to work on her self-improvement skills? A heartfelt apology surely should be delivered in person and that was the least Matt deserved. She settled into her seat and within twenty minutes she had her first glimpse of the North Sea.

  Glistening under a weak sun, its steel-grey surface reflected the scudding shadows of the fluffy white clouds overhead. She checked the directions to the surf academy on her phone, cast her eyes briefly over the imposing ruin of Tynemouth Priory, which presided over the scene from its elevated position on the protruding headland, and made her way down the steep cliff path.

  When she reached the beach her heart thrummed out a concerto of panic. The breeze had picked up and nipped at her nose and fingertips. She yanked up her hood and gazed across the wide expanse of sand towards the sea where a collection of wetsuit-clad children were riding the waves while their instructor issued directions from an adjacent inflatable dinghy.

  She squinted to check the identity of their teacher and knew immediately that it was Matt. For one thing, the guy’s only free arm flailed in the air as he demonstrated a stroke technique and for another, even from that distance, she could see his golden hair rippling in the wind. It must be killing him to watch the surfing lesson from the sidelines.

  There was absolutely no doubt in her mind; she was in love with this surf-obsessed man with a fondness for all things drinkable. And whatever his reaction to her arrival, she knew she had done the right thing to make the six hundred mile round trip to see him. All that remained now was for her to say the words that had been swirling around her head since Lucinda’s phone call that morning.

  She turned her attention towards the shabby beach hut. The air thrummed with the tantalising aroma of roasted coffee beans and the salty tang of the sea. For a brief moment she hesitated, taking a breath to consider her next move.

  Could she do it?

  She took a determined step forward onto the wooden veranda in front of the beach shack and pushed open the scruffy door. The place was empty save for a myriad of surfing paraphernalia. She spotted what she was looking for and, before she could change her mind, she wriggled into one of the wetsuits that hung like discarded sealskins from a line of pegs on the back wall.

  She slipped her feet into a pair of wet boots and launched herself out of the door, down the steps and onto the sand. She broke into a run for fear her sensible side would return to duty to chastise her for stepping outside her comfort zone. But she was determined to show Matt that she had changed – that she was willing to face her fears and go for it, irrespective of the consequences. And she intended to credit that change to him.

  She hit the waves at a canter and the cold water delivered a shock to her system, but she clenched her jaw, drawing on every ounce of her willpower to prevent herself from turning round and running back to the safety of the shore. She forced her legs through the shallow waves until a cry sliced through the air.

  ‘Hey! Where are you going? You’ve forgotten your board!’

  It was one of the children who had fallen from his surfboard one time too many and was making his way back to the hut, his saffron and crimson board lodged firmly under his arm, his face alight with exhilaration.

  ‘I’m just… I thought…’

  Her teeth had started to take on a life of their own and were chattering violently in the cold. Her former certainty that she was doing the right thing diminished rapidly in the face of hypothermia and her impromptu craziness in deciding to take a dip in the steel grey North Sea was now laced with a soupçon of terror as the waves grew more instant and started to pull at her knees. But she corralled every last molecule of her courage and stood firm, determined to prove to Matt, and herself, that she could banish her demons with a smile on her face and a song in her heart.

  ‘Hey, Matt!’ shouted the boy, cupping his hands around his mouth to produce a megaphone effect so he would be heard over the buzzing of the dinghy engine as Matt shepherded the rest of the class to the shore. ‘Over here!’

  ‘Emilie? Is that you? Oh my God! What are you doing here?’

  She was overjoyed to watch his initial shock morph into delight as he leapt from the tiny inflatable and dragged it a few metres up the beach to safety.

  ‘I thought you’d gone back to London after the shoot? I rang, left you a couple of messages. When I heard nothing back, I thought, well, I just thought…’

  He strode towards her, his tufted hair dancing in the breeze, the brilliant blue of his eyes sparkling with pleasure at seeing her, his lips curled into a wide grin. Her heart melted. How could she have risked losing him? But first she had her speech to make and the sooner she’d delivered it the sooner they could move on. She hoped.

  ‘I owe you an explanation, Matt.’

  ‘Hey, first of all, why don’t you come out of the sea? I thought you loathed anything to do with water sports? If I remember correctly, you were adamant that you’d only consider getting on a surfboard in Waikiki or Bondi Beach. Not sure if you’ve noticed but this is Tynemouth!’

  Matt chuckled, slid his arm through hers and guided her back to the beach shack where the boys were collecting their belongings and chirping their youthful thanks and goodbyes. He opened the door and guided her towards a pair of rickety bar stools well past their sell-by date. She sat overlooking the spectacular view of the pristine beach and the waves crashing up against the cliffs beneath Tynemouth Priory.

  But the backdrop was invisible to Emilie; all she could think about was issuing her apology as quickly as she could before she lost her nerve. A tickle of nausea had begun to gnaw at the base of her stomach. She took a deep breath and launched into her rehearsed explanation before its constant repetition in her head sent her crazy.

  ‘Matt, I’m so sorry about what I said to you when we were walking on the moors. It was unforgivable. I should have at least given you the opportunity to explain, should have known that you would never…’

  ‘What are you going on about?’ asked Matt handing her a mug of steaming hot chocolate from the machine on the bar.

  ‘When I woke up at Craiglea Manor you weren’t there. I looked out of the window and saw you sitting in the camper van. It was two a.m. I thought you were…’ She swallowed down her anxiety and rushed on. ‘I thought you were using my laptop, copying my photos from my memory stick to publish in your blog. I know how ridiculous that sounds and that it’s as far from the truth as you can possibly get, but there it is. I’m so, so sorry for jumping to such an outrageous conclusion. The next day I found out my flash drive was missing and I thought you’d taken it. I know I should have given you the benefit of the doubt, but I didn’t. I just raced to conclusions because something similar has happened in the past with Brad. It’s unforgivable.’

  Matt stared at her, a muscle in his cheek flickering, and for a moment she thought he was about to erupt with anger and indignation; it’s what she would have done if the tables had been turned. However, at last she had told him the truth and she had to leave it up to him to decide how he wished to judge her.

  ‘You thought I would use your work on my blog without asking your permission?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh.’ Matt slid from his stool, hugging his injured arm to his chest and slotting his free hand into the front pocket of his jeans. He turned his back on her to face the beach where the dog walkers and families were enjoying the last rays of the weak October sunshine. ‘I would never do that, Emilie. I could never do something so…so…underhand. I admit that it migh
t have looked a bit suspicious, but the fact is that I often wake up in the middle of the night with an idea for an article burning in my brain and I can’t sleep until it’s written. If you wanted to know what I was doing you should have just asked. Ever thought of that?’

  ‘I know, Matt, and all I can say is how sorry I am. Someone did take my memory stick though, I just chose the wrong person to blame. I should have known better. I hope at some point in the future you can understand why..’

  ‘So who did take it?’

  ‘Lucinda.’

  ‘Lucinda took your memory stick with the photographs of the trip? But why? It doesn’t make any sense. Surely her publishers would have their pick of your work for her cookery book?’

  ‘I didn’t understand it either until she called me this morning.’

  Confusion suffused Matt’s expression. He met her eyes, retaining the distance between them, waiting for her to enlarge on her explanation.

  ‘She wanted to show my work to a friend of hers, Carlos Romani.’ She paused, but there was no recognition from Matt. ‘He’s a Michelin-starred Italian chef with his own TV show. Anyway, he’s planning a Mediterranean food odyssey around the coast of Southern Italy and he apparently wants me to do the photography.’

  ‘Thanks great, Emilie. I’m happy for you. But that doesn’t explain why you travelled all the way up to a freezing cold beach in Tynemouth to tell me of your good fortune when you could have told me over the phone or emailed me.’

  She gulped and drew on her last ounce of courage. Her future happiness rested on how she handled her next sentence. She thought of the text she’d received from Alice on the train up to Newcastle telling her that her accident and her enforced sojourn away from the frenzy of work had caused an epiphany. She’d decided that her career wasn’t everything in life and she intended to take some time out at Christmas to return to Cornwall where a certain beach DJ had promised to show her the winter sights.

  Emilie thought of Lucinda and her unswerving love for Grant, and for her mother who had done so much despite the challenges she faced, as well as her commitment to her charity work. And finally she thought of Marcus who had championed Matt as potential boyfriend material from the beginning.

  But one person rose to the top of her list with ease. Matt Ashby had been the one to bring a ray of golden sunlight into her life. He’d made her feel good about herself, made her understand that she could achieve anything if she put her mind to it. And hadn’t she just proved that by wading – albeit to only to knee height – into the sea? She now had to take that bravery to the next level.

  ‘I’m here because I love you, Matt. Whenever I’m with you the whole world is somehow displayed in glorious Technicolor, its blurry edges brought into sharp focus. These last two weeks have been the best weeks of my life. You’ve opened my eyes to what the future has to offer and inspired me to grasp it with both hands. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I wanted you to know that I’m truly sorry for not trusting you.’

  She slipped down from her seat to change back into her clothes before making the arduous climb back up the cliff path to search for a taxi to take her back to the station. She’d done what she came to do. Now she could go home and resume her previous existence, which would be a little less golden, a little more subdued without Matt by her side; but at least she had righted her wrong.

  ‘Hey! Where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘Well, I…’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not letting you get away again. Last time I was laid up in a hospital bed and couldn’t do anything about it, but now I can!’

  He reached out to grab her arm, swinging her around to face him. He pulled her up against him, his lips searching for hers, and she melted into his kiss. Her body moulded so perfectly into his, she remained in his embrace until cries of amusement met her ears from the next batch of mini surfers who had arrived for their lesson. She pulled free and laughed as an intense wave of happiness spread warmth through her chest.

  Matt planted a kiss on her earlobe, sending shivers of desire sparkling through her veins and whispered, ‘I love you too, Emilie Roberts. There’s no other girl like you! Come on! Last one to the sea pays for dinner!’

  And, as the sun escaped from the game of hide-and-seek the clouds insisted on playing, she chased Matt across the beach, her hair flying in her wake, her heels kicking up sand behind her back, her heart ballooning with joy.

  Then, she kissed him, kissed him, kissed him as though she would never get to kiss another person ever again.

  Epilogue

  Twelve months later

  ‘You look stunning, Emilie darling. I hope Matt knows what a lucky guy he is.’ Marcus smiled. He looked as immaculate as ever in his dinner jacket and pale pink cravat, the latter a nod to Lucinda’s apron theme.

  ‘Of course he does, I make sure I remind him every day!’ She giggled.

  ‘And, Alice, my dear, I do believe congratulations are in order! That is some rock on your finger. Where is the hunkiest DJ alive?’

  ‘Still setting up his equipment for the party later. Don’t worry, he’ll be here,’ said Alice, her charm bracelet tinkling at her wrist. She had removed every charm except for the two Karl had bought for her: a tiny replica of her engagement ring and a silver surfboard.

  Emilie cast her eyes around the sumptuous Music Room at The Ritz where the launch of Lucinda Loves…Desserts was due to take place in less than half an hour. The place was packed with the great and the good of the culinary and literary worlds and a low rumble of conversation reverberated around the room. Huge blown-up posters of the front cover of the hottest cookbook to be published that season were scattered around the room, along with framed photographs of the recipes within. A battalion of tailors’ dummies had been dressed in pastel pink aprons, one from each stop of Lucinda’s Cornwall tour. The aprons would be signed and auctioned off at the end in aid of Gingerbread and the NSPCC.

  At the back of the room were tables groaning with copies of the glossy hardback masterpiece. Emilie was inordinately proud of her contribution, but that wasn’t why her heart was pounding out a symphony of joy and anticipation.

  She couldn’t prevent herself from stretching high on her tiptoes to seek out a glimpse of Matt amongst the packed congregation. When she saw him, his golden hair as unruly as ever despite the introduction of a dash of gel in honour of the auspicious occasion, her thoughts rolled back to when he had kissed her goodbye in her flat that morning before dashing out to collect his excited parents from King’s Cross station and drive them across London to the luxury hotel.

  ‘Why are you laughing?’ Matt had asked.

  ‘Because I’ve never seen you in a suit before. You look so, well, so handsome.’

  ‘Did you expect me to wear shorts and flip-flops?’

  ‘Yes!’ She had giggled.

  ‘And I suppose I should travel over there in an orange-and-cream camper van?’

  ‘Yes!’

  In reply Matt had grabbed her by the waist and delayed his departure to King’s Cross by half an hour.

  There he was, over by the door, chatting animatedly to both her parents and his own, who must have been the proudest people in the room that afternoon – after all, as well as herself and Marcus they were the only people who were in on the surprise. Well, apart from Lucinda who had engineered the whole thing.

  A spasm of emotion shot through her body when she thought about what was about to happen, and her heart gave a reassuring flutter that this gorgeous man was in love with her and had told her as often as possible over the last twelve months whilst they worked together to resume production at the microbrewery. The first ale off the production line had been named JamieJack in memory of Jamie Jack Ashby, and she had designed the label to complement it.

  They were already getting orders from all over the country, not just from Matt and Jamie’s former customers but from high-end restaurants and bars. Her smile stretched and her spirits
soared to the ornate ceiling of the elegant suite as she sent up her thanks to her personal guardian angel for bringing Matt into her life.

  ‘Okay, everyone! Let’s get this launch under way!’ called out Lucinda Carlton-Rose’s publicist. ‘Please bring your drinks and take a seat. Lucinda is on her way down. After the auction of the aprons from the Cornwall shoot, she will be signing books for anyone who wants an autographed copy, as well as posing for photos.’

  Emilie grabbed Matt’s hand and directed him, along with their respective parents, to the reserved seats on the front row. Her breath had started to come in spurts as she tried to hold on to her emotions. A surge of excitement spun through the room as the guests settled into their chairs and waited expectantly for the star of the show to arrive.

  But it wasn’t Lucinda who came through the door. It was two members of staff from Lucinda’s publishers wheeling in additional, life-sized posters with only the blank, reverse side showing. The girls stood on either side of the dais facing the audience and waited. A murmur of interest rippled through the gathering as more staff arrived, this time carrying a table with a starched white cloth draped over the top to disguise a pyramid of books underneath. Finally, Lucinda glided into the room to a crescendo of applause.

  ‘Hello, everyone, and welcome to The Music Room at The Ritz. I’d first of all like to thank you all for attending today’s launch of my brand new Lucinda Loves… cookery book – Lucinda Loves…Desserts. As most of you will know, many of the photographs were taken on location during an extravagant road trip around Cornwall last year by the very talented Emilie Roberts, who is with us this afternoon.’

  There was a polite ripple of acknowledgement and a gush of heat spread across Emilie’s cheeks. She felt Matt squeeze her hand in his.

  ‘I hope that you will enjoy creating the recipes in the new book and sharing them with your family and friends, for, as we all know, it is the company of others whilst tasting the food that we have created that brings us the most joy and happiness. However…’ Lucinda paused and glanced around the room before her eyes landed on Matt and remained there.