New Hope for the Little Cornish Farmhouse

by Nancy Barone

  ‘Jesus, Em. Then it really is the end of an era. But a start to a better one for you and Chanel. So we need to celebrate your career move! I’ve got a cheapola bottle of champers around here somewhere – is that all right?’

  ‘Did you invite Jack?’ she asked. ‘Is he coming?’

  ‘When does he not come over?’ I said.

  Come to think of it, it was true. Our girl talk was always limited, always secondary to the practical conversations we had with Jack, such as: My tap is leaking; what can I use to fix it? or Can you bring over a bottle of your best cider?

  Poor bloke, we were his closest friends. And now he was losing one of us. I’d have to make sure he didn’t feel too lonely, now that his oldest friend was going.

  There was a knock on the door – Jack’s knock. ‘You can stop slagging me off, you two. I can hear you all the way down the lane!’ he warned us as he came in.

  ‘Jack!’ I called, throwing my arms around his neck. ‘I’ve missed you! And so has Em here, haven’t you?’

  They exchanged glances and she coughed. ‘Nah, not really. How are you, mate?’ she asked, clapping him on the back.

  ‘Ow. I hate it when you do that, Em!’

  I looked between the two of them. ‘Is there something wrong? What have I missed?’

  Emma’s eyes widened. ‘Missed? Nothing, why would you say that?’

  I shrugged. ‘You just look like you’ve quarrelled, is all.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Jack said. ‘And throw that shit away,’ he said, pulling out a bottle of cider from his jacket. ‘This is what we need to celebrate Emma’s move.’

  ‘You already knew?’ I asked.

  ‘I told you – Jack’s helping me move,’ Emma said.

  ‘Why do I feel left out? Have I really neglected my best friends so much that I didn’t even know one of them was moving away?’

  ‘Easy, old girl,’ Jack said. ‘Don’t get upset. We’ve all been busy – that’s life.’

  ‘You knew,’ I shot back. ‘I’m a terrible friend, caught up in my own life. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘Nina, you’re making a big deal out of nothing,’ Em said, squeezing my shoulder.

  I wiped my eyes. ‘I just don’t want to lose you guys. You’re moving away, Jack’ll end up marrying someone who doesn’t like us and that’ll be the end of that. You guys are my family.’

  ‘Well, maybe we should accept that things do change, Nina,’ Jack said.

  ‘Jack, will you shut up already?’ Emma said. ‘Come on, dish up, Nina – I’m starving.’

  I stirred my shrimp and courgettes risotto, and tore a few shoots of parsley from one of the pots on my windowsill, ran it under the tap and snipped it, watching it colour the top of the rice. And all the while I was wondering how many more of these meals we’d have as Three’s Company, and why things had changed so suddenly.

  22

  Irreconcilable Differences

  Alone for once in the house, I wandered around aimlessly, realising how much I depended on my loved ones to cheer me up on a daily basis because the house felt empty without my children. Chloe was out with Ben in the village, helping prepare for the End of Summer festival. She was definitely growing up fast. Her clothes hung from her chair, her cosmetics, strewn across the dresser, spoke of a girl who was dying to be a woman, the very opposite of me.

  All her belongings spoke of her, like her lip-gloss that had sparkles in it. I opened it and dabbed the tip of my finger with it. It smelled like raspberries and the sparkles caught the light, like the sea at dawn, and I promised myself that I would never let anything happen to her, nor would I ever let her fall into bad company, and possibly meet someone like Phil who would enchant her at first, and then steal her youth later. For as long as I lived, Chloe would believe in the beauty of happiness, respect, and love. I rubbed my hands together and went back downstairs to my world of hard graft.

  *

  When Luke and Jessica returned the next evening, he dropped a bomb on me.

  ‘You want to set my Cornish romcom in California?’ I wailed.

  He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Yes.’

  ‘No! The story is set in Cornwall. End of!’

  ‘Chill, Nina. It’s an adaptation. Even Romeo and Juliet moved to New York in West Side Story.’

  ‘That was different. That was a musical.’

  ‘It still counts,’ he insisted.

  ‘Great, let’s adapt everything. Let’s turn Cornwall into California. Let’s even move Poldark and Doc Martin to the bloody San Fernando Valley. And oh, Rebecca? Let’s set that up in Beverly Hills! Why did you even bother to come all the way out here if you were going to pull this stunt on me?’

  ‘I told you, I needed to see how your life works. And how things developed between you and your own husband, and what drove him away from the love.’

  What drove him away? Meaning it was my fault? Ooh, I’d drive some nine-inch nails into this bloke’s skull right about now. How dare he imply that I was the reason he left! And I had just invited this jackass to stay in my home?

  ‘Fine,’ I snapped. ‘You’ll see it wasn’t my fault. But for the record, I’m not setting this anywhere but Cornwall.’ I was about to add, Take it or leave it, but then I remembered who called the shots.

  He leaned forward to peer into my eyes. Really close. I stared back, like a rabbit caught in headlights. What… was he doing now?

  ‘Are you wearing… glitter?’ he asked.

  I swiped at my face hotly. ‘Of course not.’

  He moved closer, inspecting my face. ‘Looks like glitter to me…’

  ‘It must have rubbed off from my daughter,’ I defended. ‘I had nothing to do with it.’

  He shrugged. ‘Shame. It suits you.’

  I sat up despite myself. ‘Meaning I’m like a teenager?’

  He flashed his famous all-American Hollywood grin, those blue eyes twinkling. ‘Meaning you have a sparkly personality.’

  I snorted and flipped through the pages of my notebook. Weeks of adapting my book for the screen, imagining my breathtaking landscapes in Technicolor or whatever it was they used nowadays, for everyone to enjoy, and now some American Hollywood playboy who hadn’t even heard of Cornwall before wanted to turn my movie into a Hollywood bonkbuster?

  ‘Really, you are very bubbly,’ he insisted and I put my book down and gave him one of my Get Real looks and he threw his head back and laughed like only he could. ‘Awh, man, Nina, it’s only been twenty-four hours and I’ve missed you!’

  He meant he missed bossing me around, telling me what to do? I had been very accommodating up to now, but this was the cherry on top.

  ‘Earth calling Nina…’ he called.

  ‘This is not even remotely funny.’

  ‘Maybe not. But you are bubbly. Which is why I love this story. It’s your characters that make the story, Nina. Where they are doesn’t really matter.’

  ‘Oh, good, then you won’t mind leaving them in Polperro.’

  ‘But perro means dog in Spanish.’

  ‘And?’

  He shrugged. There are many Latin Americans in the United States who would have something to say about a village named after a dog.’

  ‘Have you noticed, Luke, that there is life outside the United States?’

  ‘Oh, I like you when you get mad.’

  ‘And do you realise that this is a story about a divorced woman who lives in Cornwall? And that the tempestuous location is the symbolism of the tumult in her heart? And do you realise that many women will relate to that?’

  ‘Ooh, symbolism. I like the sound of that. And yes, I do know that she is a divorced woman. But… who did she divorce from? Exactly – a man. Nina, this is not all about your heroine.’

  I crossed my arms. ‘And who the heck should it be about, her next door neighbour?’

  ‘Not a bad idea. He’s a single bloke, isn’t he, that Jack? Maybe we should get him over here and help me inject some masculinity into this story
. I could use a hand against you, you know.’

  ‘Ah-ha! So you admit that you are working against me?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Nina, it was just a figure of speech. Like symbolism. You can’t be right about everything.’

  I knew I should have begged for Nancy Meyers to produce the movie. She’d have made a bloody masterpiece out of my story. But I’d had no other choice. I knew I was lucky that Hollywood’s most wanted heartthrob had even heard of me, let alone that we were writing a script together.

  ‘Listen, Luke. If you want a movie about a poor, wronged divorced bloke, then go and write your own sob story. This one is being told like it is.’ There.

  He stood up to put on his jacket. Oh, God, where was he going? Had I changed his mind once and for all about investing in me, with all my arguing?

  ‘Luke, where—uhm…?’

  ‘Enough writing,’ he suddenly said, pulling me up to my feet.

  ‘What? But we’ve only just started.’

  ‘If we’re going to do it your way in Cornwall, I need to see more, see the places where we are going to set the scenes. Give the location managers a few tips and all. Even if we would be hiring a local company, of course.’

  ‘And while we’re at it,’ I braved, ‘I’d like to ask you a favour.’ If he hadn’t shut down on me yet, he probably never would now.

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I’d like to approach the council of Penworth Ford for permission to double as Polperro. It would save us a lot of money, and boost my village’s economy.’

  He shrugged. ‘If Penworth Ford looks anything like Polperro—’

  ‘Oh, it does,’ I said in earnest. ‘At least the west side does. The east has the cliffs instead.’

  ‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’

  Which filled my heart with joy. Because of my book, there would be money coming into the village. ‘Thank you, Luke. Come on, then,’ I urged. ‘There’s a whole lot of Cornwall to show you.’

  ‘Bring it on.’

  So I drove him straight to Holywell Bay and dragged him up the sand dunes covered with marram grass to look out over to Gulls Rocks, that looked like they had fallen from a giant’s pockets on his way back from a swim in the sea. I stopped, grinning to myself in satisfaction at the look on his face. If this didn’t win him over, nothing ever would.

  ‘We have nothing like this in California. It’s so…’

  ‘Iconic?’ I suggested.

  He nodded. ‘We can shoot the love scene here…’

  Excellent. The Post Of ice Cream Ladies and Old Nellie’s Tea Room could do the catering, and Alf’s would provide general necessities. The Old Bell Inn and a few other chosen places could put the crew and actors up. It would be perfect, and Annie and Nell would be getting some good business. Maybe even Em could hand out business cards for her wedding dos, who knew? Lots of people wanted their weddings officiated in Cornwall.

  ‘I have to say, Nina, I never realised Cornwall was such a magnificent place. It’s literally a world of its own.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said smugly. ‘There’s no place like home.’

  He smiled at my Wizard of Oz quote. ‘You, my dear, were born to work in Hollywood. It’s lucky I found you.’

  ‘Come on, there’s so much more to see.’

  *

  A bit later, we arrived in the fishing village of Mousehole and again, he was gobsmacked, and I knew Cornwall was definitely in the bag. All I needed was to feed him some of our Cornish delights, and with a little luck, he’d be completely converted from California Dreamin’ to Cornwall Drooling.

  ‘Why the hell would you call a place Mouse Hole though?’ he said as he bit into his pasty.

  I laughed. ‘Careful, that’s hot. And it’s Mouze-ole, not mouse hole.’

  ‘Ah… what the –uck…? It’th hot!’

  ‘I just told you that. You okay?’

  He swallowed, gasping for air. ‘I can’t feel the roof of my mouth. And why is the crust so bloody thick? In the States we at least fill our crusts with cheese or ham.’

  ‘That is so you don’t get arsenic on your food,’ I explained.

  He stopped chewing, his eyes swinging to mine in alarm. ‘Arsenic?’

  ‘This is an old miners’ meal. They didn’t have time to come up to grass, wash their hands and sit down to a full meal. So their wives made them pasties with thick crusts they could hold in their bare, dirty hands and then discard and go back to work.’

  ‘So the mines were full of pasty crusts?’

  ‘Only until the rats arrived to carry them away.’

  ‘Ugh.’

  ‘Cornish life was never easy, you know. It still isn’t.’ I would know.

  ‘Toto, I don’t think we’re in California anymore,’ he said with a chuckle.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ I said without thinking, as I usually do. ‘Sorry. I mean, it’s beautiful, of course, but I couldn’t live there – it’s so crazy.’

  He shrugged. ‘It depends on what you want in life. I’m at the top of my game now but don’t expect it to last forever. When it ends, I’ll probably move to England and buy a place like this.’

  ‘Really? England?’

  ‘Sure, why not?’ He looked me in the eye. ‘There’s a lot to be loved here. I can see that now.’

  Huh? Was he flirting with me? ‘Well, apart from Ben’s operation, I swear I never want to go back there again.’

  He grinned. ‘Except for accepting an Oscar for best screenplay!’

  I laughed. ‘Yeah, except for that.’

  The next day we took the kids for a picnic lunch on Gwennap Head, promising ourselves we’d get to work in the afternoon. I knew the rambling mornings across Cornwall were all part of the research work, but I couldn’t help feeling we needed to continue with the script. I needed the money, and the sooner it was finished, the sooner I could book Ben’s appointment.

  The five of us ambled along, taking in the sights as Jessica breathed in deeply, ecstatic with the wind in her hair and the Cornish summer sun on her face.

  ‘What’s that red thing? It looks like a dunce’s cap,’ Luke asked, pointing into the distance.

  Ben smiled, too polite to laugh. ‘It’s a daymark – like a diurnal lighthouse for the ships. It warns them of the Runnel Stone reef a mile off shore. You see the black and white one, further behind?’

  ‘Diurnal, wow. This kid can talk. Yeah, I see it.’

  ‘As long as the ships can see both of them during the day, they’re okay, but if the black and white one disappears behind the red one, that means they’re in rocky waters.’

  ‘I didn’t know that!’ Chloe marvelled.

  ‘That’s because you’ve always got your nose in your mobile phone,’ I observed. ‘Look up every once in a while, and smell the sea air. Or read a book.’ As I said it, her mobile rang and she clicked the off button. I wondered if it was Chanel. Chloe hadn’t mentioned her since Luke and Jessica had arrived.

  ‘This is so beautiful,’ Jessica said. ‘I can smell the salt air, feel the freshness on my face, hear the seagulls. There are at least three circling our heads now, am I right?’

  We all looked up and, sure as rain in a Cornish summer, there they were – three seagulls eyeing us, or more precisely Ben’s sandwich.

  When we got in, Chloe dumped her phone onto the side table in the living room. Now, as much as I was thrilled about that fact per se, I had to find out.

  ‘Chloe?’ I said. ‘I meant to ask you. Have you been connecting with Chanel lately?’

  At that, she rolled her eyes.

  Normally, I try not to be too much of a pain in the arse, because I know I really can be with all my rules about respect and manners and responsibilities.

  And if on one hand I was thrilled that Jessica and Chloe had bonded, and that Jessica was drumming into my daughter the same manners I hadn’t managed to, on the other hand I was upset about Chloe’s dwindling friendship with Chanel. I was all for making new friends, but one mus
t never forget the old ones, particularly the good ones, and Chanel indeed was the best friend a mother could hope for, for her daughter. Chanel was definitely part of our family, no bones about it. When Chanel first had her heart broken, it was my shoulder she cried on, me who drove her to get some ice cream, and me who gave her advice on how to (at least seem to) get over him.

  But with Jessica’s arrival, their conversations had dwindled, and now it was me who normally reminded Chloe to answer Chanel’s texts. So the next day I had a private word with her in her bedroom. ‘How would you feel if Chanel met, I don’t know, some singer or someone, and completely forgot about you?’

  ‘Like who?’ she wanted to know.

  ‘I’m just pretending, Chloe. How would you feel?’

  She thought about it. ‘She would never do that to me.’

  ‘Exactly. Remember who your people are, Chloe. Call Chanel back immediately and apologise for your behaviour.’

  Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘What the hell, Mum. You told me to say away from my phone.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you invite her over? Emma’s busy with work, but I’m sure Chanel would be happy to see Jessica.’

  ‘And I’m sure Emma would be happy to meet Luke,’ she countered. ‘Or are you keeping him all to yourself?’

  ‘What a silly thing to say, Chloe.’

  ‘Is it? Then why don’t you invite your tribe over?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m going to do,’ I decided on the spot. It was time. Luke would love Emma. And Emma would drool over Luke.

  I made a couple of phone calls. Jack was a no-go, much to my disappointment, but Emma was thrilled.

  I pulled out all the stops and made my special ricotta, sugar and cinnamon-filled ravioli for lunch.

  ‘What are you making? Can I help?’ Luke asked as he loped into the kitchen.

  ‘Ravioli. Oh and I’m inviting my best friend Emma and her daughter over for dinner Saturday night.’

  ‘Ooh, sounds like fun. You are an amazing cook. You should open your own restaurant. Well, not anymore, because you won’t need to once our movie hits the theatres.’

  I flashed him a shy smile. ‘I actually make arancini for some local restaurants.’