Cornwall for Christmas: A Polwenna Bay novella

by Ruth Saberton

  It was just as Symon was saying this that the hotel’s front door opened and Kat James walked in, her cheeks rosy from the cold and her curls springing into ringlets thanks to the sea air. Although she was bundled up in her winter coat there was no disguising the lush curves beneath it or the long slim legs above her boots. Zak’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head.

  “Who’s that?”

  Tom felt a glow of vicarious pride. Kat was so gorgeous. If only she could see herself the way others saw her! That Ed was an idiot, and so was Alex if he let her go again.

  “That’s Kat,” he said.

  “That’s her? She’s seriously Alex’s ex-girlfriend?” Zak’s eyebrows vanished into his curls. “If she was waiting for me there’d be no way I’d want to spend Christmas on the Seaspray sofa! If Alex doesn’t want to know, do you think I’d stand a chance?”

  Tom, who adored Kat, thought Zak Tremaine was probably the last thing his old friend needed.

  “Trust me, she and Alex are soulmates,” he began – but he stopped when he realised that Alex was on his return journey and about to bump into Kat. For one heart-stopping moment Tom thought she was going to storm out, but it seemed the Christmas spirit must have taken effect because Kat stopped for a moment, apparently listening to something Alex was saying to her. Alex was even planting a kiss on her cheek now. In response though, Kat simply nodded before continuing through the lobby and up the staircase. She didn’t give Alex a backwards glance.

  Tom felt hugely disappointed. Was that it?

  “Right, that’s sorted. I’ve told Kat that the room’s all hers. Sofa here I come,” announced Alex, joining them in the bar. “She managed to listen without bopping me on the nose too, so I think it’s all cool.”

  “Mate, you’re mad. Go up to that room and plead with her to take you back. She’s gorgeous,” said Zak. “I know Krissy’s a model, but this girl’s seriously fit – and, unlike your ex-missus, hopefully not a lunatic.”

  “Kat’s lovely and she’s really clever too,” Tom said proudly. “Kat can read Beowulf in the original.”

  “I’ve no idea what that means but I’m even more impressed now,” said Zak.

  “That’s because you’re a total philistine and can hardly read the Beano in the original,” grinned Symon. Then he jangled his car keys as Zak waved at the barmaid. “Don’t you dare even think about ordering another drink, Zak Tremaine! I’ve got a shedload of prep to do at the restaurant and, fun as it is watching Tom attempting to play Cupid, I need to get on. If you hadn’t noticed, it’s Christmas Day tomorrow, which is quite a busy time in my line of work. Ready to go, Alex?”

  But Alex was looking serious. “I’ve been doing some thinking. What if losing Kat was the biggest mistake I ever made?”

  “Do you think so?” asked Zak, all jokiness vanishing when he saw how pensive his friend was.

  “Maybe it’s the Christmas magic, or maybe I’m just getting sentimental in my old age, but I can’t help feeling that I’ve been offered a second chance.”

  “That’s what I think!” said Tom excitedly.

  Alex took a deep breath. “Zak, I’m afraid I’m going to request another couple of favours from you, and this time it’s not just a lift I need or a sofa I want to borrow.”

  “Oh dear,” said Zak. “This sounds serious. What are you after this time? A yacht?”

  Alex smiled. “Actually, mate, you’re not far off it. But how about for starters you let me have a look in the marina’s shop?”

  Kat’s heart was still thudding when she reached her room, although whether this was from the long walk up the hill from Polwenna Bay back to the hotel or from bumping into Alex she couldn’t tell. And were her legs wobbling from the unaccustomed exercise or from seeing him again? Oh! It was all so frustrating!

  The unexpected conversation with Jules had left Kat feeling confused. On the one hand she was angry with Alex, but on the other the vicar’s words about Christmas and forgiveness and trusting her heart had certainly touched a chord. As she’d made the slow climb out of the village Kat had reminded herself that their relationship was ancient history and nothing to get upset about now. The vast starry sky above her had made Kat realise just how small and insignificant this all was in the universal scale of things, and by the time she’d returned to the hotel she’d been ready to laugh at herself for overreacting. Yes, it was awkward to see Alex again but this was nothing she couldn’t handle. Ten years had gone by, for heaven’s sake! She was a woman now with a (sort of) successful career; she wasn’t the girl he’d walked away from. That was another life and Alex Evans was nothing to her now. She could cope with a few days of seeing him around. He could even kip on the hotel room sofa if he wanted to. She would be fine.

  Or so Kat had told herself. She’d even turned down Jules Mathieson’s kind offer of a room at the vicarage; that was how certain Kat had felt that she could easily forgive Alex and be grown-up about it all. Season of goodwill and all that.

  But then she saw him in the lobby…

  Kat pulled off her boots, threw her coat onto the sofa and hurled herself onto the bed with a howl. Did Alex have to look so good though? Why couldn’t he have lost his hair? Or put on a few pounds? Maybe have been wearing a hideous sweater? Anything to make her see that she’d built him up in her memory as being much more than he really was. Instead the opposite was true: if anything Alex looked even better now than he did ten years ago. Maturity had given him an air of confidence and the passing years had seen him fill out into a man. It hadn’t escaped Kat’s notice either how the eyes of other women in the hotel slipped from their partners to Alex as butter slides down a hot knife.

  “Hey,” Alex had said softly. “I’m glad I’ve bumped into you. I’ve just seen the receptionist and let her know I won’t be staying here after all. The room’s all yours. Enjoy it.”

  Kat had stared at him, unable to speak because the sudden wave of disappointment breaking over her was as overwhelming as it was horrific. How on earth could she possibly be disappointed that Alex wouldn’t be here? She didn’t want him around. Of course not.

  “So, merry Christmas,” he’d added, leaning down and brushing her cheek with his lips. “I hope you have a wonderful one.”

  He certainly looked as though he was having fun, Kat thought, shocked to realise that she was feeling jealous. She’d caught sight of Alex’s friends waiting for him in the bar. He’d probably join them for Christmas too – unlike her, who’d be all alone in this huge room. She’d be eating Christmas dinner on her own tomorrow and trying to pull a cracker by herself. And to think that her desire to be alone had been the very reason she’d chosen not to cancel her Christmas escape. The irony wasn’t lost on Kat. She felt even more confused now. Suddenly being alone at Christmas didn’t feel quite as wonderful as she’d anticipated.

  As she glanced around her beautiful hotel room, Kat realised that alone and lonely were two very different states indeed. Before Alex had arrived she’d been more than content to be alone; in fact she’d revelled in the peace and quiet of it. Now everything had changed. The room seemed far too big and her bed was a solitary ship floating on a vast carpet sea. The massive bath was ridiculously large for one person and the sumptuous food on the room-service menu was designed to be fed to a partner, each delicious morsel to be savoured and offered from tender fingertips. As laughter rippled up from the ballroom below, Kat knew that alone had turned into lonely and she had absolutely no idea how this had happened.

  Some holiday this was turning out to be. With a heavy heart she reached out and turned off the lamp. Maybe in the morning everything would seem better. She really hoped so. It was Christmas, after all.

  Chapter 9

  As dawn broke across Cornwall on Christmas morning the world was as bright and as sparkly as a seasonal greetings card. A heavy frost had coated the rooftops with glitter and iced the bare trees; it had dusted the wreaths hung on front doors and painted delicate patterns onto windowpanes. Seagulls’ crie
s mingled with the pealing of bells from St Wenn’s as Sheila Keverne and her fellow WI ladies rang in the big day. Across the village presents were opened and turkeys readied for the oven, and down on the quay there was a festive atmosphere as fishermen checked their trawlers and called out across the harbour to friends and neighbours. Meanwhile the streets began to fill with people wearing colourful Yuletide sweaters, en route to snap photos of each other by the harbour’s Christmas tree on such a glorious day. Below in the marina a pleasure boat chugged into life while two blond men uncoiled ropes and checked the engine, as the tinsel that adorned the cabin fluttered in the cold morning breeze. On the other side of the water fairy lights twinkled in cottage windows and cries of delight rang in the air as children rode new bicycles and skateboards. Although it was still early, the air was already heavy with the smell of roasting potatoes.

  The guests staying at the Polwenna Bay Hotel might still be waking up beneath their feather-filled duvets but the staff had been toiling since the small hours to make certain that every detail was perfect. Anyone who happened to rise early and wander down the beautiful curving staircase would have no idea that a big party had taken place only hours earlier. The windows glistened, the handrails bore no smudged fingerprints and the dining room was clear of the previous evening’s feast. Instead, the buffet table was now draped with snowy linen and laden with huge cut-glass jugs of Buck’s Fizz, silver tureens of scrambled eggs and platters of smoked salmon. Christmas carols played softly in the background and each of the dining tables boasted a fresh arrangement of spiky green holly splashed with scarlet berries. The kitchens might be buzzing with staff frantically preparing a five-course Christmas lunch, but in the dining room sunshine streamed in through the tall sash windows and all was tranquil.

  Kat chose to sit at the farthest table, which overlooked the terrace and the bright blue sea beyond. The gardens fell steeply away below and were white with frost. As she sipped her Buck’s Fizz she marvelled at a spider’s web strung between the barley-sugar twists of the balustrade, each strand silver with ice and sparkling in the sunshine. It really was a beautiful morning. It was just perfect for opening presents with a loved one and exchanging kisses before venturing outside, fatly wrapped up against the cold in scarves and sweaters, to walk hand in hand through the countryside and work up an appetite for Christmas dinner. This was what she should have been doing today, like something from a cheesy eighties music video featuring George Michael and Andrew Ridgeley. Instead she’d woken alone and gritty eyed after a restless night, and with Alex Evans on her mind rather than Ed.

  Oh! It was infuriating to feel this confused and angry after ten years had passed. Kat supposed she ought to be grateful that she now knew for sure she was totally over Ed. It was as though he’d been little more than a ripple on the surface of her emotions, whereas Alex was the tempest she’d thought long past. So much for that; it seemed he’d actually eroded her inner landscape forever.

  As she’d descended the stairs and crossed the foyer, Kat had hoped to find Tom behind the reception desk, but instead there was only a petulant-looking young man in a dark suit being given a dressing-down by the scary Ella.

  “I don’t care what you were planning to do, Teddy,” Ella had snapped. “You have to be here! It’s Christmas Day and the St Miltons always run the place. Even Grandpa will be along.”

  “With her,” the young man had responded sulkily, screwing up his nose. He’d managed to yank his features into a smile when he’d caught Kat looking, but it was more of a grimace and didn’t reach the chilly depths of his grey eyes.

  Those two had seemed as much in the Christmas spirit as she was, Kat reflected as she picked at the smoked salmon on her plate. Although she knew it was beautiful it tasted like cardboard and she could hardly face another mouthful. Maybe she should abandon trying to eat her breakfast and go for a walk over the cliffs instead. Perhaps that way she’d work up an appetite for lunch. The trouble was that all she could think about was Alex; her stomach was loop-the-looping so much that she doubted she’d be able to manage a morsel, let alone the huge Christmas dinner she’d been looking forward to. She stabbed her fork into the salmon. This was another thing to hold against her ex.

  Kat had some presents up in her room that she would open later. There was a gift card from her sister, a soft package from her parents (which was bound to be something to wear, probably in the wrong size) and a few odds and ends from grateful pupils. Nothing unexpected or thrilling. There would be no surprise diamonds to gasp over or silky underwear shimmering with the promise of excitement to come – and there would certainly be nobody to share it with. Kat felt a little pang of self-pity, which she stamped on furiously.

  Get a grip! she told herself. You knew you were coming here alone. That was the whole point. Fresh air, exercise and space, remember? Get outside and do something useful.

  There was certainly no point staying here to pick at a breakfast she didn’t want and to feel sorry for herself. Placing her napkin on the table and pushing her uneaten food away, Kat was poised to leave when the sullen young man she’d seen earlier approached. In his arms he was holding a huge box wrapped in scarlet paper and topped with a bright gold bow.

  “Excuse me, madam,” he said, holding it out, “but I believe this is for you?”

  Kat stared at him. Who would be sending her a gift here? “I don’t think so,” she said.

  He frowned. “You are Miss K James?”

  She nodded.

  “The label has your name on it. This is for you.”

  There was no denying it. The parcel really was for her. Maybe it was a peace offering from Tom?

  Puzzled, she took the box and rested it on the table. There was no way of guessing what was hidden within it; nor was there any clue as to who’d sent it. Opening it, Kat was even more perplexed to discover a pair of blue Joules wellies measled with red spots, together with a blue sailing jacket. The items were in her exact size. Tucked inside one of the boots was a thick piece of paper.

  Merry Christmas! Put me on and wear me down to the Polwenna Bay marina!

  Who had sent these gifts? Tom? Her parents? Or, whispered a little voice that filled her with something that felt terrifyingly like hope, were they from Alex?

  For a moment she stared at the presents. Would Alex have remembered her shoe size after all this time? Surely not? Even Ed wouldn’t have known what size her feet were, let alone recalled this information after a decade. Then again, Alex wasn’t Ed. She could hardly picture Ed’s face anymore, whereas Alex’s laughing green eyes and slow sexy smile were as vivid now as they’d been the day he’d walked away.

  Were these gifts from Alex?

  Kat exhaled slowly. There was only one way to find out.

  An hour later, Kat was walking along the quay wearing her brand new wellies and sailing coat. She’d swapped her dress for jeans and a sweater, but even wrapped up in all these layers she was still cold. Right now her nose was probably red enough to give Rudolph a run for his money.

  As she passed through the narrow streets of Polwenna Bay the village was alive with people – locals and holidaymakers alike – all beaming and calling Merry Christmas to one another. The sunshine had melted most of the frost now, but frozen patches still lurked in the shadowy gullies between fish boxes and trawl nets, and ice dusted the lobster pots like sugar on mince pies. The sea beyond the thick stone wall was bright blue, almost painful to look at as the sunlight bounced off it.

  “Kat! You came!”

  A man stood at the top of the marina pontoon. He was wearing jeans, CAT boots and a thick cream cable-knit jumper. He waved at her delightedly. Even against the glare of the sun there was no mistaking his identity. Kat would know him anywhere.

  “Alex?” Shielding her eyes against the sunshine, Kat craned her neck to look up at him. Being tall herself she had always liked it that Alex made her feel delicate and feminine. Ed had hated it that they were the same height; one of the plus sides of their br
eakup had been the freedom to dig out her high heels again.

  “Did you send me these?” she asked, sweeping her arm across her coat and then pointing at her boots.

  “Certainly not! Although I did hear that Santa was raiding the marina’s shop at midnight,” said Alex, totally straight-faced.

  “And why would Santa do that?”

  “Maybe because he felt dreadful for ruining things for you?”

  Kat couldn’t help herself. “Which time?”

  There was a pause and she wished she hadn’t sniped at him, but it was hard when the hurt she’d thought long buried remained so raw. Her eighteen-year-old self was still angry and disbelieving, wanting to inflict as much pain on Alex as he had on her.

  He sighed. “Kat, I’m really sorry. Believe me, if you only knew just how many times I’ve wished that things had been different. What can I say? I was an idiot. Young men are stupid and they don’t think straight. You didn’t deserve what I did to you.”

  Kat raised her chin. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

  “You’re still angry.” It wasn’t a question. He stepped forward hesitantly, as though worried she was going to take a swipe at him and shove him into the harbour. Last night Kat would have been sorely tempted to do exactly that – but today, in the sunshine and with Christmas Day unfolding all around her, it was difficult to dredge up the rage she’d felt then. Jules Mathieson’s words had helped too.

  “It wasn’t the best way for things to end,” she said quietly. “And I could have done without having to see you again, that’s for sure. I wanted a quiet Christmas on my own. It was a shock I could have done without.”

  Alex nodded, his green eyes serious. “I understand. It was a shock to me too. I guess I should have known something was up when Tom insisted I came here for Christmas. He’s the only person I know who counts The Holiday as one of his favourite films of all time.”