Confetti at the Cornish Café

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘It certainly is. It’s delicious. Reminds me of Nanny’s strudel.’

  ‘Your gran was a keen baker?’ I ask, still amazed at his accent. That voice could have come straight out of the drawing room of Polly’s favourite series, Downton Abbey.

  He laughs. ‘Oh gosh, Granny never baked. I don’t think she knew what an oven was and she rarely ventured into the kitchens. She had a cook and housekeeper for that sort of thing. No, our nanny used to bake us treats in the school holidays or when we had an exeat. She was from Salzburg and was an incredible pastry cook. Her strudel was my favourite but this is a delicious twist.’

  Harry takes off his shades. He doesn’t need false lashes or eyeliner. His eyes are striking enough: sea green with natural lashes to die for. Wow. My mind works overtime, trying to work out why a man who once had a nanny is working as minder to a celebrity couple.

  ‘May I have another slice, please?’

  I like him already. ‘Of course,’ I say, and hand him another plate.

  While Harry tucks in to the figgy ’obbin, Lily nibbles a morsel of a mini cinnamon scone. I hold my breath, waiting for the verdict. She puts the rest on her plate and pushes it away from her as if it might bite her back. Oh dear, this isn’t going well, but after dabbing her mouth with a serviette, she smiles.

  ‘Yum. That was delicious, but I daren’t have any more. I’m getting so fat, aren’t I, Ben?’

  ‘I dunno. You look all right to me.’ Ben crunches a fairing without glancing up from his screen.

  ‘Do you want the rest of this yummy scone, Harry?’

  Holding the handle of the cup with his little finger crooked, Harry sips his tea. ‘Thanks.’

  Lily brings the plate over and puts it in front of him. ‘Now you can get fat like me, can’t you?’

  Harry puts his shades back on. ‘You’re not fat,’ he mutters and studies a Demelza’s menu while devouring the scone in one bite.

  Ben is still swiping his phone. I hope he’s on Instagram not Tinder.

  Nina finds the courage to emerge from the counter for a chat with Lily who suggests she has a selfie with her and Ben. This gives me a welcome chance to escape outside to try and get Cal on my phone. Mobile coverage is patchy at Kilhallon, so I’m not surprised when his answer phone kicks in. Not surprised but pissed off.

  ‘My partner, Cal, seems to be tied up with an urgent matter at the moment but he’ll be along as soon as possible. I know he’s dying to show you the wonderful space that Kilhallon has for your ceremony. I think it’s drying up outside so while we wait for Cal and the sun to arrive, would you like to run through some menu ideas? We can have all the taster samples ready for you on your next visit and it will be spring then.’

  ‘That sounds lovely, doesn’t it, Ben?’

  Finally, Ben puts down his phone and bends down to kiss Lily’s head. ‘Anything you want, babe. Harry, can you fetch Lily’s scarf from the car? If we’re going outside, I don’t want her shivering, do I, babe?’

  ‘I’ll be OK, really, Ben.’

  ‘Harry doesn’t mind. That’s what he’s here for,’ Ben says.

  Without a word, Harry leaves the cafe with the remains of a figgy ’obbin in his huge hand.

  ‘Harry’s ex-military. Paras. His family once owned a huge dump in the Cotswolds but they fell on hard times,’ Ben tells me, sitting next to Lily again.

  Lily tuts. ‘It isn’t a dump. It’s a beautiful old place.’

  ‘Yeah, but he doesn’t own it now, does he? They had to sell it when his granddad blew his brains out after he’d gone bankrupt. It’s a boutique hotel,’ Ben says to me. ‘Quirky great pile, not my thing. Can I have some more coffee?’ He holds up his mug.

  ‘Of course.’ I spring up, eager to help in any way I can. Still, I can’t help feeling sorry for Harry, losing his family home and having to wait on Ben and Lily. I wonder how he stands being ordered around by Ben, to be honest.

  ‘Cal should be here any time. Shall we talk about the type of food you’d like for your ceremony and reception?’

  While we chat through the menus, Harry returns and stations himself in a corner, leafing through a guidebook on Cornish dog walks. Lily and Ben have been here half an hour and I’m urging Cal to put in an appearance. He may claim to be no PR man, but he can turn on the charm when he wants to and it often seems to have an effect on people. I’m hoping he’ll work his magic on Lily, if not on Ben.

  There’s still no sign of Cal but the sun has moved around and is now shining full-on through the windows of the cafe. It may still be February but it’s one of those days when you first feel some real, if faint, warmth in the sun’s rays. The clouds have cleared away to bother people further east, leaving us with a beautiful sky the colour of forget-me-nots. Cal or no Cal, I sense this is the moment to show off Kilhallon while I can. I hope that even sophisticated Lily will be charmed by the setting. I don’t know about Ben but I suspect he’ll go along with anything she wants, which would definitely make things easier for me.

  ‘Would you like to see the view from the cafe now the rain has stopped and the wind has died down a little bit?’

  Lily claps her hands in delight. ‘Oh, I’d love to.’

  Having returned with the wrap, Harry offers it to Lily and she fastens it around her neck, under her coat. I zip up my own jacket and we say goodbye and thanks to Nina, telling her we’ll be back later for lunch. Harry and Ben decide to brave the great outdoors without extra layers. I’m not sure even a Cornish gale could blow Harry over anyway.

  We step out onto the terrace of the cafe, bracing ourselves against the Atlantic wind. The heavy tables and chairs have survived the winter and are beginning to look weathered, but that’s not a bad thing. We walk through the gap in the low stone wall around the terrace and stand outside on a strip of grass between Kilhallon land and the coastal path. Large pale-grey clouds tear across the sky. Lily’s hair whips across her face and she pulls the strands out of her eyes. I can taste the salt on my lips.

  ‘Wow.’

  Lily takes a deep breath, just like she did when she stepped into Demelza’s.

  ‘It’s an amazing view. I love the view from Ben’s parents’ house over Mounts Bay but the north west is so wild.’

  ‘It’s hard to decide which is better,’ I say, aware of Ben standing next to us, not that he seems too bothered as he’s still scrolling through his phone.

  ‘Is there a signal up here?’ he says, holding the handset up.

  ‘It’s patchy,’ I admit. ‘But there’s Wi-Fi in the cafe and cottages. We plan to offer Wi-Fi all over the glamping field and events area before your wedding.’

  He doesn’t answer me but hmmphs and shoves his phone in his jacket. He joins Lily who has walked the few yards from our land to the coastal path. It’s still windy but I think she’ll be OK.

  ‘This looks like a scene from The French Lieutenant’s Woman, doesn’t it, Ben?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says, standing behind her with his arms around her waist.

  ‘I haven’t heard of that,’ I say.

  ‘It’s a book and it was a film before I was born. Isla wants to do a remake but it’s set in Lyme Regis not Cornwall. There’s a scene where the heroine stands in a howling gale almost being blown off the Cobb. I’m hoping Ben will play the hero in it.’

  Wow. I think Ben may have actually smiled. Maybe his grouchiness is from pre-wedding nerves or the pressure of his job. I wouldn’t want to live my life under the microscope like they do, even though they’re meant to live for the publicity. I bet they have to do a lot of things they don’t want to as well.

  The publisher of our canine cookbook wants my co-author, Eva Spero, and me to do some radio and TV appearances when it comes out later this year. To be honest, the idea makes me go weak at the knees but I guess I’ll get used to it. Cal and I still haven’t quite got over being featured in a Sunday lifestyle magazine last autumn, thanks to Eva who was impressed by our set-up when she turned up to Kilhallon’s launch par
ty last year.

  ‘Shall we move on to the wedding glade? It’s more sheltered down there,’ I ask, seeing Ben shivering in the wind blowing off the sea.

  Lily slots her arm through his. ‘Are you cold?’

  ‘Freezing my rocks off,’ Ben mutters.

  ‘Let’s get out of the wind,’ I say, wishing Ben had come equipped for the weather.

  On our way to the glade, Harry walks to the left and a little behind, checking around him at intervals. Maybe he thinks an assassin might be hiding behind the cafe bins or the high-banked hedges that protect the camping field from the worst of the Atlantic wind.

  Clumps of snowdrops nod their delicate heads in the breeze and early primroses dot the banks that line the lane to the cottages and the edge of the copse. I love the first signs of spring. When I spent a stint sleeping rough, all I cared about was a warm place to stay, but now I’m lucky enough to appreciate the seasons changing from a warm bed and home.

  A boy waving a plastic cutlass shoots out of the copse next to us onto the path.

  ‘Wooo hoooo! Watch out! I’m a pirate!’

  ‘Jesus! What the—’ Ben steadies Lily as the boy clips her arm.

  ‘Sorry!’ the boy shouts but races off down the slope towards the yurt field, waving his sword cutlass. He’s wearing a pirate hat and an eye patch but I’m sure I know him.

  ‘Are you OK, baby?’ Ben asks Lily.

  Lily smiles. ‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’

  ‘Quick! Blackbeard’s after us!’ A little girl in pirate gear shoots out of the copse and clips Ben. He tries to stay upright but slips on the damp turf and lands smack on his bum in a puddle.

  The girl shouts ‘Sorry!’ but she’s already on her way, racing down the slope after her pirate friend.

  ‘Fuck,’ Ben growls, scrambling out of the puddle. ‘You little sods!’ he calls after them, trying to scramble to his feet.

  ‘Are you OK, Ben?’ Lily reaches down to help him up.

  He shakes it off. ‘My jeans are ruined. Little brats could have done me some serious damage.’

  I wince. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sure it was an accident.’

  ‘Whose kids are they?’ he snaps.

  ‘They’re from St Trenyan.’ I’m in despair wondering why they are here and to be honest more pissed off at the way Ben’s spoken about the children. I recognise them, of course: they’re members of the families who were evacuated here after the flooding. They moved out of Kilhallon last month and into temporary accommodation so I’ve no idea why they’re chasing around the site dressed as pirates today.

  ‘They didn’t do it on purpose, sweetheart,’ Lily says, taking Ben’s elbow as he gets to his feet. I swallow hard. His designer jeans are soaked with mud and his Stan Smiths are ruined. Where the hell is Cal?

  My answer comes a split second later as Blackbeard himself, complete with tricorn and eye patch, jogs out of the copse shouting: ‘Come here, you scurvy knaves. I’ll make you walk the plank!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘Sorry, mate!’

  Cal screeches to a halt inches from Ben. Lily lets out a giggle but Ben glares at him with open contempt.

  ‘Are those your kids? You should control the little sods,’ he snaps.

  Cal’s smile vanishes and he pushes his eye patch over his forehead. ‘They’re not little sods. They’re playing at pirates.’

  Ben snorts. ‘Pirates? They could have broken my neck. And look at my jeans. These were made specially for me by the designer. They’re unique.’

  ‘Well, they definitely are now, mate.’ Cal frowns at the mud-spattered denim while I die a little inside. ‘And they’re not my children but I’ll pass on your parenting advice to their mums and dads. I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.’

  ‘Cal!’ I cut in, cringing at the naked menace in his voice while wanting to sink through the ground. ‘This is Ben Trevone and Lily Craig. Our VIP guests.’

  Cal glances from Ben to Lily then sucks in a breath before thrusting out his muddy hand. ‘Oh, right. Well, good to meet you both. Sorry the kids were a bit over enthusiastic with their pirate raiding.’

  Ignoring Cal’s hand, Ben snorts. ‘Over enthusiastic? They’ve ruined my jeans, not that I care, of course, or about being dumped on my arse in the mud, but Lily was almost knocked flying.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t. I’m fine and so are you. Ben’s jeans will recover. I never liked them anyway,’ Lily trills. ‘You must be Cal. Why are you dressed as a pirate?’ Lily asks him, clearly intrigued.

  ‘I promised the children they could come to Kilhallon to play pirates. I just didn’t realise they’d turn up today.’

  Ben is speechless, which is a relief, but Cal gives Lily one of his bone-melting smiles. ‘Apologies for my lateness. The children turned up for a half-term visit and I totally lost track of the time. They’re a bit wild, but they’ve had a shitty time recently – their families were flooded out of their homes over Christmas by a tidal surge.’

  Lily wrinkles her nose. ‘Oh my God. How horrible for them. We did hear about it. Ben went to school in Penzance, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ I say. ‘So I’m sure he can understand how terrible the storm was for the area.’

  ‘We saw it on the news, didn’t we, Ben? My cousins had to leave their house and Ben paid for them to go to a hotel for a few weeks. He’s very thoughtful like that, aren’t you, Ben?’

  Ben manages a smile and puts his arm around Lily’s shoulders. ‘Anything to make you happy.’

  ‘I bet Polly would wash your jeans, mate, and you can borrow an old pair of mine in the meantime,’ Cal says.

  Ben curls his lip. ‘Thanks, but don’t bother.’

  ‘We’ve got a change of clothes in the car,’ Lily says. ‘We’re visiting Ben’s mum in Penzance after we’ve left here. That’s one of the reasons we wanted the ceremony at Kilhallon, because Ben’s family live locally and mine are scattered over the South West so it’s not so very far for them to come.’

  She kisses Ben and he grunts.

  ‘Would you like to come up to the house to change your clothes?’ I ask him.

  ‘No. I’d rather keep them on until we’ve finished yomping around this field … in case anyone else wants to knock me over,’ he says.

  ‘Probably a wise decision,’ says Cal. ‘Do you want me to fetch you some wellies?’ he directs this to both of them.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Lily says with a smile that would melt the hardest heart and I think has even melted Cal’s. Her black leather pixie boots should be OK despite the wet conditions.

  ‘I’ll stay as I am,’ says Ben, who I think would rather jump off a cliff than be seen in wellies.

  Lily slips her arm through his and kisses him. ‘I rather like you all muddy and wet.’

  Finally, Ben smiles.

  ‘Your eye patch has slipped,’ I whisper to Cal while Ben helps Lily down the slope towards the ‘events space’.

  Cal lifts off the tricorn and pulls the eye patch over his head before pecking me on the cheek. ‘Sorry I’m late. I bet you’ve been climbing the walls having to look after those two on your own.’

  ‘I didn’t even notice you weren’t around.’

  Cal sucks in a breath. ‘That bad, eh? I didn’t know the kids would be here today but their parents turned up with them. They came to say thanks and I didn’t want to turn them away. Then I kind of got involved in a pirate raid and lost all track of time.’

  ‘A pirate raid? Great. At least you have your priorities right.’

  He grins. ‘You’re not too pissed off, are you?’

  While I shake my head at him, I can’t help but smile. Cal likes kids, probably because he’s still about twelve inside. He also spent a lot of time helping them during his time in Syria as an aid worker. He grew especially close to Esme and her mother, Soraya. Soraya’s death in an attack on the city caused Cal a lot of pain, and I know he feels partly responsible. Although he told me about it over Christmas, we’ve not spoken about it since,
but I know he thinks about Esme constantly and wonders whether she survived.

  We rejoin Lily and Ben and pause halfway down the gentle slope that leads to a circular patch of grass at the bottom of a hollow. To the left is the far edge of the little copse where the yurts are pitched during our camping season. Below us the young pirates are now sitting on one of the log seats we’ve placed in our ‘wedding glade’. The area is available for use by the yurt guests and campers when it’s not booked for a wedding or party.

  ‘This is the space where you’ll be holding your … um … handfasting ceremony.’ Cal puts his hand to his ear. ‘Shh. Listen.’

  The wind has dropped enough for us to hear the faint roar of the sea breaking on the rocks below the cliffs. Gulls wheel above us, gliding on the breeze, crying against the spring sky.

  ‘Imagine it on a glorious summer’s day – that hollow down there is where we would hold the ceremony,’ I say, relieved that Kilhallon is finally hinting at how beautiful it can be. ‘We’re thinking of having a luxury events tipi for the reception in case the weather turns slightly cooler,’ I say, recalling the storm we had last June. ‘You can have drinks outside in the sun, and in the evening we can light braziers or campfires and decorate the tipi and wedding area however you like … Chinese lanterns, a fairy grotto, Moroccan themed …’

  ‘Sounds amazing,’ says Lily with a sigh.

  ‘Let’s take a closer look,’ says Cal, subtly leading her down to the centre of the hollow. Even I’m impressed by what we can do at Kilhallon and I know the yurts looked amazing on our launch day last September. Now the sun’s out and Cal’s here, I feel more confident that we could put on a show that might even please Ben. Fingers crossed that soon we’ll have found a wedding planner to help us so I can concentrate on the catering. The kids run into the woods, whooping, as we approach, which is probably a good thing for all of us.

  Ben and I join Cal and Lily in the hollow. Cal sits on a log seat with Lily and they start to chat about a production she worked on with Isla.

  ‘Have you got any ideas for themes yet?’ I ask Ben, who keeps glancing at his phone.