‘I’m also hoping to work on my edits too while I have some peace and quiet,’ says Kit. ‘Maybe we can get together for a beer or two? And it would be great if you could suggest some local people I could speak to,’ Kit says. ‘When you’re not too busy.’
‘I’m always busy,’ Cal says with a grunt. ‘But yeah. I can spare a time for a beer and a few words if it helps the community. I can’t stay and chat now though. I’m in the middle of fixing the mower. I’m sure Demi will sort you out.’
Actually, I was baking, I think, and planning a wedding menu … but Cal is gone.
Kit watches him stride away over the car park then turns to me with a raised eyebrow. He sighs. ‘That went well.’
I laugh. ‘Well? I half-expected him to chuck you out. Come on, I’ll get the keys to Enys Cottage so you can settle in before he changes his mind.’
Later in the farmhouse, I’m curled up on the sofa with the laptop, working on some final tweaks to the text in Dog’s Dinner. We’ve added doggy popcorn and some new flavours of muffins as well as recipes for dog walkers. Cal sits in the armchair, a book in his lap, but he’s not reading it. He holds his whisky glass and stares into the fire. He doesn’t know I’m watching him; I’m not sure he knows I’m even in the same room. It’s half a minute before he takes a sip from his glass and catches me looking at him.
‘I’m not much company tonight, am I?’
‘I’m supposed to be working. I have to do this copy-edit thing and send it back tomorrow.’
He smiles. ‘Copy-edit? Sounds important.’
‘It’s hard work. It’s my last chance to change anything in the text of the recipe book. Eva’s reading it through too, and the publisher, of course, but it’s so scary thinking it might be read by thousands of people. If I’ve got anything wrong … I’d hate someone’s dog to be ill.’
‘Haven’t all the recipes been checked by a vet and nutritionist?’
‘Yes, but …’ I put my laptop down. ‘I’m not worried about that but this is another big step for me and Demelza’s. Everything’s happening so fast, sometimes I feel as if I’ve been swept up by a whirlwind and dumped in a strange place.’
‘I’ve lived here all my life and I often feel that I’ve been picked up and dropped here.’
Cal looks thoughtful but his statement doesn’t make me feel better. I’ve had doubts that he’s truly happy back home and running Kilhallon ever since I first came here. Initially, I thought his heart lay with Isla, but lately, I’ve wondered if he’s as committed to staying here as he makes out. If he wants to leave, there’s nothing I can do about it … my stomach flips. I’d get over it, I’d carry on – I told myself over and over not to tangle up my hopes and dreams and future with his.
‘I’m glad I know what happened to you in Syria,’ I say, switching the focus to Cal.
‘A problem shared is a problem that can make two people unhappy rather than one,’ he says with a bitter edge to his voice. ‘Part of me wishes I’d never laid the burden on you.’
‘It’s not a burden.’
He smiles very briefly, then kisses me. ‘Forget it for now. Let’s talk about something important. I’ve booked Boris the owl although the falconer says he’s been out of sorts lately and she might have to substitute him with a female eagle owl. Believe it or not, she’s called Theresa.’
‘You’re making that up!’
‘Cross my heart,’ he says, making a sign over his chest.
‘Really? Eww. That’s creepy. An eagle owl called Theresa? That sounds a bit dodgy. Ben won’t like an even bigger, scarier bird than Boris landing on him.’
Cal smiles and then winks.
‘You were making it up. You ratbag.’ I jump from my seat and grab a cushion and start hitting him. He fends me off but in seconds we’re both on the sofa, me on top of him. The cushions are abandoned and we’re snogging, and Boris and the wedding and the whole world can go away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next day I’m in Demelza’s, relishing the chance to have a ‘normal day’s work’ that focuses on the cafe and customers without any wedding drama or any dark thoughts. Cal talked to me about business last night, about how busy bookings were looking for Easter and how long we needed to close for the wedding.
Many of the plans are now in place. We’ve decided to shut the whole resort and cafe from the Wednesday evening until the Monday. It will cost Lily and Ben a lot of money but that doesn’t seem to be a problem. Harry has sent us a dossier outlining the security plan and called to discuss it. Addison and Jade are, of course, never off the phone or email, checking that everything is ‘progressing’.
Business is steady, but not spectacular on this grey and cool morning which has given me a chance to sift through some of the applications for seasonal staff and arrange some interviews. We’re definitely going to need a few pairs of extra hands with all our events and the summer season coming up.
Jugs of candy-coloured tulips on every table lift the mood in the cafe, which is filled with comforting aromas that seem to have lured ramblers and regulars inside. There’s even a hardy group of dog walkers out on the terrace, swaddled in coats and fleece hats, cradling hot chocolates to warm their hands. The canine customers, two Labradors and a lively young Puggle, are enjoying some of my new savoury doggy popcorn.
I’m taking a moment to deal with some admin during the early afternoon lull when Kit walks into the cafe.
‘Am I too late for lunch? I needed to finish a chapter of my editing.’
‘You’re always late, but I’m sure we can find you some scraps.’
He smiles. ‘I guess that’s all I deserve. Humble pie.’
‘I can do slightly better than that.’
Although I’m still not one hundred per cent sure of Kit, as my Nana Demelza would have said, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.
I grab a coffee and a cheese scone for my lunch and sit down next to him while he tucks into a jacket potato topped with vegetable chilli and local cheese.
‘This is bloody good,’ he says, re-loading his fork with the chilli. Strands of cheese stick to the tines.
‘It was a new recipe for spring. We’ll probably keep it on until Easter when the weather warms up.’
‘It’s going well, then?’
‘The crappy photos in the papers didn’t help us but the regulars took no notice and a few people came out of curiosity to see if it was as bad as it looked. We’ve been lucky to have the boost of the photo shoot, the filming and now this celebrity wedding.’
‘Crappy photos? Big wedding?’ he says after swallowing a mouthful of chilli. ‘You’ve lost me.’
‘You must know about the wedding the newspapers have been speculating about? That’s why Kilhallon ended up in a tabloid. They sent a pap down here and took some photos that showed the place in a terrible light.’
He blows out a breath. ‘I may be a journalist but I’ve been totally caught up in the editing and launch plans for my book. When I do read the papers it’s for the environmental and political features relevant to it. Sorry, I’m not up to speed with the celebrity gossip.’
‘You must have heard of Lily Craig and Ben Trevone?’
He frowns then blows out a breath. ‘Ah. Those two. Yes, I have heard of them. He made that crappy action film, didn’t he? I seem to recall her being OK in that period drama that won an award?’
‘Yes. Lily had a lot of praise for Isla’s costume drama that won a big award. Ben’s Ocean Furries animation was nominated for an Oscar too. He was the sea otter.’
‘A sea otter? I’ll take your word for it. What have they got to do with you?’
‘They’re getting married at Kilhallon. Although that’s meant to be a secret but all the newspapers know about it anyway. Their people don’t want to announce it officially.’
‘Thereby guaranteeing complete obsession with every last detail and continuous press coverage for months? Bloody hell though. Kilhallon – I mean, it’s nice
for us ordinary mortals but for Hollywood movie stars?’
‘We can scrub up,’ I shoot back, annoyed that Kit’s voicing exactly the same thoughts that I’ve been having. ‘You’re right and I’m worried about it too. They say they want a low-key, authentic wedding-slash-handfasting thing. They want the event to seem as if we’ve thrown it together at the last minute, which is exactly what was going to happen until Rachel helped us out.’
‘Christ.’
‘Cal said that. But I hadn’t thought about the mystery adding to the publicity value. That’s not my worry. Kilhallon had some bad PR in the daily rag a few weeks ago. They sent a pap on a horrible wet day and posted a load of pictures of our bins, Mitch weeing up a log and Cal looking pissed off next to the toilets.’
‘Cal looked pissed off? I can’t believe that.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic.’
‘It’s my job.’ He grins. ‘Bastard journos. They’re all evil.’ God, sometimes he is so like Cal, I could kill him. They must have inherited the same gene for being infuriating and sarcastic.
‘I’m amazed you didn’t see it. The ones who wrote the lies about Kilhallon are awful and now I wished I hadn’t asked another one to help,’ I throw back at him. I don’t want to sound tetchy bit I can’t help reminding Kit that he was willing to make Cal’s life a misery by writing a story about Cal’s experiences in Syria – or what Kit thought Cal had been up to in Syria. As it happened, Kit didn’t know the full facts at the time.
Kit gives an apologetic smile. ‘I know. I was joking.’ He sighs. ‘And I’m sorry for being a git. My sense of humour doesn’t always translate as funny. I rarely read the rag and I didn’t catch the online gossip because I’ve been trying to keep offline while I finish my edits. Sadly, there’s not much I can do about restoring the image of Kilhallon, however much I want to help.’
‘Actually, there is a way you could do me, Cal and Kilhallon a big favour.’
He frowns. ‘Yes?’
‘How would you like to help out at the wedding fair on Sunday?’
‘Me? At a wedding fair …’ He screws up his face. ‘Do I have a choice?’
‘No. Call it rehab.’
He sighs. ‘You two are really going to make me suffer for this, aren’t you?’
‘Believe me, the wedding fair will be nothing compared to when Polly sees you.’
He groans. ‘Polly. I feel bad about not being open with her. She was so nice to me and I do genuinely like her. Salt of the earth as they say, they broke the mould etcetera, and I deceived her … Oh shit, how can I face her now?’
‘Wearing full body armour?’
He winces.
‘Fortunately for you, Polly only knows that you and Cal are half-brothers but not the full details. Cal sat her down in the New Year with a large glass of his best whisky and broke the news. Apparently she was speechless for a full minute when she heard and burst into tears but she said she knew that Cal’s father, Mr Penwith, was a “philanderer”, which isn’t a compliment. Once she was over the initial blow, she said it made sense. If she knew everything that had gone on between you and Cal and Mawgan, she’d never forgive you.’
He swallows hard. ‘I don’t blame her. I’ve struggled to forgive myself. I was bitter and twisted and I did the one thing a journalist – a decent one, not a hack – should never do: prejudged the situation and come up with the story I wanted instead of what was really there. But I’m only human and when I got here I could tell Cal loathed me at first sight. I guessed you and he were in a relationship, and having heard about your backstory, I decided he’d taken advantage of you when you were vulnerable.’
‘Cal never took advantage of me and I’ve never been vulnerable.’ I lower my voice, aware that Shamia is watching us closely. ‘And we weren’t, technically, in a relationship back then, though we are now. You probably know I’ve moved into Kilhallon House.’
‘Ah. I had sort of guessed when I saw your old cottage had been refurbished. I’m genuinely happy for you.’ His eyes plead with me to believe him. I do. This is a different Kit to the guy who turned up last year. He’s dropped the façade, I think … unless he’s showing a new façade.
‘Cal’s a very lucky man … but when I rocked up here last autumn, spoiling for a fight myself, Cal came across as difficult, arrogant, bloody minded and always right.’
‘That’s an accurate assessment, but it still gave you no right to try and make him even unhappier. Has he told you what happened to him in Syria? What really happened to him?’
‘He’s told me his side of the story. It was crap for him, a tragic outcome. No wonder he’s found it hard to readjust. Maybe he’ll open up more when we talk about the feature I’m writing on the floods.’
I hesitate before I reply. ‘Maybe. Sometimes, I think it’s better if some people don’t know everything.’
‘Perhaps, but if he talked more, I might be able to help,’ says Kit.
‘That’s up to him. Concentrate on the wedding fair and the feature for now.’
‘The feature I can do. The wedding fair is what scares me. Please don’t say I have to arrange flowers or sashay down the catwalk in a bridal gown?’
‘Don’t panic. Both of those jobs are way out of your league.’ I pat his arm. ‘I’ll find you something a lot easier to do than that.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The Wedding Fair
Primroses still dot the sunny banks and the birds are singing their hearts out as Tamsin and I ‘plant’ a trail of shepherd’s hooks hung with jars either side of the matting that leads into the event tepee on the morning of the wedding fair. Now April is well underway, the bluebells are just coming out, adding their pretty buds to the white of the wild garlic in the copse.
Mitch scampers around, sniffing at the myriad strange scents and generally distracting people from their work. I’m in second-hand Hunters and Tamsin’s in Joules wellies because the newly mown grass still glistens with dew. The wind blew a front across the peninsular last night and the morning’s as fresh and bright as Polly’s whites fluttering in the breeze behind the farmhouse. There’s a fresh scent in the air: wet grass, sea breeze sharpened by the early chill. It’s full-on spring and Kilhallon has never looked more beautiful.
I check out the sky: a washed-out blue the same colour as Cal’s best shirt. ‘Polly’s right about the weather,’ I say to Tamsin.
‘I know … wow, would you check that out?’ Tamsin points at Kit who’s helping Cal fix the willow wedding arch in the glade in the middle of the glamping field, under the watchful eye of Hazel Tremain, the florist who’s also taken a stall at the fair.
‘Now, how hot do those boys look?’ she adds.
Cal and Kit are both stripped to T-shirts. Cal is the darker of the two and his muscular biceps and forearms are tanned year-round from his outdoor lifestyle. Kit is fairer but slightly taller. His arms are paler and he may not be as buff, but he’s lean and strong from his running and gym habit.
‘How did I not notice they were brothers?’ Tamsin asks, pushing her shepherd’s hook firmly into the damp turf. Not that the ‘boys’ would notice us ogling them, they’re too busy fixing the arch in place.
‘I didn’t notice but now I know, the likeness is obvious, from their features to the way they stand. And they’re both sarcastic and spiky when they want to be, which is most of the time.’
‘And secretive?’
‘Cal’s improving. I don’t know Kit well enough yet but I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. He has a lot to prove, especially with Cal.’ Tamsin knows that there’s been trouble between Cal and Kit but not the finer details. She thinks their rift only relates to the affair between Cal’s father and Kit’s mum. She knows nothing about Cal’s experiences in Syria and I won’t be sharing, however much we get on. That story is between Cal, Kit and me.
‘Kit must want to try and make up for what he did or he wouldn’t be here. The two of them look as if they’re getting on fine this morning.
Maybe they’ve already kissed and made up.’
Tamsin makes me laugh out loud. ‘Who knows? By the end of the century, maybe.’
Kit’s on his knees, hammering in a stake to secure the arch to the turf, with Cal standing over him, hands on hips. Then he stands up and Hazel comes over to them and nods approvingly. Cal and Kit exchange glances and they both laugh.
‘They seem to be getting on,’ Tamsin says again.
‘OK. Maybe it will only take fifty years for Cal to trust him completely.’
‘Does Kit have a partner?’ Tamsin asks as I hang a jar from my crook. We need to fill the jars with fresh flowers once the crooks are all safely in place.
‘He’s never mentioned one.’
Her face falls. ‘Is he gay?’
‘Not as far as I know.’ I don’t tell her I thought he might be interested in me last year, although I’m beginning to think his interest was only to get at Cal.
‘And he definitely wasn’t interested in Mawgan? Because if he was, I’d consider him to have crap taste and judgement and I won’t even bother with him.’
‘No. That was a business arrangement on his part and hers.’
‘What a shame she’s coming to the wedding.’
‘Tell me about it.’ I stand back from the crook aisle and take in the tepee.
‘What do you think about the tepee?’ I ask Tamsin. Even on hire for the day, it was a big investment so I hope it pays off. It’s actually two giant tepees joined together with twin turrets to make it look like a canvas castle complete with pennants flying. One side has been left open as it’s a fine day.
‘It’s fabulous. Much nicer than setting up in a windowless function room.’
‘Even if we don’t get many prospective customers, the photos will look great and the suppliers won’t have to be rained on or blown away. The last thing we want is another disaster today. Some of the local and regional papers are coming along, not to mention the wedding bloggers. If they’re hoping for Lily and Ben, they’ll be disappointed – Lily’s too busy so she’s coming next week when things have quietened down.’
Confetti at the Cornish Café Page 15