The Icing on the Cake

by Cressida McLaughlin

  Charlie peered over Reenie’s shoulder as the older woman opened her iPhone and then the Instagram app. There it was, @PorthgolowHideaway. The successful Instagram influencer was a reclusive, wise old woman who some people thought might possibly be a mermaid. She remembered Daniel saying he’d like to have some kind of partnership with the account and laughed out loud.

  ‘Daniel doesn’t know, does he? He’s never been in here?’

  ‘You’re the first person to darken this door for a long while, and whenever I see Daniel, it’s up at the hotel. Nobody knew about my foray into the online world up until this very moment, and I’d like to keep it that way, if it’s all the same to you.’

  ‘Why?’ She could smell Reenie’s faint lavender scent and felt a twist of protectiveness towards her, as self-aware and defiant as she was.

  ‘I don’t want anyone to know. It’s for me, posting the beauty of this place, interacting with people who comment. They don’t need to know I’m behind it.’

  ‘Porthgolow Hideaway,’ Charlie murmured. ‘What made you start it up?’

  ‘Why not?’ Reenie said. ‘I was taking the photographs anyway, and Dolly said I should connect with people. This is how I choose to do it. I may not have the will to come to one of your markets or socialize in the pub, but I can show people how special this place is. It’s how I see Porthgolow. And this,’ she gestured to the sea beyond the windows, ‘this is our view. Maurice’s and mine. If I put my name to it, if the Instagram page isn’t anonymous any more, I’d be giving up what Maurice and I had together.’

  Charlie put her hand on Reenie’s arm and could feel how thin it was, the bone close to the surface. ‘You’re already sharing it,’ she said softly, ‘even if nobody knows it’s you. And just because you tell them, it doesn’t mean it’s no longer yours and his. You don’t dilute your memories just because you share them with other people. In some ways, I think, it makes them stronger.’

  Reenie stared at her, suddenly looking her age. Charlie wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to; it was entirely up to her what she did with her photographs. But they had definitely had an influence on her events; the account had put Porthgolow on the social media map before Charlie had even driven into the village. She was sure it had helped build the momentum.

  ‘You know what?’ Charlie continued. ‘You have been a huge help to me, to the food market, and I didn’t realize it. Thank you, Reenie.’

  ‘Oh tush.’ Reenie waved her away, but Charlie could see she was pleased. ‘Now, never mind all this. What are you going to do about Daniel, and Oliver, and poor, stricken Gertie?’

  Charlie chewed her lip. Reenie had solved one of her Porthgolow mysteries, but there was another, more pressing issue she had to get to the bottom of. And the sooner she worked it out, the sooner she could get on with enjoying the rest of her summer.

  Chapter Two

  Charlie put her spatula down and scraped her finger along the edge, her phone tucked under her ear as she listened.

  ‘So I really think we can do some great new things, Charlie, and if your bus wants to be part of it, obviously with a bit of a shift-around, then of course that would be wonderful.’ Bea Fishington sounded contrite, but she had no reason to be. The Fair on the Field had been a disaster, but The Cornish Cream Tea Bus was not. Charlie knew that everyone back home was following her success online – her mum and dad had been cooing to her about it on the phone.

  ‘It sounds great,’ Charlie murmured. ‘I’m glad it’s worked out so well with your niece, and that … that you’re looking forward to having me back.’

  ‘Beginning of September, I think we said, didn’t we?’

  ‘Something like that.’ Ray jumped effortlessly onto the kitchen table, and Charlie gently lifted him off again.

  There was a pause, and then Bea said, ‘I’m so glad this summer’s been so good for you, Charlie. You’ve spread your wings, really found your place in the world. It’s brilliant. Let me know when you’re back in Ross, or Cheltenham, and we can get together and have a chat before you officially return. I’m sure your mum and dad are dying to see you.’

  ‘They’re really looking forward to it,’ Charlie confirmed.

  They said their goodbyes and Bea rang off. Charlie dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and Ray jumped onto her lap, nuzzling against her hand.

  The truth was, the few times she’d spoken to her parents there had been no talk of the end of the summer and her return home. And Bea and The Café on the Hill hadn’t been troubling her consciousness while Gertie and her markets were working so well. A part of her had believed that Bea wouldn’t want her back. She had seen her sabbatical as an extended period of garden leave, her boss quickly finding a replacement and getting in touch at some point down the line to let her know she was no longer needed.

  Could Charlie really leave Porthgolow? Leave her food market to carry on into autumn, attracting more vendors and customers, but without The Cornish Cream Tea Bus at the centre? She tried to imagine it, and found that she couldn’t.

  While she waited for her trading consent to be reinstated, she had planned to spend her time baking, devising new, delicious cakes and pastries to serve, to take the cream teas for her tours to new culinary heights. And she still would, she decided, spurring herself into action and returning to her bowl of cake batter. She wasn’t gone yet.

  ‘You can’t run Cornish Cream Tea Tours on your Cornish Cream Tea Bus if you’re not in Cornwall,’ Juliette said half an hour later, once Charlie had updated her on her conversation with Bea.

  Charlie gave her third and final cake mix a gentle fold, and then poured it into the tin. ‘So I’ll have a name change. The Cotswold Cream Tea Bus works just as well.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ Juliette was acting as if Charlie had committed treason.

  ‘I can’t live with you and Lawrence for ever, Jules. This isn’t my home. You have been so, so generous letting me stay here. It’s beyond the bounds of even the closest friendship.’

  ‘It is not—’

  ‘And Bea wants me back. She’s excited about what we can do at the café. And on the bus.’

  ‘And you sound equally thrilled,’ Juliette replied sarcastically.

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it, that’s all. I’ve been so tied up with everything here.’ She waved her spatula around and a bit of cake mix landed on Ray’s head. He stared at her accusingly.

  ‘That’s because things here are better.’

  ‘You and Lawrence need your own space, and I have to think seriously about what I’m doing next.’

  She could still hear Bea’s enthusiastic voice in her ear and wondered how her mum and dad were really doing without her. They always seemed happy on the phone, but how would she know for certain unless she saw them? Maybe it was time to go back: maybe her trading consent being revoked and the mess with Oliver and Daniel were signs that she’d outstayed her welcome here. The Porthgolow food market would remain, but it could run perfectly well without her there.

  ‘I understand that.’ Jules wrapped Charlie in a hug. ‘Just don’t be too rash with your decision. For what it’s worth, I love having you here, and can barely imagine the place without you in it. Also, I don’t think it’s right that you’re taking on this Mary Poppins role! Sweeping in, fixing the village with your food market and sweeping out again. I might have to confiscate all your umbrellas – and your bus keys, for that matter. If Gertie can’t leave, then neither can you. Besides,’ she added, giving Charlie a fierce look, ‘you still need to talk to Daniel.’

  Charlie stared at the hob, the drifts of flour where she had been less than careful with her ingredients. She made a pattern with her finger. ‘I know that,’ she muttered. She still had to find out who was responsible for her bus being taken out of action, but the thought of seeing Daniel again, after he’d left her with that kiss burning through her, set her emotions spinning.

  ‘You’ll get to see him at the meeting tomorrow, anyway,’ Juliet
te added.

  Charlie rolled her eyes. The WhatsApp message had pinged onto her phone that morning, encouraging everyone to attend an urgent meeting and asking whether, as she couldn’t open Gertie to paying customers, Charlie would be happy to host it. ‘Any idea what Myrtle wants?’

  ‘Nope,’ Juliette said. ‘But it’s bound to be something important.’

  ‘Bound to be,’ Charlie echoed. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach as she opened the oven door. Not even the delicate waft of a cooked-to-perfection lemon drizzle cake could lift her spirits.

  Everyone was there. Juliette and Lawrence, Rose, Frank and Hugh, the entire Kerr family – including Jem in her buggy and Jonah sitting poised with a pen and notepad. Myrtle had bustled on board, all business, and Lauren had sneaked in and sat at the back, her white shirt and dark skirt in stark contrast to all the colourful T-shirts and shorts of the other villagers.

  Anton and Stella had been first to arrive, offering Charlie beaming smiles that made her feel slightly unsettled, as if they knew something she didn’t and, just as she was serving pots of tea and laying plates of her lemon drizzle cake on the downstairs tables, Reenie appeared.

  ‘Reenie Teague, as I live and breathe.’ Hugh stood up to greet her.

  ‘I’m not the queen,’ she said, though she was smiling as she accepted his peck on the cheek.

  Charlie looked at all the expectant faces and wiped her sweaty palms down her skirt. But this wasn’t her gig; today she wouldn’t be the one offering suggestions, trying to change the way things were run in Porthgolow. It didn’t stop her being nervous. Maybe whoever had gone to the council was watching and would try to get her shut down permanently this time. She had got in touch with the licensing department just in case, confirming she was entitled to use Gertie for private, unpaid events once Myrtle had asked her to host the meeting. She wasn’t taking any chances. But was that why Daniel wasn’t here? Was he worried about being seen on board a condemned bus? She took a deep breath and leaned against the kitchen counter.

  Myrtle cleared her throat. ‘Thank you, all, for comin’ today,’ she started. She had her hands clasped together in front of her, and Charlie thought that she might not be the only nervous person on board.

  ‘What’s this about, Myrtle?’ Hugh asked. ‘Are we here to find out what’s happened to Gertie, why someone is threatening the food market?’

  ‘The market is safe,’ Charlie said. ‘I won’t be able to take part tomorrow, but that doesn’t stop everyone else. It’s only my bus that can’t trade.’ She had pulled the notice off the door the day after it had appeared. Not that that would reinstate her consent – and it certainly hadn’t stopped the Porthgolow rumour mill from getting hold of the news – but she hadn’t wanted to leave it there for everyone to gawp at. Even though she hadn’t done anything wrong, she couldn’t help feeling ashamed.

  ‘I could be a spy,’ Jonah said, raising his hand. ‘Follow the clues, do some digging. You like Bond films, don’t you, Lawrence? Do you want to team up?’ There was a smattering of laughter.

  ‘Sounds grand, Jonah mate,’ Lawrence said. ‘Let’s talk about it later.’

  ‘What has happened to Charlie’s bus is a – a travesty.’ Myrtle bristled. ‘When will you be up and running again, d’you know?’

  Charlie was momentarily stunned into silence. ‘A few days, I think. I’ve got my inspection on Monday and so as long as that goes well, I should get my consent back straight away.’

  ‘Good, good. You can’t keep a Porthgolow maid down, that’s what I say. Which means our plan can still go ahead. A three-day food market for the August bank holiday.’

  Rose and Frank nodded energetically and Stella gave Charlie a wide, pretty grin.

  Charlie gasped, her eyes shooting to Juliette, but her friend looked as surprised as she felt.

  ‘That’s a grand idea,’ Hugh said. ‘It’s been going so well. Makes sense to end the summer with a bang.’

  ‘But it’s not the end,’ Amanda piped up. ‘We don’t want it to just be a summer thing. It’ll be harder in the winter, of course, but we were thinking we could hold them once a month in the off-season. There are foodie treats more suited to autumn and then, of course, there’s Christmas. We’ve done some research on other markets. Well, when I say we, it’s all been Jonah.’ She held out a folder and Charlie took it, peering inside at the sheaves of paper covered in photos and information.

  ‘You want it to continue?’ she asked.

  ‘I know I’ve not always been the easiest to get on with,’ Myrtle said, ‘but there’s no denying it’s brought life to this place. Bill was singin’ its praises, and I’ve, uh, sampled a few bits, here ’n’ there.’

  ‘The market is wonderful, Charlie,’ Anton said. ‘There’s no way we could stop it now.’

  ‘Best thing to come to Porthgolow for a long time,’ Rose agreed, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

  Charlie felt the sting of tears. She couldn’t quite take it in. She caught Reenie’s eye and the older woman smiled back at her: a knowing, smug little smile that made Charlie want to hug her.

  ‘You think everyone will be on board for three whole days?’ she asked. ‘It’s a lot of work. A lot of effort.’

  ‘Don’t be so negative, cheel,’ Myrtle chided gently. ‘We’re all goin’ to help. We’ll promote it where we can, spruce the village up a bit in preparation. I’ve cleaned tables in my time, so you won’t be on your own in the bus if you don’t want to be.’

  ‘Benji’s going to create a special Porthgolow burger,’ Jonah piped up. ‘We’re already looking at sauces and recipes. Maybe you could come up with some new cakes, Charlie? Just for that weekend. Like a bank holiday special or something?’

  She nodded. ‘I could certainly give it a go, Jonah.’

  ‘And I’ve been brewing my own ale for a while,’ Hugh said. ‘I could see about having a stand out here on a Saturday. Nothing fancy, mind, but I could launch it on the bank holiday, then sell it in the pub, too. I’ve been inspired by all those artisan brewers with beards and no socks.’ He laughed. ‘I want to be a part of it.’

  ‘You’ve made such a huge difference, Charlie,’ Amanda said. ‘We want you to know that we appreciate it, that what you’re doing here has changed Porthgolow, and we hope it never ends.’ A lower-deck full of heads nodded back at her and Charlie smiled, even though her eyes were swimming.

  Could she really leave this – all these wonderful people – behind, and go back to Bea and Ross-on-Wye?

  ‘It hasn’t just been me,’ she said, finding her voice. ‘It couldn’t have happened without you – without all of your support. That first meeting wasn’t … well, it wasn’t quite as unanimous as this one,’ she added, laughing, ‘but I still felt encouraged to give it a go.’

  She realized then that both she and Daniel had been right. She had needed to show everyone that it could work; that she could turn the empty beach into a thriving hub of activity, but she would never have had the courage to try if everyone had been against it from the start.

  ‘You were brave,’ Reenie said. ‘You put yourself out there, even though you knew it was a risk.’

  Charlie nodded. ‘I did, but—’

  ‘It’s about time I was brave, too. Let everyone in on my little secret. As you’re all here, now seems like the perfect time.’

  ‘Reenie,’ Charlie started, ‘you don’t have—’

  ‘The mermaid thing!’ Jonah jumped out of his chair. ‘You’re going to announce that you’re a mermaid, and bring all your mermaid friends up from the sea to say hello.’

  ‘Holy mother o’ God,’ Myrtle murmured.

  Hugh’s usually pale face went red, and Amanda and Paul couldn’t have looked more embarrassed if Jonah had swept their table clear and climbed on top of it to dance the Macarena.

  ‘Darling boy,’ Reenie said, ‘if you continue to perpetuate this mermaid myth, then your younger sisters are going to grow up to be very confused individuals.’
/>   ‘So … you’re not a mermaid, then?’ Jonah looked genuinely confused, and Charlie’s heart went out to him.

  ‘No, my love. I am not. But I do have something I can contribute to this bank holiday market.’

  ‘Unicorns are real, though,’ Flora interjected.

  ‘That, young lady, is a discussion for another day. No, my contribution is twenty thousand Instagram followers, and my willingness to promote this event on my account in any way you so desire.’

  ‘What on earth?’ Myrtle asked.

  ‘What did you just say, Reenie?’ Stella took another piece of lemon cake.

  ‘Twenty thousand Instagram followers,’ Hugh said. ‘That’s no mean feat.’

  ‘I have one hundred and four,’ Jonah declared proudly.

  ‘You’re too young to be on Instagram,’ Reenie said, and shook her head at Paul and Amanda, who had begun to look as if hiding under the table might be their only option.

  As Reenie explained about the Porthgolow Hideaway account, everyone got their phones out to see for themselves, as if somehow by viewing it with this new knowledge, they would be able to find a previously hidden selfie of Reenie standing in front of her cottage for all the world to see.

  Charlie got milk out of the fridge, desperate for a cappuccino even though it was gone seven in the evening. She hadn’t thought to bring wine, though it would have been perfectly acceptable in this private gathering. She barely noticed the chatter stop, and almost missed Juliette’s sharp intake of breath, but then a slender hand clutched her arm, and Charlie turned to her friend and then followed her gaze to the doorway.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Daniel said, glancing at Lauren. ‘I got held up.’

  Charlie took in his dark jeans and navy hoodie, the way his hair had clearly fought a battle with the wind. It was the first time she’d seen him since their encounter at the jetty.

  ‘Oh Daniel,’ Reenie said, rising and holding her arms out. He hugged her and kissed her on the cheek. Reenie’s face was flushed with pleasure, and Charlie could see how close they were; perhaps Daniel had partly replaced her distant son, whom she saw only via computer screen. ‘Better late than never, though this is a rather important meeting for you to be rocking up so late.’