Charlie hid her smile, inexplicably happy that he didn’t escape Reenie’s gentle chiding.
‘I know, and I’m really sorry. How did our plan go down? What do you think about a bank holiday food market, Charlie?’
Charlie could tell that he wasn’t as relaxed as usual; there was a nervous energy about him she wasn’t used to. ‘I think it’s a great plan,’ she said. ‘A perfect way to end the summer.’
‘Good.’ He leaned against the back of the bench Reenie was sitting on, his arms folded over his chest, and listened to Myrtle – and Hugh, Amanda, Stella and Jonah – recap what he’d missed, even though, from the sound of it, he’d been in on the idea from the beginning. He showed genuine surprise – and amusement – that Reenie was responsible for the Porthgolow Hideaway account.
Charlie allowed her gaze to drift over his arms, taking in the definition of his biceps, visible despite the hoodie, the length of his legs, his blue Converse, the way an unruly wave of his hair had fallen over his left eye and he’d left it there. She felt the churning, low in her stomach, that appeared whenever she thought of Daniel, ten times stronger now that she was in his presence.
‘OK?’ Juliette whispered. ‘Only the milk’s about to overflow.’
‘Oh fuck,’ Charlie shouted, as the boiling milk she’d been absent-mindedly frothing bubbled to the lip of the jug and cascaded over her fingers.
Juliette took the jug away, turned on the cold tap and pulled Charlie’s hand under it.
‘Is our fearless leader OK?’ Reenie asked.
‘I’m fine,’ Charlie called, glad that she could stand next to the sink and hide her flaming cheeks.
‘A minor milk scald, nothing more,’ Juliette confirmed. ‘So everything’s settled, then? We’re all on board for the bank holiday weekend? Three whole days of eventing! Porthgolow won’t know what’s hit it.’
There were murmurs of assent, whoops and cheers and general jubilation. Daniel stood up and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Lauren,’ he said. ‘Could I have a word with you, outside?’
He’d spoken quietly, but it wasn’t the ideal place to have a private conversation. The bus fell silent and everyone’s eyes swivelled in Lauren’s direction.
She sat up straighter, her gaze wary. ‘Shouldn’t we wait until the meeting’s finished?’
‘Just a quick word,’ Daniel said. ‘It won’t take long.’
Lauren relaxed into her seat, but her hands were fidgeting on the table. ‘I think we should finish up here first. If this three-day market is really going to happen, then we need to know all the facts so we can manage its impact on the hotel. We don’t want to miss anything important.’
‘We won’t,’ Daniel said. ‘But I do need to talk to you, quite urgently.’
Lauren shook her head. Charlie was shocked to see her eyes were glistening. Something cold and hard lodged itself under her ribcage.
Daniel rubbed his jaw. ‘Listen, I—’
‘She did it, didn’t she?’ Myrtle said quietly. ‘That’s why you want to talk to her, and she won’t come. Because she knows what you’re goin’ to say.’
‘Did what?’ Hugh asked, as Lauren stared at the table.
‘Went to the council.’ Myrtle curled her thin fingers into fists. ‘She called the council and got Charlie’s bus shut down.’
Chapter Three
The silence that followed was thick with shock.
‘She didn’t,’ Amanda murmured. ‘Lauren, you didn’t, did you?’ She looked at Daniel.
He sighed and sank back onto the edge of the bench. ‘Although you know about the bus losing its consent, what you probably don’t know, because someone took the notice down pretty quickly, is that it stated that the proprietor of Crystal Waters had raised the petition against it.’
‘Holy shit,’ Paul muttered. There were murmurs of consternation and confusion around the bus.
‘But I didn’t do this to Charlie,’ Daniel continued. ‘I care about her far too much to have put her business in jeopardy.’ Everyone fell quiet at that and Daniel stared at the floor. When he looked up, his eyes found Charlie’s and his expression softened. ‘I’ve been doing some digging,’ he said. ‘It turns out the council can be very tight-lipped, even when you’re supposedly the person who submitted the form. But I’ve just come back from Truro, where I was shown the full petition, the false evidence used to put the claim in, some made-up bullshit about the bus not following health-and-safety guidelines. And it was all submitted by Lauren Purview, apparently on my behalf.’
Lauren’s gaze stayed firmly on the tabletop.
‘I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone,’ he said softly. ‘But you wouldn’t come with me.’
‘I bleddy knew it!’ Myrtle said. ‘Untrustworthy eyes, that’s the thing.’
Lauren looked up. All signs of her earlier tears had gone. ‘I was looking out for your interests – for the hotel. I would never do anything to hurt you, Daniel.’
‘You weren’t hurting Daniel, though, were you?’ Amanda said. ‘You were hurting Charlie.’
Lauren drew herself up straight. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong. I have always been loyal to you, Daniel.’
‘There are a few occasions where you might have overstepped the mark,’ he said sadly. ‘Come on. Let’s go back to the hotel.’
Lauren nodded. She stood and, keeping her head high and her eyes averted, pushed past everyone and walked off the bus.
‘I’m sorry, Charlie,’ Daniel said. ‘If I’d had any idea, then—’
‘It’s OK, honestly. Thank you for finding out. And I’m so sorry I accused you; I’m sorry for everything I said that night.’
‘The hotel’s name was on the form. What other conclusion could you have come to?’ He squeezed her arm and then, looking decidedly weary, followed Lauren off the bus, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.
Charlie was going to create biscuits in the shape of Porthgolow’s landmarks. There would be house-shaped biscuits for the B&B, Myrtle’s pop-in and Reenie’s yellow cottage, a pub for The Seven Stars and a lower, longer building decorated to represent Crystal Waters. There would be a biscuit for her bus, and a beachscape with sand, sea and sunset on it. They were her most ambitious designs, but practising in the weeks before the bank holiday would hopefully make them perfect.
Biscuit dough didn’t need a whole lot of pounding, but it was getting it anyway. Lauren had closed Charlie’s bus down. She’d had a successful inspection and it would be up and running tomorrow, in time for her first Cornish Cream Tea Tour, but that didn’t stop her incredulity at the reason it had been shut in the first place.
After Daniel and Lauren had left the bus on Friday, the conjecture had continued, and Charlie had remembered the times the hotel’s receptionist had shown initiative: making sure her friend got the marketing contract and organizing a week of yoga on the beach when she knew the food market was happening. Charlie was sure, now, that it had been Daniel who had renegotiated with Belle to move her classes up to the hotel on the Saturday, so that nobody lost out. Had Lauren been manipulating things all along?
‘I was a bit suspicious of that claim she had,’ Myrtle had said. ‘Youths lightin’ bonfires on Crumblin’ Cliff. Seemed a bit suss to me.’
‘But why would she do that, call a false meeting, if nothing had happened?’ This had been Amanda.
‘Because it was my first event,’ Charlie had said, realization hitting her. ‘And if you were all tied up in the meeting then nobody would come; it would look like I didn’t have your backing. I think she was trying to dent my confidence.’
‘But why, though?’ Stella had asked. ‘You’ve done nothing but good for Porthgolow.’
‘And for Daniel Harper.’ Everyone had turned to Reenie. ‘Isn’t it obvious? The girl’s in love with him, and as soon as Charlie appeared, his attentions were elsewhere. I know he’s never thought of Lauren as anything more than a colleague, but that didn’t stop her trying all she could to make him notice
her and put a spanner in the works for Charlie and her bus. Obviously, it all got out of hand.’
‘Did you know it was Lauren when I came to see you earlier this week?’ Charlie had asked.
Reenie had levelled her with a straight stare. ‘I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t going to start accusing anyone without cold, hard facts. Luckily Daniel didn’t let it rest and, as unpleasant as it is, you have your answer. The real question is, what are you going to do about it?’
Charlie knew Reenie hadn’t been talking about Lauren. She was quite sure that, as of Friday, the receptionist was no longer an employee of The Crystal Waters Spa Hotel. No, Charlie had to work out what to do about Daniel. She owed him an apology – a proper apology, not a garbled sorry, offered up hurriedly as he went off to fire one of his most valued colleagues. That was the first item on her to-do list. But after that, it was less certain. With Bea’s phone call and all its implications running through her mind, she pounded her biscuit dough until her hands ached.
[#]
The sun was beating down as Charlie drove back towards Porthgolow after her first, official, Cornish Cream Tea Tour. Since getting the feedback from the Crystal Waters guests on her trial run, she had been honing it to perfection. She had advertised on social media and, with Gertie’s reputation preceding her, had had no problems filling up her first outing.
So, two days after she had got her trading consent back, she and Juliette – who had agreed to accompany her on her tours as it was the one thing she couldn’t do alone – had picked up a group of people from Newquay, and a group from Padstow, and driven them up towards Port Isaac and Tintagel, the landscape beginning to show the first signs that summer was ending, patches of russet and yellow among the green.
A family had taken up two of the tables downstairs: a mum, dad and another adult, along with four children, all under ten. They were loud and boisterous, and while Charlie kept up her tour spiel – prepared facts about each of the places they visited – she couldn’t help but be drawn towards the laughter.
She had glanced in the mirror, watching in delight as the twin boys – dressed in identical outfits – seemed spellbound by her mini Viennese whirls and cupcakes, the butter icing cream-coloured, with red swirls that matched Gertie’s paintwork. The older daughter’s giggle was infectious, and by the time the tour had come to an end, Charlie’s cheeks ached from smiling.
She had hopped down at the Newquay departure point. ‘I don’t know if you’re still in the area at the end of August,’ she said, ‘but we’re holding a bank holiday food market in Porthgolow. There’s guaranteed to be something there for everyone, and hopefully a festival atmosphere.’
‘We’ll be around,’ said the dad, flashing one of the women a quick look. ‘But Evie has to head home. She’s been staying with us for a couple of weeks, but—’
‘I need to get back to real life,’ Evie admitted. ‘Cornwall doesn’t quite feel real, does it? Like some make-believe land full of sea and sunshine and amazing cream teas. I could easily stay here for ever.’
‘You can always hang on for another couple of weeks, sis, and we can make a day of it,’ the other woman said.
Evie smiled. ‘And then another week, and then another. I can’t move in with you permanently. It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘The markets happen every Saturday,’ Charlie had said. ‘So if you’re not here for the bank holiday you could always come this weekend. Summer’s not quite over yet.’ As she had watched them traipse off the bus, Evie’s hand wrapped around the youngest boy’s, she had wondered who she was trying to convince.
Now, as Charlie approached Porthgolow from the south, she considered whether she’d been putting real life on hold, too; keeping her feelings about Hal and Stuart at bay by throwing herself into Gertie and her new business. Her mind returned, as it so often did, to the night on the jetty and Daniel’s kiss. It had felt like a scene from a fairy tale, and for all their contact since, it might as well have been. But Daniel had taken the first step. He had found out that Lauren was responsible for the temporary closure of her bus; it was her move, so why was she holding back?
Porthgolow looked golden and inviting, and she could see Crystal Waters, on the same level as her, its glass winking from the other side of the cove. The thought of driving onto the beach and heading back to Juliette’s empty house was unappealing. She had dropped her off in Padstow on the way home, where she was meeting Lawrence for dinner after he finished a job. Charlie had the evening to herself: just her, her Yorkipoo, and her thoughts.
Not wanting to relinquish the view, she pulled her bus onto the side of the road. There was a dusty verge, and then a small area of grass, between her and the drop. She could find no dark patches where the grass might have been scorched by a bonfire, and wondered whether Lauren had seen anything at all, or if she really had made it up to engineer the meeting and keep everyone away from the beach.
It was hard to get her head around, even if it meant that Oliver had nothing to do with it. She pulled Marmite out of his crate and held him in her arms, relishing the warm, comforting feel of him. Her dog was an idiot, entirely reckless sometimes, but he wasn’t complicated. At the moment, it felt like he was the only uncomplicated thing in her life.
There were ten days to go until the bank holiday weekend, less than three weeks until the start of September. If she went back to the Cotswolds, to her mum and dad, Bea and The Café on the Hill, would life be simpler? There was promise of a future for Gertie there, but she wouldn’t be close to Juliette and Lawrence any more. She wouldn’t be able to spend time with Amanda, Jonah or Stella. She supposed she could Skype Reenie – the old woman was clearly a pro – but she wouldn’t see any of them unless she came back to visit.
And was she ready to give up on this view? Her gaze drifted from the blue, undulating sea, to the beach where Gertie usually sat, and back up to Crystal Waters. She wondered what Daniel was doing, how he was coping after Lauren’s deceit. Was she really ready to give him up: the way he made her feel and made her think; the passion he had showed her? She felt like she was ready to start something, just as it was coming to an end.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
The sound startled her and Marmite scrabbled in her arms, trying to see over her shoulder. She looked out of the window and found a battered old Volvo alongside her, but her higher vantage point meant she couldn’t see the driver. It pulled in ahead of her, blocking the road down the hill.
Charlie’s mouth went dry. There was some money in the till from the customers who hadn’t paid for their tour by card. She wondered if she could lock the back door, hide and then call the police, but before she’d put her plan into action, Frank climbed out of the Volvo, his face like thunder.
‘Are you mad?’ he called. ‘What the hell are you doin’ there, Charlie? Get your bus away from the cliff dreckly!’
‘What, I—’
‘Crumbling Cliff!’ Frank shouted. ‘’Aven’t you been listenin’ to us all these months? That cliff is a death trap waitin’ to ’appen. You can’t stop there in a car, let alone a bloody great two-ton bus!’
‘But I thought … I mean, I’m not on the grass. I thought it was just the edge, the grass, that’s unstable!’
‘The whole place! The sandy verge, the bend. You can skid, never mind the landslide you might set off. What if another car comes speedin’ round the corner? I only just saw you in time! Get off, this instant! I’ll wait until you’re safely away.’
He got back in his car and pulled forward, and Charlie lowered Marmite back into his crate. The little dog was whimpering, picking up on her fear.
‘It’s OK,’ she told him. ‘We’re fine. We’ll be off here in a moment.’ She glanced outside. Beyond the edge of the cliff, the view was spectacular – endless sea and sky, the promise of a long drop should the ground beneath her give way. But she was in control. She was fine. Marmite looked up at her, his head on one side. Charlie felt a waver of doubt as she put the bus in gear and i
nchingly, inchingly, turned the wheel, her eyes going from one mirror to the next, to the next. She felt the movement of sand beneath the wheels, felt resistance at the back of the bus as she moved it a fraction and thought, for one horrifying, mouth-drying moment that she was stuck, that she’d made a terrible mistake and put herself and her puppy in danger. She had an image of the ground beneath her crumbling and Gertie plunging straight down, missing Reenie’s house by inches and hurtling into the sea, sending them to a watery grave.
Clamping her teeth together, she turned the wheel a fraction more, and then another, and then the front tyres found the road and she pulled gently onto it, off the verge. She began the slow descent into Porthgolow, her palms slick with sweat, Frank keeping pace ahead of her.
‘God,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Oh my God.’
At the bottom of the hill, Frank beeped once and then turned right, up towards the neat roads of houses behind the seafront. Charlie wished he’d waited to talk to her, perhaps offer her a lift up to Juliette’s. She drove Gertie onto the sand and into her usual place.
There were a group of friends lounging on the beach and, as she arrived, one of them stood up, waved at her and started snapping photos. Charlie gave them a weak wave back and looked out at the steely water, the clouds pink in a violet, pre-dusk sky. Marmite barked, and she opened the crate and pulled him onto her lap. ‘Look at that, puppy,’ she said. ‘Look how beautiful it is.’
Evie’s earlier words played in her mind and she thought of Juliette and Lawrence enjoying a romantic meal out in Padstow. She knew that she was coming to the end of her stay in their house. It wasn’t that she had outstayed her welcome, exactly, but it felt as if everything was drawing to a close. Her friends needed their space, regardless of what they told her, how generous and selfless they were prepared to be.
The Icing on the Cake Page 3