A Cosy Christmas in Cornwall: The most heartwarming Cornish Christmas romance of 2019!

by Jane Linfoot

  Suddenly, instead of the anticipated warmth of wool, my face is buried in the nylon folds of a brand new Barbour puffa jacket and I’m coughing as the Paco Rabane Million fumes hit the back of my throat. ‘Milo?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got this!’ Did I mention his beam? It’s wider than the bay and brighter than a thousand watt lighthouse bulb powered up with lenses.

  And then as I push myself free, try to disentangle my hat from his zip, and come across a large lump of buttercream something else hits me. ‘Oh my, what the hell did you do with Harriet?’

  He’s totally unconcerned. ‘She’s fine, I passed her across to my dad.’

  Dumped her on him more like. ‘As if you’d trust Ambie with anything as breakable as a child – he has trouble hanging onto a stubbie beer bottle, let alone a squirming baby.’

  As if on cue there’s a loud squawk. Except it’s not Harriet screaming, it’s Ambie. ‘Will someone come and get this bloomin’ kid off me …’

  As Libby strides onto the ice, still in her white trainers, she’s clapping her hands and totally ignoring Ambie. ‘Okay, I think that’s enough ice for one day. Let’s all head off for lunch at the Fun Palace at the Crab and Pilchard.’

  If we’re going there it’s like she’s totally given up on giving a damn. From what I’ve seen on the website, she couldn’t have picked anywhere more unstylish or less aspirational. All I can think is she has to be going for crass in an ironic way. Or possibly getting her own back on the Edmunson-Twiglets for showing her lot up on the ice with those perfect ten ice spins.

  Fighting the fun suckers in a pit full of bright coloured plastic balls and lunch of turkey twizzlers served by people dressed as Disney characters? How is that going to go down with Willow’s save-the-earth vegan anti-materialistic multinational-hating pacifists? Worse still for me, there’s a sleigh pulled by not just one but eight animated reindeer.

  If that’s not aversion therapy, I don’t know what is.

  But as we pile into the cars and wind our way out to the Crab and Pilchard all I can think of is Bill’s face as he came towards me earlier. How desperately I wanted that hug. And how sick I feel that the moment’s gone, and I’ll never have that chance again.

  22.

  No ski boots …

  If my trip to the Fun Palace taught me anything, it’s that I shouldn’t pre-judge – I should always be ready to be astonished.

  I suspect they’ve been sheltered from anything tacky or commercial, but instead of standing back and looking disgusted, Willow’s three hurled themselves in amongst the plastic balls with whoops and jumps, and none of them imploded into ectoplasm due to the toxicity.

  As soon as we got our drinks Willow took me off to one side, sipping her still water in a glass bottle through a paper straw. She then dipped into her bag, and devised me my own personal cocktail of flower essence drops. Apparently it was designed to give me an instant post fall-over lift, treat the shock of me exposing my ripped-up face to the entire rink, fight the bruising on my bum, and balance my chakras too.

  You have to admit, however much a fan of rescue remedy etc. you are, it’s a lot to ask from a few teensy drops of liquid. But I was happy to go along with it. Having someone take an interest in me in such a quiet and thoughtful way was probably as beneficial as a bit of water with petals dissolved in it. Did I feel special? Yes I did. As for whether I would I recommend it, I’ll let you know on that one.

  When we were finished and Willow went up to take on the menu and the kitchen staff and attempt to order lunch her elbows were sticking out and pointy. But she was back in record time, because it turned out the Crab and Pilchard are big on vegan and veggie options. The vegan beetroot burgers she chose actually looked more meaty than the steak burgers. Just saying. Obviously they weren’t.

  For my personal challenge, once I’d got my flower essence on board, to pass the time until I was called up for duties with Oscar or Harriet I decided to hunt down as many tasteful photo opportunities as I could, expecting I’d be lucky to get a couple. But once I looked past the really crappy foil-covered cardboard buckles on the staff plimsolls and began zooming in, all I can say is, someone in St Aidan is seriously into their Scandi chic.

  Okay, the chunky red and cream hand knit cushions are piled a bit too thickly on the window seats for the true Stockholm simplicity purists but Nordic maximalism as done at the Crab and Pilchard gives a whole new meaning to Christmas cosy. I got enough pretty wood and woolly detail shots to keep Libby going all next Christmas as well as this one. When you come across a driftwood Christmas tree on the bar, totally covered in mini hanging sheep with twigs for legs, you don’t think What the Hygge? you just think What’s not to love?

  While we were skating Libby had disappeared off up the hill and taken bird’s eye views of us skating on the rink between the cottages higher up, which were really effective. And she’s certain that the skater close ups of her scarf and hats she uploaded will send her last minute pre-Christmas stocking-filler sales off the scale. Meanwhile, back at the Crab and Pilchard, I gave the Santa and his reindeer a wide berth for my very own good reasons, but Merwyn was entranced. Tiff took this really funny clip of him nodding his head as he watched the animated Santa moving up and down.

  It turned out to be one of those rare days when no one had any expectations, but everyone found a bit of what they liked. And I was no exception. By late afternoon when we got back to the castle and I dragged the boxes of charity shop deccies into the kitchen, instead of rolling their eyes Willow’s kids pounced on them, and began to sort them into colours. Then they went off into the family areas and started to make the kind of rainbow shaded decorated tree they’d seen at the Crab and Pilchard, which is exactly what I’ve wanted to have at Daniels for years. Except, with the baubles all being slightly different instead of all the same, the effect is going to be stunning.

  So seeing they were doing so well with those on their own, with Willow’s help – while also watching the DVD of 101 Dálmatas, which is exactly what it says on the tin except in Spanish, and so acceptable for educational reasons rather than being dismissed as cultural crap – I decided to get on with making some tree deccies for my room. I’d rather Bill didn’t know this, but using his beautiful starry gin labels as a starting point, I take some scissors and some sheets of paper I ordered the night I hit on pink and orange as my theme colours. Then I sit down at the table in the kitchen with Merwyn at my feet to make some origami paper stars.

  This is just for me. First I make a pentagon template and when I’ve cut out a pile from each colour, I begin to fold. I know I shouldn’t be saying it, but as they pile up the small folded stars are looking unbelievably sweet.

  Tiff and Tansy are sorting through the bauble boxes next to me and Tiff reaches over, picks one up and gives that superior sniff thing she does, which I must say I mind a lot less since she stuck up for me earlier today. Then she simply says, ‘They’re pretty.’

  Well, I said it was a day of surprises. I pick my jaw up off the floor, and smile at her. ‘They’re easy to do, I could show you how to make them if you like?’

  Tiff nods. ‘We could make silver stars for Mum’s tree. And if we make some for ours out of newspaper, we’ll be saving the world even more than the Twiglets.’ There’s definitely some worthiness rivalry going on here, but whatever the reason, I can work with it.

  ‘Great.’ For once it is. In fact it’s more than that. Absolutely bloody astonishing and brilliant wouldn’t be over stating it as I show them the shapes to cut, and the folds. ‘You can make them bigger or smaller, just try a few and see which you like.’

  They come with me to the laundry for some silver and rose gold paper and we pick up a stack of Ambie’s old Telegraph newspapers there too. Then I show them what to do again, they tell me how I can do it better, and after that we cut and fold to the usual soundtrack of Christmas tunes.

  Tiff makes a couple then she holds one up and looks at me. ‘You’ve still got your hat o
n.’

  I stop my folding and look up at her. ‘And?’

  ‘You don’t have to wear it for us any more, we all know what’s under it now.’ She sniffs. ‘In any case that scar of yours is nothing like as bad as you think it is.’

  Tansy’s backing her up. ‘You can believe us, we talk the truth not bollocks.’

  I smile at them. ‘Well thanks for that. Maybe I’ll try without.’ It’s the last thing I feel like doing. But they’re children, they’re putting the effort in, I want to meet them half way here. As I take off my hat, and shake my fingers through my hair I’m feeling very exposed and strangely bare. But at the same time they’re right. Everyone knows, everyone’s already had a ringside view, what the hell does it matter anyway. ‘How’s that?’ I shake out my side fringe as much as I can.

  Tiff nods. ‘Much better.’ She’s narrowing her eyes. ‘If you like we could try some of our make up later. We’ve got loads, manufacturers send us it all the time because we vlog.’

  ‘Really?’ The make up girls at Daniels offered, but somehow I never wanted to let them see, I was always waiting for it to get better.

  Tansy’s chipping in. ‘We get free stuff all the time.’

  Tiff sighs as if it’s nothing. ‘The industry is huge, we’re their direct channel to the future generation of make up users.’ Then she turns to me. ‘For you it’s all about confidence. The best vlogs are the ones that help people, it would be really good to vlog about making you feel better – that’s if you didn’t mind being our guinea pig.’

  It’s the last thing I’d want. But she’s eleven, which makes it easier. There’s no expectation because it’s like playing. ‘Maybe.’ I’m tempted to ask if their guinea pigs get animal rights, but I manage to hold it in.

  Tiff’s nodding. ‘You’ll see, there’s absolutely nothing to be scared of.’ She’s as persuasive as her mum. ‘We’ll do some skin tone tests later, if we don’t get it right straight away I’ll email the technical department and ask for some specialist concealing products, they’re very helpful.’

  ‘Right. That sounds brilliant.’ I’m not joking. ‘I can’t believe you’re so knowledgeable.’

  She wrinkles her nose. ‘It’s easy when you’re interested, that’s why you should always work at what you enjoy. Tarkie likes earth moving machines and pile drivers, if you want your basement digging out you’ll have to ask him not us.’

  Tansy’s pursing her lips as she concentrates on her folds. ‘My second best thing is laminating.’

  Tiff doesn’t look up from her folding. ‘She’s getting a laminating machine for Christmas.’

  This is the thing with kids, you never know what they’re going to come out with next. ‘So what are you going to laminate?’

  Tansy frowns. ‘Anything that’s flat. I just know my life will be so much better with a laminator in it.’

  Tiff looks up. ‘If she had it now we could laminate stars for the tree. Or gin bottle labels for Bill’s product placement.’ For eleven she’s so tuned in.

  ‘Did I hear my name, does someone need me?’ It’s Bill, obviously, listening in again, as he crosses the kitchen.

  I look up from the pentagon pile I’m rearranging. ‘I will have a word in a second. It’s nothing important, just an email I wanted to run past you.’

  ‘You know where to find me.’ He points towards his room as he heads through the door.

  When I turn back to my stars Tiff and Tansy’s stares are so intense, I have to challenge them. ‘What? I’ve already told you, he’s taken. If ever I go to see him in there it’s strictly on Christmas business.’

  Tiff’s stare doesn’t alter. ‘But he definitely does like you.’

  I’m not letting that go. ‘I thought you just told me you didn’t talk bollocks.’

  Tansy laughs. ‘We don’t. You should have seen him when Smiley Milo pushed him out of the way and hugged you instead.’

  Tiff nods. ‘He was well annoyed.’

  I push myself up to standing. ‘Two words – not happening.’

  Tiff grins at me. ‘Mum said to tell you, remind Bill to get mistletoe.’

  There are a very few times when I like being tall but now is one of them. I pull myself up to my maximum height and try for really scary. ‘You two – shut up and make your stars.’

  Possibly I failed completely, because as I stride away, they both collapse into giggles. At least I know Bill’s expecting me. It’s only as I close the bedroom door behind Merwyn that it hits me I’m still without my hat, dammit. I shake my hair across my face, tilt my head and make my smile very bright. ‘About the lost baubles …’

  Bill lets out a groan. ‘Not those again, I thought we’d moved on.’

  ‘Well it was a huge order, so I raised a query, then elevated it to supervisor level.’

  He’s standing, holding his hands together. ‘But we agreed, we don’t need those decorations, we’ve reduced our carbon footprint by using recycled ones, why are we still discussing this?’

  Not that I’m smug, but I’ve got the trump card here. ‘Because apparently they didn’t disappear into the ether like you said, they were SIGNED FOR at the delivery address …’ I have to hold onto my fingers really hard to stop myself making those little speech marks in the air I hate so much, because it’s the one time in my life when they’d work really well ‘… it means the company won’t be refunding. So unless you want to be seriously out of pocket here you might want to follow this up?’

  ‘Ivy, maybe just leave this.’

  My voice goes all high, because he’s so annoying. ‘But I thought you were counting every penny here, not following this up is like hurling twenty quid notes out across the bay into a force ten gale.’

  He’s rubbing his thumb across the stubble on his jaw. ‘Fine, I’ll tell you what happened, but it’s not great. They were delivered to my old house in London, and Gemma signed for them.’

  I’m nodding. ‘So far, so good. The accounts are matching.’

  He clears his throat. ‘The delivery was so big she assumed it was one of those malicious pranks, like people sending fake pizza orders to the wrong address, or having a load of concrete pumped into your cellar, or ten tons of donkey droppings delivered onto your front lawn.’ He stops to roll his eyes.

  ‘Oh no …’

  ‘When she saw it was from me, she dealt with it accordingly.’

  ‘Which was?’ I’m puzzled. Surely in that case she’d have sent it on.

  ‘She bought a sledgehammer from B&Q, flattened the lot on the drive, then sent me the bill for the clear up.’

  ‘WHAT?!!!! Oh my, I’m sorry, that’s so awful.’ At the same time, I don’t understand. At ALL. ‘But why, I thought you said you were still together.’

  He blows out a breath. ‘I think what actually happened was you asked if we were still in touch, and when I said “yes” my answer was an ironic one.’

  ‘Sorry? I was a bit confused before, but you totally lost me there.’

  He drags in a breath. ‘It’s true, I do hear from her most days – but lately that’s via her solicitor. We’re wrangling over property. And the letters are at best unpleasant and often hideous.’

  ‘Oh shit, that’s awful.’ I really don’t want to stick my nose in here, and if I’m secretly whooping inside because she’s out of the picture, that’s not what I mean at all.

  ‘We never got married, I always hoped that if we parted we’d be civilised. But whatever we agree on, she always comes back for more.’ He shakes his head. ‘But listen to me, you know how hard it is, I don’t have the monopoly on dark times, you’ve had a break up too.’

  ‘I did, but we were less entangled, we didn’t have our own places.’ The easy break up was the plus side to George and I not sharing anything. When he left, he literally walked out with a bag and his boxers, because everything else was mine. I’d actually bought most of his clothes and his undies too, but it wasn’t like I wanted to keep them.

  As for Gemma, I only had tw
o weeks with her. But anyone who filches a mountain size Mont Blanc chestnut meringue one day, and a whole box of my macaroons the next – and then lies about it – is hardly going to be straight in a split up. I shrug. ‘Isn’t she a lawyer, too …?’

  He lets out a sigh. ‘Exactly. That’s a good life lesson there – never break up with a barrister.’ The hollows in his cheekbones are more pronounced than ever. ‘That’s how this whole Christmas let fiasco happened. I got yet another demand for cash I didn’t have, and an estimate from a solicitor to deal with it and in a very rash moment I threw the castle onto Facebook for a ridiculous amount that would cover the lot and more.’

  I pull a face for everything he let himself in for. It was one desperate moment, and he didn’t deserve all this. ‘Six seconds later, you were committed … and you’ve been kicking yourself ever since.’ It’s not even a question. We know he has, we’ve all felt his pain and lived with his misery. But at least this explains it.

  He shrugs. ‘Pretty much.’ Then his mouth twists. ‘It’s not all bad.’

  I laugh at him. ‘By the end of Christmas you’ll have had the kind of free adverts you could only dream of for your gin, I suspect you’re going to eat your own weight in Scotch pancakes and possibly nut roast too. And after this lot, stag parties puking up and wrecking the place will be a walk in the park.’

  ‘You could be right.’

  ‘At the risk of sounding like Keef, you’ve got three choices – give up, give in or give it all you’ve got. But I get why you’re grumpy.’ I put my hand on his arm. ‘All those deccies, smashed to teensy pieces … I’d be cross too. Actually I wouldn’t, I’d be effing furious!’

  ‘Thanks, Pom Pom.’ He gives me a nudge with his elbow. ‘I couldn’t have got this far without you.’ He raises his eyebrows, then he drops them again. ‘So how about you?’

  I lift an eyebrow in query myself, because I wasn’t quite ready for this. ‘Me?’