The Cornish Cream Tea Bus

‘No dogs allowed, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘But you can tie him up outside.’ Charlie saw a metal railing and a bowl of water. She spent a few minutes fussing over her dog, and then stepped inside The Crystal Waters Spa Hotel.

It was beyond luxurious, in natural, calming colours of pale stone, sage green and cobalt blue. There was an expansive curved sofa, and a low table that looked like a giant pebble. The wall opposite the main doors was also glass, looking out over more spruce garden, a sunken swimming pool and then the sea, shimmering invitingly beyond. Discreet screens flush with the walls played images of beautiful people having massages, lazing in the outdoor hot tub or smothered in mud masks, intermingled with close-ups of exquisitely delicate plates of food and sunsets over the water.

The floor looked like granite, pale grey with a hint of quartz gleaming through, except that in the centre of the space there was some kind of design. Gleaming golden stones were embedded in the rock, set in a concentric circle, their sizes decreasing towards the centre. It was like the reflection of a beautiful chandelier, though the room was lit by discreet spotlights set into the ceiling. Charlie was almost scared to take another step.

‘How can I help you today?’ the woman at reception asked. Her voice was as polished as her appearance, but Charlie detected a hint of a Cornish accent.

‘I’m looking for Daniel Harper,’ she said, forcing confidence into her voice.

‘I’m afraid Daniel’s not here. Is there anything I can help with?’

Charlie read her nametag: Lauren Purview.

‘It’s something I need to see Daniel about, if that’s OK?’

Lauren gave her a friendly smile. ‘Of course. He should be back within the next half an hour, if you’d like to wait? I can get you a coffee, or—’

‘Could I have a look outside?’ Charlie blurted.

‘Certainly.’ Lauren consulted the screen on her desk. ‘We have nobody booked for the hot tub, so you’re very welcome to look around this level of the gardens. Just use that door to the right of the seating.’

‘Thank you.’ Charlie did as she was told, and found herself standing beyond the glass, on yet another winding path.

None of the shrubs was tall – she imagined so they didn’t block the view from reception – and the gravel was almost purple. She breathed in the fresh, buffeting air, the sea stretching ahead of her like a blue canvas. The path wound round to the right, to where the garden ended and a few steps led down to the tiled edge of the outdoor pool. The wind was too cutting for it to be comfortable, but even deserted it looked inviting. Mirroring the outdoor pool, beyond yet another glass wall, was an indoor pool. It was on a floor below the foyer, and from this viewpoint Charlie could see how the building had been expertly moulded into the cliff, using its various contours and levels. Inside, people lay on loungers, and she glimpsed the curved edge of a Jacuzzi.

She stepped back, not wanting to pry, and returned to the garden, spotting the hot tub Lauren had mentioned and that she’d seen in the pictures screened on the reception wall.

It was close to the edge of the cliff, and looked terrifying rather than relaxing. She edged forward and saw, to her relief, that beyond it the drop wasn’t sheer, but a gentle slope down to a ledge a few feet below. Beyond that ledge, the ground fell steeply to the water. She decided, then, that she might be able to enjoy herself, perhaps with a glass of bubbly to calm her nerves, were she to win the lottery and convince Juliette to overcome her hatred of the hotel’s owner and join her. She tiptoed forwards, wondering how scary the view was when you were actually in the hot tub.

‘Hello.’

Charlie jumped and jolted forward. Her heart started pounding.

‘Lauren said there was someone outside who wanted to see me, and I believe that must be you, seeing as you’re the only person here.’

Charlie turned to find Daniel Harper, his dark eyes amused, arms folded over his chest, wearing a shirt the colour of cornflowers.

‘I did – I do. This is a lovely spot.’

‘There’s nothing like it.’

Charlie wondered if, beyond the trace of mockery in his eyes, he was actually capable of smiling. ‘And your guests don’t find it … scary? Being so close to the edge?’

He peered down, his gaze following her pointing finger, as if he’d never seen the view before. ‘I don’t think so. I haven’t had any complaints, and nobody’s thrown themselves into the sea. So on the whole I’d say it was fine. But what can I do for you? I did wonder if you were still here; your bus has disappeared from the car park, which was absolutely the right thing to do. I’m glad that you—’

‘It’s coming back,’ Charlie rushed. ‘But to the beach this time. I’m launching it next weekend as The Cornish Cream Tea Bus.’

She watched his face closely.

‘The Cornish Cream Tea Bus,’ he repeated slowly. ‘Is it for children?’

‘It’s for everyone.’

‘It’s staying in Porthgolow?’ His eyes had lost their amusement.

‘I’m going to travel round Cornwall, but I’m launching it here, and I won’t be out and about the whole time. It’s going to be a new feature of the village.’

‘It will ruin the atmosphere.’

Laughter came spilling out of her. ‘What atmosphere? It’s as dead as a dodo, and we’re only a week from the May bank holiday. This village needs livening up. It needs something bright and friendly and affordable to draw the crowds. It’s such a beautiful place, but it’s not being loved enough.’

‘How would you know that?’ Daniel’s voice was sharp. ‘You’ve only been here a few weeks.’

She hesitated. ‘You can’t deny that it’s looking a bit tired.’ She gestured in the direction of the cove, then gasped as she teetered off balance a mere ten feet from the cliff edge. ‘Crystal Waters may be modern and glossy and immaculate, but you can’t say the same for the pop-in and the B&B, or even Hugh’s pub. Gertie is going to help bring Porthgolow back to life.’

Daniel rolled his eyes, which was the most expressive thing she’d seen him do. ‘Gertie belongs in a fun fair.’

‘We are going to go to fairs and festivals, but most of the time she’ll be here. And before you go and check –’ she held up a finger, silencing him before he’d opened his mouth – ‘I have got my trading consent. It’s all legal, so you can’t go looking for ways to shut me down.’

‘I wasn’t going to …’ he started, then sighed. ‘This is unexpected, OK? And it’s not in keeping with Crystal Waters.’

‘Why not? Because everyone who stays here is allergic to carbohydrates? I’m selling Cornish cream teas.’

‘I guessed that.’

‘And who can resist a good Cornish cream tea?’ she continued. ‘Hot, crumbly scones with thick, slightly sweet clotted cream and fresh strawberry jam. I’m going to do some flavoured creams with a hint of rose, lavender or honey. Earl Grey and Assam tea. All with those views of the cove, the way the sun curves into every crease of it.’ Excitement bubbled inside her.

Daniel didn’t reply immediately, and Charlie thought she’d won him over. He was staring out to sea, a wistful expression on his face. Eventually, he met her gaze.

‘On a bus?’

‘Not just any bus. The Cornish Cream Tea Bus. Gertie reborn. You have to come and see her, she’s going to be magnificent!’

‘Not sure I’d put the words “bus” and “magnificent” together in a sentence.’

‘But you’ll come?’

‘I’ll have to see how busy we are,’ he said.

Charlie resisted the urge to do a fist pump. ‘You’ll be the quietest you’ve ever been, because all your guests will be down in the village, eating cream teas.’

Daniel shook his head slowly, as if dealing with a tiresome toddler, but a flicker of a smile dented his features. ‘I very much doubt that.’

‘At least follow me on Instagram.’ She pulled her phone out of her pocket and scrolled to the app, where her new account, @CornishCreamTeaBus, had four photos: arty shots that she’d taken in the garage, of Gertie’s headlights, showing off the glorious red paint, and a couple she’d snapped in Juliette’s kitchen of her new scones. #OneWeekToGo and #CornishCreamTeaBusLaunch adorned her captions, and she’d spent a solid hour the previous evening following Cornwall and foodie-related accounts, including Crystal Waters which, she had to admit, had a stunning grid.

She felt warm breath on her cheek, and turned her head slightly. Daniel was looking over her shoulder, close enough that she could see each individual eyelash. She willed her heart to stop pounding. Chances were, he could hear how fast it was going.

‘What do you think?’ she asked.

‘Your photos are good,’ he admitted. ‘The bus is red now?’

‘Back to her original colour. I thought it would stand out more.’

‘It almost matches your hair.’

It was a throwaway comment, but the fact that he was telling her he’d noticed her appearance made her insides flutter.

‘Do you follow Porthgolow Hideaway?’ she asked, tapping it into the search bar and holding up the page for Daniel to see. ‘I found it last night, and I wondered who was behind it.’ It was a page dedicated to pictures of the village: stunning sunsets and sunrises, the sea and sky in every conceivable mood – stormy, calm, wild and vibrant. It highlighted the very best of Porthgolow, each picture charming or atmospheric. And it had over twenty thousand followers.

‘I follow it,’ he said. ‘But I’ve no idea who’s taking the photos. I don’t have time to be a social media spy, but if you do, then go ahead, and let me know when you find out. I might be able to set up some kind of partnership with them.’

‘You want me to do all the work so you can have all the glory?’

‘I get to pay for all the glory. That’s how a partnership works.’

Charlie gritted her teeth and stared at the sea, telling herself to calm down. She turned to find him busy on his own phone, and a moment later a notification appeared on her screen: @CrystalWatersCornwall started following you.

‘Thank you,’ she said grudgingly.

‘How did you get the villagers to agree to this, anyway?’

‘What do you mean, get them to agree? I want the community onside, but I didn’t realise that I needed them to give me permission.’ Charlie frowned. ‘Paul Kerr was the one who suggested the beach would be the best place to park, and the council have agreed to my pitch and given me my trading consent. And as for everyone else, that’s what today is about. Letting the locals know my plans, and telling them about the launch. I’m not sure what else I can do.’

Daniel slid his phone in his pocket and grinned at her. Charlie couldn’t believe how much it lit up his face. His eyes were no longer suspicious and calculating, but he still looked wolfish; he was still completely sure of himself. ‘What about Myrtle? She’s going to be at the front of the queue on Saturday, is she?’

Charlie sighed. ‘Not everyone’s convinced yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Once the bus is here, once people can sample what I’m selling, they’ll be smitten.’

‘I can almost believe that,’ Daniel said. ‘Still, Porthgolow can be a tough crowd—’

‘Says the man who just told me my bus belongs in a fun fair.’

‘I’m prepared to defer my judgement.’

‘How very gracious of you.’

Daniel laughed. ‘Fancy a tour of the hotel? I could show you the spa facilities, the restaurant. We have a five-course à la carte menu.’

‘Sometimes people just want a bit of stodgy, sugary cake.’

‘And sometimes,’ he said, stepping closer, ‘they want something more extravagant. Sometimes they want the best.’

‘I am the best.’ Charlie lifted her chin in defiance, and immediately felt stupid. What was this? A pre-boxing-match showdown? She waited for Daniel’s pithy reply but it didn’t come. He looked at her coolly and then turned away.

‘I need to get on,’ he called as he walked. ‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’

‘Uhm, not at the moment. Thanks.’ She followed him back through the beautiful gardens and into the foyer, where he promptly said goodbye and disappeared through a door behind the reception desk.

Charlie said goodbye to Lauren and went to find Marmite. As she made her way down the hill, a snoozing puppy in her arms, all in all she felt relieved with the way her visit had gone.

It was understandable that Daniel was sceptical about the charms of The Cornish Cream Tea Bus; it wasn’t anything like his slice of cliff-top luxury. But he hadn’t turned her away. He’d said her photos were good and he’d followed her on Instagram; he hadn’t discounted coming to the launch on Saturday.

As she reached the bottom of the hill, eager to see how Juliette had got on, she wondered why Daniel’s approval mattered to her so much. Did she want to show Juliette that he wasn’t as evil as she thought he was, or was it simply that he had been against her bus from the start, and she wanted to prove him wrong? All she knew was that standing close to the edge of the cliff, at the same time as standing close to Daniel, had done nothing for her levels of composure.

Chapter Eight

Charlie stood on the end of Porthgolow’s jetty, looking back at the village that, in the last few weeks, had become her home. She didn’t know for how long – Juliette had told her she could stay as long as she liked – but she knew she wasn’t ready to go back to Ross-on-Wye, or her parents’ house. She crouched alongside Marmite, who was peering over the edge of the jetty, and looked at the sea spilling out in every direction. Porthgolow’s quaint, haphazard vista was behind her, Reenie’s yellow hut to her left, Daniel’s shimmering empire at her right side.

Soon, there would be a new addition to the landscape. She was picking Gertie up later that day. Her Cornish Cream Tea Bus was finished, and she had heard the pride in Pete’s voice when he’d called to tell her it was ready. She couldn’t wait to see it. But Lawrence was working and Juliette had a meeting, and she needed one of them to drive her to the garage, so she would have to be patient.

She stood up and tugged gently on Marmite’s lead, and a flash of light caught her attention. A short woman was standing in front of the primrose-yellow cottage, long dark hair straggling out behind her. She was holding something, and it was that object that had caught the light. Charlie couldn’t see what it was from this distance, but she found herself raising a hand in greeting. She held her breath, and watched as Reenie’s arm rose into the air, mirroring Charlie’s gesture. Then she turned and, in a moment, had disappeared inside her precarious little house.

Charlie made her way back to Juliette’s with a spring in her step.

‘A wave,’ she said to her friend as they hefted tins of scones and cookies, cakes and doughnuts first into Lawrence’s arms and then their own, and walked out into the fresh air. ‘An actual wave. It reminded me a bit of the perplexed greeting Tom Hanks gives Meg Ryan at the end of Sleepless in Seattle.’

‘I think Reenie’s more Castaway than Sleepless,’ Juliette said, grimacing under the weight of her boxes. ‘But a wave’s more than I got. I think she was pretending not to be in when I tried to talk to her the other day, which was a bit harsh considering her place isn’t the easiest to get to. There’s not a path all the way, you have to navigate over rocks, and if it’s damp they can be treacherous.’

‘Has anyone ever seen her leave the house?’ Lawrence asked. ‘Seen her in the pub or the shop or anywhere?’

They reached the bottom of the hill and Lawrence’s question was forgotten as Gertie, in her new, Cornish-Cream-Tea-Bus glory, came into view.

The three of them paused to gaze at her.

The day of the grand opening was calm, hardly any wind to whip the waves into a fervour, but the cloud cover was thicker than Charlie would have liked. There was a break over the horizon, where opaque rays spilled out and raced down to meet the sea’s surface. Charlie’s dad called them the fingers of God, though he wasn’t remotely religious. But at this point, with the still, blue water, the cliffs rising up either side, and Gertie, resplendent in her new red coat and gleaming with possibility on the sand, it did seem almost magical.

‘Let’s stock her up, then, shall we?’ Lawrence grinned and, despite his boxes, managed to give Hugh, who had appeared at the door of The Seven Stars, a quick wave. ‘Coming to have a look, Hugh?’

‘Of course,’ the landlord replied. ‘I’ve held off having coffee so I can sample some of Charlie’s, along with a slice of carrot cake, if there’s any?’

‘Carrot cake is here somewhere,’ Charlie said, raising her stack of boxes. ‘Give us ten minutes to set up and I’ll give you the grand tour.’

‘I’ll be over dreckly,’ he called.

She resisted the urge to hug Hugh, and wondered if his enthusiasm would spread through the village. Her chat with Myrtle had been chilly to say the least, and the young woman who had answered the door of the bed and breakfast seemed distracted and uninterested. Charlie had been left sleepless the night before, imagining her and Gertie sitting, deserted, on the beach, while villagers passed by as if she didn’t exist.

But being here, seeing the bus in situ, and with her arms full of fresh cakes, her worries seemed laughable.

The inside of Gertie was as impressive as her exterior. As Charlie unlocked the door she was delighted all over again by the transformation. On the lower deck, at the end where customers got on, there were four tables. The benches were padded with red fabric on one side, blue on the other, and the cream tables had elegantly curved edges. The walls had been repainted in fresh, bright cream, and the light from the large windows added to the airy feel.

Beyond the tables was Charlie’s kitchen. It had a countertop and sink, with a small oven below for heating up scones and sausage rolls, and a fridge for storing perishables. Next to the driver’s cab there was a shiny new coffee machine, with mugs in red and blue stacked up alongside it. The bottoms of the mugs perfectly fitted the cup-holders in the tables, and they had plastic lids that could be used when the bus was moving.

Around the roof of the lower deck, and again on the upper, were glowing, LED fairy lights. With wall space at a premium, Charlie had wanted something special for when the days were dull and the sun failed to shine brightly.

‘Just beautiful,’ Juliette murmured, as they placed their cake boxes on the counter. Charlie started up the coffee machine, checked the filter was full of beans, ran the tap in the sink and switched the oven on. She still marvelled at how all these mod cons could work on her uncle’s bus as easily as if she was in a house.

‘Check upstairs?’ Juliette asked.

‘You go,’ Charlie said. ‘I want to make sure everything’s ready here. Can you fill the vases?’ They had bought clutches of red carnations and vibrant cornflowers, perfect for the vases that slotted into the circular cut-outs in the middle of each table. Their primary role was for teapots – the teapots themselves designed specially so they would fit snugly in – but when people didn’t want a whole pot, or wanted coffee or a cold drink, a spray of flowers would brighten up the tables.

Between them, they had thought of everything. Pete had improved the tiny toilet behind the stairs, had ensured the layout on the top deck – where the majority of customers would sit – had as much seating as possible without it seeming crowded. Marmite had his own crate below the driver’s seat in the cab, so when Charlie brought him on board he wouldn’t stray into the kitchen. An old-style bell-pull had been installed – replacing the more modern buttons – so that guests could get Charlie’s attention from anywhere on the bus.

She had even got an old-fashioned ticket machine so that customers could go away with a reminder of their visit on board The Cornish Cream Tea Bus. It had been an expensive renovation, but worth every penny. Now all she had to do was make a success of it.

She began snapping photos, adding them to her Instagram story, all with her custom hashtag: #CornishCreamTea BusLaunch. She arranged the cakes and scones and took photos of them on their stands, snapped an arty shot of the sea out of the windscreen, and another of the row of gleaming mugs stacked on top of the coffee machine. She had two different tea options on her menu: one was simply scones, cream and jam – the traditional Cornish cream tea – and one that was more like a full afternoon tea, with sandwiches to start, mini cakes and puddings, and then the scones to finish.

‘Hello?’ a voice called, as she was putting the cheddar and red onion scones in the oven to heat up. ‘Can we come aboard?’

Charlie recognized the woman, who had platinum hair cinched in waves around her face, from the bed and breakfast. She had obviously been paying more attention than Charlie had thought. She was accompanied by a man whose skin was as dark as hers was pale, his deep brown eyes warm with kindness.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Welcome to The Cornish Cream Tea Bus. Take a seat, either down here, or there’s lots of space upstairs. I’ll come and take your order in a moment.’

The woman looked around approvingly. ‘I must say, it looks wonderful.’

‘Thank you,’ Charlie beamed. ‘I’m very happy with it.’

‘Almost puts our dining room to shame,’ the man added, reaching up and pulling on the cord running round the top of the windows. A clear bell sounded, and he laughed even as he apologized. ‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. I haven’t seen one of these in years.’

Charlie waved away his apology. ‘It’s very tempting to pull it – I’m going to have to get used to false alarms. Maybe I need a sign explaining what the cord is for.’

‘It’s so nostalgic,’ the woman added. ‘What made you want to do this? A café on a bus?’

Charlie leaned against the counter. ‘The bus was my uncle’s. He ran tours on it, but he died earlier this year. He left me Gertie – the bus – and I’m a baker, so while I was happy to have it, I knew I couldn’t just take over from him. But cakes, afternoon tea … I thought I could combine the two.’

‘It’s ingenuous,’ the man said. ‘We went for a traditional style for the B&B, but after four years … well, I wonder if we need some sort of overhaul?’ He looked at his wife. ‘Do something a bit different?’

She nodded, her smile slipping. ‘We haven’t even introduced ourselves. I’m Stella, and this is Anton. You’re staying with Juliette, aren’t you?’

‘That’s right. I’m Charlie. Juliette invited me here for a holiday. This …’ She spread her arms wide, laughing self-consciously. ‘I’m not that great at taking time off, and I can always drive the bus home again. But I thought that, while I’m here, Porthgolow could do with a bit of brightening up.’

The vigorous nods from Stella and Anton suggested that they agreed with her.

An hour later and Gertie was a hive of activity. Paul and Amanda had brought Jonah, and their two daughters Flora and Jem, and had commandeered one of the tables downstairs, which meant that every time a new customer appeared, Jonah was able to regale them with facts about the bus – both what Charlie had told him after extensive interrogation, and what he already seemed to have in his young, encyclopaedic mind. Charlie and Juliette tried not to giggle while they frothed cappuccinos and prepared cream teas. Even though it was only half past ten, her signature Cornish cream tea was destined to be the most popular item on the menu.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.