Summer at the Cornish Cafe: The perfect summer romance for 2018

I woke up early, wondering where I was at first. Mitch was already pawing at the cottage door to be let out so I put on his lead and took him out for a walk. No one else was around so I walked down the valley towards Kilhallon Cove and watched Mitch play ‘tag’ with the waves. On the other side of the cliffs, there was an old engine house. It’s a ruin now, the roof has long collapsed but half the chimney stack still stands.

I walked back to the cottage, fed Mitch and made myself some toast in my kitchen. The cottage still needs work but I’d better go over to the farmhouse and find out what Cal wants me to do. Last night, he said he wanted me to discuss my contract and terms and conditions and I want to get off on the right foot with him. After settling Mitch in the kitchen with a dog chew, I have a bath – oh, the luxury – put on my freshly washed jeans and top and set off.

Polly meets me halfway across the farmyard. ‘You’re out of bed then?’ She raises her eyebrows as if she’s surprised.

‘I’ve been up for hours,’ I say, determined not to rise to the bait.

‘Hmmph.’

‘Is Cal around?’

‘Yes, but you’d better keep out of his way.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ll find out. He’s in his office, last I saw of him. If you dare.’

This is not encouraging news on my first morning but I’m not going to be put off by her.

Greasy breakfast plates are piled on the worktops in the kitchen, and someone’s left the bacon and milk out in the sun. One of the plates has half a sausage left on it and despite the toast I ate earlier, I can’t see good food go to waste so I eat it, enjoying the luxury of not having to share it with Mitch. Sidestepping a piece of tomato squashed on the tiles, I walk down the gloomy hallway and knock on the study door. There’s no answer but I can hear someone tapping away on a laptop.

‘Cal. Are you in there?’

There’s a pause then he grunts. ‘Go away, whoever you are.’

‘It’s Demi.’

‘Go away.’

‘OK.’ I turn away, thinking I may as well clear up the kitchen; that’s what he hired me for. Just as I reach the door, there’s a shout behind me.

‘Come back.’

Cal pokes his head out of the study door.

‘It’ll wait until later,’ I say.

‘No. We’ll get it over with now.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m not at my best,’ he growls.

To be honest, I haven’t noticed loads of difference but I keep that to myself.

‘Sit down,’ he says gruffly, sweeping papers off an old wheeled chair in front of his desk.

I sit; suddenly worried that he might have changed his mind about having me at Kilhallon.

‘I have to finish this email first,’ he mutters, eyes fixed on the screen again. He hasn’t had a shave, again, and he has dark circles under his eyes. He looks awful but drop dead gorgeous all the same.

He glances up briefly, obviously having caught me perving over him. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing.’ Heat rises to my cheeks again. ‘I really can come back later. Polly said you were busy.’

‘She’s right but I’ll be even busier later. Wait a minute and I’ll be done.’

Frowning at the screen, he taps away with two fingers while I try to focus on the study and not on him. It’s like a junk shop – antique shop, if I’m being generous – and bigger than I expected, despite being crammed with stuff just like the sitting room. Two of the walls are lined with bookcases from floor to ceiling; proper old-fashioned leather-bound books as well as paperbacks. The desk must be centuries old and among all the letters and paperwork, Cal’s laptop whirrs softly. If it was me, I’d put the light on because even though it’s a bright April morning, not much sunshine penetrates the dimness.

‘OK. I’m done. Let’s talk about your role here.’

My role? I try to stay serious, while longing to dance around the study, shouting ‘yes!’, listening to Cal outlining what he wants me to do: generally helping around the place and supporting him to get the holiday park back on its feet. He also asks me if I want to go to college in September to do some tourism and catering courses.

‘We need stationery from the office supplies store and I’d like you to get some costs for refitting the reception. You’d better get some new clothes too.’

I glance down at my only pair of jeans and T-shirt, wondering why he’s brought up the subject again. ‘I don’t need a handout.’

‘Fine. In that case, will you accept an advance on your salary? You can pay me back if you like but you may as well get some work clothes and safety boots on the business. The agricultural store on the road to St Ives should have what you need.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, wishing I hadn’t been quite so dismissive.

He pulls out his wallet. ‘Here’s my card so you can get some cash, though we’ve still got an account at the agricultural and office stores.’

‘I could run off with this,’ I joke.

‘Not without Mitch. He’s my hostage.’

I snort. ‘He’d never stay with you.’

‘Want to bet?’ He grins in such a sexy way, I get the funny fizzing feeling low in my stomach. I half-wish he was fat and old and picked his teeth or something, rather than this hot. It would make life so much easier.

The door opens and Polly stands in the doorway blocking out the light. ‘Cal? I thought you’d like to know you’ve had a letter.’

‘Leave it on the desk, please.’

Ignoring him, Polly holds an envelope under his nose. It’s the kind you see in costume dramas, with elaborate, old-fashioned handwriting on the front.

‘I thought I should bring this one over personally.’ She waggles the envelope, a sly gleam in her eye.

Cal looks at it but doesn’t take it. ‘I said, leave it on the desk. Please.’ The please is added with sarcasm, almost menace.

Polly lays it on top of a pile of other papers but makes no attempt to leave.

‘You can go now.’ Cal’s voice is quieter, and his finger taps the table. ‘And you.’

It’s a second before I realise he means me.

‘See you later,’ says Polly, smirking.

I push myself up from the chair. ‘So, do you want any lunch?’

‘Just leave me.’ His head snaps up. God, he looks angry – but that’s nothing to the pain I see in his eyes. I don’t say any more, just do as he asks. He was moody before I walked in here. I don’t know what’s in that letter, but it looks as if it’s almost destroyed him before he’s even opened it.

CHAPTER SIX

I knew it had to happen. I knew it was coming but that doesn’t lessen the pain or make it any easier to take. I brush my fingers over the embossed script, and the handwritten insertion of my name. It sounds so formal and so final. Did Isla write it herself – or her mother? I can’t believe it was Luke’s idea but maybe I don’t know him any more.

WE’RE ENGAGED!

Isla and Luke

invite

Mr Calvin Penwith

to celebrate their engagement with them

On Saturday June 25th

from 7 p.m.

At Bosinney House, St Trenyan

RSVP to Isla Channing

The date is more than two months away, which makes me feel that Mrs Channing has had a hand in the invites. She obviously wants to send a signal out to the world that Isla and Luke are officially together. She never liked me and perhaps I don’t blame her if she thought I was making Isla unhappy by trekking off abroad all the time.

Perhaps Luke wants to send me a signal and formalise the engagement. Last night, all I could think about was Luke lying in bed with Isla and contrasting it with the times I lay with her in the barn here at Kilhallon, and in the warm dunes and the cool cave on the beach.

I’d been with her on that last night before I went to the Tinner’s Arms for a farewell drink with my mates. Luke had warned me that evening to tell Isla how I felt but I’d held back. I thought she already did know without me saying it and as for marrying her, I thought we were too young, that we had years to do all that stuff when I’d got back from the Middle East. I could never have married her then, I told myself, until I’d at least tried to help the people I saw on the news and the internet. How could I sit here at Kilhallon, in my comfortable home, doing nothing, when I had the skills to help those people? What kind of a man would I be? What kind of a husband and father …

Two years is a long time to wait; when you’ve hardly heard a word and when you think all hope is lost. But the irony is that it was the thought of Isla that kept me going through the long, dark days and months. A few times, I’d have topped myself if it hadn’t been for her, when things got too terrible to bear.

I can’t tell her the truth, of course, the reason why I was away so long and why I couldn’t contact her for the past few months. When I first went on my trips abroad I used to send her ‘vintage’ postcards – my retro joke – but on my last assignment, there were no cards to buy or even shops still standing in most places. It was a miracle if I could get a decent signal or Wi-Fi or even access to a computer and, if I’m honest, I’d been so wrapped up with my work I sometimes didn’t have a moment to even think about home. When you’re dealing with people in a life or death situation, your priorities tend to change but I should have made more effort. Perhaps I can’t blame Isla for thinking I wasn’t interested any more. Then, when I finally wanted to speak to her, and had time on my hands at last, it was impossible.

I slam the lid of the laptop shut and throw the invitation on the floor.

Is it really too late? Maybe I should ride over to Bosinney now and speak to Isla on her own? If I see her face to face, I can let her know how I feel and change her mind. The study door slams behind me as I hurry out to the yard.

‘Cal, can you come and look at this tractor?’ The mechanic from the garage calls over to me.

‘Not now, mate.’

‘But it needs a new clutch. It can’t wait any longer.’

‘Not now!’

‘OK but it’s your funeral.’ He folds his arms. ‘And without a working tractor, you won’t be able to do a lot of the work you’ve planned here.’

‘OK. Good point.’ After I’ve heard Baz tell me how much work the tractor needs and how much it will cost, I seek solace in the stables with the one creature that doesn’t seem to have changed, and who is waiting patiently for me. At least Polly made sure my horse, Dexter, was taken care of while I was away, even if the park fell down around her ears.

Dexter snickers softly and stamps impatiently as I tack him up. I mount him and catch sight of Demi with a clipboard, in front of the admin block. I asked her to do some research on other resorts and give her opinion on what facilities she thought we needed and how the park should look. She’s no expert but that’s what I wanted: a fresh pair of eyes to view this place as if she might love to come on holiday here herself.

Have I done the right thing in bringing her here? She’s a bright girl and she’ll probably be out of here in a year, maybe less. She’ll want more than I can offer her.

Demi glances up from her clipboard and waves at me. She looks really happy and I’m glad but I don’t wave back. I act like I haven’t been watching her, and I don’t really know why. Perhaps I still haven’t got used to people reading my emotions. I’ve had to suppress them for so long, just to survive.

With a kick on Dexter’s flanks, I urge him to a gallop along the coastal path. If I ride until the land ends, maybe I can ride Isla out of my system.

At the milestone, I spot a dark hunter galloping over the moor towards me. I’d know Robyn’s horse anywhere, and the rider’s style. I urge Dexter on and our horses both meet by a ruined engine house.

Both of us are breathless and laughing. ‘Hi, Robyn,’ I say when I’ve got my breath back. ‘I could tell it was you from miles away.’

She pushes a lock of purply black hair back under her helmet. Her face is pink with the sea air and the effort. ‘Have I improved?’ she asks.

‘You’ve got worse, if anything.’

She leans over her horse and hits my arm. ‘That’s harsh and anyway I can tell you’re way out of practice … ouch, sorry, great big foot in even bigger mouth.’

‘There’s no need to tiptoe around it.’

‘I know but it must have been tough helping people out there and then you come back and found out about Luke and Isla. They’d only just told us.’

So Robyn notices more than she lets on. ‘It’s fine. Well, not fine …’ It’s hopeless lying to my cousin; she knows me too well. ‘Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to turn up like that though I did try to warn Isla. I’m sorry I shocked you and Uncle Rory though by crashing his birthday do.’ I pat Dexter’s silky mane, avoiding Robyn’s eyes. ‘How was Isla after I’d left the party?’

‘What do you think? Relieved you’re home safe. She was out of her mind with worry when we hadn’t heard from you for a while.’

‘Yeah. It looked like it. I had her engagement party invitation this morning.’

‘Oh Cal. Don’t be like that. Isla was gutted, she couldn’t eat or sleep properly for the weeks after you left, and when you never replied to our latest emails …’

A lump sticks in my throat. Does hearing that Isla suffered make me feel better or worse? Is it real love, wanting her to have suffered?

‘She seems to have got over it.’

‘She even emailed the charity but they said you were working in a remote location and couldn’t be contacted. Luke was worried as well.’

‘I’ll bet he was.’

‘This must be so hard for you.’ Choosing to ignore my sarcasm, which is probably a good thing for both of us, Robyn stops the horse, reaches over and touches me. Her fingers linger on my forearm, soothing, gentle. Once this act of kindness would have touched me deeply but that was before I learned that the only way to survive is to kill every feeling and become stone. I can’t answer her, and she takes her hand away from mine.

‘Are you sure you’re OK? You look so thin. Did something terrible happen to you out there?’

I pause, weighing up how much I can tell her and how much of that can be the truth. ‘I’m fine. I was just wrapped up in helping people.’

‘Oh Cal, I can’t even imagine how awful it was.’

‘Then don’t. Thousands of people have died or lost their families and homes in the wars. I’m here in one piece and I have all this.’ I scrape up a smile and wave in the direction of the tumbledown cottages. ‘Now, for God’s sake, tell me how you are and what you’ve been doing. I’ve a lot of catching up to do.’

While we walked the horses along the cliffs, she fills me in on her latest escapades. It’s comforting listening to her chatter about her jewellery design course and the fact she’s working part time in the Tinner’s to annoy Uncle Rory and earn some money of her own. She’s twenty-two now, and she ought to have her independence but she’s drifted from one thing to another since she left uni and I think it suits my uncle to keep her at home. She deserves a break: stability, love, excitement and happiness – whatever it is she’s looking for.

We urge the horses over the stream and onto the sand of Kilhallon Cove. At high tide, the beach is a sliver of pebbles but at low tide, like now, it’s a long strip of flat sand. The tang of seaweed and salt hangs in the air, reminding me of the times I rode here and made love to Isla.

Clouds gather over the sea but the weather front is on its way north of us. It’s going to be a bright day and the longer hours of sunlight have brought out the primroses in the hedgerows around the park. I’d forgotten how seductive this place could be, even in the state it is now. ‘It’s gorgeous here, isn’t it?’ Robyn says.

‘Yes. I was going to ride over to Bosinney.’

‘To see me?’ Robyn says, mischievously.

‘Of course, and my uncle.’

‘He and Luke are back in the office in Truro today. Were you coming to see Isla too? She’s visiting Bosinney; she’s thinking of using it in her new series.’

‘Is she?’

Robyn isn’t stupid; the opposite, in fact, and I feel ashamed.

‘Dad can do with the money even though he doesn’t want the disruption. Isla’s asked her director of photography to come down and take a look. She’s meant to be on holiday but I think she’ll spend most of the time scouting locations.’

‘I read about her success in the paper on my way here.’ I don’t add that I’ve since wasted way too much time googling Isla on the new laptop.

‘She’s amazing. Did you know one of her productions was nominated for a BAFTA? She’s a joint director of her own production company now.’

‘I bet her mother and Luke love that.’

‘Isla’s mother can’t talk of anything else but Luke’s more interested in making money these days since he became a director of Dad’s company. They’re playing the stock market, and making some high-risk investments – you see, they offer business and financial planning to the clients now, as well as doing the books.’

‘Luke didn’t used to be so money-oriented. Are things OK with the business?’

Robyn pulls a face. ‘I don’t know but I worry about them both. Luke’s young and I suppose he can take a few hits but Dad isn’t getting any younger. He had treatment for an ulcer last year and stress isn’t good for him, even though he’s on the mend. I’m not sure he really knows what Luke gets up to, but they’ve become like father and son since Luke’s dad died last year. I think my dad feels he owes it to Luke’s father’s memory to support him.’

‘I’m sorry Uncle Rory’s been ill. Do you mind Luke getting so close to him?’

Robyn reins in the horse and shrugs. ‘It wouldn’t make any difference if I did. I’ve grown up with Luke, just like you have, and I suppose he was already like a brother to me, just like you are, Cal.’

Her comment makes me feel emotional. Did I say I had no capacity for feeling left? I must be going soft again. ‘How does Isla feel about all this?’ I ask.

‘I’m not sure how much time she has to get involved. Her work normally takes her away from Luke and Cornwall a lot.’

‘Funny. She used to hate it when I went away.’

‘I guess she had to get used to it when she started running her own company and you were off the scene.’ Robyn sighs and stares out to sea. ‘That was harsh. I’m so sorry, Cal. I wish I could turn back the clock.’

‘Not harsh. True and no one can turn back time.’

We ride up the path and walk the horses past an old engine house back towards Kilhallon. Crows caw and wheel around the broken chimney stack. There’s probably a bird of prey around somewhere, judging by the noise they’re making.

‘Polly told me you’ve taken on some new staff,’ she says as we guide our horses through the derelict cottages towards the amenity complex.

‘News travels fast.’

‘Is that the new girl I saw walking her dog into the complex when I rode past yesterday morning? Skinny with long chestnut hair?’

‘Probably.’

‘She looks about sixteen.’

‘She’s twenty-one, almost the same age as you.’

‘Polly says she was homeless.’

‘How does she know that?’

‘I don’t know. Village grapevine?’

I soften my tone but St Trenyan gossip never changes. God knows what they’ve made up about me, though it can’t be any more outlandish than the truth I suppose.

‘Not exactly. Demi was working at Sheila’s Beach Hut but was looking for a fresh start with accommodation. She’s had catering and um … other hospitality experience. She needed a break and I needed staff. End of.’

We ride along the edge of the cliff now and a gull swoops low, startling Robyn’s horse but she soon regains control and carries on as if nothing had happened. She’s far more confident than before I went away, with the horse at least. I’m not sure she’s happy, though, and I don’t quite know why.

‘We were a bit surprised that you’d moved that quickly. Are you really planning to re-open the park again soon?’

‘It’s either that or let the whole place rot, and we could do with some jobs round here from what I saw in St Trenyan. It could just be me, but it looks more run-down than before I went away. I can’t sit on my arse letting the park go downhill even further when I could do some good with it.’

‘I’m not criticising, Cal. I’m right behind you and if there’s anything I can do to help, just ask.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I didn’t only come over to share the gossip. I also wanted to ask you to a party.’

I burst out laughing. ‘I’m not in much of a party mood.’

‘I know that but this is important. It’s a charity ball at the Dolphin Country Club in aid of a homeless charity.’

I laugh at the irony. ‘Thanks, but I’m too busy trying to get the business back on its feet. You know what they say: charity begins at home.’

‘You don’t believe that!’

I urge the horse to a trot and the ocean grows closer, the waves like the hooves of a thousand horses galloping to meet us.

‘I haven’t said when this ball is yet,’ Robyn shouts to me.

‘Whenever it is, I’m too busy.’

She catches up with me easily. ‘This event will be good for your business. My friend says all the local “great and good” will be there.’

‘There you are then: I don’t count as either.’

‘Argh, Cal, you drive me nuts. Say you’ll come? You can take me with you, as there’s no one else worth going with.’

My jaw aches from trying not to smile. ‘Won’t that be like going with your brother?’

She wrinkles her nose. ‘No, this would be more like going with my gay best friend.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Go on, you know you’re tempted. You love to shock people.’

I laugh, wondering if she has any idea what I might have done while I’ve been ‘away’.

‘I haven’t upset you, have I? Dad says I never think before I speak and I talk too much … Luke definitely thinks so. He told me.’

‘Then they’re both talking out of their arses and Luke should shut up.’

‘Maybe they’re right.’ She laughs but I feel angry with my uncle and Luke.

‘Be yourself, and screw anyone who doesn’t like it.’

‘That’s not always so simple. I haven’t got a proper job apart from working in the Tinner’s and I can’t afford my own place yet.’

I think of the cottages on the estate and the fact I let Demi have one, but I can’t afford to give away any more of them and besides, I can’t interfere in Robyn’s life; she needs to stand up to my uncle and make her own way.

‘So, you’ll come to this charity do? You’d be doing me a massive favour.’

Her voice is light but holds an edge of desperation. I get the feeling there’s something she’s not telling me.

‘I’ll think about it.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

When Cal said there was work to do here, he wasn’t joking. Over the past few weeks, he’s been to Truro and St Trenyan, meeting with his old contacts to try to raise extra investment in the new resort. Polly has been moaning even more than usual about the ‘bloody strangers’ poking around in the derelict farm buildings and cottages and tramping in and out of the farmhouse in muddy boots.

I think it’s exciting, and at least Cal seems wrapped up in the business, rather than getting slowly pissed in his study all evening. I was researching more competitor parks, but Polly asked me to take the empty beer and whisky bottles to the recycling bins in the morning. I don’t want to judge people but I don’t think the booze helps his mood much.

Talking of which, I finally found out why he acted like the world has ended when he received The Letter. Polly told me that it was an invitation to his ex’s engagement party. Turns out this Isla and Cal were crazy about each other but when he came back to Cornwall, he found out she’d got engaged to his mate. Polly says Isla thought Cal wasn’t interested any more because he’d stopped all contact with her. Polly thinks Isla should have waited until Cal came home and I agree with her on this one, not that it matters to me. There’s no way I am going to rely on some bloke for my future, however much I owe him and however hot he is.