The Little Cornish Kitchen: A heartwarming and funny romance set in Cornwall

‘Clemmie, what a surprise. I hope Diesel isn’t making a nuisance of himself.’

I take a moment to let my galloping heart rate subside to normal. ‘Not too much but he’s just arrived. So far he’s only wolfed my lunch.’ I’m working hard at making my smile ironic when it hits me if gravity gets the better of him, he could disappear too. ‘Unless you’ve got a death wish maybe you’d better come in …’ He’s the last person I’d choose to invite into the living room, but it has to be a better option than scraping him up off the garden wall in pieces.

One hop, he’s over the dog and we’re standing on the same rug.

As the delicious scent of expensive body spray drifts up my nose, I take a big step backwards. ‘Now you’re both safe maybe you can clear up why you were risking your necks on my balcony?’ As soon as it’s out, I’m cursing the slip.

Charlie’s narrowing one eye. ‘Your balcony? We’re from the flat next door, the balcony’s shared. Do I take it from this you’re the mysterious absentee landlord?’ He shakes his head. ‘George is a dark horse. He could have told us we were going to be neighbours.’

I try not to baulk at the word and put on my best ‘office’ voice, which is still way lighter than his. ‘In a place as small as St Aidan, confidentiality is crucial.’ George gave me ‘the talk’ when he took me on, along with a complementary tube of super-glue to apply with my lip gloss. If this was anyone else, I’d let my smile go. Faced by Charlie’s humourless expression, I stay tight lipped. ‘Apparently, the tiniest piece of information in the wrong ear will be around the town faster than you can say “compromising situation”. And obviously, we can’t have that.’ It would have been useful for me not to be so much in the dark here too. At least then I might have avoided the heart attack I almost had when Charlie invaded my space.

Charlie pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘If you’ve landed the job at George’s, we’re going to see a lot of each other, I’m in there seeing George most days.’

I try to look less disappointed than I feel at that news. And in line with company policy I don’t press him to find out why the heck he needs to spend so much time visiting his solicitor. ‘Just don’t expect me to talk to you at the office. With George’s list of banned topics, “Hello, can I offer you a coffee?” is the most I’m allowed to say.’ Which is probably damned useful given he’s not exactly easy to talk to.

Charlie’s eyes are boring into me again. ‘So you won’t be asking me how many sugars then?’ If there were the merest hint of a smile, it could be jokey. But there isn’t.

I don’t smile back. ‘Nope, that’s definitely off-limits.’

‘Two.’ He gives a sniff. ‘Just so you’re prepared. Keep that on file, please.’

I can’t ever remember not smiling for this long. Even the pharmacy queue is jollier than this when I’m waiting to pick up Maude’s arthritis medication, and that’s full of ill people. ‘Sweet tooth?’ Although I already know that from the way he hit the macaroons the other evening.

He pulls a face. ‘I’m anyone’s for a piece of cake.’ Then he lets out a sigh. ‘That’s why Diesel was confused before. We used to pop in here most days for tea with Jenny, your former tenant. Her rocky road slice was spectacular, that’s the reason Diesel was hell bent on battering the door down.’

‘You actually knew her?’ I’m intrigued, because thanks to George and his obsession with discretion, I haven’t even got as far as extracting her name from him. Although it’s hard to imagine anyone as tense and gaunt as Charlie ‘popping in’ for ‘cosy chats’.

‘Jenny was an author, but she was more an old friend of your grandmother’s than a tenant. She lived over near Rosehill, but she never stayed over, she just came here every day because the views helped her write. The arrangement suited them both. Jenny used the place until you grew up, and the peppercorn rent went towards any repair costs.’ Despite the sullen expression Charlie is as open as George is guarded.

The more he says, the more my mouth drops open. ‘Go on …’

‘The building wasn’t ever in the greatest shape.’ There’s a questioning frown playing around his forehead as he grinds to a halt. ‘But surely George will have told you all this?’

I give a sudden beam to cover up how much George hasn’t said. ‘Absolutely. But it’s always helpful to get another viewpoint. And she left because …?’

Charlie’s long sigh is presumably for the loss of his friend, not her cake. ‘She was getting on, the two flights of stairs became too much, and she moved south to be closer to one of her sons.’

He rubs his chin. ‘The balcony is perfectly safe by the way. It runs all along the front of the building, so both our flats open onto it. It was repaired before I moved in last year, it’s all in George’s files, the cost was shared between us. You do know about that?’ He’s giving me a searching stare. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t forget a bill that big.’

‘Too damned right.’ I try to look the right amount of appalled. Which is hard when I don’t know if I’m reacting to a hundred pounds or a hundred thousand. ‘Remind me to go out there and party. Very hard. I need to get my money’s worth before I leave.’

He seems to give a jolt, but a breath later he’s back to reaching over for my empty BLT wrapper. ‘Did you say Diesel ate your sandwich? Give me a minute, I’ll make you another.’

All I have to say here is ‘No’ and I can wave him off along the balcony and out of my day. I know I should be jumping at the chance, if only to let my heart rate get back to normal. Even if he looks grave enough for a funeral plan brochure when he sways he’s still disarmingly close. Another step back, and I’ll topple onto the sofa. On the other hand, the growls coming from my empty stomach are loud enough to have come from Diesel.

However he doesn’t allow me to squeeze in even a two-letter word before he bashes on. ‘I don’t have bacon, but there’s thin sliced ham on the bone, homemade plum and sultana pickle, and some kind of crumbling cheddar matured in a slate cavern. There’s crusty cobs too, and salad. I could throw a ploughman’s picnic together for us.’

I try not to make too much noise as I suck back my drool. Then just as I’m gritting my teeth, resolving to say ‘No’ I catch a hint of a smile playing around his lips and my mouth is moving on its own. ‘Great. Sounds brill.’ And that’s that.

I hold my hands up and admit I’m a slave to my stomach. I also know he’s way too decorative, serious and sure of himself for me to ever hang out with. And I might be a teensy bit of a hypocrite too, accepting snacks from strangers I’d rather run a mile from in normal circumstances. But however off-hand he appears, Charlie Hobson has spilled a pile of proverbial beans, and I can’t help thinking there could be more he can tell me about my grandmother.

But by the time I’ve worked this lot out, Charlie’s long gone. And Diesel has relocated to the sofa with the best view down the beach.

5

In Laura’s flat at Seaspray Cottage

Real ale and home truths

Friday

‘So how about you, Clemmie, what’s your story?’

When Charlie arrives back he’s trundling a double-decker hammered metal trolley along the balcony on super-chunky industrial wheels. As I help him ease it through the living room doors I see it’s laden with everything he promised and more, plus hand glazed plates and mugs, and scarily spare cutlery that’s so on trend and triangular it’s hard to tell which are knives and which are forks. There’s also serviettes, fruit juices, and a cluster of chilled beer bottles, pebbled with condensation. It takes approximately ten seconds to load up our plates. Then as he sits down he drops in the question, and I immediately fill my mouth and the next half hour with so much eating that I can’t possibly answer.

I catch glimpses of him over the top of my crusty bread as I chew, and it flashes through my head that if he were on Tinder, every woman out there would swipe ‘Yes’. Including me. Which is way more ridiculous than it sounds, because I’d never go on Tinder. And who knows why the hell the ‘sexy’ word keeps flashing through my brain when there isn’t a suit anywhere in sight today.

‘Anyway, Clemmie,’ he says eventually, ‘are you going to tell me where you fit in at Seaspray Cottage? Or are you just going to swim off into the ocean and make me think eating a ploughman’s lunch on a patchwork sofa with a mermaid was all a dream?’

‘Me?’ I grab my fourth beer, wrench the top off and glug. ‘What’s this I’m drinking?’

He peers at the bottle. ‘They’re a mix. That one’s local brewery, Roaring Waves’ answer to a German Pils. But watch out, they have a tendency to make your legs disappear without warning.’ The low noise in his throat could almost be a laugh. ‘Although you’re probably used to that sensation.’

I almost drop my bottle. ‘Are you implying I get drunk a lot?’ He’s not getting away with that.

He shakes his head and blinks. ‘No, just meaning the way your legs and your mermaid’s tail are interchangeable.’ There’s that almost-smile playing around his lips. ‘For a mermaid settling on land, you couldn’t have found many flats closer to the sea than this one. I can’t understand why you wouldn’t want to stay.’

Even if he’s not laughing outwardly his tone is mocking. ‘Come on, I didn’t take the piss when you turned up with your high-end boys’ toy lunch wheelie.’ That has to be the most macho item ever, I’m betting he grabbed it from Groupon. That or he found it down the harbour and it’s meant for trundling fish around. ‘And while we’re on the subject of toys and size, please tell me you aren’t going to set up one of those monster Australian-style barbie’s on the balcony?’

He gives a sniff. ‘For someone uninvested, you’re coming over as very territorial.’

I screw up my face, and take another gulp of my drink. Considering I’m not a beer person, it’s going down very fast. ‘It all comes down to the “settling” thing. The word actually makes me shiver, that’s just how I’m wired. From the way I feel now, I’m guessing I’m destined to swim around the world forever.’

He pulls down the corners of his mouth as he gets up and strides towards the door. ‘How about cake to soak up the alcohol? I’ll see what I’ve got next door.’

I’m psyching myself up for a second feast on wheels, but when he comes back in he’s only carrying a plate. ‘No sweet trolley then?’

He gives a guilty shrug. ‘If there’s cake in the flat, I eat it. Two measly bits of chocolate brownie is all I could find. Sorry they’re so tiny.’

‘Small, but delicious.’ It must be the beer making me gush even though I’m trying to stick to understatement. The square I’m sinking my teeth into is dark, sticky and so delectably chocolatey it clogs my throat. And small is taking a man-sized view. I wave the remains of my pretty massive slice in the air as I struggle to talk through the cocoa haze. ‘It’s such a shame there’s no such thing as cake take-aways with home delivery. I’d always rather ring for gateaux than pizza.’

He narrows his eyes. ‘Gateaux in Cornwall? You’ll be lucky.’

‘Sorry, I’m mixing up my languages again.’ And coming across like an arse. ‘I just flew in from France.’ And now I’m sounding even worse.

His eyebrows lift. ‘Anywhere nice?’ At least he seems to be overlooking the pretentious prat part.

I try to play it down. ‘Only Paris.’

‘Quite a landlocked place for a mermaid.’ He sends me a sideways glance. ‘But, honestly, I can see why you’d rather be there than here.’

I smile at the recognition. ‘I make do with the rain instead of the sea. There’s nothing quite like wet city pavements shining with reflections from the street lights and the traffic. As soon as my job restarts I’ll be back there and loving it.’ I hesitate for a moment. ‘Gateaux and all.’

His frown is thoughtful. ‘In which case, maybe it’s a good time to mention – if ever you want to sell the flat, Diesel would love some extra space to expand into. Obviously, I’d be offering you a top price.’

As he hears his name Diesel’s tail thumps on the sofa cushions. It’s as if he’s adding his weight to what Charlie just said, while I’m struggling to believe what I just heard. I’m taking a breath, gathering my words to reply. If he was anyone else it would have to be ‘yes’ a thousand times over, for every reason. Let’s face it, before he turned up I’d just spent a full half-hour freaking out at the thought of an electricity bill so I’m not quite sure why my stomach feels like a popped balloon as I look out at the frill of the waves running up the beach. And then suddenly I get it.

‘So this explains it. You send your dog to eat my sandwich, so you can offer me lunch and muscle in on buying my flat?’ My voice is high with indignation. What’s more, I’m furious for allowing myself to eye him up when what he was really here for was to get his hands on Laura’s property.

He screws up his face. ‘Really, Clemmie, that’s not what happened.’

I let out a snort. ‘Fill me with beer then push through another of your deals? That’s low, even for lowlife like you.’

There’s a flash of pain in his eyes, then he takes a deep breath. ‘There was no pressure, I was simply trying to be helpful if that was what you wanted.’

‘Helpful my arse. That was pure opportunism.’ I’m not even sure it’s the right word. Worse still, I’ve got this sinking feeling I’m probably shooting myself in the foot here. But there’s something about the bare faced gall of the man that’s made me so angry. If he was the last punter in the world, at this moment I wouldn’t sell to him.

‘If you choose to see it that way, that’s your problem.’ He’s not even bothering to defend himself.

To reclaim some dignity, I go back to my best clipped office tones. ‘If there’s a sale, George will handle it, I’m sure you’ll be the first to know.’

He shakes his head. ‘We’ve already discussed how sharing George is.’ He just gives yet another sigh and carries on. ‘As I said before, the building needs work. We’ve got extensive roof repairs scheduled for autumn.’

I’m not sure why he’s telling me this now. ‘Great, I’ll cross my fingers it stays fine for you. Let’s hope you don’t get too much of that rain I was talking about earlier.’ I take another swig of beer. My excuse to myself for accepting lunch was to get information, and this far, apart from an offer to buy the flat which floored me, I’ve got approximately zilch. ‘Remind me who’s in the other flats?’

Charlie’s reply is fast and businesslike. ‘Two are let to short-term tenants, and two are let out through Airbnb to holiday makers.’

I’m frowning, tapping the bottle on my teeth, still not getting it. ‘All good. So, your point is?’

‘There’s not a lot left in your peppercorn rent pot after the balcony repairs. And the cost of the roof will be shared between all the flat owners.’ He’s drumming his fingers on the chair arm now. ‘So if you did plan to stay, I’m simply flagging up that you’ll need to find ten grand before the autumn.’

I gasp so hard I almost swallow the bottle as well as my next gulp of beer. ‘Ten grand?’ My bank account’s never seen that many noughts. As far as my finances go, I earn enough to get by, put a little aside, then I travel. Then I stop and work again. It’s called living in the moment, and this far, give or take a bit of juggling, it’s always worked out fine.

Charlie nods. ‘It’s not a huge amount, but you might need to dip into your capital.’ He’s talking like I’m loaded, and staring like I’m not keeping up. Which, to be fair, is right. ‘Capital, meaning your savings?’

The second he starts talking English again the penny drops. ‘Ah, those.’ Right now, I’ve probably got a couple of hundred to tide me over for when I move on from Paris. ‘Of course.’ It’s strangely levelling. One minute I’m struggling because I’ve got so many choices of what to do with the flat and I don’t know how to handle it. The next I’m fighting to keep it away from Charlie. Then I’m back to way worse – there is no choice, because the only option I can afford is to let it go. Except now I feel like I’ve had something huge taken away from me. Which I know is a ridiculous way to feel, when only a couple of days ago I wasn’t even going to bother to visit the place.

Charlie’s face gets the closest to a smile I’ve seen today. ‘My point is, you’ll have plenty of savings if a sale goes through. Subject to tax liability, obviously.’ Yet another downside to entertaining a ‘decorative developer’ in your living room. If he carries on like this, we’ll be onto mortgages in no time.

I’m about to put my hands over my ears when there’s a clatter out on the landing.

‘Clemmie, we’re early … we brought bubbly …’ As the door pushes open, there’s a hollow boom, and a cork shoots past my nose.

6

In Laura’s flat at Seaspray Cottage

Cotton wool and feisty talk

Friday

As Charlie dashes off along the balcony, insistent on going for ‘proper’ champagne glasses, it only takes one half-raised eyebrow from Nell before Diesel’s slinking down from the sofa and turning circles on a rug. Sophie settles Milla and Maisie into his place, then flops down beside them herself

I’m counting on my fingers as I snaffle one of Milla’s banana chips. ‘Aren’t you two short here, Soph?’

‘Nate’s taken Marco and Matilde.’ She sneaks a look at her phone. ‘Let’s see, they’ve got Water Polo, then they’re going on to Spanish for Smalls and taster Tinies’ Yoga.’ Seeing these two have barely hit nursery, her ‘what the heck’ expression is probably entirely justified. ‘So how’s it going here?’

Nell’s staring at me in awe. ‘Swimmingly, I’d say. You didn’t mess about, Clemmie.’

I pull a face. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’ Claiming ‘the dog ate my sandwich’ is too close to those lame excuses for lost homework. I try another tack. ‘Charlie happens to live next door, he dropped round with lunch and an offer to buy the flat.’

‘How lucky is that?’ Nell asks.

Sophie’s less impressed. ‘What the eff does he think he’s playing at?’ She looks like she’s about to explode.

I give a shrug. ‘You can ask him yourself, he’s here with his flutes as we speak.’ As I take the slender glasses from him and put them on the table I’m telling it like it is. ‘There can’t be many neighbours in St Aidan who will wheel in lunch and be happy to share their crystal, then try to buy your home before you’ve even had chance to move in.’ We might as well bring this into the open.

Sophie flashes him a disgusted glance then fixes him with one of those stares of hers that bore right through you. ‘So, are you going to explain yourself, Charlie?’

His gaze flicks over all of us. ‘Now might not be the best time. I’ll leave you to drink your fizz in peace. Things to do, places to be, and all that.’

‘I bet you bloody have.’ Sophie growls as he trundles the trolley towards the door and calls Diesel.

Plum peeps into the kitchen, then comes over to pour. ‘The flat’s as much of a gem as Sophie told us. Small, yet perfectly formed.’

Nell narrows her eyes as she passes round the fizz. ‘As said by the woman who has an entire chandlery to rattle around in. It couldn’t be more cosy, but five of us just arrived and you can barely tell we’re here.’ A grin spreads across her face between sips. ‘It would be fab for more intimate singles’ evenings.’ Since she’s taken charge of the club, Nell sees every venue, public or private, in terms of its party potential.

Plum sniffs. ‘Probably why Mr Hobnob Holdings can’t wait to get his hands on it. No doubt he’d want to rip the guts out of the place.’

‘Ewww.’ The thought of workmen with sledgehammers smashing Laura’s lovely coloured walls makes me wince. Although it might have been a less dramatic reaction if I’d had more food and less beer. That’s the trouble with lunchtime drinking. It makes me so thirsty my fizz barely touches the sides before it’s gone.

Sophie’s eyes flash. ‘It doesn’t have to be like that, Clemmie. You don’t have to accept.’

I sigh. ‘I damn well won’t sell to him, but I might have to sell to someone. He’s explained the situation. If I keep the flat I need to find a bomb to fund joint repairs.’

Nell cocks her head. ‘Exactly what size incendiary device are we talking here?’ The accountant in her always insists on the price down to the last penny.

I hesitate and lean forward for a refill. ‘Ten grand by September. Maybe more.’ That thought is enough for me to down my next glass too.

‘Shit.’ Plum lets out a whistle. ‘In that case you’re probably stuffed.’ It’s not mean, she’s simply taking a realistic view of my finances. She understands because she stretched to the limit and then some to get the gallery going.

Sophie shakes her head. ‘Not so fast. You and Plum might not be best friends with your bank managers, but Nell and I are better placed.’ Her multi-million turnover can blind her to what real life’s like for the rest of us.

Nell looks thoughtful. ‘We could tide you over?’

I blow in frustration. ‘It’s awesome of you to offer, but even if I wanted to keep the flat, I couldn’t accept. I’d have no hope of paying back a loan that big on what I earn.’

‘Can your mum help?’ Plum knows we’re on shaky ground here.

I pull a face. ‘When Mum and Harry laughingly call their trip the “Spend the Inheritance Tour” it’s not a joke. They’re volunteering, but it’s the kind you pay for.’ My mum was always sensitive about me getting this place, but at least it gave her the green light to enjoy her savings. They plan to spend the lot while they’re fit enough, see the countries she never got to because I came along. ‘This is the last place I’d ask them to change their plans for.’

Nell pulls a face. ‘Leave it with us. If there’s a way to keep you here, we’ll think of it.’

I’m biting my thumbnail as I agonise, because I don’t want to lead them on. ‘I probably do want to sell, because I can’t think how the hell things would work otherwise. But it would be nice to have a choice.’ I can’t remember being anywhere that made me feel so instantly secure and comfortable. I know I’ll always be a wanderer, but it would still be amazing to keep this place as a safe haven. Although that’s probably not a luxury my empty bank account will run to.

Sophie lets out a snort. ‘You can’t be backed into a corner by a man with a hostess trolley, even if he does have beautiful glasses.’ She holds her flute up to the light, then finishes the half-inch of fizz she accepted. ‘So are we going to make a move? I’m taking this lot home for supper, if you’re hungry?’

Nell grins. ‘Or even better, come with Plum and I on the Singles’ All the Sixes evening. That’s six bars in six hours.’

After so many bottles of real ale I can’t think of anything worse. ‘Since when did you want a boyfriend, Plum?’ We’ve always been the two who are entirely happy on our own.

She laughs. ‘Definitely not looking for one of those, but Nell’s pub crawls are too good to miss.’

As I stand up and stretch, my head feels like it’s filled with cotton wool. ‘I’d barely begun to look around when Diesel and Charlie arrived. Maybe I should stay here tonight.’ Note to self: getting pissed in the afternoon and ending up a prisoner in the attic is off-the-scale bad. But at least this way I avoid staggering down two flights of stairs when my legs feel like they belong to someone else, and I get out of a night out with the dreaded Singles’ Club. That’s a result all round. Although I have to admit my half-drunken self is feeling a sudden pang for what I’m about to give up here. ‘Make the most of it while I can, and all that?’

Nell frowns at me. ‘For one time only, we’ll let you off the singles’ event. So long as you have us all round for brunch tomorrow.’

Plum’s staring out of the doors to the balcony. ‘Good idea. I’m missing this view already and I haven’t left yet.’