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

Somehow the parade of wooden penguins has migrated from the living room shelf to the kitchen table. Okay, they didn’t move on their own, it was me. That’s another thing I’ve remembered. Laura used to move them around. I pick one up and rub its white painted stomach. ‘Nell definitely deserves a second chance to find her special penguin.’

Plum’s eyes light up at the reference. ‘Oh my, remember Drew Barrymore and Never Been Kissed? How many times did we watch that film when we were teenagers?’

I laugh. ‘Enough times to know the scenes off by heart. And for you and me to decide the bit about spending our lives looking for one penguin to stay with forever with was bollocks.’

She wrinkles her nose. ‘Josie Geller getting her penguin at the end was still one of the best movie snogs ever.’

‘Even though I’d hate to be tied down personally, it still gives me teenage goosebumps when I think about it.’ It’s great to be able to admit this to Plum and know she won’t ever try to hook me up with anyone. ‘So what’s the story with George? How come he isn’t press ganged into going to Nell’s events?’ I may as well ask now we’re here. Then we’ve covered everything.

She laughs. ‘George goes his own way; we all gave up on him years ago.’ She adds the empty bowl to the huge stack next to the sink and slides the last dish into the freezer. ‘So what’s next? Shall we clear away, then go for the booze?’

I turn on the tap. ‘Good idea. At least with washing up and Gin Fizz, I’m back in my comfort zone.’

Plum picks up a tea towel. ‘And there can’t be too many sinks in the world with a view straight out to sea. Which is a good thing, because looking at the number of dishes, we’re going to be here forever.’

It turns out that she’s right. By the time we get back from town it’s late afternoon. We’re on the landing letting ourselves into the flat, when the door across the way swings open.

‘Charlie, lovely to see you.’ I’m over compensating here. He’s the last person I want to meet when our bags are clinking with enough gin and soda for twenty, plus helpers.

‘Diesel and I thought you might like some tea?’

I’m kicking myself for staring at his bare feet and tanned ankles. ‘Errrr …’ My mouth gapes. As I try to work out the best excuse I let my eyes rise, and notice he’s carrying a loaded tray.

He’s too quick for me. ‘Great, it’s all ready, and we have brownies. Just showing there’s no hard feelings after yesterday. I’ll grab another mug for Plum.’

I pull a face at Plum as he disappears. ‘Because obviously the six shelves of mugs at ours won’t be enough.’ As for who’s the hard feelings are, he doesn’t say. I’m guessing if he was the one apologising, he’d come out and say it. In which case this is him saying he’s forgiven me for calling him an ‘opportunist’. Or was it an ‘arse’? I refuse to be forgiven for telling the truth, so those brownies had better be amazing, or it could all kick off again.

‘He probably wants all the mugs to match.’ She drops her voice to a hiss. ‘And while he’s around, it might be a good idea to come clean about tonight.’

I glance at my phone and my stomach leap frogs. ‘Shit, three hours from now they’ll be arriving.’ As I look through into the living room and imagine twenty guests filing in from the landing my squeak rises to a shriek. ‘How the hell will they all fit in? There’s nowhere near enough chairs for everyone, it’s going to be like playing Sardines.’

Plum sniffs. ‘Maybe Nell has over extended with the numbers, but with the singles’ the more they’re squashed the better they like it.’ She winks at me. ‘Close encounters and all that.’

‘Whatever floats their boats.’ I shudder at that thought, then hold the door open for Charlie as he wanders back across, with Diesel two steps behind. ‘Let’s have tea in the kitchen.’ I’m saying it so often it’s feeling like a habit. This way we avoid Diesel dropping chocolate crumbs on the rug, and I can take a look in the freezer while we’re there.

As Charlie pours the tea and offers the cakes round I whisk a brownie off the plate and sink my teeth into the dark sticky slab. After a few minutes of cocoa swoon, I screw up my courage to speak. ‘So I’m having a few people over this evening.’ I’d planned to sound brighter and more airy, but my throat is clogged with chocolate. As I point to the embarrassingly large cluster of Gordon’s bottles poking out of the carrier bags and amble across to the freezer, it strikes me I need to make it clear he’s not getting an invitation. ‘Gin and home-made sweets for some very, very, very close friends.’ Okay, I’m only bragging about the ‘home-made’ thing because I’m over the effing moon with what we’ve pulled off here. And hopefully he’ll get that the ‘close’ bit excludes pushy neighbours. As I open the freezer door a crack, I’m praying the jammed-in dishes don’t dislodge and come cascading out.

‘Sounds like a chilled kind of evening.’ Charlie’s giving Diesel a bone shaped biscuit from the tray. ‘By the way, I’m not being mean with the brownies, but chocolate’s bad for dogs.’

‘All the more for me then. Excuse me a sec, I’ll just check on the sorbets.’ That’s another sentence I’d never planned to say in my entire life ever. Feeling very like someone else’s mother – obviously not mine, as she doesn’t cook – I lift the cling film and peer into the raspberry mixture. ‘This looks a bit weird, I was expecting it to be solid.’ I’m already regretting my boast. As I stick my finger in and find it’s still as runny as when we put it in, I let out a scream. ‘Waaaaahhhh, it’s still liquid, this can’t be right?’ I turn to Plum.

Plum blinks at her phone. ‘How long’s it been in?’

It feels like hours. ‘It froze solid in half this time when we tried it out at Sophie’s.’

She comes and pokes at the others. ‘Shit, none of it’s anywhere near frozen.’ As she purses her lips her eyes are popping out. ‘There’s no way this is going to be ready for tonight.’

Charlie’s frowning over his tea mug. It’s hand thrown, with grey and blue and white in random stripes. Plum was right, they’re all a teensy bit different but essentially they do all match. In the most on-trend, guy-type of a way. Which kind of suggests he’d fit in very well with a proper ‘Waitrose’ woman. ‘Anything I can help with?’

I send him my most ironic beam. ‘Seriously, I doubt it. Not unless you can explain why an entire sodding freezer full of sodding sorbet is sloppy when it should be frozen?’

He looks like he’s holding back one of those cough-laughs of his. ‘I think you just answered your own question there.’

‘Well thanks a lot, that’s really helpful.’ As I look at his superior sneer something inside me snaps. I don’t even care that I’m shouting. ‘I’ve got no effing idea when the hell I’m doing here. All I know is in a couple of hours a whole load of people are going to descend on me expecting to eat sorbet, and this far all I’ve got to offer them is smoothies. So, unless you’ve got something useful to say, cut the jokes please.’

His lips are twitching. ‘Hang on, there’s no need for a full-scale melt down.’ His smirk’s gone now. ‘What I meant is, if you put a massive amount of food into a freezer it’ll take longer to freeze than a small amount, that’s all. It’s the laws of physics.’

Physics? ‘Still not helpful.’

‘But maybe I can help. I do have an industrial size freezer next door. That should chill your sorbets to perfection in no time.’

‘What?’ Now I am listening. Somehow it’s no surprise he’s got this kind of kit. A freezer like that could save me here, but before I get my hopes up I need to check that it’s not just more bullshit. ‘Just a minute. How did you get one of those up the stairs? Or even fit it into the flat?’

He’s back to looking super pleased with himself without actually smiling. ‘My flat’s a lot bigger than yours. And the builders craned the fridges in when they were doing the balcony work.’ He pauses for a second. ‘It’s got a fast freeze option.’

I feel like my fairy godmother’s flying over the area. ‘Really?’ This time I don’t bother hiding my enthusiasm.

‘It’s a shame you weren’t here, or we could have craned a new one in for you too.’

Oh my days. ‘I’m not sure I’ve actually got the room.’ The man is so out of touch. If I’m having to flog sorbets to pay for roof work, I’m damn sure I can’t afford super-sized fridges. What’s worse, when I look around for a space to put anything tall, the kitchen suddenly feels minute rather than cosy.

‘So …’ He’s staring at me expectantly. ‘What are we waiting for?’

Plum sends me a ‘WTF?’ grin as she slides some trays out from the gap beside the dresser. ‘Best not waste valuable chilling time.’

I know I secretly vowed never to set foot next door, or talk to the neighbour, let alone accept favours from him. But sometimes a situation is so desperate you can’t hold on to your principles. And this is one of those times.

9

In the flat next door

Fur balls and shaggy rugs

Monday afternoon

‘There you go. I can pretty much promise your sorbets will be ready by the time your friends get here.’ Charlie swings the giant freezer door closed. ‘Don’t forget to come for them in good time. They’ll need twenty minutes to soften up again before serving.’

When he implied his freezer was enormous he was seriously understating. As for his flat, it seems like the top floor of Seaspray Cottage has been divided into ‘minute’ and ‘effing enormous’. And no prizes for guessing which half he’s got. Or how the whole beautiful backdrop of perfection only makes him look ten times more magazine-ready than he does anyway.

The space I’m staring round at is humungous, and there’s so much wall to wall white and natural wool and hewn wood I’m guessing he’s used the same super-expensive decorators as Nate and Sophie. Although the flashes of stainless steel and hi-gloss in his kitchen area are a masculine variation. Instead of being flat like Laura’s, the ceilings rise up to follow the roof line, and the roof lights punched through them let the sun flood in and outline spectacular rectangles of blue sky. It’s all a bit stark and startling for me, but Diesel has flopped in the centre of a massive grey rug almost as shaggy as he is, so at least someone’s relaxed into it.

‘So now your sorbets are in safe hands, how about a tour?’ Charlie looking pleased with himself is probably justified, although how he does that without the ear to ear grin the rest of us would use is anyone’s guess.

I try to force my face into a less bemused expression. ‘You mean there’s more?’ The room we’re standing in has to be at least the size of a football pitch. I’ve no idea why Diesel needs exercise when he lives here. A walk from one side of the kitchen living room to the other probably equals more steps than I do in a week. I shiver as I imagine Charlie and his wrecking ball approach to restoration obliterating the flat next door too. Realistically, compared to this it might provide him with enough space for a tie store.

He’s poised to go. ‘There are bedrooms, en suites, and acres more living area. I thought you’d be interested to see the different aspects?’

I’m feeling speechless enough as it is. More of the same and I might not recover. As for the way his ripped jeans are pulling across his thighs, there’s no way I can see where he sleeps and keep my thoughts clean. I can’t afford distractions like that when I need to focus on tonight’s very important job.

‘We’re good, thanks.’ I catch Plum’s scowl as her Converse collides with my heel and adjust my answer. ‘Some other time maybe … perhaps when Nell’s here?’ Hopefully that’ll satisfy Plum. Realistically, if Mr H makes Nell glow, when she sees his flat she’ll illuminate. Or maybe even explode entirely. I know I almost have.

As Plum wanders forwards, it’s obvious she’s going to make the most of her visit by exploring to the max, no holding back. When she reaches the hewn wood island unit her eyebrows shoot upwards. ‘Wow, look at these.’ She’s so far away by now I need binoculars to see what she’s talking about.

Charlie shakes his head. ‘You spotted my clutter. Everything’s supposed to be in cupboards, but somehow I can’t bear to put those little guys in the drawer.’

Plum’s yelling down the room at me. ‘Penguins, Clemmie, in a little line. Just like some others we know. How funny is that?’

Not at all, I’d say. ‘Very Josie Geller.’ That’s as much as I’m giving her.

Charlie’s eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. ‘Another Never Been Kissed fan?’

‘Shit.’

Plum recovers from the implications faster than I do. ‘You know that film too?’

He rolls his eyes to the roof window and a passing cloud. ‘Growing up with four sisters it goes with the territory. And let me guess, you can recite every line too?’

Worse and worse. Luckily, Plum’s under the spotlight for this one. ‘Too right.’

I know it. Any minute now we’ll be on to the final scene. Discussing that snog here would be beyond cringeworthy. I jump in. ‘So, remind me why the hell you want to buy the flat next door, when you’ve already got one this massive?’ As subject changes go, it’s a country mile away from anywhere I’d intended to go. But anything’s better than standing on Mr Hobson’s shag pile reliving Drew Barrymore getting her knickers pashed off to a Beach Boys soundtrack.

Charlie blinks, and curls up his toes as he considers. ‘I’m going to level with you here, Clemmie. Wanting to buy flat next door is less about the space, and more for the sake of completion. I’m very focused and hugely patient. However long I have to wait, I always get what I want in the end.’

I take it back. At least if we’d stuck to Josie Geller and tongues down throats I’d have understood. Whereas what he said there is developer-talk that makes no sense at all, served with a side order of bloody mindedness. And even if he is freezing my sorbets, I’m still determined when it comes to Laura’s flat he’s not going to get whatever completion he’s after.

He picks up my reticence and changes tack. ‘Actually I need a home entertainment space. That would be a great addition to any penthouse.’ If he knew how ‘Hugh Heffner’ he sounds, he might not say that.

As for Plum, she’s left us to it and gone off on a hike right past the kitchen and she’s already halfway across the dining area beyond. Much longer, she’ll be a dot on the horizon. ‘Hey, is that a cat?’ She’s always been the same, in situations like this she can be such an embarrassment. ‘Talk about adorable. Come and see his eyes, Clemmie, they’re completely China blue.’

Far from resenting the intrusion, Charlie’s lapping it up. ‘That’s Pancake, my mum’s Ragdoll, and she’s actually a girl. She’s staying for a couple of nights while my mum’s away.’

However frosty I feel towards Charlie right now, when it comes to a pale fawn fluff ball, my reservations go straight out the window. Despite my heels skidding across the polished boards, I run the length of the room. As I arrive panting next to Plum, my insides squish. ‘Wow, how cute are you?’ Obviously, I’m talking to the cat here. No question, Pancake’s adorable, especially when she looks up from the grey wool designer cushion she’s curled up on and allows us to scratch her head. ‘So how do she and Diesel get on?’

Charlie pulls a face as he sidles up to us. ‘They have their moments. So long as Pancake stays in her sun patch, Diesel leaves her alone. Lucky for me, she doesn’t move much.’ He sniffs. ‘Now you’ve got this far, why not let me show you the rest? Then you’ll understand how well the top floor would work as one space.’

I ignore Plum’s imploring look. ‘Sorry, we really do have loads to do.’ Drinking Darjeeling with a barefoot neighbour in my kitchen is bad enough. Being exposed to his bed linen and his waterfall bath taps is a bridge too far. Especially when he’s so blatant about coveting my bit. And that’s before we get to how hot he is. I set my sights on the distant door and start to march, and three steps later I hear Plum shuffling behind me, then the thump of Diesel’s tail on the rug as I storm past him.

Charlie’s calling after us as we spill out onto the landing. ‘Any time you’re ready for the sorbets help yourselves … the door’s always open. Feel free to use the ice maker too.’ One man and his industrial fridges. You have to laugh at guys and their gadgets, even when they are saving your proverbial bacon. It goes without saying I’d rather be using any other freezer in St Aidan.

As we reach the kitchen, Plum grins at me. ‘What a nice man, he’s left us the chocolate brownies.’

As I sink my teeth into my third slice, I can’t help feeling I’m being bought here. ‘Nice guy my bum. If he’d said about making this flat into a bloody gaming room earlier, I’d have taken the damn sorbets somewhere else.’

Plum laughs. ‘You know that’s bollocks, Clems.’

And the annoying thing is, she’s right.

10

In Laura’s flat. Laura’s Lovely Sorbets Evening

Soft scoops and quiz nights

Monday

Two hours later, it’s all hands on deck for the mermaids. The plan is for Nell to meet up with the Sorbet Singles at the Surf Shack, then bring them along the beach and up the stairs altogether. Sophie’s dashing in and out to the balcony, rearranging cushions, enthusing about the sunset, trying to be the first to see the group arriving. Because that’s how driven and ‘in charge’ she is. And Plum and I are sloshing gin into big jugs, prodding sorbet dishes, and running from window to window in between squeezing lemons and slicing limes. ‘Nice dress,’ Plum says, trying to distract me as she clinks ice cubes into glasses. ‘And I love the lippy.’

I’ve swapped my navy and white office spots for my favourite floaty flowers. And for my lips I’ve ignored the clash with my hair and picked my cranberry rose to complement the jewel colours of the flat. And it’s ‘matte all-day’, because something tells me this is going to be a very long night. But I’m so scared, I reckon I stopped breathing at least half an hour ago. ‘Cool dungarees,’ I croak back, checking the lines of waiting bowls and glasses on the table for the hundredth time, and shuffling the waiting baskets of mint leaf and fruit garnish. Even though she has more pairs of overalls than there are days of the year, Plum’s the only one who can tell the difference. Obviously, the nuances are in the rips and the paint stains. I pinch myself one final time to check that I’m not in the middle of a bad dream. ‘This really is happening, isn’t it?’

Plum comes over and pulls me into a hug so tight her dungaree buttons make imprints on my boobs. ‘Don’t worry, Laura’s sorbets are amazing. It’s all going to be fab.’

Then Sophie’s shouting from the living room. ‘They’re here! Go, go, go! Pop the soda and bring out the fizz!’

I know I’m the drinks person. But when I have the first tray loaded and pick it up the glasses are rattling so badly due to my shaking that Plum takes pity and wrestles it from me.

I’m patting her back as I follow her through into the living room. ‘Oh my gosh, we forgot music.’

She grins at me over her shoulder. ‘Chill, Clemmie. Put on your vintage French mix, say “Hi”, then as soon as everyone’s got drinks we’ll make a start on the sorbets.’

Which is how I end up waving an endless stream of strangers in through the door, blinking at the blur of names as they file past. Did I really hear Dakota? And marvelling at their chorus of ‘Wows’. All to the accompaniment of Charles Trenet singing ‘Boum!’.

‘Great tune.’ Nell’s waggling her eyebrows as she comes up the rear, translating as she squeezes in behind a hunk in a Hawaiian shirt. ‘When our hearts go “boum”, love wakes up. The way everyone’s hearts are banging after all those stairs, this could turn out to be a very amorous evening.’

I can’t take the credit. ‘It’s a total lucky fluke.’

‘No such thing.’ She lifts a Gin Fizz from Plum’s tray as she wedges herself in the only spare square millimetre between my favourite velvet chair and the patchwork sofa. ‘And here’s to a great evening.’

As a measure of how full the living room is, a game of Sardines would seem like a luxury. I wriggle my way back to the kitchen trying not to notice how many toes I step on along the way, then begin scooping sorbet into glasses. We’re serving three courses, the first in plain glasses, the next in a variety of pretty glass bowls, and the third in Laura’s colourful selection of tea cups. I’m concentrating so hard on getting my scoops even that somewhere between the tenth scoop of blurry red strawberry, and the fortieth scoop of ice green mint and cucumber I actually forget to worry. By the time I’ve added teaspoons and a sage sprig to all of them, I’m almost enjoying myself. The second I finish Sophie whisks them onto trays, and she’s off.

By the time I’ve collapsed against the work surface, and gulped down a glass of soda, she’s back again, with an encouraging smile.

‘You can tell by the silence how well the sorbet’s going down. I’ve opened the balcony doors to let the breeze in, but roped it off so people don’t wander out.’ She pulls down the corners of her mouth. ‘I know Charlie’s being a sweetheart with his ice-maker, but he won’t want singles gatecrashing his quiet evening in.’

I join her by the kitchen doorway and together we peep out at the guests. A woman with cropped blonde hair, a teensy waist and a yard of bare midriff snakes her arm around the Hawaiian-shirted shoulders of the guy I saw coming in. As she leans towards his sorbet spoon with her mouth wide open, I grin at Sophie.

‘I guess it very much depends who’s wandering into Charlie’s flat. If someone friendly like her walked in off his balcony I can’t see him grumbling.’

Plum laughs as she arrives with her own empty tray. ‘Jealous?’

‘Too right.’ I have to admit it. ‘I’d kill for a waist that small.’

Plum’s straight back at me with a teasing nudge. ‘I wasn’t talking about her.’

Sophie frowns. ‘She doesn’t look twenty, let alone twenty-five. Although I’m guessing Nell wouldn’t have let her come if she wasn’t. She’s very strict with her age criteria.’

Plum nods at the couple. ‘What did I say about close encounters? If things carry on there you’ll be in line for a “cupid” award on your first night.’

‘A what?’ It sounds horribly as if an assessment’s involved.

Sophie smiles. ‘Don’t look so nervous. Nell awards a “cupid” whenever a get-together ends up with a “get together”. It’s part prestige, part statistical. Apparently, it’s a great way of working out how effective events are.’

Since we were small, Nell’s always turned every activity into an opportunity for calculations. When we collected shells on the beach as three year olds, while the rest of us piled them in buckets and on sand castles, Nell was counting them. It’s strange how our personalities showed so strongly when we were young. By the time we were five Plum was drawing everything in sight and Sophie was organising anything that moved. There was a time when we were teenagers when we thought that she was so brilliant that we were holding her back. But then we worked out she needed us to boss about as much as we needed her to sort us out. Out of all of us, I’m the only one who never showed a talent for anything in particular. I might have travelled a long way in miles, but I’ve made very little progress with my life. Although I’d never admit it to the mermaids, it’s sad that I’ve never been good at anything.

Plum gives a sigh. ‘Nell actually has “Cupid” award league tables.’

‘Please tell me you’re joking?’ I groan, although realistically it needn’t bother me with my one-off evening.

Plum shakes her head. ‘Not at all. In fact, the regular events with the highest cupid scores are always the most popular. For obvious reasons.’