The Cornish Cream Tea Bus

‘You’ll be done by then?’ Charlie bit her lip, not daring to hope.

‘Scheduled to finish a week today, as we agreed. But these progress checks are good for both of us. Not to mention seeing this guy.’ He crouched, and Marmite scampered forward on his lead. Pete laughed as he was covered in puppy licks.

‘It’s looking brilliant, Pete,’ she said when he and Marmite had finished their love-in.

‘You wait until it’s finished. It’ll blow your mind.’

Once they’d said goodbye, Charlie stepped outside into a brisk, sunny day. Pete’s garage was close to the sea, which gleamed invitingly in shades of cobalt and aquamarine, the waves nothing more than ruffles on the surface. Seagulls cawed overhead and there was a sweetness to the air that spoke of spring and sunshine and the bliss of the summer to come. And this summer was going to include one very special addition, launching on the May bank holiday weekend. She just hoped that Cornwall was ready for it.

Charlie spent Friday morning turning Juliette and Lawrence’s kitchen into a cake factory. She had been working hard on tempting treats to delight her new customers, although the standard Cornish cream tea – with jam before cream, of course – would be the foundation of her menu. Today she was trying out scones with chocolate chips, a savoury version with red onion and cheddar, and a lightly spiced mix that she would serve with a cardamom and lime cream. But the kitchens in both The Café on the Hill and her parents’ house were at least three times the size of Juliette’s, and within an hour she had various bowls of mix and trays of cooling scones covering every surface.

Marmite, Ray and Benton had been shut in the front room with Juliette, who was working on the marketing for a new restaurant in Truro. Her dog had expressed his disappointment at not being allowed to help, but Charlie was glad of the freedom to make a complete mess all by herself. Her timer went off and she opened the oven door, a wave of heat hitting her face. She pulled the tray of choc-chip scones out, the chocolate bubbling in places, and searched for a surface to put them on.

The doorbell rang, and she heard Juliette call out that she’d get it. Charlie was wondering whether she could balance the tray on top of the mixer tap when she was distracted by the patter of tiny paws.

Marmite yelped as he skidded on the flour-strewn tiles.

‘Marmite, no,’ she said, raising the tray of scones above her head as he bounced up at her. And then Ray and Benton appeared. Ray leapt onto the table and dipped his paw into a bowl of spicy scone mix. ‘Ray, please,’ she said, ‘you can’t eat that.’ She scooped the cat up with her free hand, his long Siamese body dangling limply like a soft toy. Benton started to lick the flour from the floor, and Marmite decided that playing with the Persian’s tail was the most fun he could have, even though it had earned him a swipe or two already. ‘Shit.’ Charlie edged around the fight on the floor and made it to the corridor just as Juliette appeared.

‘That was only the post, but I …’ She stopped, her eyes widening as she took in the carnage, and then wordlessly took Ray out of Charlie’s arms.

She leaned on the doorframe, her shoulders shaking.

‘What?’ Charlie asked. ‘To create real culinary art requires great sacrifice.’

‘You’re sacrificing my kitchen?’ Juliette managed, her laughter no longer silent.

‘I’m not used to being so … contained.’

Juliette stared at her, then at Benton and Marmite tussling on the floor, and then at Ray, stalking off down the corridor, leaving floury paw prints in his wake. ‘Charlie,’ she said, ‘you’re about to open a café on a bus. I know you won’t be baking from scratch there, but you can’t get much more contained than that.’

This thought had been a constant niggle in Charlie’s head. ‘Fair point,’ she replied.

‘Anyway. Carry on. Marmite! Benton! This way.’ Her voice was sharp, and the pets stopped their fight and skittered out of the kitchen. As Juliette left, giving Charlie a winning smile, she took a chocolate-chip scone from the tray. ‘I’ll let you know what I think.’

‘Thank you,’ Charlie called, and then turned back to survey the mess. She remembered one of Hal’s mantras: If you find yourself on a sticky wicket, just stop. Stop, breathe, take a moment to compose yourself and then try again. There is nothing that can’t be overcome if you believe in yourself enough. She did believe in herself, and she believed in her bus. She dusted off her floury hands, and got back to her baking.

On Saturday morning, with her friends’ kitchen restored to its original beauty, Charlie, Juliette and Marmite headed purposefully out of the house. Charlie had set up social media accounts for her new business venture, but as Gertie had been approved a pitch on the beach, she thought it only right to approach the other business owners in the village face to face. Besides, there was nothing better than word of mouth, and she had already established that some of the locals were suspicious of her and her bus. Instagram wasn’t going to help her build those bridges.

‘You didn’t have to come,’ she said to Juliette as they made their way down the hill. It was a fresh day, the sea sparkling as it was whipped up by the wind, and Charlie was glad she’d worn a warm jumper. ‘It’s not like Porthgolow’s huge.’

Juliette shrugged. ‘Lawrence had to work at the last minute, and I could have stayed inside ruing our missed trip to Penzance, or I can come with you instead and be useful.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s OK.’ Juliette waved her concern away with a hand. ‘We always knew he’d have to be flexible, and lots of the work is at weekends. Anyway, you can’t tackle this whole place on your own.’

Charlie was about to reply when Amanda Kerr, Jonah’s mum, intercepted them on the seafront.

‘Hi girls,’ she said, slightly out of breath. ‘How are you?’

‘Good thanks, Amanda.’ Juliette replied. ‘We were coming to see you, actually.’ She glanced at Charlie to continue.

‘We wanted to tell you about The Cornish Cream Tea Bus.’ It was the first time she’d spoken the name aloud to someone other than Juliette, Lawrence or Pete.

Amanda frowned. ‘What’s that, then?’

‘My bus,’ Charlie continued, feeling a stab of uncertainty. ‘The one I drove down in. It’s getting a makeover, coming back to Porthgolow as The Cornish Cream Tea Bus. We thought, as a fellow business owner here, you should know about it. We’re having a grand opening on the beach next weekend.’

‘Based here?’

‘For the time being,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll spend some time travelling round, but it’ll be parked on the beach over the summer. Serving a selection of sweet and savoury treats, hot drinks—’

Amanda groaned and pushed her dark curls away from her face. ‘So there’ll be somewhere in the village we can buy a decent coffee? God. Hugh is a sweetheart, but he doesn’t open until eleven and his machine makes some fancy kind of instant. You have no idea how many times I’ve come off the boat with numb fingers, dying for a hot, sweet latte. Jonah said you were an asset to the village, and he does go over the top, but on this occasion he might be right. Grand opening next Saturday? The Kerr family will be there, don’t you worry.’ She squeezed Charlie’s shoulder and walked away.

Charlie waited until Amanda was out of earshot, then squealed and grabbed Juliette’s hand, bouncing up and down so that Marmite got overexcited and wrapped himself up in his lead. ‘She’s coming! They all are! That’s five people, Jules, even if Jem is only two. Let’s split up. Which direction do you want to go in?’

Charlie wasn’t surprised when Juliette said she would work her way round the south side of the village, towards the jetty and The Seven Stars. Charlie was a bit disappointed – she had been intrigued by Jonah’s story, and had wanted to see Reenie for herself; though not because she believed for one second she was an ex-mermaid. Charlie didn’t know that she wasn’t a business owner, and it would surely be a courtesy to tell her about the village’s new café.

But Charlie didn’t think asking Juliette to have a civil conversation with Daniel was a recipe for success, and besides, Charlie might have been intrigued about Reenie, but she was equally keen to see Daniel again, not to mention the inside of his luxurious spa hotel.

The walk up Porthgolow’s north cliff was calf-crunchingly steep, and by the time she had reached the top, there was a trickle of sweat running down her back. She’d also had to carry Marmite for the last bit because he’d started whining, and he was a lot heavier than he looked, especially when scaling such a severe hill.

She found a gate built into the stone wall and pushed it open. A chalky, golden path meandered through gravel interspersed with shrubs and herbs, and there were solar lights spaced along the paving slabs for when it got dark. It smelt fresh and aromatic, and Marmite scrabbled to be put down so he could investigate.

The path wound its way round to the sliding glass doors and the bay trees that Charlie had noticed on her journey into the village. She peered into the wide, polished foyer, and the doors opened. A woman stood behind the pale stone reception desk, her dark hair pulled into a neat ponytail, her high cheekbones expertly defined with pearlescent blusher. Their eyes met, and then the woman saw Marmite.

‘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.’