The Cornish Cream Tea 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.