The Cornish Cream Tea Bus: Part Two – The Éclair Affair. Cressida McLaughlin
with other traders; one of those people who managed to build a community despite doing something transient. But she would like to see him again. He was good company – and now they had travelling food businesses in common.
‘I saw Daniel today,’ she said, deftly changing the subject, although her feelings about him were even less straightforward and, by the look on Juliette’s face, she wasn’t the only one. ‘He was promoting Crystal Waters, though I don’t think he was supposed to be there, he just popped in and … what is it about him, Jules? I get that he’s smug and overconfident, but that wouldn’t normally be enough for you to be so utterly opposed to someone.’
‘He’s selfish, and he’s shitty about everything.’
‘But is he really like that? What has he done, other than run a luxury hotel on the cliff and not spend a huge amount of time in the village? Marmite rushed in and destroyed a very expensive display, and he would have been well within his rights to be furious with me, or at the very least get me to pay for the damages, but he just teased me. That doesn’t fall under the banner of “shitty about everything”, so what has he done to you?’
‘It’s what he hasn’t done that’s the crime.’
‘What hasn’t he done, then? God, Jules, don’t be so exasperating!’
‘He didn’t use me for his marketing, OK?’ Juliette made a low growl in the back of her throat, shook her head and offered Charlie a weak smile. ‘Sorry, but it makes me so mad. Still. It was just after we’d moved here. I heard that he was going to rebrand everything, so I put myself forward. It was a huge contract, very well paid, and it was stuff I could really do well. I was excited about it. Coming up with a new logo, revamping their website. Daniel wanted a complete overhaul and we had this meeting, and I basically thought it was a done deal. And then, a week later, I got this terse, professional email saying that he’d gone with someone else, that he was very sorry but he wouldn’t be using me.’
‘Wow.’
‘Maybe I’m making more of it than I should be. But we had finalized everything, even the work schedule. I was waiting for him to sign the contract. It was mine, and then suddenly it wasn’t. I’d turned down a couple of other clients in order to take it on, and then I got this email. His apology was so formal, so cold, especially considering how friendly he’d been at our meeting.’
‘He never gave you a proper explanation?’
Juliette shook her head. ‘And he’s been so … distant since then. He knows what he did was awful, but he won’t try and bridge the gap. And he lives here, but Myrtle never sees him in the shop and he doesn’t drink in here. Everything for his hotel comes from elsewhere. He could promote SeaKing Safaris, do some kind of deal with them for his guests, but he doesn’t. If Porthgolow isn’t good enough for him, then why is he running his hotel here? A place isn’t just its scenery, it’s all the people that make it.’
‘It is,’ Charlie murmured. Now that she’d heard Juliette’s explanation, she was puzzled. Daniel hadn’t given her an easy ride, but other than saying some hurtful things about Gertie before her transformation, he hadn’t been hostile. She wondered why he’d blown so hot and cold towards Juliette, especially when it was clear he valued his hotel and his reputation. It wasn’t her business, but Juliette was her friend, and she hated the thought of someone upsetting her. She would have to try and find out what was going on.
The Newquay Surf Festival at the beginning of June turned out to be a hotbed of cream-tea lovers. At half past three, once the competition had ended for the day, Charlie’s bus was full of athletic men in wetsuits or tight-fitting T-shirts, a few in only swimming shorts and flip-flops. She would have to spend that evening vacuuming the sand out of the bus, but on this occasion it was worth it.
‘Top coffee,’ said a man with mirrored sunglasses perched over his dark hair. ‘Your bus going to be in Newquay often?’
She resisted the urge to say ‘as often as you want’, and instead told him about Porthgolow. ‘I’m organizing a festival on the beach. There will be other food trucks, hopefully a party atmosphere.’
‘Awesome. What’s your Insta? You anything to do with the Porthgolow Hideaway account?’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
‘That’s definitely not me, though I’d love to know who’s running it.’ They swapped details, and Charlie resisted the urge to scroll down his grid to see just how many surfing selfies he put up there. Judging by the way all the surfers strutted about with their pecs out, she was fairly hopeful. Charlie waved as he left the bus, Marmite looking at her quizzically from his crate.
‘You wouldn’t understand, puppy,’ she said quietly, as two wetsuit-clad women came down the stairs to pay, their long hair still dripping.
Her customers lingered, all laid-back now the competition was over, and it was after six when she drove Gertie back to Porthgolow.
The sun was kissing the cliffs, and the glass of Crystal Waters shone like an oversized diamond. Charlie thought of Daniel and what Juliette had told her. She wanted to know why he’d dropped her friend so quickly, and with no real explanation. And there was something else that was drawing her to him, something that she hadn’t felt for a long time, not since her relationship with Stuart had been good. But it had been a while, and it was only normal to crave some intimacy. Trust her to have those feelings about the most irritating man she’d encountered in months.
When she and Oliver had parted ways at St Agnes Head, she had told him she would be in touch about her – much smaller – festival. He was fun and friendly, so why couldn’t she conjure up the same level of interest for him as she could for Daniel? Maybe it wasn’t attraction, but an inner competitiveness that didn’t want to see Daniel get the better of her. Perhaps, once she’d outsmarted him, she’d stop thinking about him.
As she hopped down from the bus, she saw Anton push open the door of the B&B, his head down, his dark suit smart, but somehow too severe for the sunshine. The door slammed, echoing in the quiet. Myrtle appeared in the doorway of the pop-in, and their eyes met.
‘Been at the bank, has Anton,’ Myrtle said, as Charlie crossed the road to greet her. She reasoned that any contact with the older woman, however frosty, was a step closer to getting her on side. ‘Bet they’ll be as tight as bleddy always.’
‘Stella and Anton aren’t doing well?’ Charlie asked, dropping her voice.
‘Got some fancy ideas about revamping the B&B, but it isn’t going to compete, is it?’ She gestured towards the cliff. ‘Not with pools and spas and eight-course menus.’
‘Not everyone can afford Crystal Waters,’ Charlie said. ‘Of course there’s room for them both in Porthgolow. I would have thought a cosy, affordable B&B would be busier than the spa, if I’m honest.’
‘Shows what you know,’ Myrtle said, giving her a wry smile. ‘Think your festival’s goin’ to fix it all? Perk this village up till it’s shiny and new as Daniel’s boots?’
Charlie folded her arms. ‘It’s a start. And it’s more than anyone else seems to be doing.’
‘Don’t see the need for it meself. Do what you will, maid. I’m too old to stand in your way.’
It wasn’t the most gracious acceptance Charlie had ever heard, but she was touched, nonetheless. ‘Thank you, Myrtle. I won’t let Porthgolow down, I promise.’
Myrtle’s benevolent expression evaporated, but Charlie couldn’t resist hugging her.
‘Get off,’ she muttered, squirming in Charlie’s embrace. ‘Idiot cheel.’
Charlie released her, ‘Goodbye, Myrtle, see you later!’
‘Make sure you warn ’em all ’bout Crumblin’ Cliff, up above Reenie’s place,’ the old woman called after her. ‘You fill Porthgolow with cars, it’s an accident waitin’ to happen.’
Charlie