The Cornish Cream Tea Christmas

Hannah didn’t have the joys of the Cornish landscape to distract her as they drove up the coast from Newquay, and Noah remained quiet in the driver’s seat. Either he was concentrating on the dark road, or he didn’t want to get to know her. Or maybe, she thought, shifting in her seat, she was giving off antisocial vibes by looking out of her window.

‘Not long now,’ he said, surprising her. ‘Don’t fall asleep on me before we get there.’

Hannah laughed, then cleared her throat. ‘I can’t seem to slow my brain down. I feel as if I’m still moving, the world shooting past the train window at a hundred miles an hour.’

‘You are still moving, though,’ he said softly.

‘Oh.’ Heat blossomed in her cheeks. ‘Yes, of course.’ God. She wasn’t sure it was possible for things to get more awkward. She burrowed in her bag for her phone, and tapped out messages to Saskia and her mum, letting them know she’d arrived. She didn’t tell Gerald – she would settle for emailing him once they’d made progress at the hotel. When she looked up they were turning into another car park, a metal sign on the wall announcing that this was the Crystal Waters Spa Hotel.

Hannah gasped. She had seen photos of it online, but they hadn’t done justice to the beacon of glass and elegantly lit, honey-coloured brickwork that appeared like a mirage out of the dark. There were lollipop bay trees either side of the doors, everything about it screaming quiet opulence. She thought of the bed she would sink into not too far in the future, and sighed dreamily.

‘It looks impressive,’ Noah murmured, as he turned the car expertly into a space. Hannah could hear the sea, the gentle shushing of calm waves hitting sand. Anticipation ran down her spine and, relieved and tired and eager to get to her room and take her shoes off, she turned to Noah, awkwardness forgotten.

‘Thank you for dropping me off. When do you want to start work? Tomorrow? I’m here for a week, so if you’re keen to get going then I don’t mind working the weekend.’

‘I thought we could have a quick meeting now. Have you eaten?’

‘Now?’ Hannah balked. ‘I was going to see if I could grab a snack.’

‘Great. Let’s get you checked in, you can take your things to your room and we can get a bite to eat.’ He pushed open the door and went round to the boot. Hannah sat for a moment before getting out, wondering if her confusion had been obvious. She had been expecting Noah to dump her and go, not prolong their torturous time together.

He led the way through the doors, wheeling Hannah’s suitcase, and she followed, entranced by the beautiful foyer. Everything was surrounded by glass, glossy and shimmering, a golden pattern in the stone floor catching her eye. The tones and textures were natural: greys, greens and muted blues. It was organic and luxurious and wholesome all at once, and every inch exuded class.

She stood next to Noah while another guest checked in.

The woman ahead of them was wearing a knee-length red corduroy coat and purple Doc Martens. She had reddish-brown hair in a frizzy cloud around her face, her pale skin contrasting against the bright blue frames of her glasses.

‘I have my reservation number here somewhere,’ she said, burying her arm in a large canvas bag.

‘Your surname will be fine,’ replied the neat woman behind the desk. ‘We’ll be able to look you up on the system with that.’

‘I just feel so stupid,’ the woman continued. ‘I packed so carefully this morning. Maybe I’ve left it in the car?’ A couple of pens spilled out of her bag and onto the floor. ‘I could have a quick look in the glove compartment.’ She gave an exasperated sigh and a small bag fell out of the larger one, a lipstick and powder compact scattering across the polished stone.

Hannah bent down and retrieved them, the woman giving her a grateful smile when she handed them back. She had hazel eyes and long lashes, her lips coral – presumably from the lipstick Hannah had just returned – but her brows were lowered, as if she was permanently puzzled.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I mean honestly. You would think I could manage this one thing.’

The receptionist smiled. ‘It’s fine, Ms …’

‘Benson. Audrey Benson. I am sorry about this, it’s just I’m sure I had the email printed out.’

‘It’s not a problem,’ the receptionist assured her again smoothly. ‘I’ve got you here. Let me print off your form, I’ll just need a signature and a date, plus your car registration number, and you’ll have your room key in no time at all.’

Hannah smiled, enjoying the good-natured chaos, and glanced at Noah. He was so still and sombre, it was as if he couldn’t see what was happening in front of him. His eyes, she saw, were a bright, clear blue. She hadn’t noticed under the station lamps or in the car. Hannah gazed at him a moment longer and then, when it was her turn, strode forward to check in.

‘Hannah Swan?’ the receptionist repeated when she’d given her name.

‘That’s right, from Green Futures. And this is Noah Rosewall. I think we’re expected, though it’s only me staying here.’

‘I live in Mousehole,’ Noah added, joining Hannah at the desk.

‘Of course.’ The woman, whose name tag read Chloe, gave them a warm smile. ‘If you could hold on just one moment?’

She went through a door behind her and returned with a tall, wide-shouldered man who, Hannah couldn’t help noticing, was very handsome. He met her gaze easily, and she felt the full force of his charisma. He strode forward, coming round the desk to meet them. He shook her hand first, then Noah’s.

‘I’m Daniel Harper. Did you have a good journey?’ He glanced between them. ‘I have to say I was expecting you slightly earlier.’

‘Train delays,’ Hannah said. ‘There’s plenty of time for problems to crop up when you’re coming from Edinburgh.’

Daniel winced sympathetically. ‘It’s a long journey, but it gives me confidence that I’m worth it – or at least my hotel is, if you’re prepared to travel all this way. And you, Noah? You’re local to the area?’

‘Mousehole,’ Noah said again. ‘It’s still an hour’s journey, but that’s Cornwall for you.’ She thought he sounded indulgent rather than angry, as if he was proud to live in a place where the roads resembled farm tracks and short trips took half the morning.

‘It is indeed,’ Daniel said. He was smiling, giving them his full attention. The perfect host. ‘Hannah, I’ve given you one of the sea-view rooms, number fourteen, which is on the floor below. You’re not planning on starting work now, are you?’

‘We’re going to have a quick debrief in the restaurant or … do you have somewhere less formal?’ Noah asked.

‘It’s the first time we’ve met,’ Hannah chimed in.

‘Why not go to the snug?’ Daniel pointed to a wide arched opening off the reception area. ‘It’s got a bar and you can order food, but it’s more relaxed than the restaurant.’

‘Great,’ Noah said. ‘Then perhaps tomorrow we could arrange a tour of the hotel?’

‘Of course.’ Daniel scratched his cheek. ‘We’ve got the tree arriving, but not until later. How about ten o’clock?’

‘Ten sounds good,’ Hannah said. ‘And you’ve got the tree arriving? The Christmas tree?’ She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

Daniel gave her a rueful smile. ‘The first Saturday in December. I would have left it a bit later than that, but …’ He shrugged. ‘Sometimes I’m not as in charge here as I think I am.’ There was a glimmer in his eyes as he spoke.

‘You’re in partnership with someone?’ Noah asked. ‘Your questionnaire didn’t mention that. If it’s a company who have a say over any changes you’re planning to make—’

‘No, no,’ Daniel cut in, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘I meant that my girlfriend sticks her oar in, especially when it comes to festivities. She’d start Christmas in October if she could.’

‘I see.’ Noah set his jaw, clearly annoyed at misreading the situation.

‘I think the first Saturday in December is perfect,’ Hannah said, and Daniel grinned at her.

‘I have a feeling Charlie’s going to be saying “I told you so”. And I’d just like to point out that it’s a sustainable tree. In a pot, rooted, with a rehoming arranged for it up near Bodmin in the New Year.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ Noah said.

Hannah gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘I’d love to see my room now, if that’s OK? Noah, shall I meet you in the snug in twenty minutes?’

‘Sure – good to meet you, Daniel.’ He walked off towards the archway.

Daniel took Hannah’s suitcase and led her to the lift. ‘New colleague?’ he asked evenly as the doors opened and they stepped inside.

‘He’s one of the freelancers our company works with,’ Hannah said. ‘Gerald likes to have someone with local knowledge on each project where possible, and Noah’s got a lot of experience.’ She didn’t want to tell Daniel that this was her first case, and Noah was here to hold her hand.

‘Does he get more cheerful than that?’

Hannah shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Hopefully he’s just tired because I kept him waiting.’ She had to give Noah the benefit of the doubt. If she anticipated the whole week stretching ahead of them like this, then she might lock herself in her room and refuse to come out again.

Once Daniel had given her a quick tour of her sumptuous hotel room and wished her goodnight, Hannah sank onto the pale green bedcover and ran her hand over it. It was a perfect space. She had opened the curtains that ran the length of one wall and exposed the view and, with all but one lamp off, she could just make out the faintest glimmer of waves, like ghosts.

She got up and washed her face, hastily reapplied her eye make-up, sprayed on a waft of perfume to disguise whatever smells had accumulated over the course of her mammoth journey, and went to meet Noah. She would have to save the drench shower until later.

The Crystal Waters snug was beautiful and, as the name suggested, cosy. It had an array of low chairs and benches covered in grey and slate-blue fabrics, with scatter cushions in bolder colours. The tables were a mixture of wood and hammered metal, and long curtains were drawn across what Hannah assumed was another wall of glass facing the hotel’s gardens and the sea beyond. The bar was small but well stocked, with a gleaming silver top and a mirror behind the optics that made the space seem bigger.

Hannah sought Noah out among the room’s few occupants and found him sitting on a bench against the far wall, a mug in front of him.

He looked up as she approached, and for a moment she thought she saw real emotion – anxiety or uncertainty – in his eyes, before he gave her a brisk nod and gestured to the seat opposite him.

Hannah took it, inhaling the smell of coffee. She’d had enough caffeine on her train journey to last her until next Christmas.

‘All sorted?’ he asked.

‘Yes thanks. The room is glorious, as you’d expect. I’ve not done a full recce, but it looks as if the toiletries are already environmentally friendly.’

Noah put his hand on the table, his fingers inches from hers. ‘We don’t need to do any of that now. Have a look at the menu.’ He handed it to her and she glanced at it, choosing halloumi fries and sweet potato wedges. Once the waiter had taken their order and she had declined a glass of wine in favour of lemonade, a heavy, uncomfortable silence descended.

Before she could break it, Noah spoke. ‘Gerald says you’ve not been working at Green Futures long.’

‘I started in the summer,’ she said. ‘So I’m still finding my way around. This is my first client meeting – I’m sure he told you.’

‘He did. He said you were one to watch.’

Hannah narrowed her eyes. ‘As in, one to watch for the future, like they say about young nominees who fail to win at awards ceremonies, or as in, you’ll need to keep a constant eye on me so I don’t ruin the project?’

Noah’s grin was so sudden and overpowering, it was as if Hannah had been blinded. It knocked dimples into his cheeks, revealed white, even teeth and crinkled the edges of his blue eyes, making them seem softer. He looked completely different.

‘I think the former,’ he said, ‘even if failed nominee is a little harsh. He clearly thinks a lot of you, in that proprietorial sort of way where he imagines all your knowledge and talent is down to him.’

‘That is not the impression I had.’ Hannah thought back to Gerald’s initial reluctance to let her take the case.

Their drinks were brought over – Hannah’s lemonade and another coffee for Noah: black, with thick foam on the top. She wondered if he ever slept.

‘Why not?’ Noah asked, stirring his drink.

‘He took a bit of convincing to let me have the case. Your involvement, to be precise. But I am new, so I need to prove that I’m an invaluable member of the team.’ She smiled, keen to keep hold of his friendlier mood. ‘You said you live in Mousehole. That’s a fishing village isn’t it?’

‘That’s right, down near Penzance.’

‘How long have you lived there?’

‘All my life. Dad’s a fisherman and Mum runs a café except now it’s called the Mousehole Deli, just to meet all the outlandish expectations of the second-homers.’

‘Ooh really?’ Hannah’s stomach rumbled on cue. ‘I love a good deli. All those cheeses and meats from far-flung corners of Italy, olives with unlikely fillings, like sausage meat or beetroot. I’ve lost big chunks of my salary to a couple of delis in Edinburgh.’

‘You’ll have to visit while you’re here. Though I’m not sure it’ll live up to your expectations.’

‘Why not?’ Hannah asked as their food was brought over.

‘Because of your face,’ Noah said, accepting his bowl of mac and cheese. It looked delicious, the top perfectly golden and crunchy, tiny cherry tomatoes sliced and studded throughout, like rubies. She pushed down the urge to point out how hot they would be, to make sure he didn’t burn his mouth on their molten middles.

‘My face?’ she repeated.

‘You spoke about delicatessens as if they’re on some kind of higher plane, and your eyes went huge, which was faintly alarming because they’re already pretty big. You were reverent.’

‘Good food deserves reverence,’ Hannah mumbled. He’d gone from monosyllabic to grinning and noticing her eyes? They were one of her better features, according to her family and friends, large and deep brown, complementing her pale skin and naturally blonde hair. Like toffee pudding and custard, her mum had said once, knowing how much Hannah liked food analogies. She picked up a halloumi chip and dipped it in the spicy mayonnaise. ‘How’s your mac and cheese?’

‘Great,’ he admitted.

‘Good-oh.’ If he was going to be personal, so was she. ‘So, Noah, why aren’t you a fisherman? That’s quite often a generational thing, isn’t it? Dads handing down their boats and expertise, taking their children out to sea to learn the ropes, wearing yellow macs and wellies.’

She could see the tightness in his shoulders as he shrugged. ‘It didn’t work out that way. I love the water, I’m Cornwall through and through, but – when it came down to it – I realized it wasn’t how I wanted to spend my days. My skills are more observational, analytical. I’m not cut out for the fishing life.’

It didn’t seem to be a practised answer, which surprised her. She had assumed he must have been asked that question many times before. ‘Did your dad mind?’ she wondered.

‘At first.’ He ran his fork around the edge of his dish. ‘But it’s much harder than it was. Hard to scrape by, let alone make a good living, so I think he’s relieved I got out before it all went down the pan.’

‘But you stayed in Mousehole?’

‘It’s a great place to live.’ Now there was a slight defensiveness, as if this life choice had been questioned.

‘I’m looking forward to exploring it. Cornwall, I mean. When we’re not working.’ She flushed under his piercing blue gaze. ‘I’m here to work hard, first and foremost.’

Noah’s smile was soft. ‘I don’t doubt it. But I’d be disappointed if you didn’t want to get out and see some of the county in any spare time, as moreish as Crystal Waters is. I’d eat here again.’

‘We’re going to be spending most of our week here. We could have breakfast meetings, debriefs over lunch and end the day with a light dinner.’ She sighed happily, and Noah laughed.

‘And in between all those meals, do a bit of consulting on the side, see if we can get this place scoring top marks at its next environmental impact assessment.’

‘Oh that too,’ Hannah said. ‘I knew there was a reason I’d come all this way.’

Noah put his fork down and fiddled with his napkin. ‘What made you become an eco-consultant? You’re newly qualified, but I’m guessing it’s not been a straightforward path?’

‘Is that a kind way of saying I look older than twenty-one?’ She grinned, showing she wasn’t offended and Noah nodded. She didn’t go for the obvious answer: that she wanted to save the planet. Somehow she knew it wouldn’t wash with him, and she could never make it sound genuine anyway. ‘My dad, he … he’s always been a keen environmentalist.’

‘Oh? Is he a consultant?’

Hannah pictured him the last time she’d seen him. Long, unwashed hair in a straggly ponytail, jumper with holes in the elbows, that energetic restlessness, as clear a sign as any that he was just passing through.

‘No, he’s a campaigner.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve always felt strongly about it too, but I wasn’t sure which direction to head in.’ She had wanted to make her dad proud, but the thought of drifting, like him, filled her with a cold dread. ‘So I did a few admin jobs after school, worked in cafés and a couple of amazing restaurants, then went to university when I’d found the right course. Still, I don’t think twenty-eight is too late to have found your calling.’

He stared at her for a minute, then shook his head. ‘Not at all. Sometimes people don’t realize what they want to do until much later in life. Some don’t ever settle to one thing. We’re all different.’ He glanced at his watch and drained the last of his coffee. ‘I’d better head off, it’s getting late. I’ll settle up.’

‘You don’t need to.’

‘It’s fine. You can get the next one.’

‘Sure. Thank you, then. For coming to get me, and for this.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll aim for half nine, so we can go over Daniel’s questionnaire again before he shows us round.’

‘Sounds good.’ She watched as he went to the bar and paid the bill, then he gave her a quick salute and walked purposefully in the direction of the exit, towards his swanky hybrid Land Rover and a journey over dark, winding roads to home.

She wondered whether he had anyone waiting for him in Mousehole, and why, if he hadn’t wanted to discuss work, he’d suggested they meet this evening. Had he wanted to make up for his initial frostiness, realizing they needed to be on friendly terms if they were going to work well together? He had certainly warmed up once they’d started chatting, and she was feeling much more comfortable with him; less worried she’d be coming up against a brick wall every time she tried to communicate. A solid but impressive brick wall, she reasoned, remembering the way his shirt had hugged his slender but well-defined body.

Back in her room, Hannah lingered under the drench shower, then got into her pyjamas and slipped into the wide bed, pulling the cotton-wool soft duvet up to her neck. She felt drowsy and content, ready to make the most of her time in Cornwall. After all, Noah had said he would be disappointed if she didn’t get out and explore. And Noah, she had realized almost from the first moment she met him, was someone you didn’t want to disappoint. Or, at least, she didn’t want to disappoint him. As she drifted towards sleep, she wondered exactly why that was.

After the best night’s sleep Hannah could remember having, she had sat back on her bed, clasping a cup of tea and watching the diving sea birds she couldn’t name, thinking how different it was to the monochrome view of Edinburgh’s rooftops she had from her city flat. At Crystal Waters, she felt almost as if she was on the edge of the world.

Arriving in the restaurant for breakfast, she gazed through the picture windows, wide-eyed at the stretch of Cornish coastline. The sea was grey and tumultuous beneath a sky where the dark clouds chased each other, full of rain and ready to spill. The restaurant was half full but she managed to get a table by the window, a bowl of fruit and yoghurt in her hand. There were several couples, a table of four – three women and a man in their fifties or sixties – who, judging by their thick jumpers and weather-worn faces, were seasoned walkers. She marvelled at anyone who wanted to walk at this time of year, but thought that with the reward of a cosy, fire-warmed bar and a mulled wine at the end, it might be worth it. There was a family of five, the youngest child in a high chair, the father patiently feeding his son food that was ending up everywhere but in his mouth.

When a waiter came to ask for her hot order, Hannah opted for smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on granary toast, then watched as the woman from last night’s check-in – Audrey – walked into the room. She was wearing black trousers covered in white daisies, and a burnt orange jumper that slipped lazily off one shoulder. She picked a table and sat down, opening a leather-bound journal before she even looked at the buffet table of cereals, juices and fruit. Hannah couldn’t help being intrigued by her, as well as a little envious of her bold style which, while slightly eccentric, definitely worked.

Hannah’s own outfit was burgundy wide-legged trousers and a black jumper, her blonde hair tied away from her face. She wanted to be professional but had thought, in this environment, a suit would be too formal. She wasn’t sure how the guests would react to suited and booted people walking around with iPads while they were on their way to the spa.

Hannah was glad when her breakfast arrived, and even happier when she tasted it. If all the food at Crystal Waters was like this then she would be reluctant to leave at the end of the week.

Noah met her in the snug at half past nine as arranged. She thought he looked slightly more relaxed today, a dark grey jumper over his shirt – perhaps he felt the same about not wanting to alarm the guests – and his dark curls not so severely waxed.

‘Sleep well?’ he asked, sitting down and pulling the bowl of sugar cubes towards him, twisting it round in what had to be an unconscious move.

‘Very,’ Hannah said. ‘Give me Crystal Waters beds and the sound of the sea outside my window every night. And then that breakfast, the buttery toast and those perfectly light, golden eggs—’