The Cornish Cream Tea Christmas
‘Stop,’ he groaned. ‘I should have taken your suggestion of a breakfast meeting seriously.’
‘It was serious,’ Hannah said, laughing. ‘What did you have?’
Noah wrinkled his nose. ‘I had to cut the edges off the bread to get rid of the blue bits.’
‘Noah! That is tragic. And your mum runs a deli, too.’ She shook her head. ‘We can get you something here.’
‘I’m fine, honestly. Let’s get going.’ He got out his iPad, and Hannah moved next to him so she was able to see the screen. ‘This is the questionnaire Daniel filled in. You’ve read it?’
‘I have.’ She scooted even closer, peering at the document. Noah smelled wonderful, a fresh scent like a mix of newly washed linen and something sharper, some exotic fruit. ‘He’s already doing pretty well, isn’t he?’ she added, to show she had taken in the details. ‘And he seems willing. Not a reluctant client.’
‘He’s on the right track,’ Noah agreed. ‘But there’s always room for improvement.’
Hannah nodded. She wondered if that was a standard line he used. She would have to learn all these, get herself thinking and speaking like a Green Futures champion.
Noah turned towards her. ‘If you were doing this by yourself, what would your first suggestions be? What could Daniel and Crystal Waters be doing now to reach their sustainability goals? The quick wins, and then the bigger, longer-term jobs. We should pool our ideas, then see what else we can add after the walk-round.’ He gave her a quick smile.
This was exactly what Hannah had hoped for. Noah seemed to get their unusual partnership: that she was the corporate face of Green Futures for this project, but also that she had so much to learn from him. Maybe her first impressions of him had been way off the mark.
The tour was enlightening, and Hannah felt privileged being allowed into every nook and cranny of the beautiful hotel. Daniel was an easy, relaxed guide, pointing out where they collected rainwater to use in the gardens, and the new range of spa treatments they were using after a course he’d been on earlier that year suggested them as an eco-friendly alternative.
‘If you’ve been on that, then why did you want to employ consultants?’ Noah asked. ‘Not that I’m suggesting you shouldn’t have: I think you’ve made the right decision. I’m just interested.’
‘I got a lot of useful information from the course,’ Daniel said. ‘But I felt that if I launched into the changes they suggested – and some of them are pretty huge, like solar panels and an entirely new air-filtration system – it’d be too piecemeal. I can’t see it as one big project by myself – I need you to give me an action plan, tell me where to start. There’s no point doing it more than once.’
Noah folded his arms. ‘You’ve got the right attitude, you’ve already taken steps and, along with the fact that this is a new hotel – four years?’
‘That’s how long it’s been open,’ Daniel confirmed. ‘There was a building here before Crystal Waters, a Victorian place called the Clifftop Hotel, but there was so much wrong with it that I basically had to start again. Built it up from the ground, dug extra foundations. It was a lot of work, but it was worth it.’
‘I’m not sensing any kind of Victorian vibe,’ Hannah said. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It feels modern, but also classic, somehow. It’s not sterile like some of those new business hotels, is it?’
‘Sterile wasn’t a theme on my mood board.’ Daniel looked amused.
‘We’re starting in a good place,’ Noah reiterated. ‘Shall we move on to the kitchens?’
Hannah wouldn’t announce it to either of her companions, but the kitchens of any building were her favourite place, and after the breakfast she’d had, along with the halloumi chips and wedges the night before, she’d been particularly looking forward to this part of the tour.
‘This is Levi.’ Daniel introduced them to a wide-chested man with a shock of white-blond hair, wearing chef’s whites. ‘He’s our head chef. We tailor our menu around what’s available locally and seasonally – but I don’t want to steal Levi’s thunder.’
‘Great to meet you,’ Levi said, his Cornish accent much broader than Noah’s, his huge hand swallowing Hannah’s as they shook. His grin was equally expansive, and Hannah found herself warming to him as he took them through his domain, showing them where they’d made small changes, asking what they could do on a larger scale, while Daniel stood back and watched. Hannah liked the way he let his employees shine, allowing them to show off their expertise.
By the time their tour of the hotel was over, Hannah’s head was full of all the delicious dishes she wanted to try, rather than all the things she needed to add to her report.
‘Shall we take an hour for lunch and then meet back here?’ Noah asked as they stood in reception, the reversing beep of a lorry cutting through the serenity.
‘Sounds good. I’m going into the village – did you want to come?’
Noah shook his head. He seemed distracted, his eyes alighting on her and then drifting off, his tight focus of earlier gone. ‘I’ve got to make a few calls – nothing to do with this project,’ he added, perhaps worried Hannah would think he was reporting back to Gerald. ‘I’ll see you in an hour.’
‘OK,’ Hannah said, the time opening up with possibilities. She would have lots of opportunities to eat in the hotel’s restaurant, and Daniel had told them that the food markets she’d seen on the website for the Cornish Cream Tea Bus took place even in December. There was no way she was missing that.
She filled her lungs with crisp, cold air as she strode down the hill into Porthgolow. The cove was spread out below her, the slate of the sea and sky contrasting with the vibrancy of the beach, a section of which was packed with food trucks, marquees and vans and, at the centre of it, the gleaming red double-decker bus. Bunting, strung around the top floor, flapped madly in the wind, and as Hannah got closer the chatter and laughter got louder, the occasional scent wafting through the air to meet her.
The seafront was quaint and pretty, a convenience store called the Pop-In looking like a relic from the past, its windows crammed with seaside treasures: buckets and spades, fishing nets and postcards, brightly coloured flip-flops that wouldn’t be her first choice of footwear in December. The bed and breakfast next door looked cosy and inviting, with a poinsettia in the window and the gleaming brass knocker crying out for someone to give it a smart rap.
The aromas from the market were delicious, and Hannah had a moment of panic that she wouldn’t possibly be able to choose from all the delicacies on offer, but her panic subsided as she realized how Christmassy everything was. The familiar strains of Wizzard’s ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day’ reached her, waking up a familiar, deep-rooted excitement, and twinkling lights or drapes of tinsel adorned every vehicle. An illuminated Santa Claus sat precariously on top of a tiny Citroën van selling coffee, and she could smell the spice of mulled wine, the tang of frying onions, her senses fully, happily overwhelmed. But nothing was drawing her attention as much as the Cornish Cream Tea Bus.
Inside, it was both simple and inviting, the crockery, teapots and vases red and blue, a tiny but smart kitchen area at the front of the bus, cake stands in the windows full of appetizing treats. Fairy lights winked round the ceiling, above tables that were all full, the chatter from the top deck suggesting it was the same up there.
A woman in the kitchen was putting pots of jam and cream on a plate alongside a golden scone, her red hair pulled back in a short ponytail, redder apron on over a sky blue jumper. Hannah hovered, wondering whether to look for a table upstairs, and the woman caught her eye.
‘Give me two secs – I’ve just got to serve these.’ She gave Hannah a warm smile and slipped deftly past her, carrying her tray up the narrow staircase.
Hannah stayed where she was, feeling awkward, until the woman returned.
‘How can I help you?’ she asked. ‘We’re full at the moment, but if you’re happy to wait five minutes we should have a table free. Or I can get you something to take away?’ She looked at her expectantly while Hannah dithered. Her hour was ticking quickly away.
‘I think …’ She was at a loss as to what to do.
‘Are you OK?’
‘I am!’ Hannah said quickly. ‘Just trying to make a decision. I don’t want to miss out on one of your cream teas, but perhaps I should come back when it’s quieter.’
‘Do you live nearby?’
‘I’m staying up at the hotel – Crystal Waters. I’m on my lunch break, so I can’t wait too long for a table.’
The woman glanced behind her, then returned her attention to Hannah. ‘You’re staying at Crystal Waters, but you’re on a lunch break? Is it a working holiday, or are you just very strict with yourself?’ She smiled.
‘Sorry,’ Hannah said, laughing, ‘I can see how strange that sounds. I’m working at the hotel. The owner, Daniel Harper, has …’ She hesitated, unsure if she should tell this woman why she was there. Being environmentally minded wasn’t something to hide, but it was Daniel’s decision if he told the villagers what he was planning. ‘It’s not important. What is important, is that—’
‘You’re one of the green guys!’ the woman said delightedly. ‘Amazing! I wondered when I’d get to meet you.’
‘You know about us?’ Hannah asked.
‘Daniel said you’d checked in last night, that you were doing a tour this morning. It’s going OK?’
‘It is, but—’
‘Oh, sorry! It’s my turn to confuse you. I’m Charlie Quilter. I own this beautiful bus, and I’m also Daniel Harper’s other half. I know more than most about what happens at Crystal Waters.’
‘Ah!’ Hannah grinned as things slotted into place. ‘You’ve insisted on the tree going up today.’
Charlie laughed. ‘I have. And Daniel’s got this beautiful net of gold lights to hang over the large window in reception, too. He needs a bit of encouragement, and he’ll draw a firm line at anything remotely tacky, but he’s learning to appreciate the sparklier things in life.’
‘I can’t wait to see it,’ Hannah said. ‘I’m Hannah, by the way. Hannah Swan. And the tour was great. I think we’re going to work well together; that’s me, Noah – my colleague – and Daniel.’ She hoped she sounded professional.
‘I’m glad,’ Charlie replied. ‘And you should come back when it’s quieter. I’ll treat you to a full cream tea, but food market days are always busy – which I’m not complaining about!’
‘I’d love that, thank you. I’d better grab something and head back.’
‘It’s not Daniel setting you a strict time limit, is it?’ Charlie folded her arms. ‘If so, I’ll have words.’
Hannah laughed again. ‘No, it’s Noah. But it’s actually more sensible than he realizes, otherwise I’d spend hours down here, eating my way through the entire market.’
‘The choice is pretty mind-blowing. I hope you find something to your taste, and maybe I’ll see you at the hotel later, when I come to help decorate the tree?’
‘Not leaving that up to Daniel, then?’ Hannah grinned.
‘Not a chance. Lovely to meet you, Hannah.’
‘You too.’
She left the bus with a spring in her step. So the hotelier and the owner of the Cornish Cream Tea Bus were together. Porthgolow was already proving to be charming and intriguing, and Hannah had been here less than a day. She wanted to fully immerse herself in all the things that made it different from home. She couldn’t imagine visiting two Edinburgh businesses in one day and discovering that one owner was going out with the other: keeping secrets in Porthgolow must be a nightmare.
Wandering through the stalls, she eventually decided on a burrito, watching as the shredded beef, bean and rice mix was topped with generous dollops of sour cream, salsa, guacamole and grated cheese, before being expertly wrapped and encased in foil. She held it in both hands, relishing the heat radiating from it as she made her way to the quieter part of the beach.
The water was grey and choppy, foam bubbling where it spilled onto the sand. A man was walking a Dalmatian in the shallows, but other than that the activity was behind her, the cold kept at bay with burgers, cups of tea and the shelter of the vehicles.
Out here, it was exposed but beautiful. To her right the beach curved gently, Crystal Waters sitting like a gleaming lighthouse on top of the cliff. She wondered if the golden Christmas lights Charlie had mentioned would be visible out at sea; whether fishing boats like the one Noah’s father must own covered this part of the coastline.
To her left the beach also curved – it was a perfect, crescent cove – but the run of the shore was interrupted by a stone jetty, two speedboats tethered there. Beyond that, where the cliffs cut off the sand, there was a low promontory stretching out into the water, and a building sitting right on the edge. It was a tiny yellow house, quaint and precarious, like something out of a fairytale. Hannah forgot about her delicious burrito, because something about that house was tripping up her thoughts.
It wasn’t that it was yellow, or that it looked incongruous propped on a thin sliver of rock, as if it could be knocked straight off by a careless wave. There was something familiar about it. Something that sparked a memory in the recesses of her mind, that made her think of ice creams and sandcastles and the sharp sting of sunburnt shoulders. Hannah was sure, in that second, that she had seen the little yellow house before.
Hannah didn’t remember finishing her burrito. She was vaguely aware of glancing at her watch and realizing her hour was almost up, turning away from the sea and threading her way back through the food market. It was the sight of Charlie’s bus that returned her to her senses, reminding her what she was supposed to be doing. She peered behind her, but the yellow house was out of view. She needed to get back to Noah.
She turned abruptly and almost bumped into a man clutching a bag of fudge. Hannah loved fudge. She tracked down the stall and bought three packets – coconut for Saskia, chocolate orange for herself, and clotted cream for Noah. She had no idea what he liked, whether he was a fudge person at all, but it seemed wrong to return from the market with news of the burrito and the bus and Charlie, and not take him anything.
The walk up the hill was hard, but halfway up Hannah was rewarded because, when she turned to look back towards the sea, she could see the yellow house again. There couldn’t be many buildings like that, and she was convinced she wasn’t inventing her recognition, piecing things together wrongly from a picture she had seen on the internet. The feelings that went with it were stronger than that, something shifting deep inside her.
She walked into Crystal Waters’ reception with five minutes to spare. Two men were adjusting the position of the low sofa in front of the giant window, presumably to make space for the tree.
Hannah hurried to her room, flung her coat on the bed and took her diary out of her suitcase. It was a pink, fake snakeskin Filofax that her mum had bought her over a decade ago, at a time when she’d been desperate for a means of organizing her life, a place in which she could write all her secrets, hiding notes and photos between the pages. Now it was mostly defunct because of her phone, but she couldn’t bear to part with it.
She took out the photos that lived in the slip at the back. There was one of her and her dad, just before he’d gone off on one of his eco-warrior trips to some far-flung part of the world, his frame thinner than Hannah’s, his blond hair unruly and his face tanned. Hannah thought her eyes looked slightly haunted, her smile fixed, but that could simply be hindsight: there had been so many absences since then. He had sent a message, via her brother Michael, that he might be in Scotland for Christmas, but she knew to take those nuggets of possibility with a pinch of salt – he hardly ever stuck to his plans. Even so, she hoped that she would see him at some point, not least so she could tell him about Green Futures.
The second photo was of a group of her friends at their favourite bar in Edinburgh. Saskia was grinning at the camera, Seth’s arm slung lazily around Hannah’s shoulders, oblivious to the effect he had on her. She dropped the picture onto the bed and dug her fingers inside the tight pocket, pulling out the third and final photograph.
It was her, her mum and Michael on a beach, and it was faded, the colours leeched to pastel hues. She had been about six, Mike eight, her mum’s hair curly and flyaway in an invisible breeze. Hannah was crouching at her mum’s feet, guarding the sandcastle she had built. Behind them, the sand stretched into the distance, the sea sliding into view on the right of the photo. Then, in the top corner of the picture, so small as to be almost unnoticeable, a yellow house sat proudly on a rocky foundation.
Hannah let out a long, slow breath. It was the same house. It had to be. And she knew that, when she was the age in the photograph, they’d had summer holidays in Cornwall. She needed to hold the photo up against the house to be sure, to find the exact spot on the beach so she could compare the captured memory with reality.
Her phone pinged with a message from Noah:
Coming? N.
On my way, she tapped out. She left the photograph on the bed and picked up her iPad, her room key and Noah’s fudge. As she made her way upstairs, another thought struck her. It had always been just the three of them on those Cornish holidays – her mum, Mike and her. She remembered that much, despite being so young. So who had taken the photo?
‘OK?’ Noah asked, when she reached the snug. He was frowning, tapping his fingers on the table.
‘Fine.’ She gave him a bright smile as she sat opposite him. ‘A present from the food market.’ She proffered the bag of fudge, which was tied up with red and green ribbon.
‘For me?’ Noah looked startled, picking up the bag as if it was full of diamonds rather than sugar. ‘Why? I mean … thank you. Thank you, that’s very kind.’
Hannah thought he looked genuinely perplexed, and felt a mixture of amusement and pity. Did nobody buy him spontaneous presents? ‘I couldn’t go there and not come back with something. It was amazing. I had the most delicious burrito.’
Noah leaned towards her, his face serious. ‘Careful,’ he murmured. ‘You don’t want Crystal Waters to know you’ve been cheating, and after less than a day, too.’
Hannah laughed. ‘Good point. We will only talk about the food market in whispered tones. But did you know that Charlie, the woman who runs the Cornish Cream Tea Bus, is Daniel Harper’s girlfriend? She’s the one making him put the Christmas decorations up today. She’s coming here later to help.’
‘If you want to get involved in that then we’d better get on with this.’ He tapped his iPad and it opened up the music app and started playing a song, male voices and a guitar, at full volume. ‘Shit.’ He fumbled at the screen, his cheeks reddening, and closed the app down. ‘Not that, obviously. We’d better get on with this.’ He swiped to the right app and brought up his notes.
Hiding her smile, Hannah ordered a pot of Assam tea for them both. Noah seemed softer, vulnerable almost, when he was embarrassed, and she felt herself warming to him a little more.
After several hours and two more pots of tea, Hannah sat back in her chair and blinked furiously. The curtains had been pulled across the huge window, indicating that while they’d been listing all the ways Crystal Waters was excelling as an eco-hotel, and the actions Daniel and Green Futures could take together to improve on it, the daylight had faded. It was after four, and both her and Noah’s focus was waning. There were only three bits of fudge left, for one thing.
‘We’ve made good progress.’ Noah took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. ‘And we’ve definitely done enough work for a Saturday.’
‘Agreed,’ Hannah said. ‘Do you want to carry on tomorrow?’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t – I hope you don’t mind? I know you’re only here for a week, but we’ve got a head start, so Monday should be fine. As long as you don’t feel you’re wasting time?’
‘Not at all.’ Hannah thought of what she could do with a whole day to herself. There was the spa and the swimming pool to visit, for starters, then the rest of the village. The Cornish Cream Tea Bus would be on the beach even though the food market was over, not to mention the small matter of the yellow house that she was almost certain was in the background of her photograph. ‘I’m sure I’ll find some things to amuse me.’
‘Good. And well done,’ he added, ‘if that doesn’t sound too patronizing. You’ve got some great ideas about how to improve the sustainability of this place. I’m impressed.’
Hannah grinned. ‘I’m glad I’m stepping up to the mark.’
‘I’d better get going.’ His gaze lingered on her face, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something else, but then a loud ‘whoop’ went up from reception, and Hannah was up and out of her chair in a second.
She stopped in the doorway, gasping as she took in the sight of a large Christmas tree being carried horizontally by two men, its vibrant green branches reaching like tendrils into every corner, brushing the screens that scrolled through a slideshow of the hotel’s highlights, fingering the pebble-shaped coffee table. The light-wall that Charlie had mentioned was covering the window, but it wasn’t switched on, the glass bulbs shimmering like diamonds rather than gold.
‘Is it definitely going to fit?’ asked a familiar voice, and Hannah spotted Charlie behind the tree, her hands clasped together in front of her.
‘I’ve measured it,’ Daniel said. ‘It’s going to fit.’
‘OK then.’ Charlie gave him a smile that suggested she didn’t entirely believe him.
There was a high-pitched yelp from somewhere and Hannah jumped, pressing a hand against her chest.
‘This looks like it might be entertaining.’ Noah stopped beside her, his arm lightly brushing hers.
‘It’s going to look magnificent,’ Hannah sighed.
The tree was manoeuvred forward, revealing the source of the yelp. A small black and tan dog was positively vibrating with excitement, its lead wrapped around Charlie’s arm, forcing it to stay close to her.
Charlie noticed Hannah and smiled. ‘What do you think?’
‘Very impressive,’ Hannah said. ‘It’s going to look wonderful when it’s decorated.’
‘That’s the theory.’ Daniel folded his arms and watched as the two men nudged and cajoled the tree into place.
‘Charlie,’ Hannah said, ‘this is my colleague, Noah. Noah, this is Charlie. She runs the Cornish Cream Tea Bus.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Noah held out his hand for her to shake.
‘Daniel said you were local,’ Charlie said. ‘Mousehole?’
‘That’s right. Not too far.’
‘Far enough when it’s dark and miserable outside. Do you want to stay for some spiced apple – if you’re driving – and mince pies? There’s going to be Christmas music too, while we decorate.’
‘I’m sure Hannah and Noah don’t want to help you decorate the tree,’ Daniel said. ‘They’ve been working all day.’
‘Yes, Daniel,’ Charlie replied, squeezing his arm as he joined them, ‘but some people love Christmas: being festive and silly, putting up baubles and tinsel. They don’t see it as work.’ Daniel gave her a sideways look.
‘Who’s this?’ Hannah asked, crouching to greet the dog, who pawed at her enthusiastically. ‘He’s adorable.’
‘This is Marmite,’ Charlie said. ‘My barmy Yorkipoo.’
‘Who is not going to help decorate the tree,’ Daniel added. ‘He’ll derail the whole thing.’