The Cornish Cream Tea Christmas

Hannah was disappointed with herself for not plucking up the courage to ask Charlie about the photograph, but there was one person who would know for certain whether their childhood holidays had included Porthgolow. She had been vague when Hannah had mentioned it before, but then she’d only been asking whether her mum knew the part of Cornwall she was travelling to, and hadn’t realized there might be a deeper significance.

The sight of the festively decorated hotel reception buoyed her, the light wall like a gentle, golden waterfall, the baubles, birds and snowflakes on the tree shimmering in its glow.

In her room Hannah put the kettle on and, standing at the window and looking out at the churning sea, dialled her mum’s number.

‘Hello?’ She always answered as if she didn’t know who was calling, even though she must have seen Hannah’s name appear on the screen.

‘Mum, it’s me. How are you?’

‘Good thanks. Busy. You know what it’s like.’ Hannah’s mum worked in the office at Harvey Nichols, managing the security, and the run-up to Christmas was one of her busiest times. ‘How’s Cornwall?’

‘It’s beautiful, if a bit windswept, which is entirely understandable of course, but …’ She took a deep breath to stop herself from babbling. ‘The hotel is great. It’s an interesting project, and the local consultant I’m working with, Noah, is … we’re getting on OK. I’m enjoying it.’

‘That’s good, Han. Glad your first foray into the field is going well. How long—’

‘The thing is, Mum,’ she said, cutting over her, ‘are you sure we didn’t come to Porthgolow when we were little? I know we stayed in Newquay, but they’re quite close together, and it’s a really pretty village with a great beach.’

‘I said before that we might have,’ her mum replied. ‘How do you expect me to remember where we went on day trips? Cornwall has hundreds of beaches.’

‘There’s a photo of you, me and Mike, and there’s this yellow house in the background. I found it yesterday – the house – when I went to the beach. I don’t know if—’

‘If it’s the same one? It’s unlikely, don’t you think, that a house so close to the water would still be there after twenty years? It would have fallen into the sea by now.’

Hannah hadn’t thought of that. ‘You’re right. Sorry, I just wondered.’

‘Why does it matter, anyway – you shouldn’t spend all your time thinking about it. Enjoy the place, get your work done and show them what you’re capable of, then come home. I need to head off now, love. Someone’s at the door.’

‘Bye then,’ Hannah said, as her mum hung up the phone.

There had been nobody at the door. Her mum had a loud, ostentatious doorbell, and Hannah would have heard it in the background. She lifted up the photo, peering at the tiny house behind the three figures. It was close to the water, but there was a few feet of rock in front of the building that Hannah didn’t think was there now. The cliff had eroded, but the house was still safe.

She pressed her hand against the side of the kettle, decided it didn’t need reboiling, and poured hot water into her mug. She was about to add milk when a thought struck her: she had mentioned that the house was yellow, but had she said it was near the cliff edge? How had her mum known it was so close to the water – unless she could recall Hannah’s photograph perfectly? She closed her eyes, trying to remember her exact wording.

Why didn’t her mum want to admit they’d spent time in Porthgolow? She had asked Hannah why it mattered, and Hannah didn’t know. Except that she had this strange feeling about being here, a feeling that it held some significance for her. Since she’d seen the yellow house she’d had a tightness in her chest, as if she couldn’t fully relax. If her mum wasn’t going to help, then she would have to rely on the locals. Hannah was going to have to get to know the people of Porthgolow.

She spent the rest of the day revisiting her and Noah’s report, reading in her room and, in the evening, talking to Saskia on the phone, telling her about Noah and the hotel, giving her all the details of the Cornish Cream Tea Bus and the possible hauntings, but leaving out the connection between the village and her photo. She wasn’t ready to share it with anyone else yet, not when the conversation with her mum had left her so unsettled.

Confusing thoughts kept Hannah awake into the night, and she woke on Monday morning with gritty eyes. Now she knew her mum wasn’t telling her the truth, it meant there was something here to find. Hannah would look into it, but she couldn’t let it take over. She had a job to do, too.

After breakfast, Hannah went to meet Noah in the snug. He was wearing a russet-coloured jumper over his shirt, the dark frames of his glasses unable to hide the blueish smudges under his eyes. He had already ordered a coffee.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Did you have a nice Sunday?’

‘Fine, thanks. How was yours?’

‘It was good. I had a scone on Gertie.’

‘Gertie?’ He wasn’t looking at her, instead fiddling with something on his iPad, and Hannah felt a surge of irritation.

‘That’s what the bus is called. It’s like she’s formally the Cornish Cream Tea Bus, and affectionately known as Gertie. Charlie’s scones are delicious, you should really—’

‘We should really be getting on with this, Hannah, if we can. There’s a lot to get through.’ He tapped the table.

‘Sure. I didn’t mean to—’

‘No problem,’ he said quickly. ‘This is where we got to on Saturday afternoon.’

With her heart sinking, Hannah took her seat next to him. It seemed that Noah the frosty snowman was back.

Their progress that morning was focused, because Noah didn’t give Hannah any choice. They discussed the different air-filtration systems they could offer Daniel, and how they could make the spa and swimming pool more eco-friendly. The financial and environmental costs of the work had to be weighed up against the savings they would make when they were complete.

Noah had an almost-encyclopaedic knowledge of green solutions, and he’d worked on several local projects: the Eden Project, a hotel near Tintagel, a spa in St Austell that had been renovated with sustainability in mind. Hannah was learning a lot; she just wished it was happening in a less chilly environment. He was a different person to the man who had been playing with Marmite and sharing details about his family on Saturday night, and she wondered what had happened to affect his mood so completely.

‘Right then.’ He flung the cover of his iPad closed as if it had personally offended him, and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Lunch.’

‘Shall we get something together?’ Hannah asked.

He stood up. ‘I have to make some calls.’

Hannah shot to her feet, too. She didn’t know what she was going to say until it came out. ‘No, not right now. You’re coming with me.’

‘I have things to do – unrelated to Crystal Waters.’

‘They can wait. You’ve been like a bear with a sore head all morning, and I’m going to cheer you up.’

He clenched his jaw. ‘I don’t need you trying to make me feel better.’

‘Tough. I’ve got to work with you, so it’s self-preservation, really. I’ve made the decision, and now I’m going to get my coat: wait there.’ She stormed out of the snug, wishing she didn’t have to leave him, certain he wouldn’t be there when she got back, but when she returned he was standing in exactly the same spot. She thought he looked sad rather than angry, and her irritation faded.

‘Come on then,’ she said, checking he was following as she walked out of the hotel.

‘Where are we going?’ he asked.

‘Wait and see.’ She would have thought it was obvious now they’d left the hotel, but she didn’t say that in case it upset the delicate balance of the situation.

They were halfway to the cove before he spoke. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah. Yesterday wasn’t particularly great, but you don’t deserve my anger. It isn’t aimed at you at all, I hope you realize that.’

‘I guessed there must be something else wrong,’ Hannah said. ‘Unless you were offended by my outfit, and I picked it specifically for its inoffensiveness.’ She flashed him a smile, and he almost returned it, his gaze flicking down to her long tan boots and up again. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his coat, his shoulders hunched against the cold. ‘You can offload on me if you want,’ she added. ‘It might help to talk about it.’

He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t be bringing this stuff anywhere near work. I promise I’ll make more of an effort. You’re taking me to the Cornish Cream Tea Bus, I take it.’

‘What do you have against scones?’

‘Nothing, I just really fancied a sandwich.’ He sounded genuinely upset.

‘A full Cornish cream tea on Gertie comes with sandwiches. Charlie will do whatever it takes to lift your mood – she’s that kind of person.’

‘Honestly, I’m fine. I’m going to discard my dark cloud – look.’ He waggled his shoulders, as if shaking something heavy off them, and Hannah laughed. This time when he smiled, it reached his eyes.

They were about to step onto the beach when the door of the Pop-In shop opened and a grey-haired woman came out, her arms tightly folded. She glanced in their direction then looked towards the sea. ‘Storm’s comin’ in,’ she said. ‘Forecasts haven’t spied it yet, but I’ve lived here all my life and I know when there’s a big’un on the horizon.’ She turned her full attention on them. ‘What are you doin’ here, grockles? You don’t want t’be holidaying when it hits.’

‘I’m not a grockle,’ Noah said, his Cornish accent suddenly more pronounced. ‘Mousehole born and bred.’

The woman looked him up and down. ‘Fine. But you can’t tell me this maid is local. Not wi’ those clothes on, and those wide eyes as if everythin’s new and shiny.’

‘I’m from Edinburgh,’ Hannah said, her curiosity outweighing her annoyance at the way she’d been spoken about. ‘We’re helping Daniel at the hotel, and are just on our way to see Charlie, on the bus.’

Her mention of the two locals had the desired effect, and the woman’s eyes softened. ‘Well then, enjoy it. You’ll be stranded up at Daniel’s place soon enough.’

‘I’m Hannah.’ She held out her hand. ‘And this is Noah. Do you fancy having a cream tea with us?’

The woman paused, glancing between them. ‘Rose is behind the till for the next hour, and I suppose a break wouldn’t do any harm. I need to tell Charlie about the storm, too. Give me two secs to let Rose know, and I’ll be wi’ you. I’m Myrtle. Everyone knows me here.’ She shuffled back inside and Noah turned to Hannah, his brows lowered in confusion.

‘Why did you invite her?’

‘The more the merrier,’ Hannah said lamely. She couldn’t tell Noah that she wanted to pick Myrtle’s brains, that she hadn’t missed the older woman saying she’d lived in the village all her life and, from the looks of things, was keen on knowing everyone else’s business.

‘She didn’t approve of your outfit,’ he said, and it took Hannah a moment to join the dots back to her earlier, pathetic joke.

‘No,’ she replied. ‘It picks me out as an intruder, apparently.’

Noah raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, just to make it clear, I think it’s great. Especially the boots. Don’t let her make you feel bad.’

‘Oh.’ Hannah’s cheeks flamed. ‘Thank you.’ With her mind completely blank after his compliment – his flirtatious compliment – they waited in silence for Myrtle to come back out.

‘Well I must say,’ Myrtle said once they were settled at one of Gertie’s downstairs tables, ‘this is pretty cosy.’

Charlie had welcomed them on board, admitting they’d caught her just in time. The squally weather meant that customers were scarce, and she’d decided she would be more productive shutting up and focusing on Gertie’s Christmas plans.

‘So cosy,’ Hannah agreed, clutching her mug of tea close to her body so she could absorb its warmth. ‘Tell us more about your Santa tour, Charlie. Is Gertie basically the sleigh?’

‘Sort of,’ she called from the kitchen, where she was arranging mini sandwiches on cake stands. ‘I thought I could bring some festive cheer to a few Cornish villages, and Hugh, the pub landlord, has agreed to be my Santa Claus.’

‘You’re giving out presents?’ Noah asked. He was already more relaxed, and had listened to Charlie’s description of her Christmas Cornish cream tea with increasing interest. Hannah thought she’d heard a quiet moan escape his lips at the mention of the brandy clotted cream that would accompany the mince-pie-inspired scones.

‘Only tiny ones,’ Charlie said, bringing cake stands laden with finger sandwiches and mini cakes to their table. ‘I can’t afford to be too generous, but the wholesalers I use do a few nice gifts, and meeting Santa is the most important thing. Dig in.’

‘The problem when you’ve got someone like Charlie, is that people start to expect things.’ Myrtle took a sausage and caramelized onion sandwich off the stand and separated it into two halves, a blob of sauce plopping onto her plate.

‘What do you mean?’ Hannah asked.

‘Locals and visitors alike start to expect food markets an’ tours an’ fireworks on the beach when it’s solstice. An’ it’s all well an’ good, and I’m not sayin’ I don’t enjoy it, because I do. Now, anyway,’ she added pointedly, leaving Hannah to believe that there had been a time when she and Charlie hadn’t seen eye to eye. ‘But there’s folk who come to rely on it, for entertainment and company, to encourage visitors.’

‘So Charlie’s holding up the whole of the Porthgolow economy,’ Noah said. ‘And you’re worried she’ll leave?’

‘I have no intention of leaving!’ Charlie screeched. ‘Myrtle, why didn’t you tell me you felt this way? Gertie may have wheels, but I’m pretty sure Crystal Waters hasn’t got a hidden pair of wings. Daniel isn’t leaving his hotel, and I’m not leaving him – or anyone else in Porthgolow. My life is here.’

It was an impassioned speech that made Hannah feel a little emotional. She was relieved when Marmite broke the tension, waking up from his nap and barking at them.

Myrtle muttered something under her breath, and Charlie dropped into the remaining seat at the table. ‘Has someone been spreading rumours?’

Myrtle shook her head. ‘It’s just …’ she gestured outside. ‘Storms. Winter. I don’t like it. Always feels like it’s threatenin’ our little community. Ignore me.’

‘Did you say you’ve always lived here?’ Hannah asked softly.

‘Been in Porthgolow all my life,’ she said proudly. ‘Seen a fair bit o’change, I can tell you.’

‘You’ve seen lots of tourists, I expect.’

‘On an’ off. Not as popular as other places, mind. Porthgolow is unassumin’. Charlie’s brought the life we need – Daniel too, if I’m bein’ fair. But we’ve no arcades or amusements or any o’ that rubbish. Stella and Anton are seeing the benefits, too.’

‘They run the bed and breakfast on the seafront,’ Charlie said, pointing. ‘It’s got beautiful views, and they’re both such stylish people so their house is, too. It’s a lovely place to stay.’

Hannah chewed her nail. ‘You don’t have any old photos, do you? I’d love to see what Porthgolow looked like years ago – before Gertie and Crystal Waters. Ooh, imagine if there were photos of the Clifftop Hotel. Wouldn’t that help Audrey? Myrtle, if you’ve got any—’

‘Who’s this Audrey?’ Myrtle asked warily.

Charlie tapped Hannah’s hand. ‘She’s a guest at Crystal Waters, interested in history.’ She didn’t elaborate, and Hannah remembered Daniel’s insistence that the spooky turn of events shouldn’t be mentioned to anyone who didn’t need to know.

‘As is this lass.’ Myrtle jabbed a finger at Hannah. ‘I can have a look, I s’pose. See what I’ve got.’

Hannah smiled. ‘That would be wonderful.’

‘Give me a couple o’ days – my spare room’s a bit of a ’mare – an’ I’ll see what I can come up with.’

Hannah nodded enthusiastically as Charlie got up to check on the scones. The sandwiches had been delicious and, despite it being a Christmas cream tea, had no turkey in sight; instead they were filled with salmon, sausage and onion, and goat’s cheese with a spicy, fruit-rich chutney that Hannah assumed was local.

She glanced at Noah, who was holding a mini doughnut in front of his face. It had a swirl of cream and a red jelly sweet on top.

‘You do realize every doughnut is going to pale into insignificance after this one,’ he said to Charlie.

She laughed. ‘You’ve not even tasted it.’

‘I’ve tasted the sandwiches, and anyway, if you’re giving me themed cakes, you’re already halfway to winning my affection.’ His cheeks were slightly flushed, his blue eyes alive in a way they hadn’t been that morning.

‘Is it really that easy to gain your affection?’ Hannah asked. ‘Give a cake a hat?’

He glanced at her, his smile faltering. ‘Just a hat isn’t really trying, though. This one’s clearly a Santa hat. No ordinary beanie will do.’

‘Got it. An identifiable hat. I’ll remember that next time I bring you something to eat. I can see why the fudge wasn’t up to scratch.’ She sighed dramatically to show she was joking.

‘Hey.’ He rested a hand on her forearm. ‘The fudge was delicious, and generous, and unexpected. Spending time in Porthgolow with you is going to damage my waistline.’

‘It’s cheering you up, though,’ she said.

His smile disappeared completely. ‘It is. It has. Thank you, Hannah. I don’t know how you—’

‘Mince pie scones!’ Charlie said, placing the cake stand on the table with a flourish, and Noah’s sentence remained unfinished as he, Myrtle and, after a moment, Hannah, put one on their plates, the smell of brandy butter and spiced fruit filling the bus with Christmas promise. Hannah was far from disappointed, but she wished she knew what Noah had been about to say.

‘Why do you want to see Myrtle’s photos of the village?’ Noah asked. He didn’t sound out of breath, even though they had reached the steepest part of the hill. ‘When Charlie said she’d also ask Reenie, whoever she is, if she had any albums, you looked happier than I’ve ever seen you. What’s going on?’

Hannah glanced sideways at him. The wind was too strong for his hair wax and dark curls were trying to escape. ‘I’m just interested. Audrey has got me thinking about the history of this place, the old hotel that used to be here—’

‘That was an afterthought. You asked if Myrtle had any photographs and then you remembered Audrey. Don’t think you can sneak this past me.’

‘I’m not trying to sneak anything past you,’ she said. ‘I was trying to distract her. She seemed anxious, and—’

‘That’s not it, either. Have you found out something else about Porthgolow?’ He stopped and turned to face her, and Hannah was forced to stop, too.

‘It’s not related to what we’re doing at the hotel, or Audrey, though I do think she’d love to see old photographs of the village. It would really help with her book, don’t you think?’

Noah folded his arms.

‘Can we please go back to the hotel?’ she said. ‘It’s so cold.’

‘It’s not that bad. Wait until the storm really ramps up.’ There was a glint in his eye, and Hannah took the opportunity to change the subject.

‘Have you ever been out on the water during a storm? You see it on those programmes like Deadliest Catch, where they’re facing waves that are twice as tall as the boat. I can’t imagine being out there when it’s like that – it’s scary enough from here.’ She pointed out to sea, where the waves were cresting all the way to the horizon.

‘It’s magnificent though, isn’t it?’ He turned so that he was standing next to her.

Hannah silently agreed: It was nature at its wildest, and she was lucky she could stand here and watch it, but even so, she felt unnerved being so exposed to it.

‘Hannah?’ he prompted, looking down at her. ‘Are you OK?’ The back of his hand brushed against hers and she jolted. It had felt like a burn, the only point of heat when the rest of her was so cold.

She swallowed. ‘It’s spectacular, but I still wouldn’t want to be out there.’

‘Let’s get back in the warm,’ he said softly, and they started walking. ‘Why do you want to see the photos?’ he asked again, after a few minutes of silence.

‘Why did you turn up in such a bad mood today?’ Hannah countered, recovering some of her composure.

He sighed. ‘There’s just something I’m dealing with, at home. It’s … difficult.’ He paused in front of the hotel doors and ushered Hannah through. She stepped into the glittering reception. Once the doors had closed behind them, the gathering winds were a memory, the choppy sea beyond the glass as unreal as a silent video.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hannah said. ‘Are you sure you’re OK to be here, then? Working on this project?’

‘Absolutely,’ Noah replied quickly. ‘It’s good to have something to take my mind off it. And look, Hannah, it’s none of my business why you want to see those photo albums. I shouldn’t have pressed you. Back to the snug?’ He gave her a weak smile, the earlier warmth gone from his eyes as if it had been blown away by the weather. Hannah nodded, her throat tight.

She followed him into the cosy room, feeling as dejected as he looked. It seemed she’d undone all her good work in one fell swoop.

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