The Cornish Cream Tea Summer

‘It’s all very straightforward,’ Charlie had said, as she plated up two warm fruit scones for an older couple who had come on board the bus within five minutes of it being open.

‘It’s magnificent,’ Lila had replied, running her hand along the kitchen counter. ‘And this is all your vision, Charlie. You turned Gertie into this wondrous eating establishment. A bus, a café, a tour guide, a life-saver – is there anything you can’t do together?’

‘I’m not sure we’d win any surfing competitions,’ Charlie had said wistfully, but Lila could tell she was pleased, and that she knew how much she’d accomplished.

‘I’m so happy for you.’ She had felt compelled to hug her cousin, her affection rising to the surface, complete with a flash of envy. Lila couldn’t remember the last time she had achieved anything worthwhile. Notorious, certainly. Noteworthy, not so much. But that was all going to change.

She had taken about five minutes to become addicted to paddling on Porthgolow’s beach. She had always loved the sea, the feel of it against her skin, so different to the stripped, chlorinated feel of a gym pool. It didn’t matter that it was freezing – she looked forward to the warm towel and fluffy socks afterwards – and Marmite, she quickly discovered, was happy to be her partner in crime.

She was walking along the sea’s edge, carrying her shoes, Marmite splashing happily at her feet, when she heard someone shouting from further up the beach. She thought it sounded like ‘You’, but the wind carried it away on the breeze before she could make it out. She turned and saw an older woman, her grey hair curling around her ears, waving in her direction. She looked behind her, but there was only the churn of the waves, and so she stepped out of the water, sand sticking to the soles of her feet.

‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Are you talking to me?’

The older woman shuffled towards her, and Lila saw her face was pinched, unsmiling. Had something happened to Charlie? She felt a jolt of panic and hurried up the beach.

‘So you’re her, then?’ the woman said.

‘I’m who?’ Lila asked.

‘Charlie’s relative. Cousin, isn’t it? You don’t look very alike, I must say.’

‘Yes, I’m Charlie’s cousin. I think we’ve got the same eyes, actually, but then I suppose from just a quick glance we do look quite diff—’

‘I don’t care ’bout that, really. Just wanted a good look at you. I was away on Saturday, missed the food market, missed all your introductions. You met Reenie, my friend, coverin’ the Pop-In for me over the weekend.’

‘Ah,’ Lila said, the pieces falling into place. So this was Myrtle, the owner of the Pop-in that Charlie had told her about, luring her away from her paddling purely so she didn’t have to walk down to the water herself. ‘Yes, I’m Lila. But I’m a person, not a zoo exhibit.’

‘Pardon?’ Myrtle’s brow creased.

‘You said you wanted to look at me. I would have thought it’s a bit of an anticlimax. I’m pretty ordinary looking. No horns, no tail. No mermaid scales.’ She had heard about Reenie – who had taken the photos on Charlie’s wall – and the rumours that Jonah had spread about her.

‘You’ve got some front, girl,’ Myrtle replied, shaking her head. ‘And to think you’re connected to Charlie by blood. I suppose this sort of attitude is all well an’ good in London, but believe me, cheel, it won’t work around here. Not if you want to make friends. I was just tryin’ to be welcoming.’ She turned away.

‘You were?’ Lila asked. Both Charlie and Daniel had assured her Myrtle’s heart was in the right place, even if she sometimes came across as more bristles than feathers. ‘I’m sorry, then. But you had me worried, calling me away from the beach like that. I thought something awful had happened.’

Myrtle nodded, her lips pressed together. ‘Don’t know what you’re doin’ in the water anyway, weather as chill as it is. It’s only just March, you realize. Just because we’re by the sea, doesn’t mean the weather’s always beach weather. You’d do well to remember that.’

Lila chewed the inside of her cheek. ‘I will try my hardest to remember that, Myrtle. Nice to meet you.’ She held her hand out.

Myrtle hesitated, as if it might be some kind of trap, then shook it briefly. Then she shuffled off in the direction of the Pop-In, leaving Lila and Marmite alone at the edge of the beach, Lila’s bare feet turning to blocks of ice as the wind chilled her damp flesh.

By Thursday she felt she knew Gertie inside and out. She had even helped Charlie, the evening before, make a batch of scones in her kitchen at home, marvelling at the way her cousin managed to get flour onto every conceivable surface, including the cooker hood. There had been a lot of laughing, which had felt so good after all the anger, and subsequent wallowing, in London. Lila still couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to mope for as long as she had. There were much better things for her to be doing with her time.

‘You getting on all right, then, Lila?’ Amanda asked, wiping sea spray off her waterproof jacket while Lila frothed the milk for her latte.

‘I love the bus,’ she said, pouring the milk slowly onto the coffee and handing the mug to Amanda. ‘I mean, who wouldn’t?’

‘You’ve trained her well,’ Amanda said to Charlie, who was coming down the stairs with a tray full of crockery.

Charlie laughed. ‘It’s only been a few days, but it’s good to be sharing the load, as light as it is at the moment.’

‘Charlie’s taken me under her wing,’ Lila added. ‘She’s always been good at that. And I turned up unannounced, so …’

‘And with a rather defeatist attitude,’ Charlie said, placing the tray next to the sink and starting to load plates into the narrow dishwasher. ‘You know, I’m sure all Clara needs is some time. If you try to talk to her again in a couple of weeks, you might see that she’s come around.’

‘Who’s Clara?’ Amanda asked.

‘My ex-best friend,’ Lila said. ‘And I tried the whole “giving-her-space” thing. Nope. It’s over. End of. Nothing to see here.’

Charlie shook her head, a flicker of frustration in her eyes.

‘Ah,’ Amanda said, giving Lila a sympathetic smile. ‘The troubles of youth.’

‘The troubles of epic, unforgivable stupidity,’ Lila corrected, taking the last mug from the tray and adding it to the dishwasher.

‘Epic,’ Charlie said, ‘is reserved for death-defying journeys that take years to complete, or action films with meteor strikes in them. And for something supposedly so epic, you seem remarkably matter-of-fact about it. You aren’t showing any signs of falling apart.’

‘Who’s to say I haven’t already? This might be phase one of my recovery.’

‘Denial?’ Charlie asked, and then sighed when Lila shot her a pointed look. ‘Fine. Fine. You can’t fall apart for the next three hours, anyway. I need to go into Truro to stock up on supplies. Daniel’s lending me his car. I can’t always trust the supermarket to get the delivery right, and they’re more expensive for the quantities I need. The bus is yours.’ She grinned.

‘Mine?’ Lila asked.

‘Yes. You’re in charge. Don’t worry, I doubt there’ll be a rush on.’ She turned to the window, where the grey sky was darkening almost by the minute, a thunderous cloud hovering menacingly above the sea.

‘You’re letting me take control?’ Lila ran her hands down her floral-print trousers. ‘Of your Cornish Cream Tea Bus?’

‘I’m on the end of the phone, and Daniel’s up at the hotel. Look, if you crouch, you can see it on the cliff. Surely that’s reassuring?’

‘It would be more reassuring if you were staying here and I was going to spend the afternoon in that hot tub you keep mentioning. I haven’t even seen it yet, and I reckon a good massage and some time in the Jacuzzi bubbles would help a lot.’

‘We can go this evening,’ Charlie said, untying her apron. ‘Right now, you need to do this for me. A few hours in charge of the café. Everything’s here, the menu’s self-explanatory, and we’ve not run out of anything. How much more simple could it get?’

Lila caught Amanda peering at her over the top of her mug, quietly amused. ‘That does sound quite simple, I suppose,’ she admitted.

‘There you go, then.’ Charlie lifted Marmite out of the driver’s cab and, tugging gently on Lila’s hair – a gesture that gave her a flash of nostalgia – walked towards the door. ‘Call me – for anything. However big or small, however stupid you think your question is. If you’re worried then ask, OK?’

‘OK!’ Lila said. She watched Charlie walk in the direction of home, presumably to pick up Daniel’s car.

‘You’ll be grand,’ Amanda said. She raised her mug for a final swallow and patted Lila on the shoulder. ‘I have total faith in you.’

‘You hardly know me,’ Lila replied.

‘But Charlie has faith in you, and that’s good enough for me.’ Amanda walked down the aisle, hopped off the bus and strolled towards the SeaKing Safaris boat, her body hunched against the cold.

When no customers thronged immediately onto the bus, Lila started to enjoy herself. She opened all the cupboards in turn – not that there were many in such a small kitchen – then checked the stock in the fridge, ticking each item off against the printed menu, the lettering in pleasingly ornate, but legible, script. For anyone else, the coffee machine would be the most daunting item on board, and Lila drew confidence from the fact that she could use it with her eyes closed. This model, anyway. Compared to the one she’d taken to Clara’s corporate event, this one was a cinch.

Leaning on the counter, she stared out to sea. Jonah had told her that they often saw dolphins on their SeaKing tours, sometimes even from the beach, and Lila hadn’t ever seen one in real life. How great would it be if she could tell Charlie that not only had she looked after the bus successfully, but that she’d seen the famous dolphin pod, too? She wanted to make Charlie proud. One afternoon in charge of the Cornish Cream Tea Bus might go a small way to restoring her confidence.

That afternoon, visitors dripped in like a leaky tap, and just infrequently enough to be annoying. Not that Lila found people annoying. She could talk to anyone, never found herself shy around strangers; she only ever got tongue-tied with people she cared about – especially when she owed them an apology. But this was like water torture. She would daydream, staring out to sea, and then get interrupted, her mind having to switch from fantasy-mode to scone-warming practicalities in an instant. She had always thought she was adaptable, but maybe not.

‘Do we go upstairs or downstairs, love?’ asked a woman wearing a beautiful scarf with a peacock feather design.

‘Wherever you’d like,’ Lila replied. ‘The best views are on the top deck, but the staircase is on the steep side, so it depends if you think it’s worth the risk.’ She raised her eyebrows. The woman looked concerned and, when she and her male companion shuffled towards a downstairs table, Lila decided she’d better tone down the dramatics.

She made sure she got Peacock Lady’s order right, and even coaxed a smile from her when she made a quip about how she had only been in the bus a few days and had already fallen down the stairs. The scones came out of the oven plump and warm and delicious-smelling, not burnt like the toast she had popped out of Charlie’s toaster that morning.

‘It’s a lovely spot, this,’ Peacock Lady said. ‘So picturesque. Does the bus travel around?’

‘It does,’ Lila replied, leaning against the table opposite theirs. ‘My cousin, Charlie, who owns it, takes it along the coast on these tours – cakes and sightseeing sort of thing. They’re very popular, and she’s only got stuck down the Cornish roads a couple of times. Her boyfriend, Daniel, was telling me about this tour just before Christmas when …’ She hesitated, the look of alarm on Peacock Lady’s face reminding her that she was straying into unwanted territory again. People did not want excitement with their Cornish cream teas. ‘When they went to this hidden cove and there was a rainbow, poised perfectly over the sea,’ she continued. ‘They’d travelled down these dark, tree-tunnel roads, so narrow and winding, and then the world opened up for them in this magnificent way. That’s the thing about Cornwall, isn’t it? So many hidden places, so many opportunities to be enchanted.’

‘Oh,’ the woman said, her scone hovering inches from her lips, ‘yes, that does sound wonderful. You don’t have any details about the tours, do you?’

‘I surely do,’ Lila said, skipping to the front of the bus and getting one of the postcards with all Gertie’s information on. ‘Here you go. Up-to-date tour dates are on the website, and you can always contact us here. I’ll leave you to your scones.’ She gave them a twinkly smile and retreated into the kitchen, deciding that she could reward herself with a cappuccino dusted with chocolate, maybe even a squirt of cream. She had never tried her hand at selling, but perhaps she was a natural. Perhaps that was where her future lay.

‘No, I don’t mind about that, Marcie, I just – we need to amp it up. Now that we’re here. Do you see …’ The voice behind Lila cut out in a loud sigh, and she pivoted to discover a man standing in the middle of the aisle, wearing a green puffa jacket, taking up the space with his brash voice and his looming presence, his tightly curled hair so pale that she couldn’t tell whether it was blond or white. She huffed; how rude of him to come onto the bus when he was on the phone. ‘No, Marcie,’ he continued, after a pause, ‘but production starts in a couple of weeks, so we need to line everything up. Truly Cornish, that’s what we’ve said, and at the moment we’ve got a few local suppliers, and Toby Welsh’s great-aunt was born in Penzance or something.’

Lila’s ears pricked up at the word ‘production’ and the mention of Toby Welsh. She knew him. He was an actor. A young, hot actor. He’d starred in an ITV drama about a psychopath stalking the wards of a Manchester hospital. She’d only caught the last episode, so hadn’t entirely followed the plot, but she’d been mesmerized by his performance. And his dark curls and smouldering eyes, and the evidence of his in-shape body beneath that tight-fitting black outfit.

She leaned on the counter and watched Phone Man, silently praying, now, that he wouldn’t walk off the bus. After all, he must have come on board for something. He caught her gaze, pointed at the phone and rolled his eyes. It was an apology of sorts, and Lila found herself smiling back, as if she understood exactly what was going on.

‘Of course, Marcie,’ he said placatingly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ‘We’ll sort it later. When I’m back, yes. Of course. See you then.’ He pressed the screen to end the call and gave Lila a world-weary smile that reached his grey eyes.

‘That sounded intense,’ she said. ‘Coffee?’

‘Please. Strong, milky Americano if you’ve got it. And sorry for …’ He glanced behind him, to where Peacock Lady and her husband were staring unashamedly at him, disapproval etched on their faces. ‘For broadcasting that. The line wasn’t great so I had to shout.’

‘Trouble with the production?’ Lila asked meekly while she set about making his coffee.

‘There are always teething problems,’ he replied. ‘It’s the nature of the beast, but I’ve left myself – well, set myself some additional challenges this time round.’

‘I couldn’t help hearing you mention Toby Welsh. You’re working with him?’

‘Yeah, he’s one of the male leads. Adds an extra level of pressure, but of course it’s worth it for his performance, and the attention he’ll bring. We’re lucky to have him. It’s all been charmed, so far. Casting and location-wise, anyway. It’s just this additional …’ He sighed again, and Lila had the sense that he would be talking even if she walked off the bus. He wasn’t really speaking to her any more. He rubbed his jaw and gave her an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, a million things on my mind. Thank you,’ he added, when she passed him his coffee. He didn’t sit down, instead leaned against the counter that marked the space between the kitchen and the customer seating. Breaking the fourth wall already, Lila thought wryly.

‘I’ve always got time to listen,’ she said, ‘if you want to offload. And how about a Cornish cream tea from the Cornish Cream Tea Bus?’ She spread her arms wide, testing out her sales technique again, seeing if it would work on even the most distracted of customers.

The man opened his mouth to speak, and then shut it. He looked around him, then extended that into a slow circle, holding his mug close to his chest. When he’d finished, his eyes pinned Lila to the spot. ‘The Cornish Cream Tea Bus,’ he repeated. ‘A café? On a bus? Based here?’

‘All those things are correct,’ Lila said, smiling. He was very intense, this man.

‘Wow.’ He rubbed his jaw. ‘I guess I saw all that – I was desperate for a coffee, which is why I came on here in the first place, but thinking about it, I might … I mean I could possibly … Did you say you had a moment to listen?’

‘Sure.’ Lila picked up her cappuccino and led him to the nearest table. Peacock Lady got up to pay, and Lila gave her and her husband a cheery goodbye, and then returned to where the intense man was sitting, tapping frantically on his iPhone. She sat opposite him, and he finished what he was doing and put his phone in his pocket.

‘Winston Thorpe,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Producer for new historical drama series, Estelle. We’re filming it for the BBC, starting the Cornwall location shoot in a couple of weeks.’

Lila was silent for a moment, wishing her résumé was even half as impressive. ‘Delilah Forest,’ she replied. ‘Helping out with my cousin’s Cornish Cream Tea Bus.’

‘It’s not yours?’ he asked. ‘The bus? So you don’t have any sway, any control over it?’

Lila raised her shoulders. ‘Charlie’s put me in charge, so I’ve got the capacity to make executive decisions.’ It sounded pompous, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to tell him that she was inconsequential. Not when he knew Toby Welsh.

‘Excellent.’ He rubbed his hands together and took a sip of his drink, before levelling her with another direct stare, this time accompanied by a charming smile. ‘Well, Delilah Forest, I might have a proposition for you and the Cornish Cream Tea Bus. Have a moment to hear me out?’

Lila grinned, her pulse suddenly racing. ‘I do, indeed. What is your proposition, Winston Thorpe?’

Chapter Four

In hindsight, Lila realized that telling Charlie about her conversation with Winston Thorpe while they relaxed around the indoor swimming pool of Daniel’s posh, cliff-top spa hotel hadn’t been the best idea. She had thought that the calming atmosphere of Crystal Waters, all its elegant luxury (and it was one of the most luxurious places Lila had ever seen), along with the fact that they weren’t entirely alone, would allow Charlie to absorb the news before reacting. Not to mention that it was where they had been heading anyway, the evening of Lila’s first solo afternoon on the bus. But as Charlie screeched out ‘What?’ and Lila had to listen to it echo around the tiled walls, she realized she had chosen the wrong setting.

‘What did you say?’ Charlie hissed it this time, and Lila glanced at the two blonde, preened women in the shallow end of the pool, who were taking great care to keep their coiffed up-dos above the water, while watching Charlie and Lila intently.

Lila rolled over, adjusting her bright blue bikini with orange, Nemo-style fish on it, wishing she’d packed a subtle one-piece like Charlie’s, and met her cousin head on.

‘It is a great opportunity,’ Lila pressed. ‘You, me and Gertie on an actual television set, for a programme that’s going to be shown on the BBC. Toby Welsh is going to be there. He’s the star of the show. And the Cornish Cream Tea Bus, Charlie, an integral part of it.’ She pointed a finger, hoping she was achieving a level of gravitas.

‘It’s a period drama, isn’t it?’ Charlie said, her face not yet relaxing into anything approaching calm. ‘I know Gertie’s a vintage bus, but nineteenth century is pushing it a bit.’

Lila started to laugh, and then realized Charlie wasn’t joining in. ‘You don’t believe me. You think I would make something like this up? He wants Gertie to be part of the catering for the cast and crew. Well, the craft services. So we’re always available, people can come to the bus whenever they’re not busy filming or make-up-ing or directing, and get a coffee or a snack. It’s separate from the catering team who provide the hot meals. Winston told me all about it.’

‘I’m sure Winston did,’ Charlie said shortly. ‘That doesn’t mean you had any right to offer Gertie to him. I have responsibilities – the food markets, tours, the day-to-day café in Porthgolow. What will the regulars do if we’re not there? What will Jeremy and Delia do if they can’t have their Cornish cream tea on a Friday morning?’

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Lila picked up her glass of water and took a long, cooling swig. It was deceptive, this beautiful swimming pool, which – she still couldn’t quite believe – was owned by Charlie’s boyfriend. The sky outside had turned tumultuous, pre-empting the pall of winter darkness due within the next hour, and yet the lighting and warmth in the pool room was cosy and – now Lila was under intense scrutiny from her cousin – almost stifling. ‘It’s a TV set. It’s going to be one of BBC One’s flagship dramas.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘And you told me that the bus wasn’t busy in the off-season. Winston said they’ll be doing the location filming over the next few months, and we won’t be needed for the interior shoots which are all happening in studios in Bristol. So it won’t be all the time. Week-blocks, depending on when the locations are booked in. But it will mean Gertie gets all the prestige of being part of the set, and she – we – will get to travel to different parts of Cornwall, so she’ll get noticed, too. And we might get to serve Toby Welsh.’ She flapped her hand in front of her face, imagining those dark curls bobbing before her, his beautiful eyes finding hers. He definitely had good eyes – she didn’t think you could be a successful actor without expressive eyes. And so what if he’d turned out to be the killer in that hospital drama he’d been in? That just proved how talented he was.

Charlie hadn’t shot back another question, and Lila experienced a brief blossoming of hope. She knew, the moment she’d shaken hands with Winston, said ‘great’ when he’d told her he’d get his assistant Marcie to draw up a contract and get it sent over, that she had made a mistake. It wasn’t her bus to offer, and she had known Charlie would take some persuading, to say the least. Now she had to practise that selling technique she had been limbering up on board the bus, and show Charlie how good an idea it was. If it was too late to backtrack – and she didn’t want to incur the wrath of a powerful TV producer, even if it was unlikely she’d ever see him again – then she had to get Charlie to come round to her way of thinking.

‘What is this Estelle about again?’ Charlie asked, narrowing her eyes at Lila.

‘It’s an atmospheric gothic ghost story, about two brothers who inherit this big, spooky Cornish house and move in only to discover it’s haunted by the spirit of one of the previous occupants, Estelle. They have to unravel why she’s haunting it, and of course they get embroiled in all the local goings-on in the tiny Cornish village, and there’s drama and romance and betrayal. Doesn’t it sound amazing?’ To be honest, Lila sometimes found it hard to see past the dodgy outfits and hats, or the curly wigs they all seemed to wear in period dramas, but any kind of TV set was bound to be an exciting place to work.

‘It sounds interesting,’ Charlie murmured, chewing her lip and then rolling on to her back to stare up at the ceiling.