Page 39 of And Then There Was You

Thirty-Three Merryn

‘ This Sunday?’ Ruthie repeats, incredulous at the request. ‘Jack Dixon’s havin’ a laugh!’

‘I said we could do it.’

I brace myself for her reply.

‘Ridiculous, Mer! That’s what this is! We can’t do that menu in two days!’

‘That’s why we’re changing it,’ I reply. ‘Sandwiches. Scones. Empire oceans.’

Her glare softens a little at my mention of the new menu.

It’s simple, easy to prepare in batches but still infused with Sweet Reverie’s character.

Our empire ocean biscuits will be the killer touch: homemade treats that are fast becoming our bestselling sweet option this summer.

Inspired by Scottish empire biscuits, they’re made from two rounds of buttery vanilla shortcake sandwiched with raspberry jam, topped with white icing.

But where traditional empire biscuits are finished with a glacé cherry or jelly tot sweet on top, ours have a swirl of blueberry icing on top of the white, to resemble a cresting wave.

Perfect for the setting, the company and the occasion.

‘But I can’t be there to do it,’ she says.

‘Please, Ruthie. I’ll give you double time.’

She shakes her head. ‘It’s not the money, Mer. I’m doin’ a craft fair with Mum, over in Porthleven. I promised her, months back.’

‘Could someone else help?’ I know I sound panicked and I wish I didn’t, but we need this gig and it could open up so many possibilities for the business. I should have checked with Ruthie first before agreeing, but Jack caught me off-guard and I was keen to show him Sweet Reverie could handle it.

‘No can do. Sorry, Mer. Mum’s paid for the table and she can’t take all that stuff on her own.’ She sets a conciliatory hand on my arm. ‘I can help with all the food prep, and maybe Murph or Jenna could come with you.’

‘But I need them here.’ I hadn’t expected any problems, caught up in the joy of being with Zach and the thrill of the search for Grant. My mind races with logistical puzzles – I could transport the food to the beach by myself, but would I be able to set it up and serve everyone single-handedly?

‘How about Zach?’ Ruthie says.

‘What? No, I don’t think I could ask him.’

‘I reckon he’d do just about anythin’ you asked him, judgin’ by his big old dopey face when he saw you today.’ My assistant folds her arms. ‘Besides, it’s the least he can do to make up for runnin’ out on his order.’

‘He’s said sorry for that.’

‘That ain’t the point, Mer! You’re the carrot that can get him to do stuff. That’s the beauty of relationships! So ask him.’

I set about putting preparations in place, busying myself with lists and schedules to get the food ready, while trying not to think about the risk of asking Zach.

It feels too soon, too sudden to be seeking his help, when he’s already doing so much aiding my search for Grant.

But later that evening, when we’re sitting together beside Merlin, I dare to ask the question.

‘Ruthie can’t do Sunday,’ I begin, ‘for the picnic. We’re fine getting everything ready, but I need Murph and Jenna to hold the fort here.

I can’t afford to lose a day’s trading. So I was wondering – and please don’t feel you have to agree – could you help me?

At the picnic? I mean, if not I’ll just do it myself, but . . .’

‘Yes,’ he says, his smile broadening when I stop gabbling and look up at him.

‘Really?’

He strokes a gentle finger over the contour of my cheek. ‘Of course. I’d love to.’

*

Gwithian Beach is a blustery beauty on Sunday morning, the thunder of waves and wind tempered by the salt air rush and warm, sparkling sunshine bathing everything in sight. It’s been too long since I visited, despite being just around the bay from St Ives.

I’ll make more time to explore the landscape when the summer season ends, I promise myself, lugging crates from the van I hired and following Zach down the steep, sandy path over the dunes to the beach.

I still can’t believe he agreed to help me.

I keep sneaking glances at my handsome assistant for the day, amazed at how quickly he’s become part of my life.

He’s charming and sunny and acts like nothing is too much trouble for him.

I love that. Even if my head is taking longer to accept it than my heart.

My team have been great, too – another blessing I’m counting in this.

As planned, we started preparations yesterday, making items that could be kept chilled in the fridge overnight and baking batch upon batch of cheese scones, a favourite speciality of ours, which Jack had specifically requested.

At six this morning, the final push began.

With the help of Murph and Jenna, we cut sandwiches, assembled salads and baked extra empire ocean biscuits, each one dotted with tiny gold sugar stars around the cresting wave on top.

Ruthie, Murph and Jenna have speculated in recent days about why Jack Dixon organised this and why so many of our friends have been invited.

His plea for us to keep talk of it from Seren has only added to the suspicion.

So, when he meets us on the beach, uncharacteristically flustered, I sense our theories might be correct.

‘We’re just going to be out by the shoreline,’ he tells us. ‘So, if you and the gang could hang back here, by the dunes, that would be great.’

‘Leave it to us,’ I assure him. ‘Do you have everything you need?’

‘I think so.’ He pats his pocket, then instantly reddens when he realises he’s given the game away. ‘You can’t tell anyone.’

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’ I smile, even though I suspect most of the guests for the impromptu beach picnic, at the place where Jack and Seren’s love story began, have probably sussed the reason behind it.

He hurries off to fetch Seren and Nessie from the nearby caravan park where he and his daughter once lived. They’re visiting Jeb, the owner, who I suspect is in on Jack’s plan, too.

‘Is he doing what I think he’s doing?’ Zach whispers to me, his arm sliding around my shoulder as we watch Jack jogging away.

‘Wait and see,’ I reply, leaning into his warm body.

We set out a stack of cosy blankets from a Cornish blanket company in St Ives, woven in random shades that match the surrounding landscape.

Adwenna, who manages the shop, donated them to Jack as a gift for the occasion.

They sell some of Seren’s gorgeous seaglass jewellery alongside the blankets and wanted to be part of this completely innocuous picnic.

We have a crate of champagne delivered by the bottle shop on Fore Street and stunning glass platters to serve food on from the fused glass workshop next to St Ia’s Church.

Everything here speaks of love.

It’s moving to see it. And to be beside Zach is an added gift.

Seren and Jack are loved by so many in the community, their journey to find each other the stuff of local legend. Seren’s father once ran a gallery in Cyril Noall Square, just off Fore Street, and much of the love locals had for him has passed naturally to his daughter.

We have twenty guests due at any moment, so Zach and I lay out the random rug blankets across the sand at the base of the dunes, weighing down the corners with rocks and scattering cushions around them for comfort.

I’m excited and nervous, witnessing Sweet Reverie’s first foray into catering that could prove providential if it’s a success.

Having a catering arm of the business would mean a secondary source of income for the months when visitor numbers to the café lessen.

It’s an opportunity I’m determined to make the most of.

‘Does it matter that we’re in view?’ Zach asks, as we unpack the last of the crates and stack them in a natural dip in the dune, pulling a green tarpaulin over them.

‘I don’t think so. We’ll have to keep everyone quiet while Jack’s doing whatever it is he’s doing.’

He laughs. ‘I love how everyone’s acting like it isn’t obvious what’s about to happen.’

I smile back. ‘We all want it to work. I just hope nobody’s let the secret slip to Seren.’

‘They won’t. It’s so sweet. And they’ll love the food. This is such a cool thing you’re doing, Merryn. I’m glad I could be here for you.’

I link my arm with his. ‘Me too. Okay, I think we’re ready.’

‘And just in time,’ he says, looking up to the path between the dunes, where a stream of people are descending.

It takes a while for us to settle the picnic party, furnishing them all with fruit punch and cheese nibbles while we wait for Jack to appear. Nerves are building in my stomach: not just for us, but for Jack, too.

And then, we see them.

Out at the shoreline, where the light meets damp sand in a dazzle of white.

Silhouetted against the huge rolling waves, Jack and Seren walk, hand in hand, Nessie dancing and weaving around them.

When they come level with us, staring out to sea, we see Jack stop and point at something on the beach.

Seren looks down, her hand flying to her mouth.

As she’s looking at whatever is on the beach, Jack drops to one knee in the sand, Nessie skipping about behind him.

Zach and I, and the gathered picnic party, hold our collective breaths, and then we see Seren nod, Jack rising to scoop her up in his arms. Spontaneously, we all jump to our feet and cheer, causing the newly engaged couple to look over and head across the sand to join us.

It’s the loveliest moment I’ve witnessed. I catch Zach wiping a tear away as we move to welcome the newly engaged couple.

It’s so different to the proposal I had.

Not on a stunning beach, with a line of beautiful seaglass pieces leading to a collage of stars surrounding the message WILL YOU MARRY ME?

picked out in pebbles and driftwood, as Jack did for Seren – but in the busy kitchen of a Falmouth restaurant where Luke and I were working together.

Across the din between saucepans and plates, he yelled his proposal to me.

Days later, the head chef promoted Luke to his second-in-command, citing his ability to take initiative as the reason, while I carried on as a sous chef.

I don’t want to remember that anymore. For so long I held on to the moment as proof of a time when we were good together. Looking at it now, I wonder. Did Luke only propose like he did to catch the attention of our head chef?

I dismiss the thought as Zach and I serve champagne to the delighted party.

The food is a success, our outside styling loved by all.

Having Zach beside me is the loveliest bonus, his faith in me and what I do as bright as the sun this afternoon.

And the sight of two people completely in love, surrounded by a tight-knit group of friends, gives me the shot of hope I need.

Pushing memories of Luke firmly from my mind, I lean into the joy of this moment.

The past is gone, I tell myself. I have a new life now. One I’ve worked hard for, that I owe only to myself. New openings, new friends, new possibilities. And whatever Zach Trevelyan is going to bring me.

It’s more than I could have dared to imagine. And I’m loving it.

When we return to the empty café – now cleaned and prepared for tomorrow’s trading – Zach helps me put everything away. We’re tired but buzzing, the best kind of weary after a triumph of an event.

‘I have been waiting to do this all day,’ he says, pulling me in for a long, slow kiss. I melt into it, the thrill overriding my aching limbs and tired mind. We rise and fall as we hold each other close, the sweet delay of the day rewarded.

When he pulls back, I reach up to stroke his hair, sand-soft beneath my fingers.

‘Stay,’ I say, never more certain of anything before.

His kiss is the perfect reply.