Page 16 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery

Buoyed up by Baileys infused hot chocolates and pleased with how Freya had helped her turn the cottage into a Christmas grotto, Lola slipped into bed, closed her eyes and exhaled.

Lola tried to match her breathing to the sound of the waves in an attempt to relax but her mind was whirring.

Buzzing with the thought that Ruby had possibly found romance in Polcarrow.

The thought of her grandmother indulging in a holiday romance was strangely thrilling.

Lola’s mind drifted. What was this young man like?

He was clearly different to Ernest, who she couldn’t help but feel a little put out for, and knowing how the story eventually ended didn’t help her mind from speculating what had happened in Polcarrow between Ruby and the fisherman she had her eye on.

Opening her eyes, Lola glanced at the bedside table where the diary sat temptingly on top of a stack of books.

An image of Tristan speeding through towards the end came to mind.

His impatience to find out what happened seemed completely at odds with the calm, collected persona he presented to the world.

This little piece of himself that he had revealed reminded Lola that there was still so much more of him to discover, and she was surprised to realise just how much she wanted to delve beneath his surface.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Freya she valued his friendship above all other possibilities, because it was the truth.

However, the other truth was that Lola knew what was brewing between them was something deeper than any fling she’d had before.

It had solid foundations. She enjoyed his company and she could no longer deny it to herself that she’d wanted to kiss him when she’d been reading his palm, but she didn’t want to rush anything.

Life was not a race, she was realising; the journey was as important as the destination.

However, she reasoned, as she sat up, that didn’t mean she couldn’t sneak another entry from the diary.

After all, that was the only way she’d work out who Ruby’s summer fling was.

Knowing that if she didn’t satisfy this curiosity, she’d only lie awake turning it over in her mind, Lola reached for the book and flicked to the next entry.

Dear Diary,

Joan and Ida were miffed I’d been out without them.

We’ve decided to go for a drink in the pub this evening, or at least I’ve persuaded them to.

The afternoon was spent reading books on the beach.

I wish I’d brought some with me because all the ones on the shelves are awfully dry.

Who wants to read about ancient history?

Not me! Anyway, I put on my favourite dress, the one with the pale green flowers on it, and took extra care applying my makeup.

I did not tell them about the beautiful Adonis I saw pushing the boat (maybe I’m not so bored by ancient history or myths as I think!).

Anyway, it was wonderful to be in the pub.

We were sitting in the garden overlooking the sea, pretending to enjoy our cider, when a group of young men turned up.

I saw the man from the beach at the back, our eyes met and I hoped Ida and Joan would blame the sun for the flush on my face.

They got their drinks and came over to us, the thrill of seeing three girls as exciting to them as they were to us.

We got chatting, I was careful not to make a beeline for my favourite.

Charlie is his name. We spoke a bit. There’s something gentle about him, something kind.

Maybe I do read too many novels? It might sound daft, and I’d never tell the other two this, but even as we spoke about the weather, what we’d been up to, it was as if our souls were having a different conversation.

Charlie? Lola’s brow furrowed before a chill ran down her spine.

She reached for her phone, about to message Tristan but saw it was almost eleven.

Hadn’t Alf’s brother been called Charles?

Could it be the same person? What were the chances of there being two men with similar names of similar ages? Lola read on.

We’ve had a success! All the sitting on the beach enjoying the sunshine has piqued the interest of the young fishermen, the ones we met at the pub.

They’ve offered to take us out on their boat for a sail around the bay.

Ida went a bit green at the thought, apparently she was a bit seasick just going around the local boating lake, so I reckon she’ll sit this out.

Charlie did the asking. Afterwards Joan made a comment about him being sweet on me and although I was absolutely thrilled by this, I pretended that I hadn’t noticed.

Joan can be the jealous type. Charlie is lovely though, his eyes are as blue as the sea and I fear I might drown in them, but oh, what a lovely way to go!

‘Oh gosh’, Lola whispered to herself, ‘Ruby had it bad.’ Her eyes fell on the stack of letters sitting on her dressing table, the urge to untie the ribbon that had kept them together for over seventy years was strong.

They must be from Charlie. Charlie who was Alf’s brother.

Lola exhaled, tried to breathe through the emotions that were rising in her chest like a squally sea.

Who cared if it was late, she grabbed her phone and texted Tristan:

I have to talk to you about something, come round the back of the café tomorrow morning, don’t let Alf see you!