Page 18 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery

The prospect of having to decorate a total of three Christmas trees, and to keep them all sparkling with individuality would daunt most people, but Lola, loving anything that could be considered the icing on the cake, was ready to rise to the challenge.

In her opinion, Christmas trees were one area of life where the old adage of ‘less is more’ went out the window.

Having warmed up by decking out the cottage, childlike joy surged through Lola as she approached the tree that had been allocated to her in the church.

Lola hummed festive tunes as she stood in the rather chilly church, hanging glistening baubles on the tiny tree and festooning it with more tinsel than was strictly necessary.

Memories of attending her annual Christingle service as a child stirred inside her – the sharp tang of the oranges and cloves, the perilous flickering candles.

The church smell was almost the same: damp stone, an ancient mustiness with a slight chill.

Yet here the sea air crept under the ill-fitting door and mingled with the smell of newly polished pews.

Having decided to quit with the tinsel while she was ahead, Lola stepped back and studied the tree she’d spent the past twenty minutes decorating. She was just making some tweaks when her attention was caught by the church office door opening and from the corner of her eye, she saw Tristan emerge.

Lola readjusted a piece of pink tinsel and turned to Tristan. ‘Ta-da!’

‘Looks good,’ he said as he joined her.

They both regarded the tree, decked out in sparkly gold baubles, pink and blue tinsel with a wonky angel stuck on the stop.

‘Think she’s been on the sherry.’ Tristan nodded at the fairy and Lola tried to straighten her out as he asked, ‘No handmade decorations?’

Lola sighed. ‘No. I wanted to crochet some but I didn’t quite have the time.

Maybe next year. Anyway, if it’s a competition then I think it’s only fair the Scouts or the school win.

I went a bit mad in the pound shop. But I like it, it reminds me of when I was little and my brother and I decorated the tree.

No taste, no colour scheme, just throwing on whatever glittered. ’

‘So it has sentimental value?’ he asked and when Lola nodded he continued thoughtfully, ‘Isn’t that really what Christmas is all about?

Rediscovering our joy? People put far too much pressure on themselves to have a perfect Christmas when really, what is it about? Spending time with people you love.’

He slipped a glance at Lola as he said this and, slightly lost for words, she smiled back before saying, ‘You’re right.

All the other trees look lovely. I can’t wait to see them with all their lights turned on, it’s going to be absolutely magical.

Freya and I decorated the cottage last night.

If you think there’s too much tinsel on this tree, then you should see my living room! ’

‘Sounds wonderful. My tree is still in its box,’ Tristan confessed. ‘I don’t normally put it up until the first of December.’

‘But that’s only a few days away! You can’t have people come round and there be no tree!’

‘The nativity set is out, if that helps?’ he offered.

Lola narrowed her eyes. ‘Well, as you’re a vicar, I’ll let you off. You are more responsible for the baby Jesus side of things. But we need to fix this tree situation.’

‘Well, if you’ve got nothing better to do right now, fancy giving me a hand?’

Lola made a show of pretending to wrestle with other plans. One tree was enough for one day, but Tristan looked adorable as he asked her. ‘Oh, go on, you’ve twisted my arm.’

Following him out of the church she stopped and pointed to a tree still in its box. ‘What’s that one for?’

‘It’s a spare. It’s a lot bigger than the others and I’m not sure what to do with it. It was in storage, but I decided not to give it to anyone to decorate, didn’t want to be accused of favouritism. I’ll probably just stick it back in the cupboard.’

The box was dusty and held together with yellowed Sellotape.

It contained a six-foot tree rather than the three-foot ones that were dotted about in the window alcoves.

An idea began to form. ‘Why don’t we do a collective tree?

Get everyone to put a decoration on it that means something to them.

Or a gratitude or hope tree. Make some little cards and get everyone to write something on them and then hang them on the tree? It’ll be a community event.’

‘That’s a fantastic idea, Lola! I’m sure lots of people have things to be grateful for this year, what with the festival and that wonderful mural celebrating our fishing heritage, and life in Polcarrow looking to be on the up. I’d certainly put tea and toast at Lola’s on mine.’ Tristan grinned.

‘You charmer.’ Lola swatted the compliment away, her heart warmed by Tristan admitting her café was what he was most grateful for as she waited for him to grab his coat. ‘So, did you find anything about our mysterious Charlie?’

‘Sadly not much,’ he said as he zipped up his coat. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you. I was hoping there’d be a photo or something but all I could find was his entry in the baptism records. Born 1928, which would have made him twenty-two at the time Ruby visited.’

‘Twenty-two,’ Lola echoed, ‘that seems so young now. Maybe . . . No.’

‘What?’

Lola sighed. ‘Maybe I should just ask Alf?’

They walked in silence contemplating this.

‘You could,’ Tristan ventured. ‘What’s stopping you?’

‘It’s a big thing for me to get my head around, to think Ruby actually came here, that she knew Alf and fancied his brother. Or who we assume is his brother. I know it doesn’t end well because Charlie died. Maybe it was just a summer fling,’ Lola sighed.

Sensing there was more Tristan supplied, ‘But?’

‘The letters.’

‘You’ve still not read them?’

Lola shook her head. ‘Part of it still feels like I’m trespassing.

I keep thinking of how Alf tells everyone to not dwell on the past and here I am raking it all up.

The box was hidden so maybe none of us were meant to know.

And here I am going through it like it’s a romance novel.

My grandmother had a lovely long life, she was happily married to Ernest in the end, but I can’t help my curiosity. ’

‘That’s understandable. I’m here for you whatever you decide and whenever you want to talk about it. You don’t have to do any of this alone,’ he said as he unlocked his front door and held it open for her.

‘Thank you. I think I might take a break from reading the diary for a while,’ Lola said, pausing slightly before stepping over the threshold. ‘I can’t believe I’ve not been in here before,’ she said, taking in the slightly outdated décor in the hallway.

‘You’ll be the only one. When I first arrived there was a steady stream of callers bearing cakes, biscuits and words of advice about the village.’

‘What did Alf tell you?’

‘To not to listen to everyone else. Miserable lot, he called them, all stuck in their ways.’

Lola laughed. ‘Sounds like Alf. I wonder if what happened with his brother is why he’s so against looking at the past? Once upon a time I would’ve gone in all guns blazing, tossed the photo on the table and asked him to tell me everything.’

‘I’m sure he’d be willing to talk to you, but I understand your concerns.

Shipwrecks and storms were commonplace in seafaring communities, but it was also a long time ago.

Maybe Alf would find it comforting to remember his youth?

’ Tristan took Lola’s coat and scarf and hung them on the rack by the front door.

‘We do have a tendency to romanticise the past. Oh, I didn’t mean anything about you, of course,’ he blustered as he spied Lola’s 1950s style dress.

‘No offence taken,’ she said, laying a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘I know what you mean. I like the style but I’m not sure I would’ve liked to live in those times. I probably wouldn’t have been allowed to run my own business.’

Lola took in the hallway; the telephone table with an ancient landline plugged in. ‘Does that go straight to God?’ she asked, picking up the receiver.

Tristan took it from her. ‘Only I have his number and I’m not at liberty to dish it out. Go through.’ He indicated to the living room.

‘Spoilsport.’ Lola pretended to sulk as she walked up the hall into the living room. It was homely, decorated more for the previous, older resident. Dark green armchairs and sofa, an electric fire and paintings of the countryside on the walls. ‘Didn’t they redecorate for you?’

‘There wasn’t much time. It’s OK, I’m used to it. It gives the villagers something stable, unchanged to feel at peace with. Tea or coffee?’

‘Tea please.’

Tristan disappeared into the kitchen leaving Lola to have a little nose about the living area, searching for something, anything personal, but there was nothing other than a few early Christmas cards and some photos of people Lola assumed were Tristan’s sister’s children.

Photos of them were dotted around the place and an adorable one tugged at Lola’s heart.

Tristan and the three children were hanging from a set of monkey bars in an autumnal park.

Lola picked it up off the shelf for a closer look, her heart melting a little.

Tristan was a bit younger, his golden hair still gloriously getting in his eyes, which were alight with humour from messing about with the children, who had been captured with big, laughing grins on their faces.

Lola turned, photo still in hand, as Tristan entered.

‘I hope it’s up to standard,’ he said as he passed a mug to her. ‘Ah, that’s my niece and nephews. Harriet, Oliver and Sam. They’re generally really well behaved – too well behaved in fact for three under tens, so I like to go and ruffle their feathers, as much to annoy my sister as anything else.’

‘They’re very cute. How come they’ve not visited?’ Lola asked as she replaced the photo.

‘Busy lives,’ Tristan explained, but not before he’d taken a longing look at the photo.

‘My brother-in-law started a new job and ended up not being able to take the leave they’d hoped for.

My sister hates driving long distances and can you imagine navigating that lot on the train?

’ Tristan chuckled, but Lola noticed the sadness in his eyes.

He clearly missed them. ‘Still, I’ll go and visit in the New Year, and they’ve already got a holiday cottage booked for the two-week Easter holiday. I do miss them.’

‘Lucky them having an uncle by the sea.’

‘Yes, they can’t wait to go surfing. I don’t know how to tell them that it’s not my cup of tea.’

‘Oh, we’ll send Freya out with them, she’s dying to give it a try.’

Tristan smiled his gratitude. ‘I’ll remember that. So, shall we get on with this tree then? Two pairs of hands will be quicker than one.’

Lola suspected that the plastic tree and decorations had been inherited with the rectory. They smelled rather musty and the baubles had lost a bit of their shine, but once on the tree along with well-placed fairy lights and tinsel the tree would sparkle.

‘It needs to go by the window—’ Lola intercepted Tristan as he went to position it by the fireplace ‘—so people can see it as they walk past.’

Following her advice, Tristan moved the tree to the space in front of the window. Lola stepped forward and fluffed up the branches, evening it out. ‘Now, that’s a lot better. Can you pass me the decorations.

‘Thank God you’re here to supervise,’ he said as he brought the box over to Lola, watching as she rummaged through the red and gold baubles and tinsel.

Smiling up at him she said, ‘Decorating a tree is always more fun with two people. Here, can you check the lights actually work?’

Once he’d confirmed the lights did work, Tristan put on a Christmas music playlist and they bopped around as they hung the baubles and Lola wrapped tinsel around the mirror and mantelpiece, before draping some around her own neck and then Tristan’s.

Two pairs of hands made quick work of the tree.

Lola reached into the box and handed Tristan the star. ‘It’s your tree, you do the honours.’

Tristan reached up and carefully placed the golden star on the top. ‘Do you think Angelo is going to make something for the lobster pot tree? I worry I put him on the spot.’

‘Freya seems confident he’s working on something. He wouldn’t have volunteered unless he wanted to do it. He takes his artistic integrity quite seriously, so I wouldn’t worry too much.’

They lapsed into silence as they studied the tree, checking it over, making sure it was all perfect. Lola swapped a couple of baubles round then stepped back.

‘Do you think it’s ready?’ Tristan asked as he straightened up the star on the top.

Lola gave the tree a final once-over. ‘Yes, I think it’s perfect, anything else would just spoil it.’

Tristan smiled at her. ‘Close your eyes and I’ll do the honours with the lights.’

Lola nodded and uncoiled a length of tinsel she’d been wearing like a red sparkly feather boa.

Closing her eyes, she felt him move across the room, heard the switch and the room was plunged into a darkness full of anticipation.

Lola felt it prickle at her neck, the dryness at the back of her tongue.

‘No peeking,’ Tristan instructed from somewhere to her right.

Lola heard the click of the switch being flicked, felt the darkness recede and as Tristan took his place beside her, everything about the moment felt right, comforting.

‘Open your eyes, Lola,’ he instructed, his voice as soft as a kiss.

Slowly, savouring the moment, Lola opened her eyes and gasped. The tree was glorious, the golden lights sparkled like a hundred little wishes. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, risking a glance at Tristan.

He was watching her reaction, a look of tenderness on his face laying bare his feelings, as if she was the most beautiful thing in the room, not the tree.

Overwhelmed, Lola turned back to the tree, and later she couldn’t say if she imagined it or not, but she swore she felt the briefest glance of his fingers against hers, sparking something inside her.

‘We make a good team,’ he said. His eyes met hers and something warm began to unfurl inside Lola, something that felt very much like coming home.