Page 23 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery

‘Don’t forget we’re making the Christmas pudding this morning!

’ Lola banged on Freya’s door bright and early the following day, excitement at the task buzzing through her.

Having eschewed Steve’s punch the only thing that had kept sleep at bay was replaying her conversation with Tristan.

Had he asked her on a date? As in a romantic date? Lola hoped so.

‘Ugh, do we have to?’ Lola heard Angelo grumble. ‘I don’t think I even like Christmas pudding.’

Freya’s voice was muffled until she called out, ‘Sure, we’ll see you there in a bit.’

Satisfied with Freya’s response, Lola headed downstairs, wrapped an extra-long rose-pink scarf around her neck and pulled on her green checked coat, without caring that the colours clashed.

She loved providing a dash of vibrancy to a dark winter morning.

Letting herself out through the front door, she shivered as the cold breeze found its way under the few gaps in her layers.

Straightening her shoulders, head held high, Lola crossed the road to the harbour side and watched the sea swirling grey against the sand, enjoying the way the fresh air cleared her head.

She set about doing her daily gratitude ritual, listing off her thanks for the gorgeous sea view she was blessed with every day, having friends who were willing to come together for a communal Christmas, and for how successful the Festive Festival had been.

She was sure Sue would be buzzing this morning.

Satisfied and looking forward to hearing Sue’s festival debrief later, Lola stepped away from the harbour wall and hurried across to the café where she quickly unlocked the door, went inside and craving a few minutes peace, locked it behind her.

Once in the kitchen, Lola made herself a breakfast of tea and a toasted teacake, smothered in butter, which she ate whilst planning out that morning’s bakes and getting the ingredients ready for the Christmas pudding.

Flicking on the radio, Lola bobbed along with the music as she pulled her Nannie Ruby’s battered and stained recipe book off the shelf, holding it to her chest in lieu of being able to hug her grandmother.

As she thumbed through the book, passing recipes for rock cakes, scones and trifle, golden tinted happiness washed over her to remember the Saturday afternoons they would spend baking fairy cakes and icing them, leaving sticky pink trails across the countertop.

The Christmas pudding recipe was near the back, the pages slightly better preserved as they’d been less used.

With a sad smile Lola set the book down and rummaged under the table for her scales.

Her phone bleeped and Lola saw Tristan’s name flashing up on the screen. Lola unlocked the phone and read the hurried message:

Sorry, will miss breakfast, got a bit of an emergency. I’ll be there in time for the pudding X.

Lola honed in on the kiss, reading all sorts into it, indulging in a daydream about actually kissing Tristan.

He’d be slow and careful as he leaned in towards her.

Her toes tingled to think of him picking the right moment.

With a sigh she put the thought to the back of her mind.

After all, she signed all her texts with oodles of kisses, even once, embarrassingly so, to the farmer after he’d confirmed her order was ready.

As a distraction Lola set about making a fresh batch of scones and a coffee and walnut loaf.

While they were baking in the oven, she busied herself weighing out the dried fruit for the pudding, selecting the largest pudding basin she had, figuring that if they were going to make a communal one then it had to be an impressive size.

Engrossed in singing along to the radio and weighing out her ingredients, Lola almost missed the banging at the café door.

Lola gave her hands a quick wipe before hurrying out to see Freya, Angelo, Alf and Scruff all huddled in the doorway.

Freya was peering through the glass, hand raised ready to knock again.

‘Sorry, I was miles away,’ Lola apologised as she pulled the door open.

‘I forgot my key,’ Freya explained.

‘Morning, perishing out there,’ Alf remarked. ‘This pudding better be worth it.’

‘Of course it will be! I’m almost done, I’ve weighed all the stuff out and I’m just about to mix it all together, then you can all have a wish.’

‘A wish?’ Angelo asked, bemused.

‘You all give the mixture a stir and make a wish,’ Alf explained. ‘I guess it’s more for kids but I think it’s a nice tradition.’

‘We never did anything like that. Christmas was always a bit hybrid, Italian and English. I don’t think I’ve ever had Christmas pudding,’ Angelo mused.

Alf’s mouth dropped open. ‘What? But you’ve had turkey, yes?’

Angelo laughed. ‘I’m half Italian, not half alien. Yes, we had turkey, we just never had Christmas pudding. You know I’ve not got much of a sweet tooth.’

Alf gave him a long look and shook his head in disbelief. Freya set about making hot drinks and toast, and Lola used a chair to prop the kitchen door ajar so she could listen in on their conversation about Angelo’s renovations of Bayview House. Alf was putting him through his paces.

‘You see, that house was built when I was a lad, we used to go up there and watch the builders. We’d never seen anything like it, all those big windows, how grand the rooms were, completely different to our little cottages.

People didn’t approve of the building back then, but the owner helped modernise the roads in the village, which soon stopped people complaining. ’

Lola listened from the kitchen. Hmm, she thought, it seemed like Alf was happy to gabble on about the past when it suited him.

She toyed with the idea of dropping into the conversation the fact that she thought her grandmother had stayed there one summer.

She imagined how their jaws would all drop, that Alf’s eyes would light up with surprise and the story would all come tumbling out.

Lola imagined it like some sort of reunion, her and Alf united in memory of their lost family members.

Then she realised it wouldn’t be like that.

She knew it would be a shock, there would be a lot to process and unpick.

Freya stuck her head around the kitchen door and asked, ‘Where’s Tristan?’

‘He’s had a brief emergency this morning, but he’ll be here for a quick stir before morning service,’ Lola replied from the kitchen. ‘What are you doing after this?’

Freya rolled her eyes. ‘Guess? More wallpaper removal. Although I’m tempted to tell him just to paint over it all. I’ve had enough of steaming and scraping. I can stay and work if you want?’

‘That would be great, I need a bit of time to start feeding brandy into the Christmas cakes that are maturing,’ she said, as Freya headed out of the kitchen to take a plate of toast to Alf and Angelo.

Lola carried on singing along to the radio and whilst everyone else tucked into breakfast, she finished off the pudding prep and set about icing the coffee and walnut loaf. She heard the door swing open and the sound of Tristan’s voice greeting everyone.

‘Sorry, have I kept you all waiting?’ he asked as he unwrapped his layers, eyes darting straight to Lola, stopping her in her tracks.

‘Not at all, perfect timing actually,’ she said as she placed the cake on the counter. ‘There might be some toast left if Scruff hasn’t got to it all.’

The dog barked in protest, but instead of joining them at the table, Tristan came over to the counter and paid for an Earl Grey tea. As Lola made it, he lowered his voice and said, ‘I’ve been checking the forecast and Tuesday looks clear for stargazing, if you’re still up for it?’

Lola passed him his tea. Tristan was looking at her as if her answer meant everything. ‘Of course I am. Tuesday would be perfect.’

The smile that flashed across his face was like a lightning bolt through Lola.

Once they’d finished their breakfast Freya flicked the latch on the door so that they could have a few moments peace and Alf told Scruff, in a very stern voice, to stay sitting where he was.

They all filed into the kitchen where Lola handed out aprons and supervised handwashing, after shutting the door on Scruff despite his whimper at being left out.

Angelo took his apron with a dark look. It was pink with little yellow ducks on it. ‘I’m stirring a pudding. I’m pretty sure I can trust myself not to get any down me.’

Freya giggled and slipped hers over her head before rolling her sleeves up.

In the middle of the kitchen island sat a huge mixing bowl full of fruity, fragrant pudding mix.

‘It smells divine! I love Christmas pudding. We used to help my grandparents make them. I’ve not had a home-made one for years.

’ Freya dipped a finger in the mixture, a movement that earned a slap on the wrist from Lola.

‘This is my Nannie Ruby’s recipe,’ she told them, pausing to see if the name registered with Alf.

Either it didn’t or he’d developed a very good poker face, so she continued, ’I have to confess I’ve never tried making it myself because it was always her domain, and I’ve never had the need to whip up a massive pudding.

But it smells and looks exactly as I remember, so I think she’d approve.

’ Lola pulled out a wooden spoon, its handle worn smooth.

‘This is her famous stirring spoon. It’s what imparts all the magic into my bakes, and you’re very honoured to all have a go with it. Who wants to start? Alf?’

‘Oh go on.’ Alf came forward and seized the spoon and started to stir.

‘This is good, takes me back to my childhood. We didn’t do much for Christmas then, it wasn’t as commercial, just church and gathering together.

None of these stacks of presents. We’ve lost our way with all this commercialism,’ he mused as he stirred.

‘But I think this is good, being together is the true spirit of Christmas. I’m looking forward to Christmas Day, us all being together.

I don’t really need to wish for anything else. ’

‘What would you usually do at Christmas?’ Tristan asked.

Alf relinquished the spoon and shrugged.

‘Mostly just me and Scruff. I get invited by all sorts of people to join their Christmases, which is lovely, but I’m not one for imposing or big celebrations.

At least not with the wrong people. I might be alone but I’ve never felt lonely.

’ Scruff started to whine in the café, put out that he wasn’t being included.

Alf rolled his eyes. ‘In fact, I never get a moments peace with that one!’

Everyone laughed and Freya stepped forward to take up the spoon.

Lola watched her stir the gooey pudding mixture with focus, turning it over as she mentally sent out her wishes.

Resisting the urge to give an Alf-style monologue she simply said, ‘I’m looking forward to it too, especially all the lead-up to Christmas. ’

‘Are you not missing London?’ Alf asked.

Freya shook her head. ‘No, I was mostly working at Christmas when I was there, which can be fun, but it’s also exhausting.

I always felt like I was part of the party but not properly in it.

I’m much happier here with all of you. Christmas is what you make it.

’ She passed the spoon to Angelo, who looked a bit puzzled.

‘Erm, I’ve never done this before, so, here goes.

’ He gave the mixture a tentative stir before finding his rhythm.

‘Actually, this is quite fun. But I’m not telling any of you what I’m wishing for, even though I basically have everything I need right here.

I’m properly contented for the first time in my life. ’

‘But you’d like some house-decorating fairies to turn up, yes?’ Freya teased.

Angelo grinned. ‘Ssh, I’m not meant to divulge anything.’ He stopped stirring and stepped back to let Tristan take his turn.

‘In all the years I’ve been a vicar I’ve never felt as welcome as I do here.

I might have comforted the bereaved or counselled the lost but I’ve never stirred a Christmas pudding with a group of people who have become friends I love.

This has been a wonderful village to join and although there was some resistance when I arrived because I was young and new, I’ve enjoyed the challenges.

You’re all so passionate about life here, you make my job so much easier,’ Tristan said.

‘I think you’re preaching to the converted,’ Alf pointed out, ‘we’re all on your side anyway, but it’s a lovely sentiment.’

Tristan stirred in silence for a while longer, concentrating on the hypnotic way the mixture folded and turned in on itself, the festive aroma filling the air. When he’d done enough he held the spoon out to Lola.

‘I’ve already had my wish, it’d be greedy to have another one.’

Tristan took her hand and pulled her over to the bowl, transferring the spoon into her hand. ‘There will never be enough wishes for the woman who makes all the magic happen.’

Face flushed, Lola took the spoon from him, their fingers brushing, gazes lingering.

Slowly she began to stir. Aware that everyone was watching them, Lola broke her gaze from Tristan’s and concentrated on stirring the pudding, trying to ignore the way her stomach had flipped at the touch of his hand, her excitement for Tuesday blooming even more.

‘Happy thoughts and love—’ she smiled warmly at her friends ‘are what really make the world go round. And I have both in spades here with you all.’