Page 26 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery

Tristan delved into his rucksack and pulled out a box. Lifting the lid, he shone his torch onto a perfectly baked pineapple upside down cake.

‘No way! For me?’ Lola’s voice caught, remembering the conversation they’d had when prepping for the Christmas cakes. ‘No one has ever baked for me before.’

‘Probably because they wouldn’t dare. I’m pretty proud of how it turned out though, but I know looks are only one part. Do you want to try it?’

‘Yes please!’ She clapped her hands together in delight.

‘Sorry I couldn’t bring any custard,’ he said as he cut generous slices of the cake and passed one to her.

Lola took the slice from him. ‘I’m sure I’ll forgive you.

Would’ve been a bit messy.’ She took a bite.

The sweetness of the pineapple had soaked into the light sponge, the taste bringing back school day memories; wet lunch breaks where they kicked around the corridors, the smell of chalk on the blackboard, the cookery classes that had been her favourite because she’d excelled.

‘Oh my God, this is amazing, you really made it?’

Tristan laughed. ‘Yes, and I’m guessing that’s your seal of approval.’

‘It’s delicious. I think if I were to freeze to death out here you’d be able to keep the café going. Do you think I could add this to the menu?’

‘I don’t see why not, but I’m not coming round every morning to bake one for you.’

Lola pouted. ‘Shame. I could do it in the new year – retro bakes to cheer everyone up. Everyone’s always so depressed in January but I see it as a fresh start.

’ She finished off the cake and confessed, ‘This has been a real treat, it’s been a long time since someone has made me sit back and relax. Thank you.’

Tristan took her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘You don’t have to do anything alone any longer, Lola, you have me. There’s Freya and Alf and even Angelo. You have us.’

Lola squeezed his hand back. There was a pause, a moment when the thought of leaning forward and kissing him assailed her.

He’d taste of tea and whisky and sweet pineapple.

Lola sat back, befuddled, reminding herself it was the whisky and the surprise cake that was getting her all carried away .

‘Thank you. I feel so safe here, so at peace. I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave. ’

‘That’s good to hear because I for one don’t want you to leave.’ Tristan pulled himself up and before Lola could register what he’d said, he’d changed the subject. ‘Now, how about some more tea and we do a bit of stargazing. I brought my portable telescope and the book about the constellations.’

He passed the book to Lola, who began to flick through it. ‘When’s your birthday?’

‘Sixth of March, why? Are you going to do my birth chart because I’m not sure I’m meant to wholly believe being a vicar and all that?’

‘No, I’m not actually that good at birth charts, so you’re safe. I was just curious.’

‘Hmm. When’s yours?’

‘Has Freya not cornered you yet? It’s Christmas Eve!’

‘What? Really?’

‘Yes! Freya is determined to organise a party for me. I’m guessing since you have no idea about it that the party planning hasn’t got very far. She was adamant that I’m not allowed to plan my own birthday party.’

‘She’s said nothing.’ Tristan looked horrified.

‘You’ll have to have words with her. I think she was going to host it in the pub. Ask Steve, I bet she’s not done that either! Maybe I will have to take it upon myself.’

Tristan put a hand on Lola’s arm as if to physically hold her back from marching back up the steps and straight to the pub. ‘I’ll chat to Freya. I’ll talk to Steve. She’s right, you can’t organise your own birthday party.’

‘Maybe you’ll have to be on cake-baking duty after tonight?’ Lola suggested.

‘Ah. A birthday cake might be a bit of a challenge, but I could be up for it. So, what would your ideal birthday party be like?’

‘Definitely cake, so no pressure there, but also lots of sparkles and no Christmas music. Growing up I always hated how my birthday was commandeered by Christmas. I should have an unofficial birthday in June, make the most of the long nights and the lack of Christmas tat. I’m a bit worried that if I have a party no one will come, what with it being Christmas Eve. ’

‘Nonsense, I’m sure everyone will come, or at least those that matter will. It’ll likely just give everyone a chance for an extra glass of sherry.’

‘Sherry! I’m turning forty, not ninety,’ she said before she realized she had rather hoped to keep her age a little bit under wraps.

‘Forty? Even more reason for a party, Lola,’ Tristan convinced.

‘Thank you. Turning forty is a bit scary,’ she confessed to him, ‘especially as a woman, there’s always this notion that things should have been different.

I think there’s some hard-wiring in us that even if we don’t desperately want marriage and babies, there feels a loss of sorts.

Oh gosh . . . don’t mind me . . . I don’t mean to get all maudlin, not when we’re having such a lovely time. ’

‘It’s OK, Lola, I understand. You can talk about it if you want, but if not, we can just sit back and watch the stars and finish off that cake.’

Lola studied him and her heart melted slightly. He really was such a good, kind soul. ‘You really mean we can finish it off?’

Tristan held the box out to her. ‘I’m sure it won’t be as nice in the morning.’

Lola pretended to wrestle with the idea before reaching in for another slice.

‘Thank you, it is scrummy, and actually it is OK to talk about the big things.’ Since they were outside with the whole Universe spread across the sky, it felt like the right time to talk about the deeper stuff. ‘What do you want from life, Tristan?’

‘It sounds like a massive cliché, but really, I just want to be happy.’

‘Are you happy?’

Tristan snuck a glance at her. ‘Right now, yes, very happy. I’m very happy in Polcarrow. I’m in one of the most beautiful places on earth, I’m here with you, there’s a fire, there’s cake and we have whisky. I have nothing to complain about.’

‘Does your belief make it easier to be happy?’ Lola wondered aloud.

Tristan thought about the answer for a long time. ‘I think it does, yes. Awful, terrible things will always happen, but having a greater power to believe in will always provide comfort. Surely you understand that,’ he said softly.

‘I do. The feeling that there’s something bigger than us. Looking up at all those stars is very humbling. It amazes me to think these same stars shone down on all our ancestors and they’ll carry on sparkling for years to come.’

‘You’re quite the romantic underneath it all, aren’t you?’

Lola exhaled, ‘I’ve never thought about it like that.’

‘You want to dish up happy-ever-afters with your cakes, that’s why you care so much about Alf and Ruby, or Charlie and Ruby. Angelo and Freya. What about your own happy ending? What do you want, Lola?’

‘Oi! I asked you first,’ she said to deflect, ‘and you never properly answered.’

Tristan stared off into the distance. ‘I want to settle down with someone I love. If I’m lucky enough to be blessed with children, then that would be a wonderful thing, if not I know there’s other ways to parent.

Maybe a dog. I know they’re the simple things but really it’s the simple things that matter, that make people feel most at peace. ’

Lola had closed her eyes whilst he spoke, allowing herself to wander through the sun-drenched rooms of his dreams. ‘It sounds absolutely wonderful. You’re right, the simple things are what matter the most. I’ve been all sorts of places, seen all sorts of things, but it’s only since I’ve been here that I’ve realised that the simple life is a happy life. ’

Tristan was quiet for a while. ‘So what does Lola’s future look like? What do you want to find?’

Lola paused, there was a weight to his question, as if her answer mattered more than anything on earth.

The answer caught in her throat, its truth making her feel foolish, silly, like a girl believing in a fairy-tale notion, not an almost forty-year-old woman with responsibilities.

‘I want true love,’ she said, ‘love with someone who’ll never let me down.

The rest would all be sprinkles on the top of the cake. ’

Tristan glanced back at her, the firelight flickering over him.

His gaze caught hers and held it. Even though she was huddled up in three layers of knitwear, she had never felt as exposed as she did in that moment.

Had never allowed anyone to see so deeply into her soul.

Rather than feeling fragile, as if any wrong move would fracture her, Lola had the notion that Tristan was about to wrap her up in bubble wrap and look after her.

She didn’t know if she was ready for this, it was as overwhelming as it was beautiful.

Somehow she found her voice but it wobbled as she spoke.

‘Tristan, the stars,’ she reminded him, passing the book back to him, before lying back on the blanket, eyes trained on the heavens.

She felt him lie back down beside her and briefly wondered what would happen if she reached out her hand to his, but it never became anything more than a thought, a possibility she was not quite ready for.