Page 39 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery

It was a week before Christmas and all over Polcarrow residents were frantically trying to pull together their festive plans.

Parents were whizzing their kids from school party to school performance and trying not to panic when their children updated their Christmas lists last minute.

Steve was experimenting with making his strongest mulled wine ever and was threatening to bring it along to the solstice ritual in the hope it would inspire some naked dancing.

The mums who met regularly at the café had started asking for extra shots in their gingerbread lattes and people were enquiring about adding a dozen mince pies to their Christmas cake order.

Lola was starting to wonder where she’d find the time to fit everything in.

At least she’d managed to finish Alf and Scruff’s matching Christmas jumpers.

She couldn’t wait to see their faces when they opened them, or how long Scruff would manage to keep his clean.

The biggest task on her list was finishing off the Christmas cakes and she was keeping her fingers crossed that winging the solstice festival would work.

There was something different about a last-minute panic at Christmas time, everyone was united in it but also experiencing it in their own ways.

Lola adored the way Tristan presided over all the panic with a calm air of religious reassurance.

His bit was relatively easy, although she knew he was secretly struggling with his Christmas Day sermon, but nobody else needed to know that.

Lola had quickly backtracked into the kitchen when she’d discovered Freya and Tristan, heads together over the countertop, frantically whispering at each other.

She knew she shouldn’t have, but Lola couldn’t resist standing behind the kitchen door, listening in to their plans for her birthday.

Freya was in charge of balloons, banners and music and since Freya had discovered that Tristan had already successfully dipped his toe into baking, he had rather reluctantly been assigned birthday cake duties.

The thought of her friends putting in the effort to plan a party for her touched Lola’s heart.

She’d thought she’d found a community amongst all the people she’d travelled with, but they were nothing compared to what she’d found in Polcarrow.

Sometimes being in the village felt like living in a huge hug.

Freya’s parents were all set for their visit, having booked the rooms above the pub, which meant Angelo was nervously trying to get Bayview House as presentable as possible.

Having been up for a nose around, Lola and Tristan had kept to themselves the fact that Angelo would need a Christmas miracle of his own to make the house look like a cosy home and not a work in progress.

Lola eventually got round to sending out information about her solstice ritual and had asked everyone to bring along something to throw on the bonfire in the hope that they would have a big supply of wood.

She wanted the bonfire to be spectacular, something for the village to gather around for quiet reflection before the shiny wrapped, beribboned festivities exploded over people’s lives.

A moment of stillness for everyone to breathe, to just be.

Lola’s relationship with Alf had grown stronger.

Far from dragging up Ruby and Charlie’s ill-fated romance dooming their friendship, it had cemented it.

Two people they had loved had once loved one another enough to dream of a life together.

The ice had broken on Alf’s refusal to discuss the past and he was suddenly regaling them over breakfast with tales from his youth, complete with the occasional sea shanty that Scruff tried to join in with.

Villagers who had popped in for a take-away coffee or to collect a cake lingered to listen and some wove their tales in.

Alf’s and Polcarrow’s fishing history was no longer just a ghost on the dawn tide.

Contentment settled over Lola. Every morning as she walked along the harbour to her café, she had an abundance of things to be thankful for.

She ticked them off as she watched the light tentatively creeping along the horizon.

Thankful for the friendships she had found, the fact that she was bringing joy to so many people with her Christmas cakes, that she was still friends with Alf, but above all, she was grateful for the love she had found.

A love that was still very much wrapped in tissue paper and kept in a box, waiting to be opened.

The word love seemed grand and big, terrifying but right.

Lola kept hold of it knowing the four letters would change everything.

To distract herself, Lola busied herself with the café and ordering the ingredients for Christmas dinner, wondering if she should make a cheesecake rather than just the Christmas pudding.

She picked up pencils and paper for the solstice ritual and scouted the beach for the best place to hold it.

Excitement fizzed through her every time she thought about sharing the more spiritual side of her life with Polcarrow.

All these activities were made even better by the fact Tristan accompanied her on them or lent a listening ear as she was thrashing out ideas, pointing out that maybe a mince pie cheesecake might be taking the festive theme a bit too far before kissing away any further discussion of the notion.

It seemed like nothing could disturb her bliss.

It was late afternoon, the sun going down over the bay, leaving a trail of pink floating across the sea like rose petals.

Having sent Freya home, Lola relaxed into the end-of-the-day ritual, wrapping the cakes, wiping down the coffee machine, the carols on the radio were playing low and soothing.

Tristan was coming to meet her with a vague plan of trying another pub he’d read about, that he assured her had a sticky toffee pudding on the menu.

They’d hatched a plan to travel around Cornwall rating them.

Lola was just thinking about closing early when the door opened and a young woman with impossibly golden blonde hair, wrapped in faux fur trimmed winter wear stepped into the café. She looked like something out of a magazine. Lola didn’t think she’d ever be able to keep that much cream wool clean.

‘Sorry, I know it’s late, but I’ve come a long way, you’re not closing are you?’ the woman apologised.

Unable to turn away a lonesome traveller, Lola flashed her a broad smile. ‘Of course not, take a seat. What can I get you?’

The woman peered into the counter, her eyes wide with indecision as she took in the selection. ‘There’s so much to choose from! Oh! Rocky road, I can never resist that. And a hot chocolate, please.’

‘Sure, take a seat,’ Lola said once the payment was through.

Lola got the order together as the woman made a beeline for the window seat with the sea view.

‘It’s beautiful here.’ She sighed at the sunset.

‘Thank you.’ Her eyes brightened as Lola set the treats down.

‘I have such a sweet tooth,’ she confessed before looking at Lola sheepishly.

‘Um, I saw in the window that you do tarot cards, how does that work? Can I have a reading?’ She put her phone down and smiled nervously.

‘I’m here to meet someone who was once very special to me.

Oh, not here at the café, I’m just trying to calm my nerves before seeing him.

I’m hoping things can go back to how they were. ’

‘How lovely, I’m sure it’ll all be fine.’ Picking up the woman’s nerves and suddenly curious herself as to why she was so anxious, Lola replied, ‘I’ll just get my cards.’

When Lola emerged from the kitchen the hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and marshmallow snowmen was on the receiving end of a photoshoot and Lola hoped she’d be tagged in the social media photos.

‘Your café is so adorable,’ the woman gushed, ‘I love all this vintage cuteness. It’s so kitsch.’ She snapped a selfie before putting her phone down with a giggle.

‘Here’s the cards.’ Lola placed the box on the table, her own stomach suddenly lurching with a warning. She pushed it away and told the woman how much the reading would cost.

‘That’s fine. What do I do?’

Lola handed her the cards. ‘Shuffle them well. As you do, think of what questions you want answered. When you feel happy with what you’ve asked, make three piles.

’ Lola sat down on the chair opposite her, watching as she squeezed her eyes shut and directed all her energy into silently asking the cards her questions.

The woman shuffled for a long time before opening her eyes and with a quick glance at Lola, created three piles on the table between them.

‘Which one do you feel most called to?’

She took a sip of her hot chocolate and studied the piles before tapping the middle one.

Lola took the other piles and placed them back in the box.

For some reason the cards felt cumbersome in her hands, as if they didn’t want to reveal their secrets.

Lola began to lay out the cards. ‘Yes, I can see you’ve travelled a long way.

You’re at a crossroads in your life and have a big decision to make in regard to where you are going to live.

You feel torn but are keen for something new.

You’ve seen how moving away has had a positive effect on others in your circle and you’re keen to try it. ’

‘Will it work?’ she gasped.

Lola laid down the next card. ‘It will if you move for the right reasons,’ she said vaguely, turning over the next card but getting no clearer answer. ‘Your destiny is in your hands.’

‘And what about my special person?’ The woman raised her eyebrows and leaned in. ‘Are we getting together?’

Lola dealt two more cards, a furrow across her brow. ‘You will reconnect with a past love, but the choice will be his. He’s expecting you but is unsure of a future between you. You will need to work to win him back.’

Her face fell. ‘But it’s not hopeless, is it?’

Lola fixed her with a look and laid down the next card, which gave nothing away. Instead Lola bluffed, ‘Nothing is ever hopeless.’

The young woman clapped her hands together. ‘That’s marvellous! He was so lovely and I loved him so much, but when he moved away our relationship ended and I was heartbroken. I tried to forget him .?.?. but you know how it is, you never forget true love.’

Lola gave her a tight smile before standing up. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I hope you find what you’re looking for.’ There was something tickling away at the hairs on the back of her neck, like a warning sign to get away from this young woman.

‘Thank you.’ The woman’s smile stretched across her face like a cat who had been promised it would get the cream.

They both went back to their business of eating cake and tidying up.

Something in Lola’s stomach churned, causing her to have to catch her breath.

She snuck a glance at the customer. She had a slight accent, she couldn’t be .

.?. could she? No. It was a very long way to come just on the off chance.

Just as Lola had reassured herself, the door opened and Tristan came in, wrapped in his black coat, a bunch of winter flowers in his hands.

No sooner had he walked through the door than the woman bounced off her chair and launched herself at him. ‘Tristan! Surprise!’

Lola watched as a mixture of shock and horror washed over Tristan’s face before a familiar recognition settled there. He had no choice but to hug the woman back.

‘Anna? What are you doing here?’ he asked, his voice shaking, trying to hide his bemusement as he let her go.

Anna. Lola’s stomach plummeted. Anna was his ex-girlfriend. Frozen to the spot, Lola was unable to do anything other than watch their reunion unfold in all his horrifying awkwardness.

‘I’ve come to surprise you.’ She beamed. ‘I’ve been thinking about how things were and since we’ve been back in touch I thought I’d come and see you. You said I was welcome any time! I’ve missed you.’ She touched his arm, smiling up at him adoringly.

Back in touch? Welcome any time? Lola threw a glance at Tristan, which he caught but ignored.

‘But why have you come all the way to Cornwall?’ he asked, bemused.

‘My sister’s moved here. She’s teaching in a school in Penzance and I’ve come for the Christmas holidays.

I’ve been thinking about what you did, about moving somewhere quieter and my sister has encouraged me.

Apparently, there’s a vacancy at her school.

I could be here by Easter.’ She rubbed his arm territorially.

Tristan threw a look at Lola. ‘Anna, I still don’t understand.’

Anna laughed as if it was obvious. ‘If I move to Cornwall, Tristan, we can try again. We can get back together. I’ve missed you so much,’ she said again, clinging onto him like a limpet, burying her face in his chest, oblivious to the fact he wasn’t hugging her back.

The colour drained out of Tristan’s face. Lola’s heart began to race. Surely, he wouldn’t be tempted to go back, would he? Tristan threw Lola an apologetic glance.

‘Erm, Anna, I think we’d better talk about this in private,’ he said, still clutching the flowers as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them anymore.

Anna spotted them and made a grab for them.

‘It’s like you knew I was coming!’ She pulled them from his hands and buried her face in the blooms, inhaling their scent, ‘And roses, my favourite!’ She threw her arms back around Tristan, before thrusting the flowers back at him so she could grab her coat and bag.

Tristan and Lola stared at her, speechless.

Oblivious to anything other than her own agenda Anna started to chatter to Tristan as she pushed him towards the door.

As he was being herded away, Lola caught his confused, apologetic face and wondered briefly why he hadn’t just told Anna the truth there and then.

The thought that he might have missed Anna, that he might welcome her moving to Cornwall crumpled Lola’s heart.