Page 42 of Christmas at the Little Cornish Bakery

The arrival of the school holidays helped boost business.

Their little corner of Cornwall had been blessed with bright winter sun and people were keen to make the most of the fine weather.

Children ran around on the beach whilst parents perched on the harbour wall with takeaway coffee and cake.

As distant family members began to arrive in the village, a proper holiday feeling descended and Lola briefly wondered if her plan to close between Christmas and New Year was a wise one.

But she reasoned she deserved the rest, plus, she was looking forward to seeing the back of all the mince pies and getting her New Year baking plans ready.

As the last customers left, Lola locked the door and leaned back against it, her eyes trailing over the state they had left her café in.

Chairs askew, a smear of cake on the wall from an excited small child, teacups that needed tidying away.

However, it was a sight that made her happy, the mess an indicator of her success.

Freya had headed back to Bayview to fetch Angelo so Lola turned the radio up and bopped around to the Christmas tunes as she embarked on her end-of-the-day cleaning routine – filling up the dishwasher, mopping the floor and wiping down the tables.

Once everything was straightened out, Lola pulled off her apron and nipped into the toilet to change out of her holly-print dress and into something much warmer, much more suited to spending a winter evening on a beach.

She’d updated her social media earlier advising everyone to wrap up and bring blankets so they could make the most of the event.

As she retouched her makeup, she couldn’t deny that she was both excited and terrified.

It had been a very long time since she’d run any spiritual practices other than palm and card reading.

Smoothing down her jumper she tried to soothe the butterflies in her stomach as well, unsure as to whether they were dancing due to nerves or excitement.

After a few calming breaths Lola decided it was a bit of both and surrendered the success of the evening to the universe. Whatever would be, would be.

She’d just finished her preening when a loud knock at the door came. Hurrying to open it, she found Freya, Angelo and Tristan standing there. Tristan had two bags of logs at his feet and in Angelo’s arms was a very large round bowl.

‘What’s that?’ Lola asked as she stepped aside to let them in, enjoying the thrill of Tristan’s eyes catching her own.

Angelo placed the drum in the middle of the floor.

‘I found this out the back of Bayview and I wondered if you could use it to light your bonfire later? I removed the legs and have turned it into some sort of fire bowl. Keep the fire contained inside. I think it’ll be much better than laying it on the beach and far easier to tidy up. Maybe you can use it again next year?’

Moved by his thoughtfulness, Lola gave him a quick hug.

‘Oh, Angelo, it’s perfect. I think you might’ve saved the day, I’ve been so distracted by all the Christmas cakes and stuff that I’m not as organised as I’d like to have been, which does not sit well with me at all.

After all, as you all know, I’m usually a planner.

Thanks for getting the logs, Tristan, I’m sure with that many we’ll have quite the fire going,’ she added, unwilling to catch his searching eyes.

‘I’m sure it will all turn out wonderfully,’ Tristan said, in his usual reassuring way. ‘I think people are just expecting a bit of a bonfire, a bit of mulled wine and some nice words.’

Her heart thawing at his kindness, Lola turned to him, her grateful smile tight. ‘Maybe I can just claim I’m doing the ritual organically, you know, feeling the vibe and going with the flow.’

‘That would work!’ Tristan laughed. ‘I have to confess sometimes that’s what I do. If it wasn’t for Cathy watching me with her hawk eyes I sometimes think I could slip in something about pink elephants dancing on the church roof and no one would bat an eyelid.’

‘I’m sure they’re all listening intently,’ Lola reassured him, her resolve to stay angry at him fizzling.

Freya coughed to remind them they weren’t the only two in the café.

‘I think we should start setting up, don’t you?

I mean it’s gone five and everyone is coming for six so we need to get the fire going.

Chop-chop!’ She stood back and opened the door indicating for everyone to move.

Tristan and Angelo picked up their cargo and went ahead.

Lola pulled her coat, gloves and scarf on and hauled her bag onto her shoulder. ‘When did you become the bossy one?’ she asked Freya on her way out.

‘When I was craving s’mores more than I wanted to listen to you and Tristan coo over each other. Although I don’t see much cooing going on. Is everything all right?’

Lola shook her head as she locked the door then dropped her voice. ‘His ex-girlfriend has tracked him down wanting to get back together and I don’t know, he just doesn’t seem very good at telling her firmly that it’s a no. Apparently she’s coming tonight.’

Freya’s jaw dropped open. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘I was trying to be the bigger person and not let it get to me. I don’t think anything will come of it, but, what if he does get back together with her?’

Freya pulled a disapproving face, ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. He clearly adores you. Anyway, you know what they say, an ex is an ex for a reason. Unless, of course, you’ve dumped him?’

Lola was silent.

‘You haven’t, have you?’

‘Not quite. I told him to get rid of her, but he doesn’t seem to have managed that. It’s really shaken me. What if he does choose her?’

‘Uh-uh, not happening, no way.’ Freya shook her head. ‘I’ve not met her, but he is besotted with you. It’s obvious.’

Lola smiled her gratitude at Freya but decided not to explain that Anna was determined to get her little claws back into her man at any cost. ‘Let’s just concentrate on getting this bonfire built and the ritual going well.’

Freya clapped her gloved hands together. ‘Woohoo! That’s more like it! The sooner Steve arrives with the mulled wine, the better.’

‘Oi, you’re meant to be warmed up with the fire and the setting of good intentions, not by half a barrel of rum and some dodgy Shiraz.’ Lola linked her arm through her friends. ‘We all need clear minds to focus on what we wish to manifest.’

They followed Angelo and Tristan onto the beach and once they’d found the perfect position for the fire bowl, started to fill it up with logs before Tristan, Freya and Angelo rushed back to behind the café where the excess wood they’d collected was waiting to be burned.

Lola burrowed into her coat and wished she’d squeezed on an extra layer.

The air was biting and the fire not yet large enough to take off the chill.

She was transfixed as the orange flames licked at the wood and the fire began to tentatively take hold until it was glowing like a beacon to show everyone the way.

When the others returned, they started to feed in the extra wood and for a few moments simply stood watching the bonfire, collectively admiring their work.

There was something calming about the crackle of flames against the splash of the waves.

Primal, ancient. Lola imagined their ancestors gathered in similar fashion and the thought gave her comfort.

She didn’t mind if no one else turned up, if the ritual had poor attendance, standing in front of her solstice fire with three of the people who’d come to mean everything to her over the recent months set peace in her heart.

Taking some deep calming breaths, Lola dragged the winter coldness into her body, allowing it to centre her.

‘I hope you’ve all wrapped up warm,’ she said to break the silence.

Tristan waved his thick gloved hands in Lola’s direction as if seeking approval for his attire. ‘If anything I’m starting to feel a bit too warm.’

Angelo patted his coat. ‘Three layers. Freya is the one who’s living dangerously with less. I keep telling her it’s not London out here.’

Freya stuck her tongue out at him. ‘I’ll just have to snuggle up to you if I get too cold, won’t I?’

‘Just save the canoodling until later, please,’ Lola advised them.

Sue was the first attendee to arrive. Wrapped in a furry hat, two hand-knitted scarves and leather gloves, she brimmed with excitement.

‘I’ve never done anything like this before, it makes a change from all the other Christmas stuff.

’ She plonked down a picnic bag. ‘I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but I brought some flasks of non-alcoholic mulled punch.

We all experienced Steve’s mulled wine back at the carol concert and the rumours he was going to make it stronger had me worried. ’

‘It’s all tittle-tattle,’ an old voice dismissed.

Lola turned to see Alf ambling across the sand all bundled up.

‘Alf! You should’ve said you were coming, I’d have got a chair for you.’

‘Pft, I’m almost ninety, not an invalid, you don’t think I can’t stand round a bonfire for half an hour or so?

’ He shook his head and Lola knew he was determined to prove to everyone that age was just a number.

Still, Tristan took a blanket over to him and a bit of fussing took place until Alf allowed the vicar to wrap it around his shoulders to keep him extra snug.

More people began to gather, some boldly crossing the sand, others approaching more nervously, as if they weren’t too sure what to expect.

Lola greeted them all, welcomed them, and pulled the few who had come from outside the village into the local embrace.

She noticed Anna, in full fake fur regalia, tiptoeing across the sand, clutching onto her sister’s arm.

Tristan was too busy talking to Alf to notice.

Anna came straight over to Lola. ‘Isn’t this romantic,’ she sighed as her eyes began to dart around, looking for Tristan.