‘Steady. Joey, ready to secure the sail? Ran, you hold that end. Bo – OK?’
Finn Morvah gave his instructions clearly and directly on a crisp Sunday morning at the café. It was mid-November and Ran had heard about Bo’s terrace project during their sessions and offered to help without being asked.
Admitting he’d no experience of carpentry, he seemed more than happy to be ordered about, and do the fetching and carrying. In fact, seeing him intent on the work, or sharing a joke with the Morvahs, Bo thought he looked quite at home in Falford. Or was that wishful thinking?
He’d already had several lessons and was a quick learner, attempting a couple of jive routines. It was a relief to Bo because the moves were so quick and demanding, they hadn’t had time for any lingering looks. A loss of focus could mean both of them might fall flat on their faces – in more ways than one.
Today was all about the café, which was closed for the day so the sail could finally be fixed above the terrace. The Morvahs had already adjusted the large triangular canvas so it would stretch from the stone building on one side to sturdy metal poles on the other.
After much hammering, banging and lifting, Bo found herself surrounded by three sweaty hunks in their T-shirts, plus Dorinda Morvah, who’d expertly fitted the new wooden bar area along the side of the wall. The result was that the café now had twice as many tables under cover as it had before, plus four extra seats along the bar. Bo could now cater for twenty people at tables, or even more for a stand-up event with bowl food.
‘Thank you so much, guys,’ she said, handing out cool drinks to the team, despite the chilly morning. ‘Those reclaimed timbers look fantastic as counter tops.’
Bo ran her hand along the old wood, which had been beautifully restored by Dorinda. ‘And the sail is so perfect. So fitting.’ She had a lump in her throat as she surveyed the terrace and imagined it full of customers, rain or shine. She might even have to take on another member of staff.
‘You’re welcome,’ Dorinda said, sipping an apple juice.
‘I’ve been able to take a booking for a Christmas cocktail party from Starfish Graphics, that trendy new design agency by the quay. They’ve created some new designs for some boatbuilders and they wanted something different for Christmas. It’s only a small start but we’re doing themed canapés and drinks and we’ll get the fire pit out. If it goes well, I should be able to book some more events in the spring.’
Joey Morvah pulled a sweatshirt over his T-shirt. Now the work was done, it was growing cold. He put his arm around Bo and kissed her cheek. ‘Now, any chance of those brekkie butties we were promised?’
She saw Ran watching her.
‘No problem. Sit there and I’ll bring them over.’
‘Want a hand?’ Ran offered, joining her in the kitchen.
‘Yeah. Why not?’
With Ran as kitchen hand, Bo soon had plates of sourdough topped with local eggs and bacon on their way to the new terrace where the cricket-loving Morvahs were engaged in a conversation about a match taking place in some exotic location on the other side of the world. Dorinda was on the phone but everything stopped once the food arrived. Ran came back for a tray of coffees and they all enjoyed breakfast together.
‘Thanks for helping,’ Bo told Ran when the Morvahs had gone and he helped wash and tidy up.
‘It was the least I could do. Call it payment for my lessons.’
‘You don’t owe me anything,’ she said.
‘Oh, I think I do …’ He reached up and caught a lock of her hair between his fingers then let it go and stepped back, hands in his pockets. ‘Sorry. I have to go to work. My real job. See you for the next lesson?’
‘Yes. Of course.’
He left, leaving Bo touching her cheek where his fingers had brushed it, wondering how long she could keep this up without breaking her resolution not to get too close to him.
With work, her dance sessions and helping Angel, the next couple of weeks flew by. The café was open Wednesday to Saturday but she’d also been busy with events, including an afternoon tea for a friend’s baby shower and taken on a last-minute booking for a Christmas fair in the next village when the regular caterer had let them down. Cade had chalked up the Christmas menu on the A-board, and they’d joked that the ‘low season’ was proving to be almost as busy as summer.
Her parents and a friend had said she was looking tired, but no one knew that it was all the extra dancing – and the extra extra dancing – that was wearing her out, or how much she didn’t mind.
Having encouraged Angel to branch out in business, she also felt she should offer extra support to her friend. The week before the Illuminations, she drove round to the cottage for the dinner they’d promised each other. They were both so busy, Bo called for a Chinese takeaway from the village en route.
‘Here we go,’ she said, looking for a space to put down the paper bag full of takeout dishes.
The kitchen was a sea of fabric and stock again.
‘Sorry, sorry!’ Angel cried, shifting her sewing box from the counter top. ‘Pop that bag here.’
Bo put it down.
Angel shoved her hair out of her eyes, looking flustered. ‘I had to use the kitchen table. I’d like to use the spare room but Tommy’s junk and fishing gear is piled high. I’ll get rid of that one day, though – imagine it as a proper sewing room complete with machines, ironing board, boxes full of patterns, fabric, equipment, books and lots of other stuff.’
‘Lots of businesses were started from kitchen tables,’ Bo said, helping to decant chicken chow mein and beef in black bean sauce onto plates.
‘I know … and I’m scared.’
‘Why? Of it being a success?’
‘Of daring to dream – to let myself think – that I could be my own boss doing what I love, instead of working for Kelvin. I need the regular salary, that’s the trouble.’ She sniffed the air. ‘This smells amazing. I haven’t had time for a proper lunch.’
Angel carried her machine out of the kitchen to make room for their plates.
‘Could you do this alongside your job?’ Bo said when Angel reappeared. ‘It’s not easy starting again. I gave up a job as chef in a café to launch Bo’s. I had a loan. It was scary.’
‘I keep thinking I’m too old to start again and that there’s been enough upheaval but now Tommy’s gone … and I’ve survived … I keep wondering: what am I waiting for?’
‘You need an outlet for your stuff. Not only craft fairs, but online – and retail. What about the Lizard gift shop? Of course the obvious place would be to have some in the Country Stores.’
They sat down and Bo offered Angel the bag of prawn crackers. She dived in, crunching one down before replying.
‘Mmm. Half the time I feel determined and confident about starting my own business. The rest of it is overwhelming and I want to go back to the way things were.’
‘That sounds totally normal to me.’ Bo smiled. ‘Do you want a hand clearing the spare room out some time?’
‘Maybe.’ Angel wrinkled her nose, and Bo took the hint that clearing out any of Tommy’s stuff might be a step too far at this stage.
They tucked into the food and Bo steered the conversation to safer territory, asking about how Angel would go about recreating Jenna Boscawen’s dress.
‘I’ve got a collection of 1950s patterns. They’re multi-sized and I mix and match tops and bottoms, so there can be lots of variations. I can adapt these to any requests for dresses. I think this is the best way for me to start out, before I move on to designing my own and having my own patterns.’
‘I didn’t know that’s how patterns worked,’ Bo said.
‘Yes. The back of each pattern advises you on the type of fabric and how much to buy. You can order the material online but I prefer a mooch around the fabric shops if possible – I’ll have to go and look for something to match Jenna’s dress and maybe show her some samples. I don’t have long to do it all though!’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘You’ve already done such a lot by getting me started.’ Angel smiled. ‘As for the patterns, I can print them out as a PDF. That’s the easy part but there aren’t as many haberdashery-type shops as there used to be. I remember my mum taking me to some when I was young and being fascinated by all the trimmings and ribbons. Sometimes they’d let me have little samples and I’d sew clothes for my dolls. Does that sound mad?’
‘No, it’s lovely,’ Bo said, delighted to see the animation in Angel’s face. ‘I love hearing about it.’
‘It’ll be great to have a proper excuse to look at the fabrics. If I can, I like to buy from warehouses or local markets as the prices are really good and there’s lots of choice. There’s one stall in Truro pannier market that I can never resist.’
‘Sounds great.’ Bo sat back and patted her stomach. ‘That was delicious but I can never eat it all. I hate wasting food.’
‘I’ll pop the leftovers in the fridge and have them tomorrow.’
Bo nodded.
‘Have you heard from Ran lately?’ Angel said, popping lids back on the uneaten dishes. ‘You two seemed to be getting along at the craft fair?’
‘I saw him the other night.’ Bo laughed. ‘Surprised he could walk afterwards.’
‘Bo! Tell me more!’
‘No! No, nothing like that.’ Bo could have kicked herself. ‘I popped round with a … um, a record he hadn’t got. He almost tripped over.’
‘Thor got in his way, I expect. Cats appear from nowhere.’
‘Um. I think so …’ Bo felt terrible, lying about the fact Ran had fallen over trying to lift her during a jive. She’d been OK, but he’d missed his footing and twisted his ankle.
‘He’s OK though?’
‘Oh, yes. Only a bruise and hurt pride.’
‘And you say you took a record round to him?’
‘Mmm,’ Bo said, feeling even worse by the minute. ‘It was an, um, ABBA album.’
‘ABBA! For Ran?’
‘Mum gave it me. We thought it might be rare but it turned out it wasn’t.’ Bo reached for the last prawn cracker from the bag, even though she was already stuffed. She needed something, anything, to do with her mouth rather than have Angel scrutinising her expression.
‘You know, you and Ran. If you’re hanging on for the right moment or holding back because you’re scared of being hurt, then don’t. It’s none of my business, of course, and I’m hardly one to talk, but life’s a risk. You have to take it. Even if it might not work out,’ Angel said.
Bo swallowed the last crumbs. ‘I … it’s complicated … for both of us.’
Angel nodded. ‘I get that. I thought it might be but please, don’t spend life waiting for everything to be perfect. Chances are there never will be a perfect moment and life will have passed you by.’
‘Thanks, my lovely,’ Bo said, on the verge of unexpected tears. ‘I promise I’ll bear that in mind.’
‘Hmm.’ Angel gave her a sceptical look but left it at that – much to Bo’s relief.