Maundy Thursday
For a week now, the cafe has been filled with the spicy aromas of hot cross buns, Cornish saffron cake and chocolate cupcakes. Cal reckoned you could smell it from a hundred yards away. Hard to believe that it was last Easter, a year ago, when I first came to Kilhallon. Even harder to believe that Demelza’s has now been open six months and that the cafe and resort are about to enter their first full season. From now until the end of September, we’re going to be open from Tuesday to Sunday and we’ve taken on an extra chef and two more waiting staff to help.
‘Remind me that I never want to see another chocolate egg, bunny or Easter nest,’ I say to Nina and Shamia as we clear up the cafe after a busy ‘Maundy Thursday’, as Polly calls it. She’s tried to explain about it being the day when the Queen gives her small change away to pensioners but all I know is that it’s Good Friday tomorrow and the cafe has been jam-packed with over-excited kids. We invited the children who stayed over at Christmas after the floods as an Easter treat and they’ve had a whale of a time decorating cupcakes, along with some of our younger cottage and yurt guests.
Melted chocolate, Rice Krispies and cornflakes spatter the paper cloths covering the tables at one end of the cafe. I pick a squashed fluffy chick off the floor and get down on my knees to rescue a chocolate bunny that’s rolled under the radiator and is melting onto the tiles.
The kids and their families spent a couple of hours making Easter nests and biscuits as part of a fundraising tea for the Flood Appeal. Lots of locals turned up to support it, along with the usual walkers and guests. Eva donated some of her cookbooks and Tamsin offered a spa voucher for the raffle. It was great to see everyone having a good time but the noise level under the rafters was deafening.
Apart from a few meetings in London, Kit has stayed on at Kilhallon, working on his articles and a new book idea. He arranged for a freelance photographer to take pictures of some of the families affected. They’ve given him the positive side of the story: St Trenyan rebuilding and gearing up for a new season and the downside: some homes and businesses still not habitable because of insurance claims and other problems. He’s also interviewed Cal in his role as vice-chair of the Floods Committee, managing a hardship fund and supporting people as they try to rebuild their lives. While most of the businesses have managed to re-open, some of the residents are still in short-term accommodation and are battling with their insurers.
A celebrity wedding seems trivial in comparison but we need to make Kilhallon a success to be able to employ local people and bring in visitors to the area. The wedding fair was hard work, both to set up and dismantle, but I’m glad we did it. At least we have all got more confidence that we can pull off the real thing now.
On the day itself, we took two deposits for weddings, one for this autumn and one for next spring, plus enquiries for several more. The suppliers were happy. It all seems a lifetime away because Easter is one of the busiest times of year for Kilhallon and Demelza’s. Much to our relief, Lily was delighted with the pictures we sent of the venue and has been talking to Hazel about the flowers and styling for the wedding. So things, for the moment, seem to be progressing in the right direction.
It’s been a long but fun day at the cafe but I’m glad to slide into bed this evening. Cal walks into the bedroom, towelling his hair after a shower, another towel tightly knotted around his waist. I’m already under the duvet, in prime position to enjoy the spectacle. I’ll never take it for granted and my body responds to the sight of his toned arms and stomach with the most delicious feelings.
He drops the towel on a chair and stands by the bed. ‘You know this is a special occasion, don’t you?’
It’s special enough for me with him so close. Tiny droplets of water glisten in the springy hair that dusts his chest. ‘Special? Why?’
He raises his eyebrows as if he’s surprised I don’t know what he means. Of course, I do, but I’m not going to let on that I’ve been thinking about our ‘anniversary’ all day and wondering how I ever got this lucky.
‘It’s been a year to the day since I first saw you at Sheila’s Beach Hut,’ he says.
‘Oh God, has it? That’s exactly a year since I lost my job. Not my finest hour.’
‘And it’s been a year since I set foot in Cornwall after my little holiday in Syria. It wasn’t my finest hour either: I should have stuck up for you with Mawgan but I walked off. I was too wrapped up with my own problems.’
‘You had a lot on your mind. I know that now, but at the time I did think you were another hipster only interested in himself and his surfboard.’
‘I’ve never owned a surfboard. I’ve never been any good at surfing.’ He sits on the edge of the bed, naked. ‘Now look at us.’
‘Look at you.’
‘Hmm. You have that effect on me.’ His kiss is warm, gentle but confident. Fresh from the shower, he smells great and his skin is still damp and glowing under my fingertips. I still haven’t got used to falling asleep and waking up next to that lean and gorgeous body, and the sometimes confusing puzzle that’s Cal, with all his quirks and problems.
He climbs into bed and lies beside me. He pushes my hair off my face. ‘How’s your first year been? Any regrets about accepting the job?’
‘Too many to list, but I’m still here. How are you, Cal?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Are you? Really fine?’
He frowns. ‘Why do you ask?’
His overreaction with the missing boy at the wedding fair is on the tip of my tongue but something in Cal’s tone makes me wary of mentioning it.
‘Nothing.’ I smile.
‘I’m OK. The past, you might say, is all behind me,’ he murmurs, laying his hands on my bottom and pressing me against him. He kisses me and stifles any more dangerous talk. We’re both lost in each other but later, when he thinks I’m asleep, I hear him get out of bed. I sneak a look at him, staring out of the window at the starry night. I know he’s not here at Kilhallon but thousands of miles away and I can’t do a thing about it. Long after he’s climbed back in beside me and has finally fallen asleep, I make up my mind that I have to try to help, even if Cal wouldn’t approve of the idea. I must try.
On Easter Monday, Kit walks into the cafe as we’re closing after a hectic bank holiday. I make him a coffee myself and sit down with him while the staff clear up wearily around us.
He sips his espresso thoughtfully. ‘Wow. Allowed in after closing time again. That must be a good sign I’ve been accepted.’
‘Don’t bank on it. The last time you were allowed in after closing, Mitch and I fell down a hole,’ I say, reminding him of the night we were hanging Christmas decorations when Mitch ran off into the fog.
He winces. ‘I worried that I’d left the door open when we went to fetch the holly. That it was my fault.’
‘No. I think I left the door open. It doesn’t matter now, everything turned out OK.’
‘No thanks to me.’
I smile. ‘Forget it. Even Cal is getting over it. He uses your first name now and said you were doing a decent job with the article.’
‘Wow. High praise.’
I cradle my mug, wondering if I dare share the idea that’s been swirling around my head for a few weeks now. ‘There’s something else you could help with, though, if you did want to do more, although it’s probably a much harder job than your flooding feature …’ I say, hoping I’m doing the right thing. Then I suddenly worry that Kit will think I’m going to suggest he asks Tamsin out on a date. She still has hopes in that direction.
Kit sips his coffee before asking, warily. ‘What would that be?’
I dive straight in with my request. ‘Help me track down Esme.’
Slowly he lowers his cup and replaces it in the saucer.
‘Hmm. That is a hard job. Impossible even …’ He pauses and I wish the words were still unsaid. ‘However, I could make a few calls and send some emails,’ he goes on. ‘I do know some colleagues who have contacts out there but I can’t see how I can do much more than Cal and his colleagues. Trawling the people-tracing agencies is their best bet.’
‘I know but I wanted to try. I won’t tell Cal I’ve asked you.’
‘Best not. The likelihood is it’ll turn out to be pointless anyway but I’ll do some digging and if I have the slightest lead on Esme or her family, I’ll be in touch with you right away. You realise she’s probably not even alive?’
I feel sick when he says the words out loud but he’s only echoing Cal. ‘Yes, I’m prepared for that, which is why I’d rather not tell him I’ve even asked you to help. He’s had enough disappointment for one year and I don’t think he could take any more right now. He said he just wanted a quiet life from now on.’
‘A quiet life? Cal?’ Kit huffs in disbelief. ‘Things must be dire. When I get back to London, I’ll see what I can do, and I’ll let you know, even if I turn up bad news.’