The Little Cornish Kitchen: A heartwarming and funny romance set in Cornwall

Saturday

I’m standing on the balcony next morning, breathing in the sharp salty air, watching the figures along the water’s edge and the sand clouds whipping up the beach. It turns out ten minutes of having your face blown off is a great way to wake up even if it makes your hair go wild. I’m just about to go inside when a shout drifts up from the garden.

‘Hi, Clemmie, how was your first night at Seaspray Cottage?’

Peering down, I catch sight of a grey wagging tail, then Charlie comes into view, craning his neck to look up, blinking in the sunlight.

‘Great, thanks.’ I’m not telling him that once I’d slept off the beer and champagne, the waves crashing up the beach kept me awake until the tide went out again. Give me the lull of traffic and police sirens any night. ‘How did you know I stayed?’ As if me standing out here at the crack of dawn wasn’t enough of a clue.

If it was anyone other than Charlie, I’d swear he let out a chortle. ‘I reckon the whole of St Aidan hears when you pull that flush of yours. I’m assuming it was you in the bathroom in the night, not intruders?’

Shit. If the sea making it impossible to sleep wasn’t enough to put me off the flat, Charlie Hobson counting every time I visit the loo takes away all the enjoyment of my first night ever with my very own bathroom and spare bedroom. Although I’m determined not to let myself get used to it, a whole flat all to myself, not sharing a loo, with rooms to wander through is beyond awesome. ‘Off for your morning walk?’ Hopefully that’ll take us somewhere less cringeworthy than him knowing how often I pee.

That sounds like another half-laugh. ‘Diesel and I had our morning walk hours ago, this is our lunchtime one.’

Damn again. When did it get so late? ‘Jeez, I’d better go.’

He steps backwards and looks out along the quayside. ‘Nell and Sophie are on their way now. It looks like they’re carrying the entire morning’s output from the bakery.’

‘Thanks for the running commentary.’ As nosey neighbours go he’s scoring a straight ten here. My ‘against’ list is getting longer by the second.

‘You’re welcome, any time.’ He’s missing the irony again. ‘By the way, there’s no need for you to shiver out here doing your Bridget Jones impersonation. There are some silk dressing gowns hanging behind the door in your bathroom.’

I’m gobsmacked, but I ignore the urge to run. Instead I give my long cardi an extra tug downwards and face him out. ‘How the hell do you know that?’ Even if my pants were on show – which they’re absolutely not – I’ve no worries about minimalism or over-exposure because my granny knicker shorts almost reach up to my boobs.

He’s already backing off along the path towards the bay. ‘Laura’s tenant did a lot of tidying before she left, we saw the bath robes when Diesel and I were round for tea one day. Anyway, we must go.’ No doubt he’s rushing off before Sophie comes close enough to collar him. ‘Enjoy your lunch.’

I give the girls a wave, then dip inside. By the time they burst in from the landing I’ve had time to dive into yesterday’s dress, flick on enough eyeliner and mascara to make it look like I have actual eyes rather than slits, and use up the whole of my handbag perfume.

‘Shall we eat at the table in the kitchen?’ I rake my fingers through my hair and bundle it into a bun with a scrunchie, then do a double take because that’s not a sentence I’ve ever said before. One night staying in a flat that’s almost all mine and I’m already sounding like I shop at Waitrose.

‘Good idea, then Matilde can do her colouring while we chat.’ Sophie leads the way and pulls out the fuchsia chair for her. ‘Your favourite colour, how lucky is that Tilly?’ She pulls a face. ‘Four kids in, I’ve decided you can’t fight gender stereotyping. Tilly was screaming for pink as they brandished the forceps.’

As Tilly slips off her unicorn backpack, scrambles up and spreads out her felt tips, it hits me I must have done the same thing at the same table when I was Tilly’s size. As Plum slides in to draw her some butterflies to colour, Nell’s getting her apple juice and waffles, and I’m plumping her cushion, making her comfy. When I think of how much love we all have for Tilly, it reminds me of the look on Laura’s face on the photo in the musical box. She must have done a lot more with me than I realise when I was small. Love comes from so many different places, but having it in our lives makes us who we are. For a second I’m overwhelmed by the feeling, and it’s like an unexpected gift to be back here having a chance to revisit everything Laura gave me.

‘Coffee’s the priority.’ Nell throws a pack on the worktop, and fills the kettle. ‘Let’s hope you’ve got a pot here, Clemmie.’

Sophie’s unpacking the bags onto platters she’s found on the dresser. ‘We’ve also brought every kind of breakfast pastry the bakery makes.’

‘Yummy.’ I’m bobbing in and out of cupboards and scouring the shelves for plates and mugs. ‘It’s a bit of a lucky dip, but here you go, one cafetière.’ As I slide it along to Nell, I come across a cutlery pot next to a knife block, and pick out a handful of bone-handled knives and silver spoons.

‘It looks pretty well stocked.’ Sophie’s taking in the cupboards rammed with utensils.

I’m smiling because the collection of crockery is enormous, yet so random. ‘So long as you’re not expecting to find any two items the same, I reckon we could stay here for a month without needing to wash up.’

As Nell opens the packet the smell of ground coffee drifts into the air. ‘And any time you want matching sets, you can always plunder the flat next door. Charlie seemed exceptionally willing to share his designer kitchen collections.’

I’ll ignore that suggestion. ‘We had no need to borrow those flutes, there are shelves of glasses here.’

Nell wiggles her eyebrows. ‘No harm in accepting help and cementing neighbourly relations.’

‘Knock yourself out, Nell, but after yesterday, for the time I’m here, I’m going to be the kind of aloof neighbour who keeps my distance.’

Nell’s nostrils flare, which is a sure sign she’s pissed off. ‘You might want to think of the Singles’ Club here, not just yourself.’ She seems to be ignoring that he turned her down flat on that one.

I grin. ‘So you have got the hots for Hobson after all?’ Then knowing she’ll deny it on principle even though I’m teasing, I move on to explain. ‘First, he wants to get his hands on the flat, now he’s claiming he can hear every loo flush through the wall so blanking him is the only way to save mega-embarrassment.’ As a cover-all reason for why I’m avoiding him it’s almost worth the shudders of remembering he knows when I wee.

Nell sniffs. ‘You might want to keep him on side when you hear what we’ve hit on for your fund raising.’

Sophie frowns at Nell. ‘Best to talk about that with coffee.’ She stoops down to reach the bottom section of the dresser. ‘You really have got all the equipment here. Your very own picnic basket too, can we have a peep?’

‘Looks like a two-person set from the size. You might have something cute and matching after all.’ Nell was never this ‘couple’ obsessed before her break up. She’d shoot us down in flames if we suggested it, but the way she goes on, even if it’s subliminal, there has to be a gap in her life that needs filling.

As the wicker basket hits the table, my scalp tingles. ‘That’s not for picnics.’ As I undo the buckles a glimpse of blue gingham lining spins me back to when I was small. In my head, I’m standing on a stool so I can reach the work top better, searching through a pile of cards to find my favourites. And I know without looking what’s inside the basket. ‘It’s full of Laura’s recipes.’

As I swing the lid of the basket upwards it’s like opening a window onto the past. ‘She used to copy out the recipes she liked most.’ I’m flicking through a mass of colourful hand written cards, all with scribbled notes and sketches in the characteristically pointy writing, with cut out magazine pictures and photos pasted on too. ‘Oh my, that Pavlova on the flowery tablecloth … apple pie in a summer garden … the most delicious looking syrup tart. Maybe I came here more often than I remember.’ My mouth’s watering.

Nell’s laughing as she pulls out a card. ‘If you were making salmon en croute and soufléed spinach omelettes as a kid, how did you not end up on master chef?’

Sophie lets out a groan. ‘Strawberry and lemon sorbet with mint leaves looks gorgeous.’

Plum’s leaning over her shoulder. ‘And look at the colour of that raspberry one. This is making me so hungry.’

‘Sorbet?’ Nell jumps forwards with a cry. ‘Hold that thought, I’ve just had a lightbulb moment.’

I’m going to have to move this on before my hunger pangs get the better of me. ‘Forget about me holding anything other than a cup of coffee and a pastry. Can we please have some breakfast?’

‘Absolutely.’ Nell swings by with the coffee pot, then pulls up a sky-blue chair. ‘And Soph and I can talk you through you the finer points of our plan.’

‘What?’ I’m mainly interested in how authentic the filling is in the almond croissants. It takes two minutes of ecstasy as it melts on my tongue to discover. It’s amazing.

Sophie brushes a chunk of cinnamon whirl off her chin, and leans over to break Tilly’s second chocolate waffle into pieces. ‘We put our thinking caps on last night and came up with the perfect answer to your cash flow problems.’

‘Bank robbing?’ It’s the only solution I’ve thought of, and I had hours to wrack my brains while the sea kept me awake.

Sophie’s wearing the same rise above it expression she uses when the kids are being especially tiresome. ‘This flat of yours is perfect as a micro venue. And Nell has a database of people in her club all instantly contactable on Facebook. It’s a no-brainer – merge the two, and you’ve got your very own instant “pop up” event.’

‘Then hear the cash registers ring.’ Nell had to add that bit. ‘People are happy to pay for something exclusive. To be honest mostly they’ll be ecstatic to try something different.’

I take a custard slice, bite into it, chew. And I’m still not getting it. ‘Can you explain that again, please? In English this time.’

Nell leans forward. ‘I’ve messaged around my Singles’ Club inner inner-circle and they’re all up for an “evening” at yours.’ Who knows what her finger wiggle speech marks are hinting at there. ‘In fact, it’s so popular, there’s already a waiting list.’

Sitting with my jaw sagging open is such a waste of a good mouthful. ‘What on earth would they do here? Sit and knit?’

Plum jumps in excitedly. ‘That’s another great idea we missed when we brainstormed.’ So, they’ve definitely been discussing it in detail.

Sophie takes a breath and begins again. ‘All Nell’s friends are looking for is a couple of hours to relax and enjoy the views. It’s a spectacular setting, the quirky decor makes it totally unique. And with your flawless customer service skills, if you throw in something lovely to eat, you’re in a perfect position to give them a fab time they’ll be happy to pay for.’