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

‘There’s not a lot left in your peppercorn rent pot after the balcony repairs. And the cost of the roof will be shared between all the flat owners.’ He’s drumming his fingers on the chair arm now. ‘So if you did plan to stay, I’m simply flagging up that you’ll need to find ten grand before the autumn.’

I gasp so hard I almost swallow the bottle as well as my next gulp of beer. ‘Ten grand?’ My bank account’s never seen that many noughts. As far as my finances go, I earn enough to get by, put a little aside, then I travel. Then I stop and work again. It’s called living in the moment, and this far, give or take a bit of juggling, it’s always worked out fine.

Charlie nods. ‘It’s not a huge amount, but you might need to dip into your capital.’ He’s talking like I’m loaded, and staring like I’m not keeping up. Which, to be fair, is right. ‘Capital, meaning your savings?’

The second he starts talking English again the penny drops. ‘Ah, those.’ Right now, I’ve probably got a couple of hundred to tide me over for when I move on from Paris. ‘Of course.’ It’s strangely levelling. One minute I’m struggling because I’ve got so many choices of what to do with the flat and I don’t know how to handle it. The next I’m fighting to keep it away from Charlie. Then I’m back to way worse – there is no choice, because the only option I can afford is to let it go. Except now I feel like I’ve had something huge taken away from me. Which I know is a ridiculous way to feel, when only a couple of days ago I wasn’t even going to bother to visit the place.

Charlie’s face gets the closest to a smile I’ve seen today. ‘My point is, you’ll have plenty of savings if a sale goes through. Subject to tax liability, obviously.’ Yet another downside to entertaining a ‘decorative developer’ in your living room. If he carries on like this, we’ll be onto mortgages in no time.

I’m about to put my hands over my ears when there’s a clatter out on the landing.

‘Clemmie, we’re early … we brought bubbly …’ As the door pushes open, there’s a hollow boom, and a cork shoots past my nose.

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In Laura’s flat at Seaspray Cottage

Cotton wool and feisty talk

Friday

As Charlie dashes off along the balcony, insistent on going for ‘proper’ champagne glasses, it only takes one half-raised eyebrow from Nell before Diesel’s slinking down from the sofa and turning circles on a rug. Sophie settles Milla and Maisie into his place, then flops down beside them herself

I’m counting on my fingers as I snaffle one of Milla’s banana chips. ‘Aren’t you two short here, Soph?’

‘Nate’s taken Marco and Matilde.’ She sneaks a look at her phone. ‘Let’s see, they’ve got Water Polo, then they’re going on to Spanish for Smalls and taster Tinies’ Yoga.’ Seeing these two have barely hit nursery, her ‘what the heck’ expression is probably entirely justified. ‘So how’s it going here?’

Nell’s staring at me in awe. ‘Swimmingly, I’d say. You didn’t mess about, Clemmie.’

I pull a face. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’ Claiming ‘the dog ate my sandwich’ is too close to those lame excuses for lost homework. I try another tack. ‘Charlie happens to live next door, he dropped round with lunch and an offer to buy the flat.’

‘How lucky is that?’ Nell asks.

Sophie’s less impressed. ‘What the eff does he think he’s playing at?’ She looks like she’s about to explode.

I give a shrug. ‘You can ask him yourself, he’s here with his flutes as we speak.’ As I take the slender glasses from him and put them on the table I’m telling it like it is. ‘There can’t be many neighbours in St Aidan who will wheel in lunch and be happy to share their crystal, then try to buy your home before you’ve even had chance to move in.’ We might as well bring this into the open.

Sophie flashes him a disgusted glance then fixes him with one of those stares of hers that bore right through you. ‘So, are you going to explain yourself, Charlie?’

His gaze flicks over all of us. ‘Now might not be the best time. I’ll leave you to drink your fizz in peace. Things to do, places to be, and all that.’

‘I bet you bloody have.’ Sophie growls as he trundles the trolley towards the door and calls Diesel.

Plum peeps into the kitchen, then comes over to pour. ‘The flat’s as much of a gem as Sophie told us. Small, yet perfectly formed.’

Nell narrows her eyes as she passes round the fizz. ‘As said by the woman who has an entire chandlery to rattle around in. It couldn’t be more cosy, but five of us just arrived and you can barely tell we’re here.’ A grin spreads across her face between sips. ‘It would be fab for more intimate singles’ evenings.’ Since she’s taken charge of the club, Nell sees every venue, public or private, in terms of its party potential.

Plum sniffs. ‘Probably why Mr Hobnob Holdings can’t wait to get his hands on it. No doubt he’d want to rip the guts out of the place.’

‘Ewww.’ The thought of workmen with sledgehammers smashing Laura’s lovely coloured walls makes me wince. Although it might have been a less dramatic reaction if I’d had more food and less beer. That’s the trouble with lunchtime drinking. It makes me so thirsty my fizz barely touches the sides before it’s gone.

Sophie’s eyes flash. ‘It doesn’t have to be like that, Clemmie. You don’t have to accept.’

I sigh. ‘I damn well won’t sell to him, but I might have to sell to someone. He’s explained the situation. If I keep the flat I need to find a bomb to fund joint repairs.’

Nell cocks her head. ‘Exactly what size incendiary device are we talking here?’ The accountant in her always insists on the price down to the last penny.

I hesitate and lean forward for a refill. ‘Ten grand by September. Maybe more.’ That thought is enough for me to down my next glass too.

‘Shit.’ Plum lets out a whistle. ‘In that case you’re probably stuffed.’ It’s not mean, she’s simply taking a realistic view of my finances. She understands because she stretched to the limit and then some to get the gallery going.

Sophie shakes her head. ‘Not so fast. You and Plum might not be best friends with your bank managers, but Nell and I are better placed.’ Her multi-million turnover can blind her to what real life’s like for the rest of us.

Nell looks thoughtful. ‘We could tide you over?’

I blow in frustration. ‘It’s awesome of you to offer, but even if I wanted to keep the flat, I couldn’t accept. I’d have no hope of paying back a loan that big on what I earn.’

‘Can your mum help?’ Plum knows we’re on shaky ground here.

I pull a face. ‘When Mum and Harry laughingly call their trip the “Spend the Inheritance Tour” it’s not a joke. They’re volunteering, but it’s the kind you pay for.’ My mum was always sensitive about me getting this place, but at least it gave her the green light to enjoy her savings. They plan to spend the lot while they’re fit enough, see the countries she never got to because I came along. ‘This is the last place I’d ask them to change their plans for.’

Nell pulls a face. ‘Leave it with us. If there’s a way to keep you here, we’ll think of it.’

I’m biting my thumbnail as I agonise, because I don’t want to lead them on. ‘I probably do want to sell, because I can’t think how the hell things would work otherwise. But it would be nice to have a choice.’ I can’t remember being anywhere that made me feel so instantly secure and comfortable. I know I’ll always be a wanderer, but it would still be amazing to keep this place as a safe haven. Although that’s probably not a luxury my empty bank account will run to.

Sophie lets out a snort. ‘You can’t be backed into a corner by a man with a hostess trolley, even if he does have beautiful glasses.’ She holds her flute up to the light, then finishes the half-inch of fizz she accepted. ‘So are we going to make a move? I’m taking this lot home for supper, if you’re hungry?’

Nell grins. ‘Or even better, come with Plum and I on the Singles’ All the Sixes evening. That’s six bars in six hours.’

After so many bottles of real ale I can’t think of anything worse. ‘Since when did you want a boyfriend, Plum?’ We’ve always been the two who are entirely happy on our own.

She laughs. ‘Definitely not looking for one of those, but Nell’s pub crawls are too good to miss.’

As I stand up and stretch, my head feels like it’s filled with cotton wool. ‘I’d barely begun to look around when Diesel and Charlie arrived. Maybe I should stay here tonight.’ Note to self: getting pissed in the afternoon and ending up a prisoner in the attic is off-the-scale bad. But at least this way I avoid staggering down two flights of stairs when my legs feel like they belong to someone else, and I get out of a night out with the dreaded Singles’ Club. That’s a result all round. Although I have to admit my half-drunken self is feeling a sudden pang for what I’m about to give up here. ‘Make the most of it while I can, and all that?’

Nell frowns at me. ‘For one time only, we’ll let you off the singles’ event. So long as you have us all round for brunch tomorrow.’

Plum’s staring out of the doors to the balcony. ‘Good idea. I’m missing this view already and I haven’t left yet.’

Sophie’s on her feet. ‘I know exactly what you mean, Plum. It’s the kind of place that makes you want to come back again and again. Way too good for Charlie Hobnob.’ She’s scooping up Maisie from the sofa. ‘We’ll bring the food, Clemmie, be ready. Brainstorming begins at eleven sharp tomorrow. This is one fight I promise we’ll win.’

So, it’s official. We’re going into battle. That’s Sophie all over. But right now, all I can think of is making my way to the pink haven of the bedroom, and crawling under the quilt.

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In the flat at Seaspray Cottage

Ice cubes and cold feet