Breakfast Under A Cornish Sun: The perfect romantic comedy for summer

‘I love all that movie-star glamour, with long cigarette holders and classic clothes. It is such a distinctive era. And you can pick up some great bargains from charity shops.’ Oxfam had been my lifesaver during the teenage years. A fifty-pence vintage top from there felt newer than any hand-me-down from my older sisters. ‘Guess we’ve paid the price for using a niche, smaller dating site. I imagine the bigger dating sites require you to enter your actual age.’

The waiter delivered our pies and we ate in silence for a few moments. Mmm. Creamy subtle flavours washed over my tongue. I ordered us another couple of Cokes.

Marcus stared at me. ‘Do you think it’s sad, Kate? A man of my age doing online dating?’

‘No. I think it’s hard for lots of people to meet that special someone in this mad, modern busy world.’

He clasped his hands together. ‘That’s just it though. Ruth means well but I … I’m not ready to meet someone else yet. My wife … Sandra … She passed away two years ago and I still miss her.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘Sorry, Kate. I shouldn’t bore you with—’

My throat felt scratchy at the way his voice caught and those dark eyes glistened. ‘No, Marcus, honestly, it’s fine. Tell me about her. How did you meet?’

‘At university, during the Fresher’s Week fair. My new friends joined the cheese and wine club because lots of female students had signed up. But I really wanted to try potholing, and joined that club first. So did Sandra. A slow dance to Whitney Houston at a freshers’ disco sealed our attraction that went on to last for life.’

They had two kids. And now four grandchildren. Then Sandra got early-onset dementia and died no longer knowing that Marcus was her soul mate. Marcus started to eat his pie again and shook his head. ‘Ruth would kill me for sitting here, on a date, talking about my wife—her mum.’ He looked up. ‘Devastating for her, it was, watching Sandra lose all the aspects of her character, one by one. We cried more at the diagnosis than the end which, by then, was a blessed relief.’ He shrugged. ‘I wish my daughter wouldn’t worry about me.’

I patted his arm before glancing at my watch. ‘And talking of people worrying—’

On cue, my phone rang. And so did Marcus’s! Five minutes later, each of us had hung up and we were laughing. Both Izzy and Ruth had rung bang on nine o’clock to give us get-outs from the date, if required.

‘Enough about me,’ said Marcus, as our ice creams arrived. ‘“Fess up”, Kate, as my grandson would say. What is an attractive, personable, intelligent young woman like you doing on Perfect Poldark Pairs?’

I wasn’t going to mention Johnny. That subject matter was still so … raw. And I’d become unused to talking about him with people I didn’t know well. Plus my heartbreak had no relevance—I wasn’t on this date to find The One. Just a plus-one. I covered my face with my hands. ‘You’ll think me mad.’

‘Try me.’

Out poured the whole sorry story about Saffron and me trying to impress.

Marcus shook his head. ‘Oh dear, and you turn up to meet me, Mr Flymo-man—I’d have no idea how to cut grass with a scythe.’ He wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. ‘You know I’ve learnt, over time, that the things you most want appear where you least expect them—like Sandra, at the potholing club. Perhaps the key for you will be to stop trying so hard to find this Ross.’

‘But I don’t have time on my side. The wedding is at the end of August, in just over four weeks. I need a miracle or to speed-date twenty-four-seven!’

As we drank coffees, and ate delicious crisp mints, our conversation moved on to more general subjects. How we’d both love to live somewhere like Cornwall. How the eighteenth-century lifestyle appealed because of its simplicity.

Eventually, he glanced at his watch. ‘Right, Well. Work tomorrow. I’d better get going.’ His eyes crinkled. ‘Best of luck. I’m sorry I don’t fit the bill, but keep in touch, Kate.’ Marcus rolled his eyes. ‘Ruth has insisted on registering me on Facebook, so perhaps we can connect on there and I’ll come to one of your gigs. I love all disco music and swing. And if I stumble across any brooding heroes in the next week or so, I’ll let you know. Or—’ he shrugged ‘—you could forget trying to impress this Saffron; skip the wedding …’

Mature me knew he was right, but lurking aspects of Katie Golightly just wouldn’t let me turn down the invitation.

Singing some Frank Sinatra, I drove my slightly rusty but cosy car home. Belting out a song had been my escape, as a youngster, from my hectic family life and from the challenges of school. I’d hole myself up somewhere private, like the back garden or bathroom, close my eyes and for just a few moments, whilst singing, felt important, felt unique—until Mum called me to do my chores.

I parked up, on a busy high street, outside Donuts & Daiquris—Izzy had insisted I call in for mock Mojito, before going home, to give her the low-down.

I got out, locked up my car and headed into the building, squinting at pretty neon lights and circumnavigating busy tables until I reached the bar. James informed customers that it was last orders. Me and Izzy headed out back, to the quiet, whitewashed staff room. We sat down on wooden chairs and she raised a neatly pencilled eyebrow.

I gave a huge sigh ‘Nice night. Nice evening. Nice bloke. But old enough to be my dad.’ Cue twenty minutes of describing my date.

‘So it’s back to square one?’ she said, eventually.

My mouth drooped. ‘Let’s face it. This plan of mine is never going to work. It takes long enough to hook up with someone when you’ve no particular type in mind, let alone when you have a list of criteria.’ I raised my hands in the air. ‘What with this and having to leave my flat and my Stanley Hotel gigs being cancelled, I’m just so fed up.’ Another big sigh. ‘Why can’t James have curly black hair and brooding looks. I bet he’d look fab in a tricorn.’

Izzy smiled. But not one of her normal smiles. It had a hint of smugness to it as if she knew something I didn’t. Last time she’d worn it she’d snagged me a party booking, singing at a silver wedding anniversary bash, by praising my talents to one of the customers.

‘What?’

Izzy cleared her voice. ‘Next week. You know I’ve been feeling restless.’

I nodded. Donuts & Daiquiris earned more than my boss could have ever imagined and now Izzy, being a straight-A student, needed a new challenge. She’d been university material but couldn’t ignore her passion for food and now those grey cells clearly needed stretching some more.

‘I’ve decided this place needs a makeover. Plus, I need to take a trip—to get inspired by food. I’m thinking of expanding the menu.’

‘Wow. When did you decide all this?’

‘A couple of weeks ago. I didn’t want to say much in case I couldn’t book everything in time, but I’ve managed to find a decorator who gets my new concept, and found a last-minute holiday deal online—I’ve booked a gold lodge at a spa resort. Quite a bargain it was, for a summer booking.’

‘So, no work for two weeks from next Monday?’

‘You’ll get paid of course.’

My smile widened. ‘Well, that is a good piece of news. It’ll give me chance to carry on looking for a new place and, while I’m disappointed about the Stanley Hotel, I’m determined to find another regular gig. Plus—’

‘Or—’ her eyes sparked ‘—come with me, Kate. You deserve a treat. ‘

I gasped. ‘Izzy, that’s really kind, but I couldn’t possibly afford to share the rent.’

Izzy folded her arms. ‘When I say a treat, I mean exactly that—my shout. All you’d need is spending money. I’ll drive.’

‘Izzy, that is so kind, but—’

‘Go on … even if it’s just for one of the weeks. And, if you don’t find a flat in time, when you get back, you can move in with me.’

‘I don’t need charity,’ I said and folded my arms. ‘I appreciate the offer but—’

‘Kate Golightly! Lose the pride! I’m your friend. You could stay with me permanently for all I care—but a few weeks, that’s not charity, it’s just a mate being a mate.’

I thought for a moment and then grinned. ‘OK.’

‘And you deserve a holiday. We both do. Plus, I’d enjoy the company.’

We stared at each other.

‘It’ll be fun,’ she said softly. ‘Saunas, facials, walks—it’s just what we both need. The outdoor life. Plus …’ Her eyes sparked more strongly, like a poker player who knew his hand of cards couldn’t be beaten. ‘All your Poldark talk got me thinking and I figured there is nowhere more inspiring for food, in Britain, than the South-west, what with pasties, scones, ice cream, fudge, and the White Rocks holiday resort just happens to be really close to … Port Penny!’

My heart raced. ‘Guvnah! Oh my days!’ A comforting chat with her was just what I needed. We’d not seen each other since Christmas. ‘Oh, Izzy, really?’

She nodded.

My mind raced and I clapped my hands. ‘You know what else this means?’

Izzy chuckled. ‘You seem almost more excited at the prospect of a holiday than me.’