Chapter Thirteen
The One With the New Order
The next day, Kate and Anna had lunch at Harbourmasters on the quayside.
‘This used to be a souvenir shop,’ Anna explained as they entered the new bar and restaurant, which had only opened in recent months. ‘It used to be the village kids’ go-to with their pocket money.’
Kate admired the stylish interior as they were shown to a table beside the window, which afforded a view of the water, the rocking masts of boats and the wooded hillside on the opposite side of the bay.
‘Oh, my goodness. I’m loving this bit of being in Polkerran.’ She grinned at Anna across the table. ‘Reminds me of our girlie lunches in the Harrogate days. I missed you, and then Lauren!’
Once they’d placed their order, Anna fixed Kate with a compelling eye. ‘So? Did you challenge Dev on what you overheard him say about you?’
Reflecting on the previous evening, Kate pulled a face. ‘No. He was so relieved I’d brought Theo home, it wasn’t really the time.’
A smile tugged at Anna’s mouth. ‘Mellow from too many glasses of gin?’
‘Pillock,’ Kate reposted. ‘Actually, he had a really nice one. He said it was from a local distillery.’
‘I’m not so much a gin drinker these days. Thank you.’ Anna accepted her glass of wine and the friendly waitress placed one in front of Kate before leaving them to greet more arrivals.
‘Cheers.’ Kate clinked glasses with her friend, then noticed someone coming towards them. ‘Oh, your brother’s here.’
Anna spun around in her seat, then leapt to her feet to throw her arms around Matt, who hugged her back.
‘I didn’t expect you until tomorrow! Why didn’t you say you’d be back early?’ Anna embraced the young woman with him – Gemma, whom Kate recognised from the wedding.
She shook both their hands as a young man came up to them to see if they wanted to move to a larger table.
‘No, thank you, we’re not staying.’ Matt smiled at him before turning back to Anna. ‘Saw you by chance, so popped in to say hi. We managed to get an earlier flight. The taxi dropped our stuff with Jean at the shop but it’s low tide, so we thought we’d mooch around the cove until we can take the boat back to Rivermills.’
‘I’m so excited to see it again.’ Gemma’s green eyes sparkled as she looked from Anna to Kate. ‘I left in the depths of winter, when the trees were bare.’
Gemma was related to the Lovelace family and had met Matt when working for him upriver at Rivermills House.
‘Have you got the keys, then?’ Anna turned to Kate. ‘I think I mentioned Matty buying the house and studio on the tidal creek?’
Matt had been in a successful band some years ago and was now writing music, and the secluded nature of the property had been appealing.
‘I’d love to see it sometime. I’ve heard so much about it.’
‘Once we’re settled, we’ll have people over,’ Matt assured her, then he took Gemma’s hand in his. ‘We’ll leave you to it. I’ll call you, Anna. Bye, Kate.’
With a warm smile for them both, Gemma allowed herself to be tugged towards the door and Anna settled back into her seat just as the food arrived.
‘Mmm, this is delicious.’ Kate dug her fork into the dressed crab, then added, ‘Matt looked well.’
Anna gave a contented sigh as she speared a piece of calamari. ‘He’s much happier since Gemma came into his life, and although I’ve not seen them for nearly three months in person, we’ve chatted on video and his whole demeanour and outlook have turned full circle. They’ve been away to gather inspiration for new songs. Gemma’s been learning to write lyrics to Matt’s music. I’m so happy he’s decided to make his home at Rivermills.’
They tucked into their food, talking about the challenges facing Oliver and about life at The Lookout.
As their plates were cleared and dessert arrived, the conversation turned to the summer fayre.
‘At least the date is fixed now.’ Kate huffed on a laugh, pouring espresso over her ice cream. ‘I’m currently trying to find venues, but the indoor options are all booked up, and the quayside only has limited space.’
‘They used to hold it at the village hall.’
Kate outlined the difficulties she’d already identified. ‘I’m not giving up, though.’
‘Well, I’ve found you some help, at any rate.’
‘Excellent.’ She scooped up the remains of the affogato. ‘We’ll just have to pray for dry weather. That’s one thing I can’t put in the planner.’
A few days later, Kate’s gaze roamed over the motley crew assembled around the table at Westerleigh Cottage. She turned back to the kitchen island as Anna poured hot water into a teapot.
‘Is this it?’ She spoke quietly. ‘The usual locals are the only offers of help?’
Anna sent the new arrivals a fond look. ‘You won’t fault their enthusiasm. It just requires… a little direction.’
Trailing after Anna, carrying a plate of freshly baked cakes and another of shortbread, Kate hoped that was all it needed.
She took the seat at the head of the table, conscious everyone was too focused on getting themselves something to eat and drink to pay her much attention. Allowing them the time, Kate skimmed the list she’d made earlier, grateful to Anna when she drew everyone’s attention to why they were there.
As silence fell, aside from the occasional clink of a spoon against a mug or the munching of biscuits, Kate ran through the situation so far, namely the change of dates and the proposal to revert to a more traditional village fayre – for which she gave Jean full credit – the likes of which Polkerran had originally enjoyed some years ago.
This received a warm reception and Kate looked around the table at the faces showing varying levels of interest: Mrs Lovelace, Old Patrick and Mrs Clegg to her left, facing the window, and Jean, Nicki and Phoenix to her right.
Kate smiled in everyone’s general direction. ‘Who would like to do what?’ She started to run through her list, and Mrs Lovelace soon piped up.
‘Worked in an office, I did, backalong.’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘I’ll not be minding a bit of paperwork. None of your ticksy computer stuff, mind. Retired, I did, once they machines took over from typewriters. People waving their floppy dicks at me.’
Nicki grinned. ‘Blimey, Mrs L! Where the hellocks did you work?’
‘Disks, mum,’ Jean prompted kindly.
Mrs Lovelace rolled her eyes. ‘Tha’s what I says.’
‘That would be lovely, Mrs Lovelace. Thank you.’ Kate sent her a warm smile, and the elderly lady nodded, reaching for a slice of Victoria sponge.
‘I can create a logo,’ Phoenix suggested.
‘Fantastic.’ Kate scribbled on her pad as one by one, they made suggestions for the fayre, from a children’s art trail – which Phoenix happily claimed, too – a story-telling tent, craft workshops, a possible guided history walk round the cove, if Oliver could be persuaded to lead it, and stalls galore, including one for bric-a-brac (much to Patrick’s disgust).
Then there was the performance aspect: poetry readings, folk music, the local Morris dancers doing a display, and so on.
There was a general murmur of approval as Kate thanked everyone for their suggestions and she scribbled into her notepad. Her to-do list was getting so long, they’d be lucky if Summy-Fessy didn’t become Chrissy-Fessy instead.
Phoenix offered to rope in everyone from the studio in Mevagissey where she had a space and, slowly, people began to expand on their possible contributions.
Old Patrick did wood-turning, Mrs Clegg – though fairly house-bound now – was into crocheting, although for some reason most people looked sceptical about her offerings. Mrs Lovelace liked to knit, Jean had a successful online business making silver jewellery featuring sea glass from Cornish beaches, and so it continued. Phoenix produced local watercolours, her mum made homemade soaps and lotions and there were regional small businesses who set up pop-up stands of local food and drink at most events.
‘Excellent.’ More encouraged, Kate put her pen aside. ‘So, the stalls themselves. You know, tables, chairs and so on. Where did you get them from?’
More silence, then Nicki piped up. ‘I think they borrowed some from the hotel, but early June was pre the main Emmet season. I don’t think they’ll have them spare in August.’
Kate bit back on a sigh. ‘Gazebos?’
‘Bless you, my lovely,’ Mrs Lovelace called, before taking another bite of sponge cake.
‘I meant, what about if it rains?’
There was a general smattering of laughter. ‘Bleddy hell.’ Old Patrick glanced around at the faces. ‘How long’s this maid been in the cove?’ He sent Kate a knowing look. ‘’Tis Cornwall, my lover. A good old Cornish mizzle is likely the only guarantee on a Bank Holiday.’
‘The bistro has some, I think.’
‘The finances look a bit tight, despite the valiant efforts at fund-raising at the Christmas fayre. We’ve got Dev’s sponsorship, of course, but the more volunteers we can find, the better.’
‘I’ll be talkin’ to me mates,’ Old Patrick offered. ‘Make a change, it will, from shove ’apenny and mending nets.’
It was a start, and although time was tight, and Kate knew she could probably handle it all on her own if she had to, it felt so much nicer to have a team of sorts around her.
The clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour and, before she could ask anything else, there was a concerted movement to collect coats and bags and everyone headed for the door. From the snippets of conversation as they passed by Kate, it sounded like they had a lot to talk about and none of it fayre-related.
A few of them said goodbye, with Jean and Nicki sending her sympathetic looks as they filed into the boot room.
As Kate closed the door on their departing backs, Mrs Lovelace could be heard asking Old Patrick about a problem with her ‘anti-septic tank’, and Kate sank back against the wall, convinced she’d somehow stepped through a portal into a strange new land.
A few days later, Kate headed into the village after work. As she walked down the hill, she spotted a large Tremayne Estates for sale sign fastened to the row of charming alms-houses and another on a nearby gatehouse at the entrance to the manor house. It reminded her she needed to place a courtesy call to Mrs Tremayne.
Kate turned her steps towards the Spar, intent on picking up some milk, but paused by the ice cream shop.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’
Jean was unfurling a candy-striped canopy above the window, and she put her hands on her hips to survey it.
‘Not bad. This needs a bit of work.’ She gestured at the tell-tale signs where the winter damp had made its mark on the canvas. ‘How’re things with you?’ She turned to Kate with a somewhat devilish grin. ‘Managing to keep the helpers on track?’
Kate shook her head. ‘Not a chance, and your mother’s the ringleader, you do know?’
Picking up a cloth, Jean began to wipe down the outside sills. ‘Yes, of course I do. If she gives you too much trouble, tell her she’s fired.’
‘I can’t do that! I’ve already been hauled over the coals by Dev for trying to manage the unmanageable.’
A bit of an exaggeration…
Jean, however, nodded in sympathy. ‘How’s it going getting volunteers for the day?’
‘About standard for Polkerran.’ Kate grinned. ‘Billy Two Feet has offered to man the overspill car park, but I’ve been warned he’ll park the cars too close together, as “two-feet” seems to be the only measurement he lives by. Meanwhile, Charlie the Crab – who can’t tell his right from his left – has put his name down to direct traffic, and Morwenna, who runs one of the teashops, took on running the dog show, but then confessed to being mega-allergic.’
Jean laughed. ‘Sorry, I know it’s not funny, but it’s just—’
‘The cove. So Anna keeps telling me.’
Kate’s gaze drifted over towards the harbour. ‘I can’t fault everyone’s eagerness but drawing it into a cohesive plan is like lining up a row of new-born chicks.’
‘What about the food and drink stalls?’
‘Anna’s playing a blinder, as she always did. She was my wing-woman on so many events in Yorkshire. She’s got a distillery coming along with their gin and vodka products, there’s the people who make own-brand crisps from local potatoes, a honey stall, local jams and pickles and a large stand for the village bakeries.’
‘I’ll have my ice cream van by then.’ Jean’s striking eyes sparkled as her cheeks pinkened. ‘I’ve always wanted one and my— a friend has sourced one for me. I’ve no idea what it looks like, but it should be here soon.’
‘Brilliant. Can I book it for the festival? It would be perfect.’
‘Of course. I always have extra staff during the main summer holidays, so I could man the van and leave them in charge of the shop.’
Kate had invited Nicki and her husband, Hamish, for dinner – a thank you for their help with Mollie – and as she busied herself preparing the meal, she did a quick video chat with her daughter, who was back with her grandparents after a few days in Bath.
As Kate hurriedly tidied herself later, her thoughts turned to Dev, whom she hadn’t heard from or seen for a while. Unable to resist, she opened her laptop as she sat at the dressing table and, feeling like she was doing something she shouldn’t, selected the web page for the livestream at the beach.
She pretended nonchalance as she applied fresh lip gloss and re-fastened her ponytail, glancing now and again at the screen. Dogs were only allowed on the beach at certain times of day now the season was upon them, but tonight she was disappointed, as there was no sign of Bayley.
‘Idiot,’ she muttered as she headed back downstairs, the heady spices of curry assailing her nostrils as she reached the kitchen. ‘Own up to it. Bayley is not the reason, and you need to stop binge-watching that damn livestream as though it’s the latest Netflix draw.’