Chapter 6 #4
‘You sound like one of the locals already and you certainly seem to share their views.’ Tristan tilted his head slightly to the side and gave her an appraising stare. ‘Are you sure you haven’t been here before?’
Holly turned away for a moment, faking a cough to give herself time to think, and not wanting to give away how frustrated she was with herself for revealing more than she’d intended.
The last thing she wanted was for Tristan to realise that strictly speaking she was a local, because that would undoubtedly lead to questions she wasn’t ready to respond to, and answers that would almost certainly make him run in the other direction, and she didn’t want that either.
It was hard to admit, even to herself, just how much she was enjoying his company.
She’d been determined to keep it in check, because Tristan was the last person she should be allowing herself to feel any connection to.
She was the proverbial rolling stone, determined to gather no moss, because that was how you ended up getting hurt.
Even if that hadn’t been her mantra, Tristan would have been off limits, and yet here she was, enjoying talking to him and wanting it to continue, despite the fact she’d almost let her carefully curated mask slip straight away.
Arranging her face in what she hoped was a neutral expression and pretending to clear her throat, she turned back towards him, her composure restored and the mask firmly back in place.
‘I think it’s a pretty common complaint if you live somewhere that suddenly becomes famous.’ Holly couldn’t bring herself to lie outright to Tristan, because she liked him too much, but she needed to change the subject. ‘Somewhere I’ve already heard a lot about is Mehenick’s Bakery.’
The smell of warm bread had wafted on the breeze as they approached the harbour.
Now that they were getting closer, she could pick up other scents of sweet pastries and hearty pasties mingling in the air, making her stomach rumble in a way that not even the screeching of seagulls overhead could drown out.
‘I think we’d better pay a visit before you keel over from starvation!
’ Tristan grinned and Holly was surprised to realise that she wasn’t remotely embarrassed.
He had a way of putting her at ease that she hadn’t felt in a very long time, which was nothing short of a miracle considering where they were, and how long she’d both dreaded and anticipated this moment in equal measure.
Could she risk stepping inside Mehenick’s Bakery, though?
She felt like a completely different person to the one who’d last walked these streets, but had she changed enough to go unrecognised?
Her hair was much darker now and she was sixteen years older, but she still had no idea if that would make her unrecognisable to the people she used to know.
Pushing the sunglasses that had been holding her hair back from her face back down to cover her eyes, she turned to Tristan and nodded.
‘Perhaps we better had, before I bite a lump out of your arm.’
He laughed in response. ‘It wouldn’t be a patch on a Mehenick’s pasty, I can promise you that.’
‘Would that make me the world’s biggest cliché, visiting Cornwall and ordering a pasty as though I think that’s what you live on down here?
’ She raised her eyebrows, remembering how much the stereotypes of the West Country used to annoy her as a kid.
Her beloved home county was so much more diverse than any visitor could ever appreciate, and it was one of the reasons why she’d finally decided to come back.
She wanted to be able to talk about all the things it had to offer, not just cream teas, fishing villages and pasties.
She’d always loved the untamed wild of Bodmin Moor, which felt like an entirely different world, despite being less than ten miles from Port Agnes.
Attempting to take the van there would be an adventure in itself, and she’d have to plan the route carefully, because there were plenty of roads in the area that Woody wouldn’t make it down.
Just the thought of getting out into the wilds was like a wave of calm washing over her.
Maybe that’s where she should head tomorrow.
No one would recognise her there. It would just be her, Merlin and Woody. The way it had been for years now.
‘Eating pasties in Cornwall may well be a cliché, but once you’ve tasted the ones from Mehenick’s you’ll want to come back and visit all the time.’ Tristan paused for a moment. ‘At least I hope so.’
Holly wanted to say that she hoped so too and to tell Tristan that hanging out with him felt like the most human connection she’d had in a very long time, but it would have sounded ridiculous and probably quite sad.
It was easier to pretend she hadn’t noticed the sincerity of his comment.
‘I’ll go in and order us a couple of pasties then, my treat. ’
‘No, I’ll get—’
She cut him off before he could finish. ‘It’s the least I can do for you showing me around like this. Have you got any particular recommendations for which flavour I should try?’
‘It’s got to be the rump steak one, it’s got potatoes, onions and swede, and whatever else it is that Jago and Ruth put in it to work their magic, before wrapping it all in the most buttery, crispy and flakiest pastry you’ll ever taste. Now my stomach’s rumbling too.’
‘I can hear it!’ She glanced over to the benches at the side of the harbour, relieved to see there was one free. ‘Do you want to grab that bench while I go in and order.’
‘We could always sit inside if you want to avoid the seagulls?’ He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but she shook her head.
It was one thing nipping in to Mehenick’s and ordering the food, but quite another to sit inside and wait for someone to turn up and realise she was back.
She wasn’t ready for that, and she didn’t think she ever would be.
Her visit back had gone against every instinct she had, but the pull had been too strong.
Now she was here, allowing herself to experience Port Agnes again, but she had to be realistic.
This was a flying visit, just enough to hold the desire to return home at bay.
The last thing she wanted was for anyone else to realise she was here.
Tomorrow she’d have to move on, but if she was careful, she could allow herself just enough of a taste of home to keep her going. That’s what she was counting on anyway.
‘It’s such a nice day, I thought it would be lovely to sit outside and I could grab a bit of footage of an al fresco harbourside picnic for when I put up my posts about Port Agnes. I’m sure it will all help to entice people to the campsite.’
‘Say no more.’ Tristan was already moving towards the bench, and she turned to head inside the bakery, grateful to discover that there was only one other person at the counter, who was already being served by Jago Mehenick.
It was after 2 p.m. and past the lunchtime rush, so the usual crowds had dissipated.
Jago’s wife, Ruth, was standing next to him and she gave Holly a beaming smile as soon as she spotted her.
‘Hello, there.’ The warmth of her greeting was so familiar that for a moment all Holly could do was stare.
If Ruth had recognised her so quickly, it would only be a matter of time before the whole of Port Agnes heard that she was back, but when Ruth continued, there was no indication that she’d realised who Holly was.
‘Isn’t it a beautiful spring day out there? What can I get you?’
‘Yes, it’s gorgeous, and I’ll have two of your steak pasties please, and a couple of cans of pink lemonade.’
‘Coming right up.’ Ruth placed the pasties into paper bags, before moving to the other end of the counter and taking two cans out of the fridge. ‘Is that everything?’
‘Yes, thank you. Although I am sorely tempted by the carrot cake, that was always my favourite whenever I came in.’ The words were out of Holly’s mouth before she had a chance to think them through.
‘Oh, you’ve visited us before then?’ Ruth narrowed her eyes. ‘Sorry, we get such a lot of people in, but I usually recognise the regulars.’
‘Don’t worry, it was years ago now, when I was a kid. I used to come here on holiday with my parents every year.’ The lie rolled off her tongue, but she’d got so used to spinning cover stories over the years that sometimes she almost forgot the truth herself.
‘Ah, well, I’ll let myself off then as I expect you’ve changed a bit.’ Ruth gave her another warm smile. ‘Although now I come to think of it, there is something familiar about you.’
‘I think I’ve just got one of those faces.’ Holly forced a laugh and made a show of rooting around in her bag for her purse, so that she could drop her gaze.
‘There you go, keep the change.’ Holly thrust a twenty-pound note in Ruth’s direction, snatching up the paper bags and cans, before heading towards the door.
‘Thank you, my love, that’s very generous of you.
’ Ruth’s lovely lilting accent made Holly’s chest ache.
She sounded so much like her mother and the feeling of home sickness, right here, in the heart of the village where she’d grown up, almost overwhelmed her again.
She couldn’t respond, because if she did there was a good chance she might burst into tears.
Instead, she headed out of the door and into the sunshine to find Tristan, before she ruined everything.