and said it was epic. Just swam and sunbathed and went back for more food whenever they felt like it.’
Charlie smiled to herself as she put her finger sandwiches on a tray and took them to a family sitting upstairs. They had asked for two traditional cream teas and two half-sized ones for their young children. Charlie hadn’t thought of doing a children’s cream tea until now, but she was going to add it to her repertoire.
‘If you need anything else,’ she said as she stood back from their table with a flourish, ‘just ring the bell.’ She pointed at the cord that ran around the edge of the bus. It was one of Gertie’s most popular features.
Running The Cornish Cream Tea Bus was a constant learning curve. There were always new possibilities to explore, certain elements needed to be changed or adapted, and ideas popped into her head on a daily basis. It was exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. When she went back downstairs, she added children’s cream teas to her ever-expanding to-do list.
She closed the bus once the sun had begun its descent, and made the long, winding journey back to Porthgolow, cutting over the lower half of the county, the glistening sea falling out of sight behind rolling green hills, the statuesque towers of wind farms like alien armies on the horizon. As she went, she got honks and waves.
She was getting used to it now, the number of people who noticed her on the roads, and every time she felt a surge of pride, sitting high up in the cab while drivers or cyclists gave her a cheery thumbs-up or sounded their horns. She thought about her uncle Hal, how wide his smile would be if he could see what she’d achieved. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but she was going in the right direction. No regrets, Charlie, he used to say. Keep moving forward.
For the most part, that was what she was doing. She knew that she had to learn from her mistakes to make any kind of progress, but what had happened last weekend, after the market had finished, had been playing on her mind ever since.
She approached Porthgolow from the south side, slowing her speed as she reached the area known as Crumbling Cliff. It was a sharp bend at the highest point above the village, with only a scrubby patch of grass between the road and the drop, which fell at least eighty feet to the promontory where Reenie’s little yellow hut sat, then the rocks and churning waves below that.
Ahead of her, beyond the bay of Porthgolow, on the opposite cliff, sat Crystal Waters. The place where, last week, she had allowed Daniel Harper to seduce her into his hot tub, ply her with champagne and kiss her. If she put it like that, she came out as an innocent party, totally at his mercy. But it hadn’t been like that at all.
She drove down the hill and parked Gertie in her spot on the hard-packed sand at the top of the beach. The sky was fading from blue to violet, the cloak of twilight settling over Porthgolow. Charlie breathed in the salty, seaside scent, and tried to move her thoughts away from Daniel. The village was quiet, with only a couple of cars in the car park, no sounds besides the churn of the waves and the occasional shout from the last family lingering on the beach. Myrtle’s pop-in was closed for the day but, next to it, the windows of the B&B were aglow.
Charlie’s gaze was drawn to the sea, as it so often was. She loved the way the light and the waves shifted in harmony with each other; still water mirrored by a placid sky, or a raging sea below racing, thunderous clouds. Out beyond the jetty, the lights were on inside the primrose-coloured cottage. As she watched, Reenie, now only a silhouette, emerged and stood at the edge of the rock. There was a flash, like the flicker of a torch beam, a wink of brightness piercing the dusk.
She stood there for several minutes, the light blinking intermittently. Then she went back inside her yellow house and stillness settled over Porthgolow. Jonah had said that Reenie was a mermaid communicating with her family beneath the waves. Charlie turned away from the sea, her mind racing. She wondered what Reenie was really doing out there.
The third Porthgolow Food Market got off to a good start and Charlie was both touched and relieved to see several locals wandering through the stands, shopping bags in hand, picking up fudge or sushi to take away with them, trying the tasters that the vendors put out to entice customers. Oliver was giving a group of women the full mixologist performance, juggling glasses and lemons and spinning shakers behind his back. The women were entranced, laughing and nudging each other, and it was clear that he was in his element.
‘It’s great, this,’ Amanda said, as she and Paul lifted Jem’s pushchair onto the bus, Jonah and Flora following. ‘I can’t believe the difference it’s making to the village. It’s like a brand-new place.’
‘On a Saturday, anyway,’ Jonah added, ever the realist.
‘Not true, my son.’ Paul ruffled his hair. ‘We’ve seen an increase in bookings during the week as well as on Saturdays. Charlie and her bus are getting Porthgolow’s name out there.’
‘I’m not the only one who’s working hard,’ Charlie said.
‘But you’re going out and promoting it.’ Amanda checked Jem was secure in her chair and smoothed Flora’s curls behind her ear. ‘I follow you on Instagram, and Penzance looked glorious yesterday.’
‘It was pretty busy,’ Charlie replied. ‘I felt as if I’d run a marathon by the time I got home.’ She’d forgotten that, by uploading everything on social media, people could see where she was at all times. She wondered if Daniel had watched her videos, made a mental note to check whether the Crystal Waters account appeared in her viewers’ list, and then immediately scrubbed it off her virtual to-do list. ‘What can I get you, anyway? No boats today?’
‘Later this afternoon,’ Paul said, ‘so we thought we’d squeeze in a cream tea to keep us going.’
‘And then we get burgers for dinner on the way home,’ Jonah added, peering at the sausage rolls laid out on the cooling racks. ‘It’s our Saturday tradition.’
‘Tradition?’ Charlie laughed. ‘It’s only been three weeks!’
‘It’s staying, though, right?’ Jonah asked, looking worried. ‘I can’t find a chicken burger with piri-piri sauce anywhere else, and Mum’s attempts are hopeless.’ He rolled his eyes dramatically.
‘Hey,’ Amanda said, laughing. ‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it, Jonah?’
‘Would you go back to our homemade ones after Benji’s blue cheeseburger?’ He pinned his mum with a stare.
Amanda grinned. ‘Not a chance. It’s definitely our new tradition.’
‘And you get on with Benji?’ Charlie asked. Out of everyone in Porthgolow, of course it would be Jonah who would make friends.
‘He’s going to show me how to make the perfect burger, as long as we don’t stop going to him. I tried to get him to tell me his piri-piri sauce recipe too, but apparently that’s a family secret.’
‘Everyone needs a USP,’ Paul said.
‘What’s ours, Dad?’ Jonah asked, sliding onto the bench next to him.
‘We’re the only boat trip that leaves from this beach, so we give a unique view of the Cornish coast to our visitors. And we’re right next to this, every Saturday.’ He gestured out of the window, where the market was in full swing.
Charlie wished Bea could see what she’d achieved – and maybe even Stuart. Irritation flashed through her at the thought of him, there and
