at the hotel? You were really vague about it, but you’ve been distracted ever since. Is everything OK?’
Charlie switched on the oven and the coffee machine, lifted Marmite up and, before putting him in his crate, gave him a hug. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘Nothing happened at the hotel. We had a misunderstanding and we sorted it out.’
Juliette didn’t say anything, but Charlie could tell she wasn’t convinced.
She knew that yoga was supposed to do wonders for your mood, but it was having the opposite effect on her. How could Belle’s class and the food market happen alongside each other? Yoga was supposed to be calming, serene, and her markets were anything but. As she unloaded fresh scones from her cake tin onto the oven rack, she wondered if she’d have time to go and see Daniel after she got back from her afternoon with Ollie. But the thought of another confrontation wasn’t remotely appealing, mainly because she knew he would find a way of smoothing things over. She wasn’t prepared for him to upend her argument – and her emotions – all over again.
‘I don’t see how it’s going to work.’ Charlie stared up at the blue sky and the occasional puffy cloud that drifted above her. They were lying on the grass outside the large eco-domes of the Eden Project, their bellies full of Cornish ice cream. She glanced sideways, to where Oliver had his eyes closed.
‘Maybe it just will,’ he murmured. ‘Food trucks and yoga, in harmony with each other.’
Charlie turned her sigh into a deep breath, as Juliette had taught her to do. She didn’t want to acknowledge that yoga techniques were helping to calm her down. She had left Juliette on the bus, exchanging waves and smiles with Belle through the window.
‘Who holds a week-long yoga class outside anyway? I understand retreats for the truly committed, but Porthgolow is hardly the place, is it?’
‘It’s a beautiful, tranquil beach.’ Oliver held his hands up when Charlie glared at him. ‘I’m playing devil’s advocate. You’ve got to think of it from Daniel’s point of view, and then you can work out the best response.’
‘The best response is to ask all my market people to get there early, so Belle and her yoga class can’t stop it happening. I can’t believe he’s doing this.’
‘Can’t you?’ Oliver rolled onto his stomach, and Charlie did the same. Marmite, who had been snoozing between them, raced forward so he could stand in front of them and be unavoidable. Oliver ruffled his fur and Marmite lay down in front of him.
Charlie thought back to the night of the hot tub and the way Daniel had effortlessly parried all her accusations. How, on the day of her first event, he had placated Myrtle not with words, but with a bonfire and fireworks. He did whatever he wanted. ‘I suppose I can,’ she admitted.
‘So why is he doing it?’ A robin dropped onto the grass and began investigating the undergrowth, sounding its sharp little call as it went.
‘That is the million-dollar question.’ She wondered if it was a way of getting back at her for abandoning him after their kiss. But that seemed petty, and unlike him, and certainly not something she could discuss with Oliver. ‘Perhaps, even though he claimed to be supportive at the beginning, he doesn’t like the food market.’
‘Why doesn’t he like it?’
‘Because his hotel is all about calm and serenity, and the market gets quite noisy. But the cliff’s a long way up, and I know sound drifts, but it’s not like the hotel walls are made out of paper.’
‘But the outdoor swimming pool and gardens will be used a lot now it’s summer.’
‘It’s only one day a week.’ Charlie drew herself up to sitting. ‘I wonder if he’s had complaints from some of the guests? But then he should just come and talk to me about it, or turn it around – advertise it as a feature of Porthgolow and encourage them to take advantage of it. Surely they can’t all be so refined that they faint at the sight of a hotdog stand?’
Oliver laughed, stood up and held out his hand. ‘I don’t know, but I don’t think you should let him rile you.’
Charlie let him pull her to her feet. They stood facing each other, Oliver’s warm, open expression drawing her closer. She realized she wasn’t being fair to him, coming on a date and spending the whole time talking about Daniel. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I won’t. Not any more. I’ll do my thing, and work around him.’
‘Exactly.’ Oliver’s grin flashed, and when they started walking, his hand remained firmly around hers.
They strolled through the gardens, the sun beating down, and Charlie could almost feel her freckles popping to the surface. Oliver told her about his life childhood growing up near the Welsh border – not that far from where Charlie had been born – and how he’d loved going to the funfair and country shows as he grew up.
‘I loved them all,’ he said. ‘The atmosphere, that sense of everyone having a good time, finding something interesting or new, or indulging in their passion. I thought about getting involved in the gun dogs for a time. I always watched the trials but, as I grew older, I instinctively moved towards catering. It suited me, and so when Nat – my sister – suggested the cocktail stand, it felt right. I mean,’ he added, stopping on a wooden boardwalk that protruded into the middle of a pond, ‘who wouldn’t want to spend their days around people who are taking time to do something for themselves? Enjoyment, education, whatever it is. It wouldn’t be bad working here, would it?’
Charlie looked around, at the families and couples strolling, a woman sitting on a bench pushing a buggy back and forth, licking a green ice cream. ‘No,’ she agreed, ‘it wouldn’t. But we have more flexibility with our businesses. We’re our own bosses.’
‘How are you finding that?’
‘Good. Busy, though. I can only call on Juliette so often – she has her own work to do. But I don’t know if I’m ready to employ someone else. Everything’s a bit fluid – the markets, where I might end up.’ She watched as Marmite dangled a tentative paw in the water, got scared when a leaf drifted towards him and hid behind her legs.
‘You’re not staying in Cornwall?’
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie admitted. ‘I can’t live with Jules and Lawrence for ever. They need their own space. What about you, anyway? You don’t live down here.’
‘I’ve got a few mates,’ he said, his eyes sliding away from her. ‘As long as I don’t outstay my welcome on any one sofa then it’s not a problem.’
Charlie laughed. ‘You’re a proper wanderer.’
‘Does that bother you?’ His grip on her hand had tightened, his gaze returning to her face.
‘No, of course not, but—’
‘Charlie?’
‘Yes?’
