soon as I return to the table with a laden cake stand, Lily puts her phone down. ‘There’s a selection of mini pastries and tasters of our cakes. Of course, you’ll have a tailor-made menu on the day and we can work with a local catering firm who have won tons of awards for their wedding food. But for today I thought you might enjoy some of the best of our home-cooked fare.’
Harry selects a slice of curranty pastry dredged in sugar. He observes it and his nose twitches as if he’s inhaling the scent. Please don’t say he’s going to taste our guests’ food for them … He wouldn’t go that far, would he? He bites off a piece, chews, swallows and lets out a sigh of pleasure.
‘Do you mind telling me what this is? It’s really rather good,’ he says, with an extremely posh lilt.
So amazed am I that he has a voice at all, let alone that particular voice, that I struggle to get my reply out. ‘Um … it’s figgy ’obbin.’
‘Foggy what?’
‘Figgy ’obbin – layers of feather-light puff pastry crammed with juicy raisins, lemon juice and sugar. That’s the traditional recipe but I also added a few dried cranberries for extra crunch and to brighten it up. It’s a real Cornish winter warmer.’
‘It certainly is. It’s delicious. Reminds me of Nanny’s strudel.’
‘Your gran was a keen baker?’ I ask, still amazed at his accent. That voice could have come straight out of the drawing room of Polly’s favourite series, Downton Abbey.
He laughs. ‘Oh gosh, Granny never baked. I don’t think she knew what an oven was and she rarely ventured into the kitchens. She had a cook and housekeeper for that sort of thing. No, our nanny used to bake us treats in the school holidays or when we had an exeat. She was from Salzburg and was an incredible pastry cook. Her strudel was my favourite but this is a delicious twist.’
Harry takes off his shades. He doesn’t need false lashes or eyeliner. His eyes are striking enough: sea green with natural lashes to die for. Wow. My mind works overtime, trying to work out why a man who once had a nanny is working as minder to a celebrity couple.
‘May I have another slice, please?’
I like him already. ‘Of course,’ I say, and hand him another plate.
While Harry tucks in to the figgy ’obbin, Lily nibbles a morsel of a mini cinnamon scone. I hold my breath, waiting for the verdict. She puts the rest on her plate and pushes it away from her as if it might bite her back. Oh dear, this isn’t going well, but after dabbing her mouth with a serviette, she smiles.
‘Yum. That was delicious, but I daren’t have any more. I’m getting so fat, aren’t I, Ben?’
‘I dunno. You look all right to me.’ Ben crunches a fairing without glancing up from his screen.
‘Do you want the rest of this yummy scone, Harry?’
Holding the handle of the cup with his little finger crooked, Harry sips his tea. ‘Thanks.’
Lily brings the plate over and puts it in front of him. ‘Now you can get fat like me, can’t you?’
Harry puts his shades back on. ‘You’re not fat,’ he mutters and studies a Demelza’s menu while devouring the scone in one bite.
Ben is still swiping his phone. I hope he’s on Instagram not Tinder.
Nina finds the courage to emerge from the counter for a chat with Lily who suggests she has a selfie with her and Ben. This gives me a welcome chance to escape outside to try and get Cal on my phone. Mobile coverage is patchy at Kilhallon, so I’m not surprised when his answer phone kicks in. Not surprised but pissed off.
‘My partner, Cal, seems to be tied up with an urgent matter at the moment but he’ll be along as soon as possible. I know he’s dying to show you the wonderful space that Kilhallon has for your ceremony. I think it’s drying up outside so while we wait for Cal and the sun to arrive, would you like to run through some menu ideas? We can have all the taster samples ready for you on your next visit and it will be spring then.’
‘That sounds lovely, doesn’t it, Ben?’
Finally, Ben puts down his phone and bends down to kiss Lily’s head. ‘Anything you want, babe. Harry, can you fetch Lily’s scarf from the car? If we’re going outside, I don’t want her shivering, do I, babe?’
‘I’ll be OK, really, Ben.’
‘Harry doesn’t mind. That’s what he’s here for,’ Ben says.
Without a word, Harry leaves the cafe with the remains of a figgy ’obbin in his huge hand.
‘Harry’s ex-military. Paras. His family once owned a huge dump in the Cotswolds but they fell on hard times,’ Ben tells me, sitting next to Lily again.
Lily tuts. ‘It isn’t a dump. It’s a beautiful old place.’
‘Yeah, but he doesn’t own it now, does he? They had to sell it when his granddad blew his brains out after he’d gone bankrupt. It’s a boutique hotel,’ Ben says to me. ‘Quirky great pile, not my thing. Can I have some more coffee?’ He holds up his mug.
‘Of course.’ I spring up, eager to help in any way I can. Still, I can’t help feeling sorry for Harry, losing his family home and having to wait on Ben and Lily. I wonder how he stands being ordered around by Ben, to be honest.
‘Cal should be here any time. Shall we talk about the type of food you’d like for your ceremony and reception?’
While we chat through the menus, Harry returns and stations himself in a corner, leafing through a guidebook on Cornish dog walks. Lily and Ben have been here half an hour and I’m urging Cal to put in an appearance. He may claim to be no PR man, but he can turn on the charm when he wants to and it often seems to have an effect on people. I’m hoping he’ll work his magic on Lily, if not on Ben.
There’s still no sign of Cal but the sun has moved around and is now shining full-on through the windows of the cafe. It may still be February but it’s one of those days when you first feel some real, if faint, warmth in the sun’s rays. The clouds have cleared away to bother people further east, leaving us with a beautiful sky the colour of forget-me-nots. Cal or no Cal, I sense this is the moment to show off Kilhallon while I can. I hope that even sophisticated Lily will be charmed by the setting. I don’t know about Ben but I suspect he’ll go along with anything she wants, which would definitely make things easier for me.
‘Would you like to see the view from the cafe now the rain has stopped and the wind has died down a little bit?’
Lily claps her hands in delight. ‘Oh, I’d love to.’
Having returned with the wrap, Harry offers it to Lily and she fastens it around her neck, under her coat. I zip up my own jacket and we say goodbye and thanks to Nina, telling her we’ll be back later for lunch. Harry and Ben decide to brave the great outdoors without extra layers. I’m not sure even a Cornish gale could blow Harry over anyway.
We step out onto the terrace of the cafe, bracing ourselves against the Atlantic wind. The heavy tables and chairs have survived the winter and are beginning to look weathered, but that’s not a bad thing. We walk through the gap in the low
