the Instagram app. There it was, @PorthgolowHideaway. The successful Instagram influencer was a reclusive, wise old woman who some people thought might possibly be a mermaid. She remembered Daniel saying he’d like to have some kind of partnership with the account and laughed out loud.
‘Daniel doesn’t know, does he? He’s never been in here?’
‘You’re the first person to darken this door for a long while, and whenever I see Daniel, it’s up at the hotel. Nobody knew about my foray into the online world up until this very moment, and I’d like to keep it that way, if it’s all the same to you.’
‘Why?’ She could smell Reenie’s faint lavender scent and felt a twist of protectiveness towards her, as self-aware and defiant as she was.
‘I don’t want anyone to know. It’s for me, posting the beauty of this place, interacting with people who comment. They don’t need to know I’m behind it.’
‘Porthgolow Hideaway,’ Charlie murmured. ‘What made you start it up?’
‘Why not?’ Reenie said. ‘I was taking the photographs anyway, and Dolly said I should connect with people. This is how I choose to do it. I may not have the will to come to one of your markets or socialize in the pub, but I can show people how special this place is. It’s how I see Porthgolow. And this,’ she gestured to the sea beyond the windows, ‘this is our view. Maurice’s and mine. If I put my name to it, if the Instagram page isn’t anonymous any more, I’d be giving up what Maurice and I had together.’
Charlie put her hand on Reenie’s arm and could feel how thin it was, the bone close to the surface. ‘You’re already sharing it,’ she said softly, ‘even if nobody knows it’s you. And just because you tell them, it doesn’t mean it’s no longer yours and his. You don’t dilute your memories just because you share them with other people. In some ways, I think, it makes them stronger.’
Reenie stared at her, suddenly looking her age. Charlie wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to; it was entirely up to her what she did with her photographs. But they had definitely had an influence on her events; the account had put Porthgolow on the social media map before Charlie had even driven into the village. She was sure it had helped build the momentum.
‘You know what?’ Charlie continued. ‘You have been a huge help to me, to the food market, and I didn’t realize it. Thank you, Reenie.’
‘Oh tush.’ Reenie waved her away, but Charlie could see she was pleased. ‘Now, never mind all this. What are you going to do about Daniel, and Oliver, and poor, stricken Gertie?’
Charlie chewed her lip. Reenie had solved one of her Porthgolow mysteries, but there was another, more pressing issue she had to get to the bottom of. And the sooner she worked it out, the sooner she could get on with enjoying the rest of her summer.
Charlie put her spatula down and scraped her finger along the edge, her phone tucked under her ear as she listened.
‘So I really think we can do some great new things, Charlie, and if your bus wants to be part of it, obviously with a bit of a shift-around, then of course that would be wonderful.’ Bea Fishington sounded contrite, but she had no reason to be. The Fair on the Field had been a disaster, but The Cornish Cream Tea Bus was not. Charlie knew that everyone back home was following her success online – her mum and dad had been cooing to her about it on the phone.
‘It sounds great,’ Charlie murmured. ‘I’m glad it’s worked out so well with your niece, and that … that you’re looking forward to having me back.’
‘Beginning of September, I think we said, didn’t we?’
‘Something like that.’ Ray jumped effortlessly onto the kitchen table, and Charlie gently lifted him off again.
There was a pause, and then Bea said, ‘I’m so glad this summer’s been so good for you, Charlie. You’ve spread your wings, really found your place in the world. It’s brilliant. Let me know when you’re back in Ross, or Cheltenham, and we can get together and have a chat before you officially return. I’m sure your mum and dad are dying to see you.’
‘They’re really looking forward to it,’ Charlie confirmed.
They said their goodbyes and Bea rang off. Charlie dropped into one of the kitchen chairs and Ray jumped onto her lap, nuzzling against her hand.
The truth was, the few times she’d spoken to her parents there had been no talk of the end of the summer and her return home. And Bea and The Café on the Hill hadn’t been troubling her consciousness while Gertie and her markets were working so well. A part of her had believed that Bea wouldn’t want her back. She had seen her sabbatical as an extended period of garden leave, her boss quickly finding a replacement and getting in touch at some point down the line to let her know she was no longer needed.
Could Charlie really leave Porthgolow? Leave her food market to carry on into autumn, attracting more vendors and customers, but without The Cornish Cream Tea Bus at the centre? She tried to imagine it, and found that she couldn’t.
While she waited for her trading consent to be reinstated, she had planned to spend her time baking, devising new, delicious cakes and pastries to serve, to take the cream teas for her tours to new culinary heights. And she still would, she decided, spurring herself into action and returning to her bowl of cake batter. She wasn’t gone yet.
‘You can’t run Cornish Cream Tea Tours on your Cornish Cream Tea Bus if you’re not in Cornwall,’ Juliette said half an hour later, once Charlie had updated her on her conversation with Bea.
Charlie gave her third and final cake mix a gentle fold, and then poured it into the tin. ‘So I’ll have a name change. The Cotswold Cream Tea Bus works just as well.’
‘You wouldn’t!’ Juliette was acting as if Charlie had committed treason.
‘I can’t live with you and Lawrence for ever, Jules. This isn’t my home. You have been so, so generous letting me stay here. It’s beyond the bounds of even the closest friendship.’
‘It is not—’
‘And Bea wants me back. She’s excited about what we can do at the café. And on the bus.’
‘And you sound equally thrilled,’ Juliette replied sarcastically.
‘I hadn’t thought about it, that’s all. I’ve been so tied up with everything here.’ She waved her spatula around and a bit of cake mix landed on Ray’s head. He stared at her accusingly.
‘That’s because things here are better.’
‘You and Lawrence need your own space, and I have to think seriously about what I’m doing next.’
She could still hear Bea’s enthusiastic voice in her ear and wondered how her mum and dad were really doing without her. They always seemed happy on the phone, but how would
