‘Sounds wonderful,’ Lola replied wistfully, quelling a stab of envy at the cosy family Christmas he described. ‘Are you going back this year? Or does duty call?’
‘Duty calls, I’m afraid. Midnight mass, Christmas Day service, it’s a busy time to be a vicar.’ He winked. ‘I’ll video-call my parents. My sister has three kids so no doubt they’ll be busy and won’t miss me. I’ll take some time off in the New Year and visit them.’ Tristan glanced down at his sleeve, which was starting to unwind and heading perilously close to the sticky cherry juice.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it.’ Lola scooted around and carefully rolled the sleeve back up his arm. Tristan looked down at her, the energy shifting between them again. Lola gave his arm a pat and stepped back. ‘All sorted now.’
‘Ah, yes, thank you. No doubt I’ll be inundated with invites for Christmas dinner, well, at least I hope I will!’ He grinned at her.
Lola’s face lit up as an idea sparked inside her head. ‘Why don’t you come here? I’ll hold a big Christmas dinner for all of us! You, me, Alf, we’re all on our own, I’ll get some extra sausages for Scruff. I can ask Angelo and Freya to join us. I’m not sure Freya is all that keen on taking Angelo home to Bedford yet. There’ll be wine, we can sing songs, it’ll be wonderful!’
Tristan shook his head. ‘We can’t ask that of you, Lola, you need at least one day off.’
‘Nope, I’d go stir-crazy. Cooking and feeding people is what I love. I’ll get a turkey, a ham and I make pretty amazing roast potatoes. It’ll be perfect. No protests, Vicar, I won’t hear them.’ Lola wagged a finger at him. ‘I’ve only just thought about it but I’m already looking forward to it.’
Seeing him shake his head, she calmed her voice down to convince him. ‘Honestly, Tristan, I’d enjoy hosting dinner for us all, you’re not allowed to say no.’
A slow smile spread affectionately across Tristan’s face. ‘I’m pretty sure, Lola, that no one could possibly say no to you.’
Chapter Seven
Sunday, 3rd September, 1950
Dear Diary,
The village is built on a hill, the house is at the top and we have a very steep walk back up from the beach. There was a long debate about what to do on our first day here. Ida and Joan are keen to go and see the artists in St Ives but after the train journey down I’ve had enough of travelling. When I got into bed last night I felt like I was still moving! Anyway, we decided to spend the day exploring the village, not that there’s much to see but it’s very pretty. There’s a pub, a small shop and post office but that’s about it. All the buildings are painted white, some have hanging baskets of flowers and the beach is covered in fishing boats. We went for a swim, well, a paddle for me, I’m not brave enough to fully submerge myself. The water was almost warm. We were eating our sandwiches when the fishermen came in with their catch, followed by flocks of pesky seagulls. I’d never seen anything quite like it. I can’t imagine what it would be like going out on the sea in all weathers, I’m worried about it when it’s calm. Still, it does sound a lot more exciting than typing up dull letters about insurance all day. We watched them with their nets and catch, transfixed by the way they moved, strong arms, tanned skin, completely different from the men we know back home. I must have been staring for too long because Joan pulled me away, a disapproving look on her face.
‘Are you sure I can’t convince you to come here for Christmas?’ Bridget asked, ‘it’ll be warm and sunny.’
Lola sighed. Every year her mum tried to convince her to jet out to the Costa del Sol for Christmas, every year Lola declined. ‘Thanks, Mum, but I can’t leave the café. You know I can’t do a warm Christmas anyway.’
‘I don’t like to think of you all alone,’ she sighed.
Lola being alone for the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year didn’t seem to bother her mum as much. ‘I’ll be fine, I’ll have my friends here in Polcarrow to spend it with. I’m already making plans for us all to have Christmas lunch together.’ Plus the thought of spending Boxing Day with her feet up and a box of Quality Street was absolute heaven.
‘If you’re sure.’ But the argument already seemed to be gone from her voice.
‘Perfectly sure,’ Lola said, scribbling ‘Organise a Polcarrow Christmas’ on her crowded to-do pad. She hesitated before asking, ‘Mum, did Nannie ever mention coming to Cornwall before she married Grandad?’
‘No. Why?’ Bridget asked.
Lola hesitated before sharing. ‘I had a package delivered to me. It was some letters and diaries the new owners found hidden in Nannie’s house. Nannie came to Cornwall it seems after the war but before she married Grandad.’ She didn’t elaborate on the fact that Ruby had visited Polcarrow or that there’d been a ring tucked away in the package.
‘Did you? So that’s what it was. No, she never talked much about her younger days to me. I know she did like spending time in Cornwall, though, and we went there when I was a child. I better go, your dad’s just come in from his golf club. Remember, there’ll always be a place for you at the table, Lola.’ Bridget rang off before Lola could say goodbye.
With a sigh, Lola slipped her phone into her bag and pulled her to-do list closer. With her cakes baking and maturing, and the decorations going up around the café, Lola wasn’t the only one busy making Christmas plans. As leader of the village committee, Sue was stuck into her vision to create a perfect Polcarrow Christmas, culminating with the Festive Festival. The lobster pot tree, she had decided, was going to be the focal point. Sue had been very persuasive in recruiting Tristan and Angelo to help with creating and assembling it, along with Steve who ran the pub. There had been no notion of them even turning the opportunity down. Even Alf had been roped in to oversee proceedings.
Sue’s plans gave Lola the perfect opportunity to raise her own. Ever since she’d hatched her idea of a Polcarrow Christmas, Lola had been itching to share the invitation with the people who now meant the most to her. Upon seeing that the local farm shop had turkeys for order when collecting her eggs, Lola decided that before she got too carried away and placed an order, she better check who was going to be around. No point ordering a large turkey if it ended up just being three of them, even though she knew Scruff would rise to the challenge and help polish it off.
It was still early on the morning that they were scheduled to create the lobster pot tree and Lola was making sure that the ‘workers’ were fuelled with a decent breakfast. Once Tristan, Alf, Freya and Angelo were nestled at the window table, mugs of tea and stacks of toast in front of them, Lola interrupted their speculations about how they were meant to make a tree out of lobster pots. The general feeling was that Sue didn’t have any practical suggestions, just the photo she’d found online which she’d waved about enthusiastically.
‘Now I have you all gathered, I have something to ask.’ Lola exchanged a glance with Tristan. Lola had managed to avoid mentioning he’d been her kitchen helper when it came to the first batch of Christmas cakes. She knew everyone had been speculating about their relationship since the summer and wasn’t ready for the inquisition – mostly because they were still very firmly in the friend zone. ‘What are you all doing on Christmas Day?’ she asked.
‘Same as every year,’ Alf replied, ‘trying not to share my sausages with this rascal.’ He gave Scruff a scratch under his chin before slipping him a crust of toast.
Freya and Angelo exchanged some form of silent communication that included a raised eyebrow which no one else was able to interpret. ‘We don’t have any plans . . . yet,’ Freya began slowly. ‘Mum has been going on about us going up to Bedford or them coming here. I’ve been putting her off. As soon as they got wind of Angelo and Bayview they’ve been threatening to come down. Why?’
Lola clapped her hands together. ‘Well, Tristan and I were talking the other day about Christmas and I had a brainwave. Since Tristan, Alf and myself are all going to be alone, I’ve decided to host Christmas Day for us. Of course, do say if you have better plans, Alf.’
‘What a splendid idea. I always get invited to other people’s houses, but I think this invite tops them all. Make sure you get extra pigs in blankets, they’re Scruff’s favourite.’ The old sheepdog barked in agreement.
