‘No! You cannot make your own birthday cake. You spend all your time baking. I’ll sort it, trust me.’
The urge to fight Freya over the baking was strong, but the stern stare her friend was giving her made Lola back down. ‘All right then, I relinquish control of the cake into your mum’s capable hands. I’m sure by then I’ll be up to my eyeballs with Christmas cakes anyway.’
‘So what’s going on with Tristan?’ Freya wiggled her eyebrows.
‘Tristan? What do you mean?’ Lola feigned innocence and picked up her knitting again.
‘Come on, Lola, are you sure nothing is going on with you two? You were making heart-shaped eyes at each other as you untangled those lights earlier. He clearly adores you. You might not see it, but he cannot take his eyes off you.’
Resisting the urge to ask more about how he looked at her, Lola simply said, ‘Nothing, nothing’s going on. I didn’t come here for romance, Freya. I came here to concentrate on making a life for me, man free and uncomplicated. Tristan and I are friends. He’s been a great support to me, but that’s it.’ She wondered who she was trying to convince.
‘I don’t get the issue,’ Freya said as she sat down. ‘Tristan is probably the world’s least complicated man. And any relationship would be pretty rubbish if you weren’t friends as well so that card doesn’t play well.’
‘I don’t want to ruin what we have. It’s that simple. For the first time in my life, I feel settled and content. I’m happy with the way things are, Freya, honestly,’ Lola said, knowing it was true. ‘I have more than I ever expected to have here. I don’t need to add any complications.’
For a moment it looked as if Freya was going to argue the point but instead she just shrugged and peeled herself up off the sofa. ‘Fair enough, if you say so. But I think you’d be so much happier with him. Don’t deny yourself love, Lola. Right, shall we get the cottage decorated for Christmas?’
‘Ooh yes, let me just finish this bit off,’ Lola said, turning her attention back to her knitting, flustered that Freya had used a leaf out of her own book to push her point about Tristan. Holding the jumper out at arm’s length to check how the pattern was going, Lola tried to ignore the feeling that was unfurling inside her. She couldn’t ignore the fact that she kept thinking about the golden sunshine of Tristan’s smile, and thoughts of more than simple friendship. Shaking the idea away, Lola got up and took the Baileys glasses into the kitchen. Switching on the kettle, she reminded herself that after how much of a scoundrel Jared had been, it was Tristan’s kind, uncomplicated nature that she liked. Simple friendship. The most important thing to have. Why would anyone want to risk ruining that?
Chapter Ten
Buoyed up by Baileys infused hot chocolates and pleased with how Freya had helped her turn the cottage into a Christmas grotto, Lola slipped into bed, closed her eyes and exhaled. Lola tried to match her breathing to the sound of the waves in an attempt to relax but her mind was whirring. Buzzing with the thought that Ruby had possibly found romance in Polcarrow. The thought of her grandmother indulging in a holiday romance was strangely thrilling. Lola’s mind drifted. What was this young man like? He was clearly different to Ernest, who she couldn’t help but feel a little put out for, and knowing how the story eventually ended didn’t help her mind from speculating what had happened in Polcarrow between Ruby and the fisherman she had her eye on.
Opening her eyes, Lola glanced at the bedside table where the diary sat temptingly on top of a stack of books. An image of Tristan speeding through towards the end came to mind. His impatience to find out what happened seemed completely at odds with the calm, collected persona he presented to the world. This little piece of himself that he had revealed reminded Lola that there was still so much more of him to discover, and she was surprised to realise just how much she wanted to delve beneath his surface. She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Freya she valued his friendship above all other possibilities, because it was the truth. However, the other truth was that Lola knew what was brewing between them was something deeper than any fling she’d had before. It had solid foundations. She enjoyed his company and she could no longer deny it to herself that she’d wanted to kiss him when she’d been reading his palm, but she didn’t want to rush anything. Life was not a race, she was realising; the journey was as important as the destination.
However, she reasoned, as she sat up, that didn’t mean she couldn’t sneak another entry from the diary. After all, that was the only way she’d work out who Ruby’s summer fling was. Knowing that if she didn’t satisfy this curiosity, she’d only lie awake turning it over in her mind, Lola reached for the book and flicked to the next entry.
Tuesday, 5th September, 1950
Dear Diary,
Joan and Ida were miffed I’d been out without them. We’ve decided to go for a drink in the pub this evening, or at least I’ve persuaded them to. The afternoon was spent reading books on the beach. I wish I’d brought some with me because all the ones on the shelves are awfully dry. Who wants to read about ancient history? Not me! Anyway, I put on my favourite dress, the one with the pale green flowers on it, and took extra care applying my makeup. I did not tell them about the beautiful Adonis I saw pushing the boat (maybe I’m not so bored by ancient history or myths as I think!). Anyway, it was wonderful to be in the pub. We were sitting in the garden overlooking the sea, pretending to enjoy our cider, when a group of young men turned up. I saw the man from the beach at the back, our eyes met and I hoped Ida and Joan would blame the sun for the flush on my face. They got their drinks and came over to us, the thrill of seeing three girls as exciting to them as they were to us. We got chatting, I was careful not to make a beeline for my favourite. Charlie is his name. We spoke a bit. There’s something gentle about him, something kind. Maybe I do read too many novels? It might sound daft, and I’d never tell the other two this, but even as we spoke about the weather, what we’d been up to, it was as if our souls were having a different conversation.
Charlie? Lola’s brow furrowed before a chill ran down her spine. She reached for her phone, about to message Tristan but saw it was almost eleven. Hadn’t Alf’s brother been called Charles? Could it be the same person? What were the chances of there being two men with similar names of similar ages? Lola read on.
We’ve had a success! All the sitting on the beach enjoying the sunshine has piqued the interest of the young fishermen, the ones we met at the pub. They’ve offered to take us out on their boat for a sail around the bay. Ida went a bit green at the thought, apparently she was a bit seasick just going around the local boating lake, so I reckon she’ll sit this out. Charlie did the asking. Afterwards Joan made a comment about him being sweet on me and although I was absolutely thrilled by this, I pretended that I hadn’t noticed. Joan can be the jealous type. Charlie is lovely though, his eyes are as blue as the sea and I fear I might drown in them, but oh, what a lovely way to go!
‘Oh gosh’, Lola whispered to herself, ‘Ruby had it bad.’ Her eyes fell on the stack of letters sitting on her dressing table, the urge to untie the ribbon that had kept them together for over seventy years was strong. They must be from Charlie. Charlie who was Alf’s brother. Lola exhaled, tried to breathe through the emotions that were rising in her chest like a squally sea. Who cared if it was late, she grabbed her phone and texted Tristan:
I have to talk to you about something, come round the back of the café tomorrow morning, don’t let Alf see you!
Chapter Eleven
‘Lola, what’s up?’ Tristan asked as he threw open the kitchen door early the following morning, his eyes skittering across her face searchingly. ‘Are you OK? Sorry, I’ve just seen your text. I was out like a light last night.’
The flash of concern in his eyes hit Lola right in the centre of her chest, causing her words to dry up and her hands to pause in the middle of mixing a batch of scones. They stared at each other across the kitchen as Tristan caught his breath and Lola regained her composure. She shivered as the cold air curled around her, causing Tristan to close the door and step inside.
‘Yes, I’m fine, all good,’ Lola said as she left the mixing bowl and went to wash her hands. ‘Cup of tea?’ she asked to bide her time as she flicked the kettle on.
‘Is this going to need tea?’ A wary look crossed his face as he unzipped his coat.
‘Everything needs tea, Vicar.’ She gave him a saucy wink before faltering – this probably wasn’t the right moment for flirtation. ‘It’s about Nannie Ruby,’ she explained.
Tristan’s exhale of relief did not go unnoticed. The fact that he’d been worried that something had happened to her scrambled Lola’s thoughts.
He pushed his hands through his hair. ‘Yes, go on. What have you found?’
‘The diary is in my handbag. Go on, get it out – I’ve put a bookmark in – and have a look yourself.’
