‘Seven.’
‘Great, looking forward to it. I’ll text Tristan, pull him away from the Christmas Day sermon he’s been agonising over for the last couple of days,’ Lola said.
‘I’m not sure you should be leading him that astray,’ Freya warned.
‘Me, lead him astray? Never!’ Lola quipped as she popped her phone back in her pocket.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Although most of the residents of Polcarrow had gone for a nose around Bayview House when it went on the market, Lola had only stepped foot inside once, just after Angelo had bought it. The house had been dusty and in need of a lot of love and care. Having listened to Freya outline the trials and tribulations of turning an ageing fixer-upper into a forever home, Lola was impressed with the amount of work they had managed to achieve in just six weeks. The house had been stripped back and painted white, a blank canvas ready to be explored. Tinsel with fake holly leaves had been wound around the curving banisters and in the corner sat a small Christmas tree twinkling with fairy lights
Lola gazed around in awe to think this was where her grandmother had stayed that summer. Any ghosts of that holiday had been swept away with the cobwebs. It must have seemed like a palace to Ruby, who grew up in a slightly damp two-up two-down in north London. On the way to Bayview House Lola had decided that if the right moment arose, she would tell everyone the remarkable story about Ruby and how they both came to be in Polcarrow. Alf had given her his blessing to share the story whenever it felt right to.
Angelo took them all on a tour of the ground floor, explaining what they hoped to do with each room before leading them into a large, old-fashioned, but cosy kitchen. Rather than turn on the glaring overhead lights, Freya had dotted candles everywhere, creating a warm glow. The atmosphere was so festive, so romantic that no one minded that they were sitting around a rickety plastic table on mismatched chairs. There was red wine, Christmas crackers and a tiramisu to top it all off. Everything about it was divine. Lola gave Freya a thumbs up. It seemed that her family approved of Angelo.
Nobody minded that there weren’t enough wine glasses, or the plates didn’t match, or the table was a bit wonky because what really mattered were the people gathered around it, sharing food and stories, all of them looking forward to the next few days. Lola watched as Freya relaxed. It was exactly as she’d predicted, Freya’s family warmed to Angelo and they had all been left speechless when Freya bounded outside to show them the shed he’d turned into an art studio for her. Lola had given her friend a squeeze and tried not to get too sentimental about how far they’d all travelled in their lives that year. The studio was gorgeous, created with love, and Lola would only ever admit to herself that she’d miss having her friend painting in the room up above the café. This was the next step in Freya’s exciting career. The flat would be put up for rent, someone else would move in and hopefully Polcarrow would work its magic on them.
After dinner they sat around the table, squeezing in brandy chocolates and sharing stories of Christmases past. Olivia, Freya’s older sister, seemed keen to regale Angelo with tales of Freya’s youth, which she bore with an affectionate grimace. As the conversation lulled, Lola exchanged a glance with Alf and used his nod of encouragement to slowly unwind her own tumultuous family links to Polcarrow, telling everyone about Ruby, her romance with Charlie and how it had allowed her to grow closer to Alf. By the time she had finished there was not a single dry eye around the table, everyone’s emotions stirred by the story of heartbreak and hope shared at such a special time of year.
It was almost eleven o’clock when Lola caught Tristan yawning and found her own mouth being tugged in tiredness. ‘I think it’s time we head off,’ she announced, ‘I’m sure tomorrow will be a busy day.’
They were seen off with kisses, hugs and good cheer. Lola slipped her arm through Tristan’s as they ambled down the hill towards the seafront. Polcarrow was quiet, all hunkered down, waiting for Christmas Eve to arrive and all the magic and anticipation of opening the final door on the advent calendar brought.
‘They’ve done a good job at Bayview,’ Tristan said. ‘It’s not a project I’d have liked to have taken on.’
‘Nor me,’ Lola admitted, ‘and I’m not sure how much Freya enjoyed taking it on either, but it does look smashing all stripped back. There is a tiny, tiny part of me that would like to get my hands on it, but I think my vision would be very different from Angelo’s.’
‘Yes, I can’t see him going for floral curtains personally.’
They wandered in companionable silence for a while, the distant whooshing of the waves a gentle, soothing backdrop after the noise of the dinner party.
‘Would any of us have imagined this a year ago?’ Lola mused. ‘There’s four of us who’ve all found a home here, a life, and love. It’s like Polcarrow really is magic.’
‘Well, I’m going to let you into a little secret, I think you are the magic, Lola. I think you turned up and dusted this whole village with it. No, don’t be modest, you know your café has given the village a new hub and I’m sure everyone will turn out to celebrate at the pub tomorrow.’
‘Come on, give me one little hint, please.’
‘No! You’re not wheedling it out of me now, just one more sleep.’ He kissed her.
‘I’m sure it will be perfect.’ Lola looped her arms around him and pulled back to look him in the eyes. ‘Even if it’s just some bubbly, a few sausage rolls and no Christmas tunes, it will be absolutely wonderful. I’ll probably fall asleep at the bar I’m so tired, but I honestly cannot wait.’
Tristan dipped his head and kissed her, pulling her in close. ‘How does it feel to have less than an hour of your thirties left?’
Lola sucked in a breath. ‘I thought I’d be terrified, but you know, the last few weeks have shown me that life truly doesn’t end as soon as the clock strikes midnight on your thirty-nineth year, if anything it’s shown me that life still has lots of wonderful surprises up its sleeve. One of which is standing here right now.’ Her voice grew serious. ‘You know, Tristan, I never expected this. Not just you or us but romance again. I was so relieved to be done with Jared, so pleased to have put myself first, to get an opportunity to create a life I love that I thought there was nothing else left. But you, you are the cherry on my cake.’
Tristan gave her a squeeze. ‘I could say the same, but I think it’d be a bit sickly if I used the cherry analogy. I’ve never quite recovered from scoffing half the tub I used to make that upside down cake.’ Lola laughed as he pulled a face. ‘How about I love you instead?’
‘That works. But promise me something – that it will always be like this. That you won’t try to change me or take away my freedom. I have no intention of ever leaving here, I’ve put my bags down and unpacked for one final time. I love my café, I love the people, I’ve had so many requests for more meditation sessions, I know our beliefs don’t always align but .?.?.’ She trailed off.
‘It doesn’t matter. We both believe in caring for our community, in providing support either with pastries or prayer, we’ll figure life out together, Lola, because there’s no one I’d rather do this with, than you. We’re a team, we’ve always been a team even when we didn’t realise it.’
Stretching onto tiptoes Lola pulled him closer and kissed him. As Tristan kissed her back, she had the sensation that this was how she was meant to be kissed, with care and true intent. Above them the sound of the church bells chiming half past eleven sounded, shattering the peace of their moment.
‘Only half an hour to go,’ Lola whispered.
‘Do you want to wait and celebrate right on the stroke of midnight?’
Lola shook her head. ‘No, I want to go to bed like I used to and wake up to it being my birthday and Christmas Eve with all the promise the day holds waiting for me to unwrap.’
