‘Well, as you only have half an hour, I better get you home, like a Cornish Cinderella.’
‘Cinderella?’ she quipped as Tristan grabbed her hand and started to run along the seafront. ‘I thought I was the fairy godmother.’
‘I think it’s high time that you get to be a princess.’ Then catching the look she cast him, he quickly corrected, ‘Queen, I mean, queen.’
Lola smiled with satisfaction and allowed him to pull her along. A year ago she would never have believed it if someone had said she’d be running head first into her fortieth year, pulled along by the sheer force of someone who loved her. But life, as she’d come to realise, was full of surprises.
Chapter Forty
Lola woke on Christmas Eve full of an excitement she hadn’t felt since childhood. After pushing back the duvet and opening the curtains, she peered out to sea, where the dawn was just starting to show promise on the horizon. Christmas Eve always felt far more special in her opinion than Christmas Day. It was in the magic Father Christmas spread across the skies from his sleigh, the unusual-shaped objects still shrouded in bright paper under the tree and the anticipation of gathering with loved ones where arguments over how to cook the sprouts hadn’t yet happened. Plus, today was her birthday.
Glancing in the mirror, Lola gave her face a satisfied pat, pleased with the way life had treated her. Forty had come round far more quickly than she would’ve liked, however she wouldn’t swap the knowledge and life experience she’d gained to be twenty again for anything in the world. Staring at her reflection, Lola reflected on the path that had led her here: the parties, the quick fiery relationships, the friends she’d loved and lost along the way. All the accumulated memories, shifting in her mind like a kaleidoscope, refracting brightly like a montage of her life. She smiled to herself. It hadn’t all been bad, in fact, it had been very good for the most part. Now, thinking of Tristan, she knew the best bits were still to come.
Makeup applied, hair rolled back and adorned with fake holly and ivy, Lola slipped into the dress she’d bought specially for the day. Deep green and figure hugging it was sprigged with dark red poinsettias. She adored it. Bundling herself up against the winter morning, she stepped out of her cottage and breathed in the damp, cold air, the scent of the sea undisturbed by any other aromas.
As she made her way along the early-morning seafront, she knew this next chapter was going to be the best one, cosy and comforting, as close to a happy-ever-after as she could wish. Stopping to admire the view, and being secretly thankful that now the solstice had passed the days would be slowly getting longer, Lola set about her morning ritual of gratitude. Making her way onto the soft sand, she walked right up to the edges of the waves and was momentarily tempted to go for a paddle until she remembered she had on the special dress she’d bought for her birthday and a pair of tights. Hardly dipping a toe attire. There’d be plenty of time later for a paddle in the sea. She’d heard several people discussing a Boxing Day swim over their lattes the previous week. Lola shuddered at the thought. Instead, she took some deep inhales and exhales, pulling in the briny cold air and hugging her own life to her. She was blessed, pure and simple, in every area of her life.
‘Thank you, Ruby, for leading me here. I know it was complete madness to up sticks and come to a tiny Cornish village, but you knew it’d bring me happiness. And it has. I’m so thankful that Angelo and Freya have been able to make a home here. That Alf has become like a surrogate grandfather. He says he’s sorry, Ruby, and I believe him. All water under the bridge now. Thank you for bringing me Tristan, he is rather lovely and he makes me so happy.’ Lola blew three kisses and imagined them being carried over the waves before turning her back on the rising sun and getting herself ready for what she suspected would be a very busy day of running a seaside café.
Unlocking the café door, Lola paused to take stock, and if truth be told, give herself a little pat on the back. It was the complete dream. It was something no one could take away from her. She wondered briefly what Jared would make of her achieving her ‘beside the sea café’ dream before realising that his opinion no longer mattered. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, warm and comforting, greeting her with the same rich embrace it had done for the past nine months. Below the glass domes sat little piles of brownies and a couple of leftover mince pies. Making a fresh batch would be the first order of the day, Lola thought, as she made her way into the kitchen, musing that she’d be glad not to see another mince pie for a whole year.
Turning the Christmas music up loud, she set about her baking, rocking along to the tunes as she rolled out pastry, filled the pies, made a batch of scones and finished it all off with a gooey chocolate fudge cake. It seemed right to start her birthday with cake for breakfast, there was no way she was going to wait until the evening for some, even if Tristan was making it.
Once the cake was baking in the oven, Lola made herself a cup of tea and a slice of toast and perching on a stool, pulled a stack of coloured envelopes out of her handbag. She’d received a few cards from family and old friends and set about opening them, reading their sentiments as the smell of baking curled its way around her. Breakfast finished, Lola checked the clock and realised it was time to open the café. As she unlocked the door she was surprised to find Freya standing there, a balloon and a bunch of flowers in her hands.
‘What are you doing here?’ Lola asked. ‘I’ve given you today off because of your family.’
Freya passed her the flowers. ‘Happy birthday. Anyway, that’s nonsense, you know you’ll be busy. They’re all still asleep anyway. I told them to text me when they’re up and about.’ Freya pulled out her phone and waved it in Lola’s direction. ‘See, nothing.’
Unable to admit how pleased she was to see her friend, Lola took the flowers. ‘They are gorgeous, thank you.’ She pulled Freya in for a hug. ‘I’ll find a vase to put them in and put them out on the counter for everyone to admire.’
Freya sniffed the air. ‘Is that a cake baking I can smell?’
‘Yes, a chocolate cake. I’m hoping it’ll be ready for second breakfast,’ she said as she swept into the kitchen. Rummaging around in the cupboard under the sink, she turned out a large glass vase, filled it with water and tried to arrange the flowers as artfully as she could manage, which wasn’t very artfully at all. Still, they were so beautiful that it didn’t matter. When Lola placed them on the counter they added a cheerful pop of colour. She headed back into the kitchen and after checking that the cake was cooked, she removed it from the oven and set it down to cool, pushing the window open slightly to hasten it.
The bell dinged and she heard Alf wishing Freya a good morning. Lola waited a bit until he was seated, listening as he gave Freya his order, requesting two mince pies, fresh ones, if they had any. Lola slipped a couple onto a plate – they were still a bit warm – and balanced the plate on top of the box containing his Christmas cake.
‘Morning, Alf!’ she called as she exited the kitchen and almost ground to a halt as she saw Tristan sitting next to him, the biggest bunch of red roses Lola had ever seen in a florist’s box on the table beside him.
Spying the pies, Alf chuckled. ‘They’re right about you being psychic!’
Lola laughed as she placed the plate on the table. ‘That or the doors are thin.’ She winked then placed the box down on the table as well.
‘Is that my cake?’ Alf’s face shone with anticipation.
Lola nodded. ‘Yes, I decorated it especially for you, but don’t open it yet, let me just grab something.’ Lola rushed back to the kitchen and returned balancing two squidgy-looking presents on top of another cake box.
‘Tristan, you might as well have your cake too,’ Lola said as she set the box down on the table.
‘It’s your birthday, aren’t we the ones supposed to be giving you gifts?’ he asked, indicating the roses.
‘Go on,’ Alf urged, ‘these will keep.’
Tristan passed Lola the gorgeous deep ruby red roses. She inhaled their scent before leaning over to give him a kiss, which earned a round of applause from Freya and Alf. ‘Thank you, they’re the most beautiful. I better find somewhere safe to keep these,’ she said, glancing around the café. ‘I don’t want them to get ruined and there’s no space on the counter for another bunch.’ She gave them another sniff as she hugged them to her.
Freya took them from her. ‘Shall I pop them back in the cottage?’
‘Thanks, lovely,’ Lola said, ‘that would be wonderful, don’t want them wilting in the heat of the kitchen.’
