‘Go ahead, but you won’t find the secret ingredient, that’s kept under lock and key,’ she teased, watching as Tristan carefully turned the pages, like he was holding a sacred text, which Lola supposed in a way he was. When he reached the page with the scone recipe on it, Lola leaned across and pointed. ‘See what’s written there?’
‘Polcarrow?’ He glanced up at her for clarification.
Lola nodded. ‘Last year, when I was feeling very alone, I saw that word and, with the postcard, I don’t know, something just spoke to me. I googled Polcarrow and saw this charming little village and felt the pull to come here. And, well . . .’
‘The rest is history,’ Tristan finished for her. ‘But not the whole story?’
‘Well, it was, until I got a delivery yesterday. A box full of things Ruby had hidden away in her house. There was a ring I’d never seen her wear, no idea who gave it to her, and other bits and bobs, and this. Her diary.’ Lola reached into her bag and placed the small notebook on top of the closed recipe book. ‘It’s OK, you can open it. I guess it’s not private anymore.’
Tristan smiled as he read the first entry. ‘When did she write this?’
‘The year she came to Cornwall!’
‘Have you read it all yet?’ He paused as he lifted the cover.
Lola shook her head. ‘Not all of it. I was tempted to stay up all night, but I feel a bit nervous about what I might uncover. I wanted to start at the beginning, it’s all about her life in Enfield, a side of her I never knew. There was a bunch of letters all tied together that Ruby had been sent. I’ve not dared open them either. I could tell from the writing they weren’t from my grandfather.’ Lola paused. ‘And there was this.’
Holding her breath, she pushed the cream envelope across the table, watching as Tristan carefully lifted the flap and pulled out the photograph. He studied it in silence for a few moments, time slowing right down, before looking at Lola and placing the photo on the table between them. Sitting back he let out a breath. ‘Is that . . . ?’
Chapter Five
‘Alf?’ She pointed at the man with the fairer hair. ‘That’s what I wanted to ask you, if you think it’s him?’
They both leaned in close over the photo, heads almost touching, to give it more consideration, studying the faces as they came to the same conclusion.
‘Lola, I think it is, that’s definitely the same grin he gives whenever he’s up to mischief now. Did you think it was him?’
Lola nodded and sat back, relieved. ‘I did!’ She picked up the photo and studied it, lost for words, trying to get her head around the fact that her grandmother had spent a summer in the same place Lola now called home and that she knew Alf.
‘Are you OK, Lola?’ Tristan asked softly when she’d been silent for a while.
Lola nodded. ‘Yes, I think so. It’s a lot to think about. It feels rather mad.’
‘You had no idea your grandmother came here?’
‘I only knew that she knew the name from the recipe book. I just assumed she’d come here on holiday with Grandad or something. We used to come to Cornwall on holiday as kids but never as far down as this. Ruby always just said she liked Cornwall because it was beautiful, like another world, but wouldn’t say anything else. As a child I thought that just meant it was really far away, because, well, it is. I never thought it might have been a different world for her in another sense.’
‘And you think she knew Alf?’
‘If it’s him in the photo, it seems that way.’ Lola looked at the photo. Ruby wasn’t turned towards Alf, but to the other young man, something silent passed between them, captured on film for all eternity. ‘But who’s the other man? He seems to be the one Ruby’s interested in. Look how close they are.’
Tristan picked the photo up again. ‘No idea. I take it it’s not your grandad or another boyfriend you know of?’
Lola shook her head. ‘It’s certainly not Grandad. He looks sort of at home, like he’s a local or something.’
They both studied him, his features slightly blurred as he turned towards Ruby. From what Lola could make out, he was tall with a thatch of fair hair, his skin sun-kissed. ‘Do you reckon he’s still alive somewhere? Does he look a bit local?’
Tristan picked up the photo, brought it close to his face, before passing it to Lola. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he does a bit. Looks like he’s used to being outdoors. Alf would probably know him.’
Lola took the photo from Tristan. ‘Maybe, but he’s so reluctant to talk about the past that I don’t feel right just slapping it down in front of him and asking, “Is that you and did you know my nan?”. I can’t, can I?’
Tristan laughed. ‘No, but .?.?.’ His face darkened.
‘What?’
‘No, it’s just a thought.’
‘Oh, you can’t leave it like that!’
