Phillipa Ashley - Summer at the Cornish Cafe

‘Isla’s a celebrity now.’ Her mother glares at me like Medusa, obviously hoping to turn me to stone while her dad takes refuge in his champagne glass. He always was a man of few words and he’s lost for them now. ‘She’s an award-winning TV and film producer, you know,’ Mrs Channing adds.

‘I know that. I read about the last one in the newspaper. Congratulations.’

‘So you had time to read the papers?’ Isla remarks. She wrinkles her nose like she used to when she was trying not to cry. Like she did when I left her at the station the night I left Cornwall.

‘Actually I did email you on my way down on the train,’ I go on, refusing to let Isla off the hook.

‘Oh, Cal. I haven’t even looked at my emails since yesterday. We’ve all been completely tied up here all day, organising the party … and Luke forbade me to do any work this weekend, didn’t you?’

‘ Forbade you?’

‘I forbade myself.’

She puts her glass down on the table but it’s my hands shaking now as I walk towards her. A huge wave of memories thunders towards me and I pull her into my arms. I’m swept away by the sight and smell and feel of her. She is fragile, delicate, a porcelain figure, always way out of my league. Instinct stirs responses I can’t stop and don’t want to, even in the middle of company. I press her against me and her hands seek my spine through my shirt as if she wants to double check I’m real, not a phantom. I inhale her perfume. It’s a new one, sharper and more sophisticated than the scents she used to wear, or is that my imagination?

‘You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this.’ I breathe the words into her hair, which smells even better than I remember it.

‘Cal …’

Her whisper pushes me away, then I realise that her hands are also pushing me away from her too. No. I won’t let her go yet. I could lift her off her feet if I wanted to, and carry her out of here in a second but she is controlling this moment; this moment I’ve hungered and thirsted for so long. There’s deep pain in her eyes and the realisation smacks me in the chest. ‘Isla?’

‘I’m sorry but things have changed .’ Her voice cracks with emotion and it’s all I can do to hold it together.

Changed? Yeah, I guess. You look even hotter than ever, if that’s possible. You smell wonderful too. I want to say the words out loud but something stops me. Instead I lift my hand to her cheek and feel the soft skin under my fingertips.

She smiles and then flinches away from my hand. ‘ Please . Not here. Not now .’

Everyone is looking at us; we’re the dancers in the middle of a circle that no one dares to join.

‘Aren’t you going to congratulate the happy couple?’ Mrs Channing, Isla’s mother, speaks.

‘What happy couple? I thought this was a birthday party? Is there something I’m missing here?’ I make my tone light but my stomach churns with foreboding.

‘It is a birthday party but we’ve just heard some more good news. Isla and Luke have announced they’re getting engaged. Isn’t that wonderful news?’ her mother trills.

‘Engaged?’ Shock constricts my throat muscles. ‘You mean engaged to be married?’

Isla laughs lightly. ‘Well, there isn’t going to be a wedding yet. Not for a while.’

‘But probably this year. Definitely early next year,’ Luke cuts in, with an expression on his face I don’t recognise.

‘We haven’t set a date yet, these things take a lot of organising and I’m so busy with work.’ Isla glances at Luke for confirmation.

Robyn links her arm with mine. ‘They told us just before you came in, Cal. Isn’t it an amazing day? Dad’s birthday, the engagement and you coming home …’

Robyn beams. I don’t think she or anyone realises how much I felt for Isla. Before I went away, we didn’t really have a formal relationship. It was definitely on–off and no one considered it serious. Isla obviously didn’t. But the past few months have made me realise that I did . I’ve been in denial about how much I felt for her and I’d resolved to tell her when I came home, if I came home.

My uncle pats Luke on the back. He seems as proud as if Luke were his own flesh and blood, not the son of his former business partner. Rory always had a soft spot for Luke but now there’s clearly a bond between them that wasn’t there when I went away. It’s as if Luke is Rory’s son now.

‘Aren’t you thrilled for them?’ Mrs Channing’s voice cuts through me and she gives me a calculating glance.

‘Oh yes. Thrilled.’ I echo her because I can’t formulate my own thoughts any more. I can’t even think straight.

‘Cal, darling, I’ll fetch you a whisky.’ Robyn scuttles off.

I glance to Isla, clutching her glass so tightly it could shatter any second but Luke’s arm is around my back.

He clears his throat nervously. He knows I fancied Isla, and that we dated for a while before I left but not how much I really felt for her. ‘Hey, mate, it’s great to have you home. Joking apart, I was worried that you might have decided to stay out there.’

‘I thought the same myself, a few times.’ My smile hides an instinct to lash out like a wounded animal. Anyone will tell you my social veneer was never thick, but now it’s paper thin and rubbed to nothing in places. My time in the Middle East has shown me the worst of human nature, including my own. It was a mistake to turn up like this, an even bigger one to come home and expect to find everything as I left it.

‘Cal?’ Isla’s voice is soft, reminding me that these are the people I love and miss, whose company I longed for, but now I’m here, now I know how much things have changed, I’d rather face the warzone I came from.

Ignoring Isla temporarily, I search Luke’s face, interrogate him. ‘How long have you two been together?’

‘A good few months now.’ His tone is overly casual, his smile over bright. ‘Come through to the sitting room. Have a drink. We’ll talk.’

‘No. No, I … thanks for the offer, mate, but I need to get home to Kilhallon Park.’

‘Wait, Cal! Surely you’re going to tell us where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing lately?’

The answer to Isla’s question is so complicated, and yet so simple, that my brain literally hurts. The blood pulses in my temple, a tight band seems to crush my skull.

‘Not now, I’m tired … and I don’t want to spoil your party with my boring stories. Plus, I really should go and see how Polly is. I left a message on her phone but I haven’t heard back from her yet. I hope she’s been OK while I’ve been out of contact.’

Luke flashes me a sympathetic smile. ‘Polly’s fine but you obviously wouldn’t expect her to cope with managing the whole place on her own, with no money coming in since just before you left, after your father passed away. Rory and I did what we could to keep things from falling into complete rack and ruin but we didn’t want to take over.’

I smile at Luke and his arm tightens around Isla’s waist. The sight of him with her is like a jagged knife sawing through my guts.

‘I can see that. Congratulations,’ I say and walk out.

‘Demi!’

I wake to find someone shaking me, gently but firmly. Mitch barks but in a way that says ‘friend’ not ‘foe’. Warm fingers grip my shoulder.

Sheila’s plump face comes into focus. ‘You’re bloody freezing, love! What are you doing here?’

‘Umm …’ I cringe inwardly, embarrassed at being found sleeping in the doorway of a chip shop.

‘I’d been hoping to see you again but not like this. I wouldn’t have known you were here but one of the fishermen mentioned he’d seen a girl and her dog sleeping rough when he brought some prawns round first thing. You silly girl, how long have you been sleeping out here for? I thought you told me you could stay at your friend’s parents’ while they were on holiday?’