Phillipa Ashley - Christmas at the Cornish Café - A heart-warming holiday read for fans of Poldark

She dumps her mug on the drainer. ‘No, thanks. I see you’ve carved out a nice comfortable little niche for yourself up here. You and Cal. So, how’s business? Made your first million, yet?’

‘Forgive me for speaking frankly, Mawgan, but our business is actually none of your business.’

‘Fair enough, but I just thought I’d remind you that you’re here – you and Cal – only because I decided that Kilhallon wasn’t part of my development plans.’

I just resist snorting out loud. Only Mawgan and I know the real reason she changed her mind about ruining us: because I gave her hell about her behaviour towards us and to Andi and Robyn. Even so, I was gobsmacked that she listened to me. Even though she claimed it was a business decision, I know I touched a very raw nerve with her. Her mum had an affair with Cal’s father and that has led to bad feeling between the families, that and the fact Cal refused to go out with her when they were younger.

‘It’s too late now. We’re here to stay.’

Mawgan runs her finger over the stainless steel prep table. ‘Possibly. We’ll see.’

‘I’m sorry, but customers aren’t really allowed in the kitchen area. Regulations.’

‘I bet you allow that dirty dog of yours in here.’

‘Actually we don’t allow any hygiene hazards in here, human or animal.’

Mawgan has a hide like a rhino so ignores me. ‘I heard Isla was coming back from London.’

‘How do you know that? She only told Cal the other day.’ I kick myself at revealing this snippet of information, but it’s too late; Mawgan’s eyes gleam with delight.

‘I have my sources,’ she says.

Does that mean she’s still in touch with Luke, Isla’s fiancé? They left Cornwall to keep out of Mawgan’s way, because Isla suspected that Luke and Mawgan were getting too close. I doubt it very much, but I wouldn’t put anything past her. Only Mawgan and I know what went on between us in the summer and that our ‘chat’ about her personal life led to her removing her objections to us redeveloping Kilhallon Park.

Laughter drifts in from the cafe and a car engine fires up outside. I hold out my hand, to show her the door. ‘I don’t want to be rude but the meeting’s over and we need to lock up.’

Blocking my way to the door, she lowers her voice, ‘I could still hurt Cal. I could ruin him. If I want to.’

‘How?’

‘I have my ways. You just bear it in mind. Just because you came to me begging me to save him doesn’t change a thing between any of us, and it isn’t only me who thinks he’s a selfish bastard.’

‘You may be bitter and twisted and blame him for your mum leaving you, but any reasonable person would see it’s not his fault.’

‘It’s not only me, and the amateur psychology you spouted when you turned up at my house uninvited had nothing to do with my decision to back off.’

‘Drop the act, Mawgan. If you want me to think you gave up your opposition to our plans for financial reasons, that’s fine, but we both know there was more to it than that. You just can’t admit you found you had a conscience after all.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re referring to, but I told you that our conversation was private.’

No one can hear us in the kitchen, but I lower my voice anyway. ‘It was and it is. I kept my word. Cal has no idea that I came to see you or what we spoke about. As far as I’m aware, he also has no idea about your mum and his dad.’

She snorts. ‘Really?’

‘I think he would have mentioned it if he did.’

‘He tells you everything, does he?’ she says.

‘Not everything. I don’t share everything with him either, but I would have thought that considering the trouble you tried to cause over the summer, he might have told me about the situation if he knew.’

She sniffs, and seems at a loss for words for a few moments, then her lip curls. ‘I couldn’t care less anyway. You can relax. I’ve decided not to waste my time with little people like you and Cal.’

‘That suits us fine,’ I say, glad she can’t see my stomach drop to my shoes. If I never see Mawgan Cade again it will be too soon. Judging by the sneer on her face, I’m guessing she hates having betrayed any weakness to me. I could tell her that it wasn’t weak to allow her sister some happiness, or to let go of her bitter feud with Cal – but she wouldn’t listen.

‘Mawgan! We’re going. I’d like a word with you before we leave.’

Mawgan presses her lips together as Rev Bev pops her head round the door. ‘Goodnight,’ she says tightly. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.’

Shouldering her neon-pink ostrich-effect bag, she wobbles out of the kitchen on her pointy heels. I focus on loading the dishwasher, reminding myself that Mawgan is full of crap. I won’t let her empty threats hurt me because that’s exactly what she wants. I’m a successful cafe owner, I’ve a film crew to deal with in a few weeks, and Cal was going to say something nice too, although he didn’t actually say it.

Cal

My head throbs as I reach for the clock by the bed. The green digits glow in the gloom. Wednesday 9 October. 09.23. Shit. Is it that late? I need to get up. Those old staff cottages won’t renovate themselves.

I lift my head off the pillow and instantly regret it. Pain pulses in my temples. I’m shivering yet sheened in sweat. No wonder, I’ve woken up to find I’m lying on top of the duvet in my boxers. Last night, after I staggered home from the Tinner’s Arms in the small hours, I must have collapsed on top of the bed. At least I had the presence of mind to get undressed, which is amazing considering I was off my face. I haven’t been to one of the pub’s lock-ins for months. I’d already started to cut back on my drinking since Demi and I got Kilhallon off the ground, and I’m almost back within the so-called ‘healthy’ limit now. Correction, I was in the healthy limit until last night’s lapse.

Last night Demi went out with her mates to see a film in Penzance. I could and should have spent the evening doing the accounts for the resort, but I needed a break too. I only intended to have a quick pint at the pub, but one turned into two, then more, plus a few whiskies as well. Before I knew it, the landlord had locked the doors, joined his regulars for a game of poker and the evening had become early morning.

Snatches of conversation from the night before slowly come back to me, along with scenes from my nightmare and memories of my time in Syria. I remember someone talking about the Harbour Lights Festival in the bar. They reminded me of my conversation with Demi on Monday night before the committee meeting.

I told her I wasn’t having a fun time during last year’s festival. A slight understatement. I remember exactly where I was on that day. I was working in a refugee camp a couple of miles from the front line of a conflict zone, trying to do what I could for hundreds of wounded and displaced people. The sights, the sounds and smells will never leave me. Although I pretend to the people around me that I’ve put that time behind me and it doesn’t affect me, I’m lying.

I’m fully awake now. After I crashed out, some of the events from Syria came back to haunt me in a nightmare; albeit in a bizarre, jumbled way, like a story where the chapters have been swapped around or are missing altogether. I’m not sure why I had a nightmare or why the memories are so vivid and troubling now. Since I returned to Kilhallon, I’ve tried to lock my time in Syria away so I can try to get on with daily life, but it’s impossible to forget. The guilt I feel about what happened that day will never leave me, and perhaps it never should.