Katie's Cornish Kitchen Read online

  Chapter 3

  ‘I heard shouting. Is everything okay? Oh, it’s you.’

  The tone of her saviour’s voice told Katie everything she needed to know – and that she had been right to withhold Agatha’s details from the self-styled property tycoon. Obviously she wasn’t the only one to have fallen foul of his demands.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving. I need to take a shower after spending time in this rat-infested place!’ spat Greg, all previous charm evaporated as he turned to face Katie, his index finger raised. ‘But make no mistake – I’ll be back. And a word of advice from the wise: if you’re thinking of trying to revitalise this “cute little Cornish café”, then you’re onto a loser. No one with an ounce of commercial acumen would even contemplate opening a new business in a village like this.’

  Only when the roar of the BMW’s powerful engine had melted into the distance did Katie allow herself to sink down onto one of the battered wooden chairs, her whole body besieged by a sudden bout of trembling, her heart beating hard against her ribcage after the unexpectedly upsetting encounter.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ she muttered. ‘Thanks.’

  But she wasn’t. Her anxiety demons, so close to the surface since Dominic had thrown a grenade into her carefully constructed world, had broken free of their shackles and were gleefully rampaging around her body, making it difficult for her to breathe. All she wanted to do was grab her antibacterial spray and launch into a marathon of frenzied cleaning until they retreated back into their dark and dingy cave, but she couldn’t do that with an audience – that wasn’t the relaxed, karma-infused first impression she had wanted to project to potential customers.

  ‘I’m sorry to say it, but you don’t look okay.’ The beach-boy-lookalike smiled as he ran his fingers through his tousled curls. ‘I’m Oscar, by the way, Oscar Spencer. I run the art gallery and ceramics studio next door.’

  ‘Katie Campbell, deluded newbie café manager.’

  Oscar laughed, his vivid blue eyes crinkling attractively at the corners. ‘Look, why don’t you come over and I’ll make you a coffee?’

  ‘Thanks, I’d love that.’

  She gave Oscar a grateful smile and followed him to the adjacent building, a mirror image of the café, but that was where the similarities ended. In complete contrast to the dowdy duchess next door, the gallery was filled with warmth and light and the heady fragrance of freshly brewed coffee, buttery croissants and the wisp of citrusy cologne. The walls, ceiling and elaborate cornices were painted in gleaming white paint, and the wooden floorboards had been stripped back and whitewashed. It was fresh and clean and the perfect backdrop for the main attraction – the artwork, which adorned all available surfaces.

  Everywhere she looked there were canvases of all different shapes and sizes; some mounted, some framed, some showcasing muted watercolours, others vibrant pastels, but all depicting local scenes of the Cornish countryside and, of course, the beach. Interspersed between the paintings and pencil drawings were hand-thrown ceramic pots, quirky sculptures made from driftwood and sea glass, and on a paint-splattered easel in the far corner stood a huge canvas that Oscar had clearly been in the middle of working on when he’d heard Greg’s outburst, depicting a family picnicking on a windswept beach, the parents relaxing on a red-checked blanket alongside a wicker basket, smiling indulgently at the two young boys scampering across the sand, their faces wreathed in joy as their blond hair burgeoned in the breeze. It was the best piece in the room and Katie couldn’t take her eyes from it.

  ‘Coffee. The answer to all life’s traumas.’

  Oscar handed Katie a mug that in a previous life had advertised a local newspaper but now sported splodges of clay and sunflower-yellow paint. She smiled her thanks and took a sip, inhaling the delicious, taste-bud-tingling aroma that she relied on to wake her up every morning.

  ‘So, welcome to Perrinby. I’m sorry I didn’t come round to introduce myself earlier but I had no idea that Agatha had decided to lease the café. I hope your encounter with our local property rottweiler hasn’t put you off. I’ve only been here for six months, but I can assure you that everyone in the village is exceptionally friendly and welcoming. We all have as little to do with Greg Forbes as possible in case he swoops in and snatches our “prime seafront real estate” from under our noses.’

  ‘Ah, so that’s why no one would hand over Agatha’s details?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, no, you didn’t …’

  Katie laughed at the look of panic that spread across Oscar’s handsome face.

  ‘No, I didn’t, but I nearly did.’

  ‘Thank God for that.’ Oscar swiped the back of his hand across his forehead in a theatrical gesture, his lips twisting into a cute smirk before becoming more serious. ‘Forbes & Mortimer has already been instrumental in killing off one community over the border in Devon after the company bought up two vacant shops, eradicated every last smidgeon of character from the buildings, and then sold them on as second homes, despite the objections of the local residents who were desperate to maintain a viable business community. It wasn’t long before the only remaining shop closed down and now the village has no amenities whatsoever, which is something the people of Perrinby are fighting to avoid.’

  Oscar grabbed a white wooden chair and swung it round to sit astride, peering at Katie from over the rim of his coffee cup with interest.

  ‘So, is running a café in Cornwall a long-held dream of yours?’

  Oscar was regarding her with such obvious hope that she averted her gaze to concentrate on her own coffee. How could she confess that her plan was to give the café a quick lick of paint, toss a few colourful throws and woven mats about the place and then, when the whole enterprise failed on its feet, she would post the keys back to Agatha and admit that her friend’s faith in her had been misplaced?

  ‘I …’

  ‘Salut! Am I right in thinking you’re our new arrival? Cherie, welcome.’

  Before Katie knew what was happening, she found herself engulfed in a fragrant hug and in receipt of two exuberant air kisses. When she was eventually released, she saw a tall, slender guy, dressed head-to-toe in black – hand-stitched leather loafers, designer jeans and skin-tight T-shirt that accentuated his impressive physique – with a skin-care regime to rival the world’s top models and a manicure that caused a spasm of jealousy. With his sexy French accent and neatly barbered mahogany quiff, he was the complete opposite to the surfer-dude look Oscar rocked.

  ‘Katie, allow me to introduce you to Javier Bertrand …’

  ‘Oscar, darling, you know my friends call me Jay!’

  Katie laughed. ‘Hi, Jay, pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise, darling. If there’s one thing this village desperately needs, it’s fresh faces. Has Oscar told you that we threw a spectacular party when he arrived to take over this gorgeous little art gallery? Bunting, toffee apples, chocolate brownies, mulled wine, fireworks, the lot!’

  ‘It was Hallowe’en, Jay!’ Oscar smirked, rolling his eyes in Katie’s direction. ‘And if that party was for me it was more likely to send me running for the hills – some of those costumes were particularly gruesome, especially Ruby’s. Coffee?’

  ‘Oh, you’re an absolute saviour! Not a drop has passed my lips since five o’clock this morning. I’ve had a particularly highly strung bride to talk down from a precipice of panic after her nan told her that according to some ancient folklore yellow roses are a no-no at a wedding. And then Talia messed up the Bradshaw order, sending Arthur Madeley’s funeral wreath to Gertie Farrier’s sixtieth birthday celebrations. You know, that girl is a complete liability – I have no idea how Agatha put up with her at the café.’

  ‘Talia used to waitress for Agatha before she left for Bali,’ explained Oscar as he handed a black coffee over to Jay. Katie couldn’t prevent a splutter of amusement from escaping her lips when she saw Jay’s upper lip curl at the sight of the misshaped earthenware mug covered in dribble
s of bright orange oil paint. ‘And in case you haven’t guessed, Jay owns the florist’s shop across the road – Bootylicious Bouquets – although he also doubles up as custodian of the village grapevine.’

  ‘Is it wrong to take a healthy interest in other people’s business?’ And as if to prove himself worthy of his Badge of Honour, Jay removed his gold-rimmed John Lennon sunglasses and fixed Katie with his razor-sharp hazel eyes, making her feel as if he was scouring her soul for her innermost secrets. ‘So, Katie, how do you know our wonderful Agatha?’

  Katie had no intention of sharing her full history with Oscar and Jay. She knew the pain of her broken relationship reflected in her eyes; she was dealing with that, but it was still a work in progress. She didn’t want them to feel sorry for her, to know that someone she had invested her trust in had gone on to abandon her without so much as a backward glance. Coming to Cornwall was an opportunity to start again, and that meant disguising her broken heart and shattered dreams.

  ‘Oh, I met her when I was on an extended backpacking holiday in Bali and we clicked straight away. I loved what she was trying to do there, especially the cookery school she’s set up to train disadvantaged teenagers in the skills needed to find work in the hotels, guesthouses and restaurants in Sanur. I helped her to run a couple of workshops on sugar craft – which is kind of my specialised subject.’

  ‘So she’s doing okay over there then, is she?’ asked Jay, his features softening.

  ‘More than okay.’ Katie laughed, her thoughts scooting back to her new friend and the person she had to thank for setting her on the road towards a new future. ‘She’s really embraced the Balinese way of life; she practises yoga daily, wears a sarong, leaves regular offerings for the gods, and is giving lots back to the local community.’

  ‘And she’s managed to chase away the demons of her past?’

  ‘Absolutely! I can honestly report that she’s happier than she’s ever been – her words, not mine. Whenever I was in her company, no matter how hot and sweaty the kitchen got, I felt calm, relaxed – as though the turmoil of the outside world was a million miles away. Actually, I’m thinking of adding a twist of Balinese serenity when I revamp the café – focusing on kindness and consideration for others – as well as trying out a few Indonesian cake recipes alongside the typically Cornish fayre.’

  Katie could hear the note of pride in her voice and her cheeks coloured. She was surprised she felt so attached to her idea when it was currently only an image in her imagination, albeit a vibrant one.

  ‘Alors, I love it!’ declared Jay, his eyes sparkling with excitement. ‘Great branding choice – I can totally picture the ambience of le petit café from just those three little words – kindness, community and cake. I see natural fabrics, carved wooden mobiles, maybe a wind chime or two, and I might be able to rustle up some gardenias and frangipani for a little floral authenticity. So, are you planning to completely redecorate?’

  ‘I was, but to be honest, I’m not sure I’m up to the task …’

  ‘Well.’ Oscar laughed, running his paint-encrusted fingernails through his curls and making them stand to attention. ‘If you need any help in that department, I’m a dab hand with a paintbrush, even if I do say so myself.’

  Katie hesitated. Was it fair to drag Oscar into a doomed project? Surely he had better things to do with his time than decorating a shabby old café. However, she could see from the excitement on his face that his offer had been genuine, not to mention the fact that she could do with all the help she could get if she was to have any chance at all of throwing open the doors before Agatha’s money ran out.

  ‘Thanks, that would be great.’

  ‘Good answer!’ pronounced Oscar, jumping up from his chair. ‘And when there’s work to be done, there’s no time like the present. In fact, I’ve got a couple of tins of white paint left over from when I did this place somewhere. Hang on, I’ll go and fetch them and we can make a start this afternoon.’

  Katie watched Oscar disappear through a door at the back of the gallery where she caught a tantalising glimpse of a potter’s wheel and an industrial-sized kiln. She looked away when she saw him bend down to collect a packet of paintbrushes, his tattered jeans tightening to enhance the curve of his taut buttocks, the sleeves of his T-shirt straining against his muscular biceps.

  ‘Gorgeous, isn’t he?’ Jay smiled, a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

  ‘Erm … I …’

  ‘If my heart hadn’t already been snatched by a certain cordon bleu chef …’ he mused wistfully.

  Jay was right. In another world, in another life, she could see herself enjoying more than just Oscar’s laid-back, friendly company. However, love, in all its guises, was a foreign country for her – a place where she had no intention of straying. And yet, there was something about Oscar that drew her towards him, something vulnerable in his demeanour, something that he too was hiding from the world. She could see it in his eyes, in the fleeting shadow of sadness that was probably only apparent to someone who had suffered a similar trauma. But that was neither here nor there; relationships meant rejection and she had resolved to never trust anyone with her fragile heart again – even if he did look like a blond Aidan Turner.

  Oscar reappeared, clutching two large tins of brilliant white emulsion in one hand, three smaller tins of paint in the other, and a battery of rollers, brushes and cloths poking out from a bright orange bucket that was hanging over his wrist.

  ‘Okay, so I have pink sorbet, peppermint green and periwinkle blue. What do you think?’

  ‘Absolutely perfect! Just what I was planning for the tables and chairs.’

  ‘And, of course, it’s a yes from me,’ added Jay.

  ‘Okay, let’s go!’

  Katie found she was grinning. A session of extreme painting was just like a session of extreme cleaning and she suddenly couldn’t wait to get started. She said goodbye to Jay who had to dash back to his shop to make sure Talia hadn’t killed off all his flowers, not to mention his business, and she and Oscar carried the decorating materials into the café. When the bell tinkled its welcome, an unexpected feeling of homecoming suffused her chest – which lasted all of five seconds until Oscar uttered his next sentence and sent her spirits crashing to the ground.

  ‘You’re going to love it here, Katie. I can’t wait to tell everyone that our little village café will be open for business next week. It’s exactly what we need to help revitalise our community, just like Agatha is doing in Bali. It’s the perfect way to keep wolves like Greg from lingering around our doors.’

  Oh, God, what had she done! If she couldn’t make a success of the café in the next three months, not only would she be letting Agatha down, it looked like she’d be letting the whole community of Perrinby down too.

  Chapter 4

  ‘Oh my God, Cara, I’ve never been so exhausted in my entire life!’

  Katie sat at the breakfast bar in the galley kitchen in the flat above the café, her chin in her hand as she filled her best friend in on the trials and tribulations of her first day in Perrinby. She had approached the afternoon’s decorating challenge in the same way as she approached her need to scrub everything until it sparkled – with obsessive enthusiasm. She just wished she could spring-clean her life in the same way.

  Every muscle in her body, including some she hadn’t even known existed, screamed its objection to the unaccustomed exertion, but that was nothing compared to the emotional turmoil churning through her veins as she realised the extent of the task she had taken on.

  ‘What? You mean you haven’t spent the day sunbathing on those gorgeous Cornish beaches, treating yourself to a seafood lunch at a coastal shack hidden in the sand dunes or hooking up with a bunch of hunky windsurfers?’

  ‘That’s what I should have been doing. What’s the point of spending the whole day and half the night painting the café and all its furniture when it’s obvious that the practical solution would be to just sell the place to Greg, then Aggie
can use the proceeds to invest in her café in Bali and the cookery school and …’

  ‘And you can run away and continue to lick your Dominic-shaped wounds?’

  ‘No. It happens to be the sensible business option …’

  ‘Why do you think Agatha hasn’t done that already? The café’s been empty for six months. If she wanted to sell it and use the proceeds to expand her business empire, then don’t you think she would have put it up for sale when she decided to stay on in Bali?’

  ‘I suppose …’

  ‘When she gave you the key, she was clear what she wanted you to do. To give the café a new lease of life, hopefully generate enough income to keep it ticking over and, if possible, make a contribution to her pet project in Sanur.’

  ‘But what’s the point? The whole thing’s doomed to fail, so why even try? The bills are only paid for the next three months so that gives me until the end of May. No one with an ounce of commercial acumen would even contemplate opening a new business at this time of the year in these economically uncertain times.’

  Katie cringed when she realised that she had inadvertently strayed into Greg-Forbes-speak.

  ‘But what do you have to lose? Agatha will still be in the same position whether the café’s a success or not. I’m batting for the winning team – Team Katie. Look, darling, I know your self-confidence took a bit of a knock when Dom …’

  ‘A bit of a knock? I sent my fiancé off on a stag weekend to Ibiza. And. He. Never. Came. Back! That’s not just careless, it’s tragic!’

  ‘Katie …’

  ‘And he stole every last penny we’d saved to pay for the weeding – ten thousand pounds! I don’t have a bean to my name.’

  ‘Okay, okay, so you’ve experienced a life-changing event. But another way of looking at it is that you’ve been given the opportunity to reassess your life goals and to pursue a new direction. Don’t forget, I know you better than anyone. The only reason you weren’t out there chasing your lifelong dream of owning your own cake-decorating business was because you were too busy helping Dastardly Dominic to chase his! I loathe what Dominic did to you, Katie, but you know what? A small part of me sort of respects …’