A Perfect Cornish Summer, page 12
Sam kept a close eye on Sacha while handing over two Cornish beef and onion pies to a couple. She didn’t blame the dog for fancying a pie. Sam smiled and said thanks to her customers, aware of Bryony lurking even closer, while Sacha snorted like Gnasher. She couldn’t help thinking that Bryony was as much of a hazard as – but far less charismatic than – Dennis the Menace.
The couple left and there was a momentary lull for Sam while a group of young guys relayed their orders to Stefan.
‘Your van drives my Sacha mad,’ said Bryony as if it was Sam’s fault.
‘Sacha has good taste,’ said Sam, wishing Bryony would at least lower her voice to foghorn levels.
‘Why d’you have to create such a smell?’
‘It’s an aroma and that’s normal because we’re using delicious and fresh local ingredients,’ said Sam, raising her own voice in the hope it would reach the wavering customers.
‘Sacha, get down!’ Sam flinched as Sacha broke free and almost got his gigantic paws on the counter top. He let out a snuffle that sounded like a herd of pigs. The customers pulled faces at each other and hurried off in the direction of the pub.
Sam loved animals and knew Sacha wasn’t really a threat, just over enthusiastic, but some of her customers were wary of dogs. ‘Bryony, can you keep Sacha away from the food service area, please?’
‘Three chicken and bacon, two beef, and a Yarg and onion!’ Stefan called, even louder than Bryony. Sam flinched but Stefan was grinning.
‘I can’t stand around here all day. I’ve got a training class to run. Come on, Sacha, darling.’
Bryony marched off, tugging a reluctant Sacha who peered back at the van before being brought to heel.
‘Shall I start a fund for her moving expenses?’ Stefan whispered while Sam unloaded the pies from the oven. Despite Sacha’s appearance, they were doing a roaring trade, and she needed to restock as soon as she’d put the current batch into paper bags for the customers.
‘I’ll stump up the lot,’ said Sam.
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘I don’t know … She hates the festival, but she also seems to have a personal grudge against me.’
‘I doubt it. That woman must have been born sucking on a bottle of vinegar.’
‘Her mum and dad were both lovely people, but they moved out of Porthmellow when Bryony went to college. She stayed on and rented the flat over the dog grooming parlour. Anyway, I can’t worry about her now.’ Sam handed the pies to Stefan and spun round to face a group of teenagers in shorts and T-shirts. ‘Hello, you look like you need warming up. What can I get you?’
The sun had sunk behind the top terraces by the time the band had finished and the temperature had dropped too. There were still a good number of people milling around or sitting at the pub tables with pints but custom had dropped off sharply.
‘Shall we close up?’ Stefan asked. ‘It’s been a good gig.’
Sam nodded happily. In the end, Bryony and Sacha hadn’t dented trade too much. Sam loved it when they sent dozens of happy customers on their way. It made the hard work worthwhile. ‘I think so. We’re almost out of stock anyway, which is always a good thing.’
Stefan started to cash up and Sam was about to switch off the oven when a new customer jogged up to the counter.
‘Not too late, am I?’ Gabe grinned up at her.
He was the last person she expected to see because as far as she knew, he was still in London, and part of her had feared he might not come back at all until much closer to the festival. Her stomach did an annoying flip and a ripple of excitement ran through her. That shivery feeling was just as strong as it had been when she was nineteen. Sam swallowed. His temporary absence from Porthmellow had done nothing to damp down her fires, only stoked them higher.
‘I thought you were still in London,’ she said.
‘My business finished earlier than I expected so I got a last-minute flight. Can’t seem to stay away, I guess.’
Sam flashed him an apologetic smile. ‘We were just about to close.’
He frowned. ‘That’s a shame. I was longing to try one of your delicious pies.’
‘I would have thought you’d be into fine dining,’ she said, trying to steady her racing heart. How did he still have the power to make her feel like this? Why couldn’t she stop her reaction?
‘Sometimes, but I like simple food too. Have you forgotten I was brought up in a fish and chip shop?’ He smiled again. His black hair flopped over his eyes and he pushed it away. Was that a thread of grey at the temples? Wow … Sam thought, but she must look different too. Did she look older to him? His eyes were still the deep brown she’d always loved. Like a peaty pool on the moorland behind Porthmellow, she used to think in her dreamier days, a pool with the sunlight glinting off it.
Or perhaps the colour was more like the glossy gravy in her beef pies. She stifled a giggle. How things had changed. Age and bitter experience had brought the Greek god that used to be Gabe crashing down to earth for her, no matter how he made her feel.
‘What’s up?’ he said, a line appearing between his eyebrows. ‘Do I have spinach on my teeth or something?’
‘No.’ Sam assumed her best customer-friendly voice. ‘We do have a couple of pies left. There’s a roast chicken in a scrumpy sauce or a Cornish beef with red wine and mushrooms.’
Gabe rubbed his chin. ‘Both sound extremely tempting. What do you recommend, chef?’
Was he simply joking or seriously taking the mickey? Sam wasn’t sure.
‘We-ell … the chicken is free range, of course, from a supplier near Mullion. The scrumpy is a top-quality apple cider from the Tywardene farm, which I think you’ll know, having drunk enough of it when you were younger.’ She smirked and Gabe nodded.
‘The beef is local too and farmed to the highest standards,’ she went on. ‘The mushrooms came from a market garden that recently opened on the north coast and the red wine – well, I have to confess – the wine was from the St Erth cash and carry, but it did win a gold medal in some sommelier awards.’
He considered for a moment. ‘Hmm. What about the pastry cases themselves?’
‘Hand crimped and baked in specially commissioned tins to my own secret recipe. I could divulge it to you, but then I’d have to kill you,’ she said, and couldn’t resist throwing him a beaming smile.
‘That won’t be necessary. Sorry to disappoint you.’ His mouth turned down in mock horror.
Sam wanted to laugh but kept it to a smile. In the good old days, Gabe had made her laugh a lot and feel so good about herself, she could have taken on the world.
He sighed. ‘They sound so delicious, I can’t decide so I’ll have both.’
‘Great. That means I have no leftover stock. That’ll be seven pounds ninety-eight, please.’
He pulled a note from his wallet. ‘Here’s a tenner. Keep the change.’
‘Thanks. I’ll add it to the festival fund,’ Sam said pointedly.
Gabe shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
After popping the pies in the trademark stiff paper bag and handing them over, Sam put Gabe’s cash in the mini till. Instead of leaving to eat his pies at home as she’d expected, he hung around, blowing on the crust of the chicken one and taking tiny bites as it cooled. Stefan raised a significant eyebrow, but Sam refused to react to her colleague’s knowing looks. She tried to busy herself by cleaning down the surfaces while Gabe tucked into the pie.
She’d convinced herself she didn’t care what he thought of her – but she did care what he thought of her cooking. She was dying to know his opinion, but she would rather have run naked through the Festival Marquee than ask. So, she took off her apron and climbed out of the van, ready to lock up. Gabe was eating the second of the pies while talking to the landlord of the Smuggler’s Tavern.
Stefan shut the door and joined her. ‘I’ll finish up and take the van back to the unit,’ he said.
‘Thanks, but I can’t leave you to pack and hitch up all on your own,’ she said, with half an eye on Gabe still gassing to the publican. Sam couldn’t hear him above the choir singing ‘Lamorna’.
‘Just take the offer for once. You look knackered anyway.’
Sam gasped. ‘Wow. Thanks, Stef! I love you too.’
‘Don’t be distracted by any handsome strangers on your way home,’ Stefan whispered in her ear, pointing his finger at Gabe.
Before the rude word was out of Sam’s mouth, he’d jogged away towards the pick-up, jingling the keys in the air.
Sam lingered, tucking into a squashed rejected pie that she’d set aside for her own dinner. With their soaring, haunting voices, the choir made her hair stand on end. The accents and songs were so Cornish they captured what she loved about Porthmellow. She caught sight of Gabe, standing apart, a pint in his hand. She saw his mouth move. He was singing along with everyone else.
So now I’ll sing to you, ’Tis about a maiden fair …
It was a famous folk song about a roving husband. Sam had heard it a hundred times before, but she imagined his deep voice as he sang, a little out of tune, but lusty and strong. You can take the man out of Porthmellow …
She and Gabe still had that connection, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. They had Porthmellow in their veins, they had their love of food, the need to nurture and care for their family, friends and neighbours … Why had he ruined all that? Could the rift between them ever be healed?
Shaking her head at such fanciful notions, Sam left the van and walked down the quayside to take the coastal path route up to her cottage, finishing her supper.
She couldn’t help thinking of Stefan’s joke about Gabe … Except Gabe was no stranger, and that was part of the problem. At one time she’d known every inch of his tanned, toned body. He certainly knew every inch of hers.
She thought how Gabe had always supported her before and after they’d started dating. She’d lost count of the times he’d brought round supper for the three Lovells from the chip shop after their mum had died. Kebabs and salad, plaice and chips. Hardly gourmet cuisine and not that healthy, but devoured by three hungry young people. Without the Mathias family’s help and that of their neighbours, the Lovells might have gone hungry because some nights in the early days, Sam had been too exhausted by grief and work to cook a proper meal.
Somehow, the days passed by and the family emerged from their grief. Zennor was showing a flair for art and design at school and even Ryan seemed to be settling into his job on a fishing trawler. Sam had thought the darkest times were behind her and brighter days might lie ahead, at least for her and Gabe.
How wrong she’d been.
She reached the cheery sign near the end of the outer harbour that said ‘danger of death in high waves’ and turned left towards the coastal path that led up the cliff, when bootsteps rang out on the cobbles behind her.
‘Sam. Hang on a mo.’
She stopped but didn’t turn round because she recognised Gabe’s voice. She waited for him to catch up.
‘I’m going your way,’ he said.
She hated the way her heart beat a little faster when she heard his voice. Surely, she should be over all that by now?
‘Frank from the pub trapped me, but I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed the pies,’ he said.
‘Oh, really?’
‘Yes, really. They’re very good.’
‘I know,’ said Sam. ‘That’s why Stargazey’s doing so well. It might not be a multi-million-pound business, but I’m proud of it.’ Even as she spoke, she felt bad. Gabe probably hadn’t meant to be patronising, but she was tired and crabby – and most of all she was confused about the power he still had to make her feel as if she’d been lifted up and carried along on the air like thistledown.
‘I can see you’re proud of what you’ve achieved. You should be. It’s not easy making a success of a food business, especially with what you had to deal with.’
‘Don’t patronise me, please.’ The moment the words were out, she wished them unsaid. She wished everything unsaid, and Gabe gone. She’d spent so long getting over him and now he was back, he’d ripped open old wounds within days.
She walked off up the path, but Gabe followed her.
Within seconds, the path steepened into steps and both of them were breathing heavily as they climbed. ‘St-stop f-following me,’ she said.
‘Why sh-should I? I l-live up here.’
Sam spun round, gazing down at him a couple of steps below. ‘Live here? You count renting the biggest place in the village as living here?’
‘The size of the house has nothing to do with how long I might stay.’
‘Why did you have to rent that place?’
‘A, because my PA assured me it was practically the only thing available on a short lease at short notice. And B, because I thought “why not?” Is that OK with you?’
‘No, it’s not OK.’
‘Why not? Too grand for you, is it?’
‘No, too close.’
She set off again, taking the steps on the twisty path two at a time. Soon she was gasping for breath, but at least she’d shaken Gabe off.
When she finally paused again, leaning on a handrail at the top of the hill, he was out of sight. She couldn’t even hear him. However, she also couldn’t afford to hang around too long so she forced herself onwards and reached the top of the cliff where the gradient levelled off. It was high tide and the waves crashed on the beach seventy feet below, buffeting the sea wall that had been built to protect the clifftop homes from tumbling into the sea.
‘Sam!’
She gasped. Gabe was clambering over the edge of the cliff a few yards ahead. It wasn’t possible … but yes, he’d actually climbed up a crumbling section of path that had been undercut by the sea in the previous year’s storms. It was a quicker and more direct route but also happened to be incredibly risky as no one knew when parts of it might collapse. Her pulse rate ramped up even though he was safe now.
He hauled himself up onto the grass.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Sam asked him.
‘I took a short cut,’ he said, getting to his feet.
‘Around the cliff fall?’
‘If you mean the old coast path. Yeah. Why not?’
‘Didn’t you see the signs? It’s unstable and dangerous since the winter storms. Parts of it are liable to collapse and someone slipped last month down there and had to be rescued by the coastguard. They could have died, which is why it’s been diverted further back from the cliff edge and up here.’
Gabe brushed mud off his jeans. ‘I thought it was a risk worth taking.’
‘You’re barking mad.’
Gabe grinned. ‘You already knew that.’
She shook her head. ‘You could have fallen onto the beach … hurt yourself or worse.’
‘Is that what you want to happen?’
She imagined him lying on the rocks at the base of the cliff, his body broken and suppressed a shudder. ‘If you think that, you really are out of your mind.’
‘Sometimes I wonder, the reception I’m getting from you.’
‘Are you surprised?’
‘Yes. No.’ He raked his fingers through his hair, all trace of bravado gone. ‘I don’t know what to think, but I do know we need to talk and we need to do it now. I can’t function around you, or in Porthmellow with the way things are between us.’
‘Right. OK. So, you want us to be friends?’ Sam asked.
‘I want us to be on friendly terms, especially with the festival coming up, but first I want us to be honest with each other.’
She blurted out her response. ‘Right I see. Honest … So, Gabe, is this you trying to use the festival to blackmail me into forgiving you?’
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Jesus, Sam. You’ve got me so wrong.’
Sam was fired up now, her emotions bubbling dangerously close to the surface. ‘What exactly have I got wrong? Was I wrong or did you turn in my vulnerable brother to the police when he desperately needed help? I know he did wrong but surely you could have turned a blind eye, if not for Ryan then for me. I thought you loved me?’
‘I did love you! How can you not understand that?’ he said, his voice raised – which was a mistake. Her blue touchpaper was well and truly lit.
‘Actually, I did get you wrong. I was wrong to trust you and to love you. Wrong to think you felt the same way about me. Wrong to even waste a moment of my time talking to you now. I’m very grateful you stepped in to help the festival. I would never have asked you, but you know that. For the sake of the town and all the people who’ve worked hard to make the place a success while you’ve been away, I’ll be civil and polite and smile. But don’t think for a moment I’ve forgotten that your – I don’t know – misplaced sense of duty, of loyalty, of fuck knows what, made you report my brother to the police and ruined his life. I haven’t seen him since he left prison. That’s been over eleven years. I know he’s alive somewhere, but that’s all I know. He won’t speak to me, he doesn’t want anything to do with the family and it’s all your fault!’
She was trembling. She hadn’t meant to unleash so much anger on him, but it had been bottled up for so many years.
‘Have you finished?’ His tone had plunged from warm to glacial.
‘I … I … I’ve said more than I ever meant to,’ Sam stuttered.
‘I can see that.’ His eyes blazed with annoyance.
She cursed herself. She’d really let him have it with both barrels and now she regretted it. ‘Look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lashed out like I did, but it’s been tough over the past few years and I never expected to see you again.’
‘Me neither, but now we are here and you’ve raised the subject, I wish I could make you understand.’ His voice brimmed with indignation. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing for you, for the town and for Ryan. I haven’t changed that view and if that upsets you, I’m not going to lie to you. You don’t deserve it.’
‘Gabe. This isn’t a great idea. We’re not going to get anywhere with this conversation and you know what? I’m knackered. I just want to go home.’
