Cornwall for Christmas: A Polwenna Bay novella Page 3

  He really did seem very eager to get her to go to the pub for some reason. Kat wondered what he was up to. Then she told herself off for being paranoid. It was Christmas, Tom had a rare evening off and they hadn’t seen each other for almost a year. What could be nicer than having a glass of mulled wine with her old friend in a country pub on Christmas Eve? She wasn’t going to let Ed turn her into a recluse. Of course she’d have a few drinks.

  Leaving Issie to park (and feeling glad that she wasn’t driving, given that the village streets were so narrow you could almost reach out and touch each side with your hands), Kat followed Tom into The Ship. The pub was stuffed to the seams with locals, all brimming with Christmas and alcoholic spirit, and it took a while before they were served and able to tuck themselves into a window seat. Just about everywhere was smothered in tinsel and garlanded with fairy lights too.

  Whether it was the mulled wine or just the festive atmosphere, Kat wasn’t sure, but she soon felt herself unwind. As Tom and Issie introduced her to more people than she could possibly remember, Kat chatted away easily and realised she was having fun.

  Fun. Wow. Kat thought she remembered it.

  By the time she’d had several more drinks and met what felt like fifty more people, most of whom seemed to be related to Issie, Kat’s eyes were growing heavy and she was feeling more relaxed than she had done for a long time.

  “Let’s get you in a taxi and back to the hotel,” Tom said, catching sight of her smothering a yawn. “You’ll need a nap and to freshen up before dinner.”

  Dinner was one of the treats that Kat had been looking forward to the most. The hotel boasted a celebrity chef and the menu looked exquisite.

  “Do you want to join me?” she asked him. “My treat, of course. And you’ll be eating Ed’s share, if that helps persuade you?”

  “I’d love to, babe, but I’m a bit busy tonight. You get glammed up and enjoy dinner. We can catch up tomorrow.”

  Tom was fiddling with his cuffs and couldn’t quite look her in the eye. Kat immediately got it: he was meeting someone. Of course he was! That was why he’d wanted to see her early on in the evening. Tom had something exciting lined up for Christmas Eve. Good for him. At least one of them might get lucky.

  “Sounds perfect,” she said.

  And perfect was exactly what this break was going to be, Kat thought happily when the taxi pulled up some time later outside the Polwenna Bay Hotel. The old building was every bit as beautiful as the brochures had promised. From the huge Christmas tree dominating the magnificent entrance hall, to the sweeping staircase and then her sumptuous room, it was exactly what she’d pictured. Celtic carols were being sung in the lobby as she checked in; holly and ivy garlanded the bannisters; and on arrival in her room she discovered that the champagne cooling by her bed had been upgraded, as a Christmas gift from the management.

  Kat padded to the window and pushed aside the heavy brocade drapes. It was dark outside now, the deep blackness that only comes in the countryside, and stars were sprinkled across the sky. It was a cold night too; her breath misted the chilly glass until what remained of the shadowy view was occluded. Kat shivered. She had the strangest sensation that on this Christmas Eve a very special magic was awaiting her.

  How daft! The mulled wine must be going to her head!

  She’d run a bath, Kat decided, then dress up for dinner and the cocktails that were being served in the bar. She’d make the most of stepping out of her ordinary life of timetables, council tax and microwave meals. For a few days at least she’d be the heroine of her own glamorous story.

  But maybe first she’d just channel her inner Goldilocks and try out this lovely soft bed? After all, it was only six o’clock – there was ages to go yet before dinner.

  Kicking off her boots, Kat sank onto the white quilt and sighed with utter bliss. It wouldn’t hurt to close her eyes for just a few minutes, would it?

  Chapter 3

  “I think your friend Kat’s lovely,” Issie Tremaine told Tom. After their drinks in the pub, they were now in the kitchen at Seaspray. It was just six o’clock and the Tremaine family had gathered for supper, a vast vat of stew that Alice Tremaine had left on the Aga. Most of them were sitting around the table catching up and squabbling amicably in the way that close families do. Tom had tried to resist the offer of food (after all, his figure really couldn’t take much more of Alice Tremaine’s wonderful cooking), but when Issie set her mind on something there was no arguing with her. Besides, her rock-musician brother was due to arrive at any minute; for more reasons than one, Tom was desperate to meet him.

  While the others ate, Alice Tremaine and Issie’s sister, Mo, stood at the sink peeling a mountain of vegetables for Christmas dinner. Meanwhile, Symon Tremaine was applying his chef’s skills to preparing the turkey – and doing his best to ignore his siblings’ teasing about this being the closest he’d been to a naked bird for a long time. The air of excitement was palpable. Tom wished that he’d brought Kat back with him, but of course that would have spoiled his very special surprise.

  Oh! He could hardly wait! Kat wouldn’t be able to believe it!

  “Yeah, she’s well fit, your mate,” remarked Issie’s twin brother, Nick. Whatever inhibitions he’d had were now lost, after an entire afternoon celebrating Yuletide in the pub with his fishermen mates. “She looks just like Kelly Brook. Maybe she’d fancy a Cornish toy boy?”

  Issie laughed at this. “In your dreams! But what I wouldn’t give to have big brown eyes like hers and to be that tall too.”

  “Yeah,” said Nick. “You’re an Oompa Loompa!”

  His sister shrieked with rage and threw a chunk of bread across the table at him.

  “Take that back!”

  “Make me, short arse!”

  “Issie! Nick! Cut that out at once,” ordered their grandmother. “It’s the season of goodwill, remember?”

  “And Santa won’t come if you misbehave,” grinned Symon.

  “Santa doesn’t exist. It’s your dad. Fact.” This comment was from Morgan, Issie’s nephew, who was perched at the far end of the table and busily wrapping presents.

  “Now you’ve ruined everything,” Mo said. “I totally believed in him and we’re all doomed if all our presents are down to your granddad. He’s probably put the gift money on the outcome of the two-fifteen from Newmarket!”

  “Santa won’t come to any of you if you don’t stop squabbling,” said Alice firmly. “I mean it!”

  Issie and Nick glowered at one another but they weren’t prepared to mess with their grandmother.

  Luke, Issie’s boyfriend, pulled Issie close and dropped a kiss onto her head. “You’re not an Oompa Loompa, honey! You’re perfect just as you are,” he insisted, oblivious that Nick was making vomiting gestures. Tom tried to keep a straight face and concentrate on his food, although that was easier said than done when Nick Tremaine was clowning about.

  “Thanks, babe.” Issie was mollified by this. “But Nick’s right about one thing: Kat’s stunning. That ex of hers must be an idiot.”

  “Totally,” Tom agreed, dunking a hunk of homemade bread into his supper and trying not to dwell on what the carbs or thick Cornish butter would do to his weight. “But actually, Ed just seemed to tick the right boxes. The true love of Kat’s life is Alex Evans, the guy she dated back when we were at school. He’s the one she really should be with.”

  Even if she doesn’t know it yet, he added under his breath.

  Issie’s eyes widened. “Kat had a childhood sweetheart she broke up with? Like Jake and Summer? What happened?”

  Tom was swallowing his last mouthful of stew and gearing up to tell them all the tale of woe, when the kitchen door flew open. In strode a lithe figure dressed entirely in black, from the tips of his boots to his tight leather trousers to the collar of his jacket, over which flowed a thick mane of golden hair. Tom couldn’t help thinking that it was as though a Botticelli angel had dressed as a rock star and descended to earth fro
m musical heaven; he even had a guitar slung over his back.

  “Zak! You’re home!” cried Alice, abandoning the vegetable peeling to be engulfed in a big bear hug.

  “And just by the skin of your teeth,” Mo added sharply. “It’s Christmas Eve. You said you’d be here yesterday.”

  Releasing his grandmother, Zak tossed back his flaxen mane and grinned at his sister. “And Merry Christmas to you too. Still as charming as ever, Mo. Motherhood hasn’t chilled you out? Ashley deserves a medal.”

  Mo flipped him a V and Zak laughed, before ruffling Issie’s hair and shaking hands with his brothers. Then he plonked himself at the table and beamed at them all, his golden stubble gleaming in the lamplight.

  “I’m sorry I’m late, guys, but something came up.” Zak’s diamond earring sparkled devilishly, and Tom knew straight away that it wasn’t something so much as someone that had diverted Zak on his journey to Cornwall. This Tremaine family member had “danger” written all over him in huge letters – that, and “irresistible”. Everyone loved a musician, didn’t they? Tom sighed. Maybe he should have joined Alex and gone into the music business. It was certainly sexier than hospitality.

  “Zak’s here now, and that’s all that matters,” Alice was saying fondly as she fetched him a huge bowl of stew. It was obvious that Zak Tremaine could do no wrong in his grandmother’s eyes; she would forgive him anything, even being late home for Christmas. Not that Tom blamed Alice one little bit. How could anyone be angry with Zak? As they were introduced, Tom drank in the perfect features, the wicked white-toothed grin and the dancing blue eyes, and totally got it.

  You’d let a man like that get away with anything.

  “It’s so good to be home,” Zak was saying through a mouthful of stew. “We’ve been on the road for months and, believe me, the novelty of hotel rooms and takeaways soon wears off. I’m exhausted and so are the rest of the guys I work with.” He grinned at Tom. “Hey, talking of hotels, you’re the local hotel guy aren’t you?”

  “Yep,” Issie said, answering for Tom. “He’s Evil Ella’s bitch.”

  Alice shot her granddaughter a warning look but Tom knew the family well enough by now to be aware that there were tensions between the Tremaines and the St Miltons, which were exacerbated now that Alice was officially engaged to Jonny St Milton, the owner of the hotel. Their upcoming wedding would be interesting, that was for sure.

  Zak laughed. “I think lots of guys would love to be Ella St Milton’s bitch! But seriously, Tom, I owe you one for finding a room for my mate at such short notice. He’s had a rough ride lately. His ex is truly from hell.”

  “You guys have been in touch?” Issie turned to Tom, looking confused. “You never said.”

  “It was the strangest thing,” said Zak. “My lead guitarist and songwriter, Alex Evans, needed a break so I told him to call the hotel, since I knew we’d be full to the rafters here. Anyway, it turns out that Alex went to school with Tom, who was able to get him a last-minute deal. Isn’t it a small world?”

  It certainly was a small world. Tom had hardly been able to believe it himself when Alex Evans had called the Polwenna Bay Hotel on the off-chance that there might be a spare room for Christmas. Of course, the place was packed solid – rooms for the festive period always sold out months in advance – but by the weirdest coincidence, or maybe serendipity, Kat had been on the phone only an hour earlier and his brilliant idea had occurred to him…

  “Alex Evans?” A frown crinkled Issie’s forehead. “Hang on, Tom. Didn’t you say that was the name of Kat’s childhood sweetheart?”

  Tom couldn’t keep any of his plan to himself for a second longer.

  “Yes! It’s one and the same man. Isn’t that crazy? Alex, Kat and I were at school together. When he called me to ask about a room I just knew that it was fate and that I was brought here to be their fairy godfather.” He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. “I know they’re meant to be together and now they’ll have the chance to put things right. It took a little bit of string-pulling but isn’t it fantastic? This is going to be their most magical Christmas ever! I just know it!”

  Honestly, Tom couldn’t believe the way the universe worked sometimes. This was just like a plot from Love Actually, one of his all-time favourite Christmas movies. All he needed was Hugh Grant to play a role and for there to be a snowy scene as Kat and Alex fell back into each other’s arms, and bingo! It would be perfect!

  He beamed delightedly at everyone, but rather than sharing his excitement they seemed alarmed.

  “You mean Kat’s teenage sweetheart’s about to rock up here and she has no idea?” asked Issie, looking staggered.

  Zak whistled. “Bloody hell. Alex will freak. He’s shattered and he’s been through a nightmare lately too. The last thing he needs is another ex to give him grief.”

  “Kat’s not going to give Alex grief! She’ll be thrilled to see him,” Tom said, insulted on his friend’s behalf. “Trust me, they’ll be over the moon to see one another.”

  Honestly, what was the matter with some people? It was all so obvious as far as Tom could see. The moment Alex and Kat saw each other again they’d realise they were supposed to be together. They’d always been perfect for each other but at eighteen what did people really know about life and love? Neither of them had had much success with romance since, either – which surely had to be another sign? Now they were older and wiser, and they were destined to be together. Of course they were. It was why they’d both chosen to stay in the hotel where he worked, and at the same time too. The message couldn’t have been clearer if fate had grabbed a megaphone and hollered it.

  “Tom, love, I’m not sure that meddling in other people’s love lives is a very good idea,” said Alice gently and with a worried frown.

  “I’d be gutted to find one of my exes lying in wait,” added Nick with feeling.

  “You’d have to get a girlfriend first,” teased Issie.

  “Maybe you should warn your friend, Tom?” Alice Tremaine suggested. “I know you meant well but she might be upset.”

  Tom felt utterly deflated by their reaction. What an anti-climax! He’d held this plan so close to his heart, had gloated over it, prepared every little detail so lovingly. Why didn’t other people share his excitement? Where was their sense of romance? Didn’t they believe in true love and the magic of Christmas?

  Hadn’t they seen Love Actually?

  “It’s going to be fine,” he said firmly. “Trust me. I know these two and they are one hundred percent perfect for each other.”

  “When they were eighteen maybe,” said Zak, a doubtful note in his voice. “I don’t know when you last saw Alex, mate, but he’s been through quite a lot since then. Like a divorce for one. He’s got a mad ex-wife to worry about now.”

  The annoying truth was that Tom hadn’t seen Alex in person for at least five years. They’d both been working abroad (Tom in hotels across the globe and Alex in the USA), and the last time they’d met had been for a drink in New York. Alex hadn’t altered greatly as far as Tom could see: he’d still had that mop of thick ebony curls, a lithe and muscular body and laughing green eyes. As always, all the women in the bar had glanced his way. Since then they’d stayed in touch only by sporadic email and the occasional Skype call – whereas Tom’s friendship with Kat had been consistent. Tom shrugged off the little niggle of doubt. Alex wouldn’t have changed much. A few years had passed, that was all. Besides, true love wasn’t bound by time, was it?

  “It’s serendipity,” he said firmly. “Just wait. You’ll see. Some people truly are meant to be together and I just know in my heart that Kat and Alex are two of them.”

  “Just like Granny Alice and Jonny St Milton,” Issie pointed out.

  “I’m not sure that’s quite the same,” Alice protested, but Issie fixed her grandmother with a stern look.

  “You two were always meant to be together. I know you loved Granddad Henry but look at how happy you are to be
back with Jonny after all these years. Maybe Tom’s right and it will be just the same for his friends.” She clapped her hands. “Oh, it’s so romantic! Imagine how it’ll be when they first see each other! It’ll be just like Romeo and Juliet!”

  This was more like it, thought Tom, and he gave Issie a grateful smile.

  “Err, didn’t they end up dead?” Mo remarked.

  “Alex and Kat are both booked in for dinner tonight in the restaurant,” Tom said, ignoring that comment. “I’ve reserved them the nicest table. You know the one, Mrs T; it’s in the bay window overlooking the parterre, and I’m sure that with the candlelight, carols and champagne it will be wonderful. They can talk everything through and make up.”

  “Good luck with that,” said Symon. “What if they want to kill each other?”

  “Then they can just go their separate ways,” said Zak soothingly. “Chillax, all. It’ll be fine. Alex is a really cool guy.”

  Ah. In truth, going their separate ways wouldn’t be quite so easy, but Tom decided to keep this minor detail to himself – partly because it was the only flaw in his cunning plan and partly because if he admitted he’d deliberately set it up and it later turned out that there was an issue, Ella St Milton would go nuts. Maybe his job would even be on the line. Tom was reasonably sure all would be well, but it was a big gamble nonetheless…

  “Well my love, you know them both and I can see you mean all for the best. It’s Christmas too, so what better time for peace and goodwill?” Alice said kindly, as she began to collect their empty bowls. “Now, talking of Christmas, Morgan and I need to be getting over to the village green for carols. Can I leave you to clear up? And,” she gave her family a steely look, “trust you all not to squabble while I’m gone? Santa will know if you do!”