The Instagram photo she had posted, of the bus’s interior with her treats laid out and the caption: Planning something exciting on the #CornishCreamTeaBus this morning now seemed wildly over-optimistic. It was doubtful whether they’d manage to agree on anything at all.
The group was split in the same way they had been about her bus. Hugh, the Kerr family who ran SeaKing Safaris (today represented by Paul and his son Jonah, because Amanda had taken an early tour out), and Stella and Anton from the bed and breakfast – they were all enthusiastic about her beach festival idea. Myrtle, owner of the Porthgolow Pop-In, was not. She had bought her friend Rose for support, and the woman, with honey-blonde hair rolled under her chin in an immovable bob, had barely greeted Charlie and was sitting like a thundercloud, her jaw set. Myrtle had probably told her to behave like that.
Daniel Harper, owner of luxury hotel Crystal Waters, had turned up with his colleague Lauren. They were sitting at the back, and had contributed little, but Daniel kept sending glances Charlie’s way, exuding his usual amused demeanour that, so far, hadn’t failed to put her hackles up.
She had spent hours making mini toffee and lemon tarts, muffins with gooey chocolate-ganache centres, blueberry jam or orange cream, as well as ginger biscuits thick with crystallized ginger pieces. They were all going down a lot better than her festival proposal.
‘Myrtle,’ she said, clasping her hands together. ‘I do understand why you’re not keen on the idea, and why you don’t think Porthgolow needs an influx—’
‘Invasion,’ Myrtle shot back.
‘Needs a … a—’
‘I think what Charlie is trying to say,’ Daniel cut in, ‘is that from her point of view, seeing this village as a newcomer, she has spotted some areas where it could do with livening up. And from a business perspective, that’s entirely sound.’
Charlie resisted the urge to hug him. Even without his supportive words, he was a rather huggable prospect, in jeans and a black T-shirt, the sleeves tightening over his biceps when he folded his arms. His hair was wavy on the top, a few strands falling over his left eyebrow.
‘Sound how?’ Myrtle asked. ‘She wants to take over, is all.’
‘Daniel’s right,’ Hugh said. ‘The more people who come to Porthgolow, the more they’ll use the pub and your pop-in. They’ll see Stella and Anton’s B&B, maybe book a stay there. Crystal Waters will undoubtedly get more custom.’
‘Gis-on! From royals and celebrities, mebbe. But they’re not goin’ to come to a scruffy little festival, are they?’ Myrtle was unrepentant. She picked up one of Charlie’s cream-filled muffins and started to devour it methodically. Irritation flashed across Daniel’s face.
‘It will attract all sorts of people,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve made some contacts since setting up social media for the bus, and I’m off to the St Agnes Head Festival in a couple of weeks, so I’ll talk to other vendors there. Couldn’t we try it once and see what happens? If it doesn’t work, or if it all goes wrong or nobody turns up, or if the village is damaged in any way, then I won’t do it again. But where’s the harm in putting on one festival, just to see how it goes? I promise I’ll be careful about noise and rubbish and parking; I’ll draw up a set of guidelines all the vendors have to follow.’
‘I think it’s going to be ace,’ Jonah said. ‘Are you going to get a Mexican food stand? Burritos are my favourite.’
‘I’ll see, Jonah. I’ve got lots of people I can ask.’
‘It’s a mistake,’ Myrtle said, ‘mark my words.’
‘Mine too,’ Rose added, raising her head and then quickly dropping it again.
‘It is going to make this place very noisy, very crowded.’ Daniel snapped a ginger biscuit in two, examined it and then put one half in his mouth. ‘Porthgolow won’t feel tranquil, like it does now.’ He gestured outside, and everyone turned to look. The water was flat, blue and glistening. The sand was empty apart from a couple walking an enthusiastic spaniel. There were murmurs of agreement.
Charlie rubbed her head. ‘You just said it was a good idea.’
‘It is, from a business perspective. I’m examining all the arguments.’
‘Out loud?’ She couldn’t believe it.
‘What’s the point of having a meeting to discuss this idea, if we don’t look at it from every angle?’ He raised an eyebrow and Charlie wanted to push it back down his smug face.
‘Our guests won’t be happy if it starts too early,’ Stella mused.
‘I get a few delivery drop-offs on a Saturday morning,’ Hugh added, rubbing his chin. ‘If the place is gridlocked, that’ll make the drivers angry.’
‘We run a mindfulness session at Crystal Waters on a Saturday morning,’ Lauren said, scribbling in a notebook she’d brought with her. ‘Do you think it will impact on that?’ She touched Daniel’s hand and pursed her lips.
‘I really don’t know, Lauren.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘It is a risk, though, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Juliette muttered. She began refilling mugs, the milk frother whistling noisily.
‘I’m not going to start it at 7 a.m.,’ Charlie said. ‘I was thinking about ten o’clock, so it’ll miss early morning wake-ups and deliveries and mindfulness sessions. It’s a few food trucks, a bit of fun and laughter on the beach. I honestly think you’ll thank me once it’s here. Give me one chance, one Saturday in June. A trial run.’ Her heart pounded as she waited for their verdict. ‘If it gets in the way of anything or causes problems, I won’t do it again.’
She had been prepared for opposition, having lots of questions to answer about her idea, but she hadn’t anticipated having to plead quite so hard. She was pretty sure the only reason she had ended up on the verge of begging was stirring his coffee slowly, nodding abstractedly at something Lauren was saying and keeping his eyes trained on Charlie. He was definitely smirking.
The answer, when it came, was less than enthusiastic. She could try her festival, once, and they would see if they approved. She had hoped to end the meeting feeling slightly more positive, with at least some of the locals embracing her flash of inspiration and excited about the future of their village. That, clearly, had been a pipe dream.
As everyone filtered off the bus, Daniel lingered. ‘If you need any help organizing it, let me know.’
Charlie folded her arms. ‘And will that help be actual help, or will it be meddling?’
‘I do think it’s a good idea,’ he said, leaning on the doorframe. ‘But you have to consider how it’s going to change the village. Not everyone is a fan of change.’
‘You don’t need to mansplain progress to me, Daniel, I get it.’ She hadn’t meant to snap, but he was as relaxed as ever and, on this occasion, probably right – which made it worse. She had been daydreaming about being the saviour of the village with her brilliant festival plan, but it was only logical that some people were sceptical. Daniel had simply been trying to bring her back down to earth.
He grinned and leant towards her. For a moment, Charlie thought he was going to kiss her cheek, but he reached over the back of the seat and pinched one of the few remaining lemon tarts. ‘These are great, by the way,’ he said, hopping down onto the sand. ‘I can see them being part of the taster menu at Crystal Waters. We should discuss that sometime. Catch you later, Charlie.’ He disappeared in a waft of aftershave and confidence.
Charlie turned to find Juliette watching her, a disapproving look on her face.
Within half an hour of being at the St Agnes Head Festival,