Some of the kids settle down in huddles on the rugs, others run around chasing balls, the mums dig in for buns and chocolate shortcake and mini lemon meringue pies, and Sophie pulls me across to a table by the apple tree.
Her eyes are shining as she fills my plate for me. ‘So, what’s the verdict?’
I can’t stop smiling. ‘It couldn’t be any more picturesque. It’s beautiful, I can’t thank everyone enough.’
Her smile couldn’t be wider. ‘I know it’s sad to say “au revoir” to Laura’s teensy top floor, but it’ssoexciting to say “bonjour” to somewhere new.’
I pull a face. ‘It will be when I find it.’
She leans forward and clasps both my hands. ‘Look how pretty the garden looks with the cafe tables. Imagine it at dusk, decked out in fairy lights, with the echo of the surf ebbing and flowing along the beach, all our friends from the Singles’ Club lazing around, slinging down their gin fizz, knocking back chocolate torte like there’s no tomorrow.’ She’s quivering with excitement. ‘We mermaids have been working with Charlie on this, it’s why we were so gutted when you rushed off, and why we’re so excited you’re back. Truly, when the Little Cornish Kitchen pops up again down here it’s going to be amazing.’
I can’t help laughing. ‘The garden’s looking fabulous, but there are a couple of catches.’ I’m counting off my fingers. ‘One, the complete absence of a kitchen, and two, there’s no roof. Considering Cornwall is the rainfall capital of the world on many days, that might be a drawback.’ To be honest, as I snaffle a mini cupcake and chomp on it, I can’t think how a razor-sharp business brain like Sophie’s has overlooked such crucial points.
She’s straight back at me. ‘That’s where the genius masterstroke surprise comes in.’
I’m staring over the heads of the children zig zagging across the lawn playing tag, past the fence to where the boundary wall sits alongside the sandy beach path. ‘What’s that guy doing?’ For my money, he’s driving in a stake with a mallet, and attaching a yellow notice to it.
Sophie follows where I’m pointing, then she punches the air, and grins at me triumphantly. ‘And it’s happening as we speak. That’s the planning application notice.’
‘What?’ My fourth cupcake disappears in one gulp.
‘Charlie’s applied for a change of use.’ The breezy way she says it, she could be talking about a trip to the hairdressers.
‘I’m really not getting this.’ That’s putting it mildly.
She’s back to shaking her head. ‘Charlie, come over here, it’s time to explain to Clems.’ Charlie saunters across towards me, Diesel close behind, and when he arrives he piles a plate with cupcakes then gestures with his head. ‘Come on, let’s go and sit under our pear tree.’
My heart squishes as I hear him say ‘our’. I follow him past the line of trees and four trunks along he sits down and pats the grass beside him.
He pushes back a lock of hair falling over his forehead and slings his arm around my shoulders. ‘What we’ve come up with is a way for you to work your magic in the kitchen and keep the population of St Aidan fed, happy and in love. And I get to safeguard my pudding supply too.’
I’m frowning. ‘This is St Aidan we’re talking about, al fresco won’t work like it would in St Lucia. At the very least we’d need a covered terrace. And wind breaks for when there’s a force ten howling in off the bay.’
The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. ‘No, no, you’ve got this all wrong, the garden’s not the venue, it’s secondary space you spill out to.’
‘What?’ I’m still confused.
Charlie’s grin couldn’t be wider. ‘A few weeks ago when Sophie first asked about opening up the flat for today, it hit me. If we drop your venue down to the vacant ground floor flat, you get the same allure of views and location, with more space, easier access and the garden too.’
I can’t help wailing. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘If we’d talked about it I’d have said. But I didn’t want to make empty promises until I heard back from the planners. They have finally come off the fence and said they’ll be happy for part of the ground floor of the cottage to be commercial. The yellow sign is the formal application.’
‘Wow.’
I’m almost lost for words but Charlie’s buzzing. ‘The flat’s newly wired, alteration would be minimal. A month tops, and you’d comply with every regulation out there, and be up and running. You can even paint and furnish it like Laura’s place if you want.’
It’s so well worked out, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. ‘So is there a catch?’
He bites his lip. ‘Nope. If you’re actually living at Laura’s, you can keep the upgrades there to a minimum. If you work at George’s, and get extra income from your Little Cornish Kitchen events, we’ll all help you set up the business.’
I’m thinking of it from every side. ‘I still owe Maude.’
Charlie waves his hand. ‘A week of deprivation has worked wonders. St Aidan’s even more desperate for your cooking than it was before. You’ll pay Madame Misery back in no time.’
I might not be a business Einstein, but even I’ve worked out there’s a problem here. ‘Brilliant except for one thing – you haven’t mentioned the rent?’
He gives a rueful grin and fondles Diesel’s ears. ‘That’s where Sophie wiped the floor with me. As soon as I suggested you using the flat, she included two years of the rental on the flat here as part of the Hawthorne Farm deal. So, the minute Sophie bought Siren House, you scored yourself two years here rent-free.’
