Confetti at the Cornish Café: The perfect summer romance for 2018 . Phillipa Ashley

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СКАЧАТЬ expect you quite so soon, but it’s fine. We’re delighted you could make it because Isla told us how busy you are.’ Yes, I know I’m babbling as we walk into the cafe and wildly over compensating but it’s not been the best start to the meeting – and where the hell is Cal?

      ‘We’re usually really late, aren’t we, babe?’ says Ben, allowing Lily to skip ahead of him into the cafe. She’s not much over five feet tall and her massive silver Puffa coat brushes her toes. Add a pair of dainty pointy boots and she reminds me of a very glamorous pixie. Her fur-trimmed hood hides her features but she’s definitely smiling.

      She giggles. ‘Always. We’re notorious for our lateness but we thought we’d surprise everyone today.’

      Lucky me, I think, but I can’t help liking Lily’s sense of humour, which gives me hope she’s possibly as human as the rest of us.

      Yes, I know Demelza’s is my cafe but even after six months, I always think walking inside is like stepping into a cosy, delicious haven. We’ve pulled out the stops to make it welcoming this cold spring morning, arranging early narcissi in stone jars on the window ledges to add a pop of yellow sunshine. Confetti-coloured freesias have been placed on every table and we’ve laid the two tables closest to the window with the vintage china I found at Kilhallon House last summer. Lily and Ben should be able to enjoy the view over the sea from there. The coffee machine is already burbling and the room is filled with the smell of freshly baked pastries. In the background, Cornish folk songs are playing softly. Mentally, I cross my fingers and hope they like the fresh and welcoming atmosphere we’ve tried to create.

      Ben plonks himself down at a table and picks up a teacup as if he’s never seen one before. Lily lingers in the middle of the room. She pulls off her hood and a mane of glossy red hair falls down her back. Although she wears very little make-up, and is swamped by the shiny coat, she’s still stunning. Not like a real human, but a fairy in a children’s storybook. She turns around slowly, and lifts her arms, as if the cafe might revolve around her if she so wills.

      I hold my breath. She could quite easily turn round this second and head out of Kilhallon and that would be that. Because we’re not glamorous, though we’ll bust a gut to be our very best. At the end of the day, we’re only a cosy little place in a wild and beautiful corner of Cornwall.

      Lily sighs deeply as if she’s just finished a particularly hard yoga session. My heart thumps madly. I avoid a strong urge to wipe my palms on my jeans, waiting for this big star’s verdict on my little Cornish cafe.

      Lily stares straight at me, a sad but sweet smile on her face.

      ‘This place is very … soothing. Like being wrapped in a big squishy duvet. It’s very authentic. Yes, I like it. I like it a lot.’

      It’s hard not to let out a huge sigh of relief, even if part of me already wishes that Lily, Ben and Harry would get straight back into their ‘actor mobile’ and drive out of Kilhallon. Yes, it’s exciting to have them here and it would be amazing publicity for the park and cafe but I already can’t stand the tension of trying to live up to their expectations. Calm down, Cal would say, just be yourself.

      But he’s not here, is he?

      Lily perches on one of our old oak settles next to Ben. She picks up one of the vintage tapestry cushions I ‘recycled’ from the farmhouse and hugs it. Ben is on his phone. Harry is sitting at a nearby table with his arms folded. He makes the chair look an infant’s school chair.

      ‘What can we get you all, then, before we discuss menus and food? I thought we’d warm up in here before we take a tour of the rest of the park and the wedding …’

      ‘Handfasting,’ Ben mutters without glancing up from his phone. ‘We’re going to do the legal bit at the register office near our house a few weeks later. No one will be looking for that once we’ve had the ceremony here.’

      ‘Isla said you want a simple ceremony in a natural setting?’ I say.

      ‘Oh yes, we don’t want a fuss, do we, Ben? I can’t stand all those weddings with zillions of people where the bride and groom sit on thrones and everyone arrives by helicopter.’

      ‘Is there a helipad?’ Ben chimes in.

      ‘Sorry, no. There’s a field behind us that the emergency services could use at a push but no helipad.’

      ‘Oh.’ He goes back to his phone.

      Lily smooths down her skirt. ‘Isla said we’d never find a more beautiful setting, especially if the sun comes out.’

      ‘I hope so. We’ll have a marquee, though, so we’ll be fine.’ Fingers crossed again, I think, remembering how Isla’s own engagement party was almost washed out by a summer storm. I won’t forget that day for all kinds of reasons; I had to rescue Cal from the sea after he’d been drowning his sorrows as he watched Isla and his best friend, Luke, celebrate their happiness. It was barely eight months ago and so much has changed. I truly believe Cal is over Isla now, though he said he could never ‘unlove’ her.

      Nina hovers behind the counter, staring at the guests as if she’s in the middle of a dream.

      ‘So, what drinks can I get you?’ I say with a smile, dying to call Cal again but not wanting to let our guests know I’m ever so slightly panicking.

      Lily orders a camomile tea, while Ben opts for a double espresso.

      ‘How about you, Harry?’ I ask. He has to speak now, he has to.

      He grunts.

      ‘He’ll have an Earl Grey with lemon. No milk,’ says Ben, still tapping on his phone.

      ‘Oh … Okayy,’ I say, surprised Harry doesn’t drink liquefied girders. ‘Nina? Would you mind making up the order, please?’

      Nina seems frozen to the spot for a second then scuttles off behind the counter. She turns up the music a little and that, combined with the hiss and sputter of the coffee machine, makes the atmosphere seem far more like a ‘normal’ cafe day.

      I chat to Lily about her journey here while Ben studies his phone and Harry flicks through a copy of a Cornish lifestyle magazine. Harry was sent on ahead by road ready to pick them up from Newquay airport this morning, though they didn’t use Flybe. They chartered a private plane from an airfield in the Cotswolds where they’re renting what Lily describes as a ‘cute little cottage’ but which sounds more like a mini stately home. She seems interested in the doggy treats cookbook I’ve been writing over the winter – not that I’ve had that much to do with it as my co-author, Eva Spero, and her team have taken over a lot of the writing. She’s been to Eva’s restaurant in Brighton once and seems impressed that I have a celebrity connection.

      I’m not sure how much of Lily’s breezy girly chat is really her, and how much is just her image. She has an Instagram account with hundreds of thousands of followers. Her fingers hover over a crystal-embellished iPhone. I bet she’s dying to update her Instagram right now so I break off to help Nina serve the drinks and coffee-time treats.

      As soon as I return to the table with a laden cake stand, Lily puts her phone down. ‘There’s a selection of mini pastries and tasters of our cakes. Of course, you’ll have a tailor-made menu on the day and we can work with a local catering firm who have won tons of awards for their wedding food. But for today I thought you might enjoy some of the best of our home-cooked СКАЧАТЬ