Christmas at the Cornish Café: A heart-warming holiday read for fans of Poldark. Phillipa Ashley

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      ‘Yes, boss!’ voices chorus from the four corners.

      We all gather for a very quick coffee – instant – and homemade lime shortbread around the large refectory table on one side of the cafe floor. Huddled in her padded riding gilet, even though it’s warm in here, Robyn is nibbling her purple nails. Nina is trembling like a newborn pup. Shamia cradles her mug casually. Jez seems cool enough with it all – but he’s experienced and, to be honest, I think he’d be chilled even if the place was on fire.

      Our voices echo off the beams that support the high ceiling. The stone building is at least two hundred years old, and it was a storage barn until I persuaded Cal to let me convert it. It’s a cool morning so we’ve made the cafe a little too warm for our comfort, but there’s nothing worse for the customers than a cold welcome and the door’s going to be open a lot, fingers crossed. Most people will arrive in layers and we want them to feel they can take them off, not be desperate to keep them on.

      Nestling my own mug in both hands to stop them from shaking, I throw out an encouraging smile to my team.

      ‘So, here we are. D-Day, which stands for Demelza’s Day. Thanks to everyone for not running off and for turning up on time.’

      They laugh dutifully, even Jez manages a smile. Robyn glances down guiltily.

      ‘It’s our first day and I’m not expecting that everything will run perfectly or to plan but as long as we get things 99.9 per cent right, I won’t have to sack anyone.’

      More laughter and an eye roll from Jez.

      ‘You think I’m joking?’

      Nina’s mouth opens in horror and, for a moment, I wonder if she actually will run off and never come back.

      I pat her arm, feeling way too young to be leading a team of staff, but if I don’t put on a show of confidence, what hope do we have? ‘It’s fine, hun. I really am joking. We’re all on a learning curve, apart from Jez, I guess.’

      His mouth twitches, amused. Without him on side, we’d be done for.

      ‘We’re all here to help you. You’ll be an old hand by the end of the day,’ I reassure her.

      She brightens.

      ‘Now, as you all know, it’s the first day of the West Cornwall Walking Festival, which is partly why we chose to open today. We’re expecting even more ramblers than usual and a lot of dogs. I’ve put up a sign explaining everything but if anyone asks, the first three tables by the door are dog-friendly and, of course, the terrace.

      ‘Most people will probably want to sit outside if the weather stays dry, and the dog owners are sure to prefer to be out there while it’s fine. By the way, you’ll find extra water bowls and doggy menus in the storeroom, if anyone needs them. If there’s any canine aggro, or human aggro for that matter, call me immediately. Robyn, Mitch, and Nina’s mum, plus a few of her rescue dogs, will be stationed on the coast path throughout the day to lure people in to the cafe.’

      ‘I’ve put the collecting tin for the dog rescue centre next to the till,’ Shamia says.

      ‘Great, thanks. Can someone please pin a notice about the Christmas bookings on the notice board and arrange some of Cal’s leaflets about weddings at Kilhallon on the window ledges?’

      Nina raises her hand. ‘I’ll do that, Demi.’

      ‘I’ll collect Mitch,’ Robyn pipes up, obviously eager to be out in the fresh air.

      ‘Thanks, Robyn. OK, I’ve almost finished. You all know your roles and we’ve had plenty of practice and a rehearsal so it should be fine. I trust you all and I know you’ll work your guts out and won’t let me down. So, one more time, let’s hear it.’

      Everyone groans, but I hold up my hand, excitement and adrenaline taking over.

      ‘We are all awesome and Demelza’s rocks!’ they chorus, even Jez, before they dissolve into laughter and Jez rolls his eyes again. It was Nina who originally made up the cheesy mantra for a joke, but now we’ve all latched on to it. I don’t care how crappy it sounds, if it releases the tension, that’s fine by me.

      Cal arrives, stooping under the weight of two large crates of veg. ‘Hi there. The delivery guy from the market garden dropped these off at the farmhouse. Where do you want them?’ he says, resting the crates on the table.

      ‘In the storeroom.’

      Cal looks around him. ‘It looks great, Demi. You’ve done a fantastic job.’

      ‘No, we have. All of us.’

      ‘It’s your baby and you should be proud.’ His eyes shine. I don’t think I’ve seen him quite so happy since the day he showed me the sign for the cafe and persuaded me to stay here at Kilhallon. For a moment, I’m too choked with emotion to reply, then I remember that the staff are relying on me today.

      ‘Well, I can’t think of a cafe with a better view for miles. It’s a huge selling point if we can just let people know we’re open,’ I tell Cal, feeling the rising sense of panic that I’ve been subduing for the past few days about to overwhelm me like a great big wave. ‘I hope they come.’

      ‘I think you might have trouble keeping them away. Look.’

      He nods to a man and a woman peering through the glass door, as if we’re animals in the zoo.

      My pulse leaps. ‘OK. Our first customers are here. Do you want to let them in?’ I call to Nina.

      ‘No way. It’s your cafe,’ she says with a broad smile that tells me she’s a lot more calm and collected than I feel.

      ‘I think you should have the honour,’ says Cal. ‘Demelza.’

      With a deep breath, and on slightly wobbly legs, I hurry to the door and open it. The couple, a sprightly pair of pensioners in matching hiking boots and navy fleeces, have big grins on their weather-beaten faces.

      ‘So you are open. We thought you might be training or something.’

      ‘No. We’re open. Welcome to Demelza’s Cafe. In fact you’re our first ever customers.’

      ‘Really? We’re the first?’

      ‘The very first. Look, you can have your pick of the seats. There are menus on the tables and a specials board above the counter over there.

      ‘We’d love a nice big pot of tea, Graham?’ the woman says to her partner as they walk into the centre of the room, eyeing the scrubbed oak tables, the oak settles and vintage china.

      ‘I’d like a latte, I think,’ says Graham, sitting down at the table by the window. ‘What a view. Have you really only just opened?’

      ‘This very minute. If you’d like to place your order at the counter, you can collect your drinks and we’ll bring any food orders across to you. Have you come far?’

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