sounds wonderful. I’d love to hear you play sometime.’
‘Come to the party,’ Silas said. ‘I’m sure Myrtle will want the whole village there.’
‘I’ll see what Hugh thinks. Have a look at the menu and I’ll be back in a moment to take your order.’ Charlie left them to it. She wasn’t sure she’d be welcome at Myrtle’s birthday celebrations, though she wondered if, in time, the older woman could come to see Gertie and the food markets as one of the local traditions. The Kerrs were already planning their day around it, and it seemed that, despite what some of the more stalwart villagers might think, the Porthgolow food market was starting to put down roots.
The following Thursday, Charlie lay in bed watching light patterns dance on the ceiling, Marmite snoozing quietly on her feet. She had another morning in the bus and then she was spending the afternoon with Oliver, Juliette offering to cover for her while she took some time off.
They walked down the hill in bright sunshine, Charlie mesmerized by the glittering sea, so still and calm, the deep turquoise of Caribbean waters. She didn’t realize something was wrong until Juliette’s arm-tugging became painful.
‘What’s—’ she started, then her voice disappeared.
Down on the beach, next to where Gertie stood resplendent in the sun, was what looked like a load of cross-legged people, all as still as statues.
‘What the hell?’ she whispered. ‘Is this some kind of bizarre art installation? Are those sculptures?’
‘Not sculptures,’ Juliette said, ‘yogis.’
‘What?’ Charlie rubbed her eyes and looked again. Juliette was right. There were about twenty people sitting perfectly still, wearing leggings and vests or shorts and T-shirts, all facing out to sea. Beneath each person was a brightly coloured mat.
‘It’s a yoga class,’ Juliette said, picking up her pace. ‘I’ve never seen one in Porthgolow before. What’s going on?’
‘I have no idea,’ Charlie said, her pulse returning to normal when she realized it was two days until her next market so they wouldn’t get in the way of the food trucks. She realised that, in a short space of time, she had come to think of Porthgolow’s beach as hers – at least on a Saturday. She knew she shouldn’t be so possessive, but she couldn’t help it.
‘Let’s go and find out.’ Juliette grinned and Charlie followed her friend onto the sand.
They waited for a break in the class and introduced themselves to the instructor, who was called Belle and looked like a young Cindy Crawford. The class was called Yoga by the Sea, Belle told them, and it was a popular pursuit in other countries, but rarely happened in the UK due to the unpredictable climate. The current warm weather had made it possible.
‘How did you find out about Porthgolow?’ Juliette asked Belle, whose perfect figure was sculpted into a sea-blue leotard and fuchsia leggings. ‘I had no idea you were coming and I check for new yoga events in Cornwall all the time – especially close to here.’
‘Oh, my husband and I stayed up at Crystal Waters a few weeks ago. We got chatting to the owner about Porthgolow and yoga, and this seemed like the perfect spot to try it out.’
‘It is beautiful down here,’ Charlie said, trying not to react at the mention of Daniel. She hadn’t heard from him since the hot tub incident, almost two weeks ago now.
‘How long are you here for?’ Juliette asked.
‘Oh, for a week, all being well,’ Belle said.
Charlie’s stomach flipped unpleasantly. ‘A week? Here, on the beach?’
‘Sure,’ Belle said. ‘We can use one of the spaces in the hotel if the weather turns, but from the look of the forecast we’re going to be fine. The sea air makes a huge difference.’
‘Wow,’ Jules said. ‘Can I … I mean, I’m busy today, but could I come tomorrow?’ She looked like someone had just offered her a million pounds.
‘Sure, Juliette. I’d love to have you. What about you, Charlie?’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to run the bus.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Belle laughed. ‘Don’t suppose you’re serving kale smoothies, are you?’
‘We’re not, I’m afraid,’ Charlie replied calmly. ‘We’re more full-fat hot chocolates and Cornish cream teas. But there will be a juice bar here on Saturday, when the market is on.’
‘Daniel mentioned something about that. It’s not noisy or anything, is it?’
Charlie stared at her incredulously. ‘It’s, uhm, a food market. With people and trucks and ice-cream vans. It’s pretty established now, so …’
Belle’s delicate nose wrinkled. ‘I’ll have a word with Daniel, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Lovely to meet you guys. So looking forward to welcoming you into the fold, Juliette.’
‘Me too,’ Jules said.
‘Into the fold?’ Charlie whispered as she unlocked the bus. ‘It sounds more like a cult than a yoga class. And what am I supposed to do? What was Daniel thinking, organizing this yoga week to clash with the food market?’
Juliette gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose. Maybe he just forgot – or wasn’t thinking?’
‘You’re his biggest fan now, are you?’
‘No, but he explained what had happened with the contract, and he gave us that spa voucher. I thought everything was smoothed over. What actually happened when you went to see him at the hotel? You were really vague about it, but you’ve been distracted ever since. Is everything OK?’
Charlie switched on the oven and the coffee machine, lifted Marmite up and, before putting him in his crate, gave him a hug. ‘Everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘Nothing happened at the hotel. We had a misunderstanding and we sorted it out.’
Juliette didn’t say anything, but Charlie could tell she wasn’t convinced.
She knew that yoga was supposed to do wonders for your mood, but it was having the opposite effect on her. How could Belle’s class and the food market happen alongside each other? Yoga was supposed to be calming, serene, and her markets were anything but. As she unloaded fresh scones from her cake tin onto the oven rack, she wondered if she’d have time to go and see Daniel after she got back from her afternoon with Ollie. But the thought of another confrontation wasn’t remotely appealing, mainly because she knew he would find a way of smoothing things over. She wasn’t prepared for him to upend her argument – and her emotions – all over again.
‘I don’t see how it’s going to work.’ Charlie stared up at the blue sky and the occasional puffy cloud that drifted above her. They were lying on the grass outside the large eco-domes of the Eden Project, their bellies full of Cornish ice cream. She glanced sideways, to where Oliver had his eyes closed.
‘Maybe it just will,’ he murmured. ‘Food trucks and yoga, in harmony with each other.’
Charlie turned her sigh into a deep breath, as Juliette had taught her to do. She didn’t want to acknowledge that yoga techniques were helping to calm her down. She had left Juliette on the bus, exchanging waves and smiles with Belle through the window.
‘Who holds a week-long yoga class outside anyway? I understand retreats for the truly committed, but Porthgolow is hardly the place,