Ice Creams at Emerald Cove: A heartwarming feel-good romantic comedy to escape with this summer Read online

  She looked up at the hotel. It was hard to imagine how much history this place had seen and how different it had been when it had originally opened in the late Victorian period. She loved history – not so much wars, battles and conquerors, she was more interested in the people, normal everyday life and how it differed to now. Would there have been grand balls here? What had the original owners been like? The hotel would have seen its fair share of love, laughter, tears and heartbreak over the years. And while she could find out the facts about the old hotel quite easily, it was the secrets, intrigue and gossip she had more interest in.

  She had loved finding out about the pudding parade and Walter and his famous rhubarb pie. She’d even found old photos of Cones at the Cove, formerly The Emerald Cove Café. It looked very different to how it was now. Back then it had served breakfast, lunch and dinner and was considered one of the finest places to eat on the island. Now it just served desserts: pancakes, waffles, cheesecake, cakes, sundaes, the weirder, the wackier the better. The highlight of her little dessert café was the wall of different-flavoured soft-whip ice creams and the guests were encouraged to build their own desserts with a mixture of flavours and toppings. It was very popular.

  She wondered what Walter would make of it all.

  ‘The hotel is looking good now, isn’t it?’

  Skye turned round to see Sylvia O’Hare, one of their more eccentric regular guests. She was a tiny elderly lady in her eighties who always swept around the island in beautiful cloaks and over-the-top hats. Today’s cloak reflected the warmer weather; it was a satin turquoise affair adorned with gold dragonflies and stars. She was always accompanied by a giant Pyrenean mountain dog called Snowflake who was half-heartedly wagging his tail right now.

  ‘It does look good. Noah is definitely the best thing that ever happened to this place,’ Skye said. The hotel had been on its knees the year before until Noah had charged in like a metaphorical knight in shining armour, renovating the hotel and bringing it back to its former glory, sweeping her eldest sister Aria off her feet at the same time. ‘I was just thinking about the history of the hotel, what it would have seen, how it has changed over the years.’

  Sylvia nodded. ‘I bet it’s seen a lot of lovers.’

  Skye laughed that Sylvia’s mind would go there. But then she was a very successful author of extremely sexy stories so she probably thought about it a lot. Sylvia spent a lot of time in her room writing all of her sexy scenes, but she also spent a lot of time in the reception area just watching people, how they interacted, the looks, the touches, their body language. Skye had sat with her once or twice and Sylvia had pointed out things that Skye would never have noticed. Sylvia was able to spot a couple having an affair a mile off.

  ‘We had a couple in the other day you would have certainly enjoyed watching. They checked in separately but clearly knew each other and had arranged to meet. They pretended they didn’t know each other but then spent their time watching each other, chatting, flirting and then, by all accounts, going at it like rabbits for most of the night. Anyway, it turns out they were husband and wife and had come away for a weekend tryst just to put some spice back into their marriage.’

  ‘Ah, nothing wrong with a bit of role playing. I wrote a story about that once.’

  ‘I bet you did.’

  ‘A hotel is one of the greatest sources of material when you’re a romance writer – who’s dating who, who would they like to be dating. But generally, most of the sex happens between the staff.’

  Skye laughed. ‘I’m not sure if that’s the case here.’

  ‘Of course it is. Aria and Noah, Clover and Angel, you and Jesse.’

  ‘Oh, well, Jesse doesn’t technically work here.’

  ‘Technically or not, he still works here.’

  ‘And we’re not really together,’ Skye tried.

  Sylvia gave her a look. ‘You two are definitely playing hide the sausage on a regular basis.’

  Skye laughed in outrage. ‘You can tell?’

  ‘Everyone can tell. But it’s always been that way in hotels. The old manager of this place was sleeping with almost all of the female staff. Probably a few of the male staff too if the rumours were true.’

  ‘You knew the old manager of this place? Wait, please don’t tell me you’re talking about my dad.’

  ‘Oh no, way before his time, probably around seventy years ago.’

  ‘What? I never realised you used to visit here when you were little,’ Skye said, in surprise.

  Sylvia turned to walk through the gardens and Skye fell in at her side. ‘I used to live here on the island.’

  ‘Oh my god, Sylvia, how did I not know this?’

  She felt bad that she hadn’t taken the time to really get to know Sylvia. She’d chatted to her a bit but clearly not enough if she didn’t know these details about her life. Skye spent so much of her time at Cones at the Cove that she didn’t see most of the hotel guests on a regular basis. And although Sylvia had come to the café quite a few times since it opened the summer before, Skye had only been able to chat to her briefly as there were always so many customers to serve.

  Sylvia was quiet for a while, maybe deliberating how much she should share. Maybe her time here hadn’t been the best. Skye focussed her attention on the gardens for a few moments; she didn’t want to pressurise Sylvia into talking about things she wasn’t comfortable with. The garden looked so pretty at this time of year – daffodils and tulips filled the borders and the blossom trees were heavy with beautiful pink and white blooms.

  Sylvia cleared her throat. ‘Well, we left under a bit of a dark cloud when I was maybe ten or eleven years old and we never came back. I wasn’t born here, we came here when I was around eight and my mother put the cat amongst the pigeons, let me tell you. Then she left with lots of feathers ruffled.’

  Skye smiled. ‘I think I like the sound of your mum.’

  ‘She was a character, bold and fierce,’ Sylvia said, wistfully, but it seemed there wasn’t any more forthcoming about what caused her mum to leave and Skye wasn’t sure whether she should pry or not.

  ‘Wait, if you were here around seventy years ago, do you remember the pudding parade?’

  Sylvia’s face lit up. ‘Yes I do. Oh, it was a wonderful affair. We used to have a beauty queen who would ride on a horse-drawn carriage that carried the pie, she looked so glamorous. And all those handsome navy men who would escort the pie at the front of the parade, dressed in their fine white uniforms. That was the first time in my life that I’d ever heard a bagpipe player too. The whole island got involved. So many people would bring a dessert or cake and follow the rhubarb pie around the island. And Walter’s pie, well, you have never tasted anything like it.’

  Skye smiled at the image that Sylvia painted. She loved the idea of the whole island getting involved. She’d seen the community spirit in recent months at the different events that had been organised by the hotel. The autumn and Halloween fair that had been held the previous year right in the village itself had been a huge success and something the islanders had all been a part of. She wanted to create the same atmosphere with Cones at the Cove at the centre of it. Her little ice cream café had largely been forgotten when it came to these events and, although Skye had definitely benefitted from the increased number of tourists, it hadn’t felt like the café had contributed other than putting up a few Halloween decorations. She wanted to do something more.

  ‘We’re hoping to hold the pudding parade again this year, in a few weeks.’

  ‘You are? Oh, how lovely.’

  ‘There’ll be a large rhubarb pie and hopefully other desserts and cakes if the islanders want to get involved. I want to stay true to the original traditions as much as possible. Anything you can remember about it would be really useful.’

  ‘I will have a think for you. Like I said, I was only here for two years but I do remember it fondly. And you’re going to make the pie like Walter did?’

  ‘I’m not su
re. Jesse is coming over; he’ll be in charge of making the pie.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice that he’s coming,’ Sylvia smirked at her and then her face lit up. ‘Is he bringing Bea?’

  ‘Yes he is.’

  ‘Oh good.’

  Skye looked at her in confusion.

  ‘Oh, the last time she was here, she thrashed me in a game of chess. She promised me a rematch,’ Sylvia said.

  They reached the top of Emerald Cove, a little sandy hideaway that was protected either side by rocky cliffs. Skye’s little cottage was tucked away in the furthest corner of the cove. Right at the top, in the middle, was her café, Cones at the Cove, with spectacular views over the sea. The café had been no more than a shack when she had first moved back to the island two years before. Thanks to Noah’s investment in the hotel, Skye had seen her dreams come true with opening up a dessert café in the grounds of her family hotel. It had been completely redecorated and renovated so it was bright and cheerful, the outside was made from wood and was painted a bright blue. It made her smile just to look at it. She was never happier than when she was in the café kitchen creating desserts or making up new flavours of ice creams.

  ‘I hope you and Jesse work things out,’ Sylvia said, out of the blue. ‘Young Bea needs someone wonderful in her life, especially after what that awful woman did. Divorce I understand, but I could never condone leaving your own child.’

  Skye frowned. She knew that Bea had spent some time with Sylvia the last few times she’d been here. They’d played chess and Bea had taken Snowflake for walks but she hadn’t realised that Bea had confided in her to that extent.

  ‘You met Ginny, didn’t you, before she left,’ Sylvia said, knowingly.

  ‘Yes I did,’ Skye said, carefully.

  ‘What was she like?’ Sylvia asked.

  Skye considered what she was going to say. She would never say a bad word about Ginny to Bea, no matter what she thought of her, and if Bea was sharing personal things with Sylvia, she didn’t want anything to get back to Bea.

  ‘It broke Bea’s heart when she left, broke Jesse’s heart too. And although I would never wish that on anyone I do think that it might have been for the best. Ginny was far from maternal.’

  ‘Hmm. Having a bad mum is definitely worse than no mum.’

  ‘I’d completely agree with that.’

  Sylvia nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, better get back, I have a particular tricky scene to write. I’ll have a think about the pudding parade for you.’

  She gave her a cheery wave and hurried off back through the gardens with Snowflake at her heels.

  Skye stared after her. Sylvia’s interest in Bea and Ginny seemed a bit weird, but then Sylvia’s entire career was based on watching people and how they interacted, then writing it all down in her stories. Skye knew she came to the hotel partly to get her fix on the lives and loves of the people who stayed there – and apparently the staff too.

  She carried on walking over the headland and saw the little village of Jewel Island spread out in front of her, its brightly painted houses and shopfronts. It felt like such a happy little place. From here she could see all the way to Jade Harbour where the island ferry brought in all the tourists, especially at high tide when the small bridge to the island was underwater. She glanced up at the white fluffy balls which she knew were the sheep and lambs up on Amber Meadows. She could even see Diamond River and Crystal Stream sparkling in the sunshine as they meandered their way from the top of the island out to sea. She took the cobbled path down into the village, walking through the main high street that had a little bakery, greengrocers, and other crafty, arty shops. There were a lot of tourists mooching around the village, sitting outside the cafés or looking in shop windows. The newly modernised hotel had definitely helped the island too.

  She walked up to Seamus’s house, a whitewashed cottage with a bright red front door, and rang the bell. A few moments later, his wife Kathy answered.

  ‘Hello Skye, how lovely to see you,’ Kathy said, not batting an eye that Skye had turned up on their doorstep. The villagers coming to Seamus with all their problems was probably an everyday occurrence. Kathy took a step back to let Skye in. ‘I’ve just made some rhubarb lemonade; would you like a glass?’

  ‘Oh, that sounds nice,’ Skye said, stepping inside. She hadn’t been in their house before, but it had a welcoming and cosy atmosphere. The walls were painted a sunshine yellow and there was evidence of their world travels in photos and souvenirs.

  ‘Seamus is out the back. Why don’t you go and join him and I’ll bring the drinks out in just a second.’

  Skye smiled and thanked her, before walking through the open patio doors into the garden, where Seamus was busily pruning some flowers. Skye didn’t know anything about gardens, but judging by the pots, borders and walls that were bursting with greenery and flowers, she guessed this one took a lot of time to manage.

  ‘Skye!’ Seamus waved her over when he saw her. ‘I was going to come and see you today, you’ve saved me a trip.’

  ‘Really?’ Skye said, touching a big yellow flower that smelt divine.

  ‘Yes, we have so much rhubarb, I don’t know what to do with it. Kathy has made rhubarb jam, rhubarb lemonade, and she’s already making rhubarb gin which she is sneaking into my food. Thought you might want to do something with it in your lovely café.’

  Skye laughed. ‘Well, actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’

  ‘Oh?’ Seamus gestured for her to take a seat at a large colourful mosaic table.

  Skye sat and Seamus took his place opposite her, just as Kathy came out with three glasses of rhubarb lemonade with rabbit-shaped ice cubes floating in the top.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse the ice cubes,’ Kathy said hurriedly when she saw Skye smile at them. ‘The grandkids love them and I keep forgetting to do the normal ones.’

  Seamus laughed. ‘She says they are for the kids, but Kathy secretly loves them.’

  Kathy flapped her hands to shush him.

  ‘I love them,’ Skye said. ‘We should start doing things like this in my café.’ She took a sip of her lemonade. ‘Oh, this is lovely. I love the taste of rhubarb.’

  ‘I do too,’ Kathy said. ‘Seamus is not so keen.’

  ‘Oh I like it just fine; I just don’t like it served with every meal. I had it in my chicken casserole last night. Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking it in there.’

  Kathy laughed. ‘It’s one of those superfoods, it’s good for you.’

  ‘And you’ve been putting rhubarb gin into the cakes.’

  ‘Ah, that’s my secret ingredient,’ Kathy said.

  Seamus shook his head, affectionately.

  Seamus’s dog, Chew Barker, a slightly tubby black Labrador, came ambling over, sniffed round the table to see if there were any snacks and then, finding none, flopped down next to Skye in disgust. Skye ruffled his ears.

  Seamus turned his attention back to Skye. ‘What was it you wanted to talk to us about?’

  She smiled that he included Kathy in the discussion, even though he was the mayor.

  Skye explained all about the pudding parade and waited for them to protest about it being held in two weeks.

  ‘What a wonderful idea,’ Seamus said. ‘I’ve heard about the pudding parade before and I think it’s important to honour our past. There were so many of these kinds of events on the island and we’ve lost a lot of them over the years. You’ve come at an opportune moment. Come with me for a second.’

  Seamus stood up and walked back into the house and Skye quickly followed him. He picked up a bunch of keys on the way through and she trailed after him out onto the street. He walked across the road towards the little village hall that sat proudly in perfectly manicured grounds.

  He opened up the door with a large black key and she followed him inside, where he opened another door, which was quite obviously a store cupboard.

  Skye stepped inside and it was like stepping into a tre
asure trove. The Christmas lights were in there along with Halloween decorations and the lanterns for the upcoming festival of light. There were miles of bunting, and boxes filled with costumes and props from old plays and pantos. There were books that looked so old they might have been published in the Victorian period. There was a huge sleigh, which was obviously used by Santa at Christmas, and two gold thrones, lined with purple velvet – though Skye had no idea what they were for – as well as several vintage sewing machines, a record player, gramophone and even a spinning wheel.

  ‘Wow!’ Skye said.

  ‘It’s a mess, isn’t it? I’ve been clearing it out over the last few days – well, trying to. Kathy has been trying to stop me throwing out things like this ridiculous pineapple.’ Seamus held up an oversized plastic fruit. ‘What on earth are we going to do with it? Anyway, the point is, I also found this.’

  He pointed behind Skye and she turned to look at what appeared to be an elongated gold painted wooden box. It had long handles at each corner like an oversized stretcher with ornate gold patterns on the side. Her heart leapt.

  ‘That’s the pudding tray?’

  ‘Yes, I believe that’s what they used to carry the rhubarb pie around the island. It needs a lick of paint but, other than that, I think it will still do the trick. I believe that sometimes the tray was carried on a horse and carriage too, although not always.’

  ‘That’s amazing. When I read about the parade and pie being carried around on a great golden tray, I thought it was utterly ridiculous. I didn’t realise how big this thing was.’

  ‘It’s pretty impressive. Well Cinders, you have the rhubarb and your carriage,’ he gestured to the tray. ‘So it looks like you shall go to the ball. All you need now is someone to make a pie big enough to fit in that thing.’

  ‘Fortunately, I know just the man for the job.’

  Chapter Three

  Clover and Aria came for breakfast the next day at Cones in the Cove, before the café officially opened to the guests. It had become a bit of a tradition that they would have breakfast together two or three times a week to catch up with each other’s news. Skye was glad of the distraction. She was almost pacing the café waiting to hear from Jesse that his plane had arrived. She looked around all the food that she’d prepared; when she was nervous she liked to cook.