Page 82 of The Mended Hearts Bookshop

With a sigh, George began to tell her about the fundraisers, the jumble sale, the crocheted animals, the cakes, the babysitting, and everything else that Pen had been doing.

“And I painted pictures,” Lucy added at the end.

Ash shook her head. “She was doing all that?”

George nodded. “She was over-tired. Hadn’t slept, I think. Then she just fainted dead away in the middle of the shop. Moira’s kids had to go and find a policeman.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ash. “Why was she doing all that? What for?”

Lucy and George looked at each other, then George told her everything, the entire flimsy plan that they’d had. And when he got to the end he looked bereft and sad.

“The worst part is,” he said. “It was all for nothing. We can’t rent the shop and Pen overheard us talking about it and had another funny turn and then we had to put her to bed and the doctor came in and checked her over and gave her something to make her sleep for a while.”

Lucy nodded earnestly. “And the bookshop’s sold,” she said, just to be clear.

Ash looked at them both, their sharp, peaked faces tired and sad and then she did the unthinkable. She laughed.

Chapter Thirty Five

Pen’s eyelids felt heavy but she struggled to open them anyway, blinking and then blinking again as the light hit her eyes. She yawned and stretched and had no idea how long she’d been sleeping for. It felt like years. Like she was Sleeping Beauty. The idea made her smile until she remembered about the bookshop.

Then she just wanted to close her eyes again and disappear back into sleep.

She was about to do exactly that when she registered quite a heavy weight on her right leg. Experimentally, she tried to move her leg and couldn’t. Jesus. Maybe she’d broken her leg? Maybe she’d fainted and fallen and broken her leg. Then she’d never be able to help at the bake sale.

Except they really didn’t need a bake sale now.

Lifting her head just slightly she managed to look up far enough to see something on top of her leg. No, not something. Someone. Someone with dark, messy hair, someone collapsedover her, her head in her arms, sleeping and maybe even… Pen strained to listen. Yes, maybe even snoring just a bit.

Pen cleared her throat.

Ash didn’t move.

Pen cleared her throat again, louder this time.

“What? Who? What?” Ash said, bolting upright.

“I thought I was the patient here,” Pen said, her heart filling up at the sight of Ash’s face.

“You’ve spent all night flat on your back, I’m the one that’s been slumped over your bedside,” said Ash, pulling a face as she stretched. “Not a comfortable position.”

Pen considered this. “Was there anything preventing you from actually getting into the bed with me?”

Ash raised an eyebrow and Pen turned to her left to see Fabio stretched out across the other side of the bed.

“I thought he might bite,” said Ash. “He seems quite protective of you.”

“He’s a teddy bear,” said Pen. She closed her eyes and opened them again, just to check that Ash was actually real and actually here, and then she again remembered all the reasons that she really wanted to go back to sleep and ignore the world again.

She turned to look at Ash. “I have to tell you something,” she said.

“No,” said Ash. “Enough is enough. I need you to listen to me first. There are some important things to discuss here. I know what you’ve been doing.”

“George spilled everything, didn’t he?” Pen said, shaking her head.

“Good thing he did, since we’ve been at cross-purposes pretty much since I left,” Ash said. “Which was my mistake, by the way.”

“The being at cross-purposes?” asked Pen.

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