Page 9 of The Mended Hearts Bookshop

“Ta.” He took the cup. “Any news on next door?”

“Not so as I’ve heard. It can’t be long now though. I just wonder who it’s going to be. Mary didn’t have any family that I know of.”

Joe shrugged and slurped at his coffee. “I know she wasn’t from town. My mum said she moved in in the late eighties or so. Before that, the place was a radio shop.”

Pen chuckled. “Probably not much demand for radios these days.”

He nodded in agreement. “The bookshop is a good idea and it’s part of the local landscape now. I hope whoever does take it over doesn’t try and make it one of those newfangled vape shops or something.”

“Buy a lot of romance novels, do you, Joe?” she teased.

He blushed. “Might have read the odd one. Anyway, it makes shopping for mum’s birthday easier. Mary always knew which ones mum had read and all.” He sniffed. “It won’t be the same without her.”

“Times change, Joe, and we change with them. Not much point in focusing on what’s gone and done, not when the future’s bright and our options are open.”

He laughed. “I get a dose of cheerful every time I come in here, Pen, you do a soul good.” He drank up the rest of his coffee. “And I’ve got the rest of my rounds to do. I’ll leave you to your painting.”

Pen was merrily finishing up the rest of her painting and wondering whether or not to take cinnamon buns to the council meeting when she saw George rush past the window. She straightened up just as he barged through the front door, sending the bell into a frenzy of dinging.

“Pen,” he started, then he saw the window and took a step back. “Huh. That looks… cheerful.”

“That’s because it is cheerful,” Pen said, wiping her hands. “It adds a touch of springtime, don’t you think?”

“Mmm,” said George noncommittally surveying the window that was now crowded with white-painted flowers.

Pen rolled her eyes. “You’ll get used to it. It’s beautiful. And you didn’t come running in here like a bat out of hell to admire my flowers, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, oh god, yes,” George said, putting a dramatic hand to his breast. “Pen, there’s burglars.”

“Burglars?” Pen said, shocked. “Where?”

George took a breath and stepped closer as though there might be someone to hear. “Well, I was going in to dust and open a can for Fabio when I heard noises. Actually, no, that’s not the beginning of the story.”

“What is then?” Pen asked, grabbing a seat and sitting down because her legs were wobbly.

“On the walk down I saw a car,” he said. “A strange car, one I didn’t recognize, and it was parked just right at the corner and I thought to myself, that’s a strange car, I definitely don’t recognize that. Then when I got to the door of the shop it was sort of… cracked open. Like not really open, but only the lock keeps it tight closed, you know? I was always after Mary to fix it.”

“Right,” Pen said slowly, thinking that things might not be quite as dramatic as George thought. “And then?”

“And then I heard noises. I don’t know what, there’s nothing there to steal. But I definitely heard someone swear. Well, I heard someone trip over a box and then swear.”

“Man or woman?” Pen asked.

“Woman,” George said, shifting uncomfortably. “But burglars can be women. Equal opportunities and all that.”

“George… do you think you might be over-reacting a tiny bit?” Pen asked, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.

George flushed. “Oh god, you think… You think it might be…”

“Well, it could be the new owner,” Pen said. “I mean, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?” She stood up. “How about we go and have a look?”

George drew himself up to his full height which brought him more or less exactly as far as Pen’s earlobe. “Alright,” he said. “But I’m taking one of your big pans, just in case.”

Chapter Five

Weak sunlight streamed through the clouds and even Ash had to admit that Tetherington didn’t look half bad. The sea stretched away from the promenade, blue and twinkling, and she promised herself a walk on the beach later. She smiled in satisfaction at the thought that she’d be walking on the beach when she should be having dinner with the Browns.

Then there was a neat little high street, complete with tiny boutiques and striped awnings. The place looked like it was stuck in the fifties, and that was no bad thing. As much as Ash liked the anonymity of living in the city, she was far from a fan of the vape shops and American candy stores that had sprung up everywhere.

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