Page 12 of The Bookshop at the Cornish Cove

‘Thanks for the offer but no thanks. I’ve got better things to do.’

‘Such as?’ My hands had rested themselves on my hips again.

‘I’m sure I’ll think of something.’

‘It’s easy to sit back and do nothing.’

‘If it’s such a big issue then a small group of people in the corner of Cornwall aren’t going to have much of an impact.’

It was opinions like this that really riled me. If everyone made more of an effort to help then the world would be a better place. Sitting back and doing nothing was not an option for me. Ever since I was a little girl and heard of the beach angel scheme, I’d been at the beach every free chance I had, collecting rubbish after the holidaymakers abused our little seaside sanctuary. Yes, they spent money in our shops and yes, they ate and drank in our establishments, but then they littered our beaches and it broke my heart to see what they’d left behind. To think of all the marine life that was in danger because people just don’t think. I might not be able to do everything but I could certainly do something and I would. Awareness and action were top of my agenda.

‘OK, well that’s clearly more important to you than your bookshop so I’ll pop by again tomorrow lunchtime if that’s OK and we can run through some more ideas. We’ll put a firm plan into place and start taking some quick action. Then you can go off and do your beach cleaning later. That OK?’

‘Yep.’

He slung his Gucci leather man bag over his shoulder and winked at me before he slowly slid on his aviator sunglasses.

Blimey.

OK, so maybe Mum did have a point and every so often I was reminded of what I’d thought of him when we first met. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled and his whole face softened. If I was the type of person who succumbed to the powerful smile of a handsome man with perfectly manicured designer stubble, then now would be the time I would melt into a little puddle.

‘See you tomorrow.’

As he walked towards the door and into the street, I got a funny little fluttering in my tummy. It must be dinner time.

9

The following day was quite productive and much better than I thought it was going to be. I’d had a chat with Mum the night before and she told me that she’d found Dad quite annoying when she met him and then decided to ignore that side of his personality and they’d become friends.

Being friends with Dennis didn’t sound totally horrendous. Maybe we could work together after all if we put our differences aside. Also, I had an idea up my sleeve that might change how he felt about beach cleaning and hoped to put my plan into action over the next few days.

‘Morning, Nancy.’ He breezed in, leaving a cloud of Hugo Boss aftershave behind him. I would like to say it wasn’t my favourite but the fact I knew exactly what that fragrance was probably explained how much I loved it. ‘Shall I pop myself over in the window seat?’

There were only two seats there and he didn’t wait for my answer before heading over. How did he manage to sit in the onethat was my favourite? The one where I had the best view of the bay one way and the harbour the other. I breathed deeply. There were two chairs after all. I could sit in the other one. It was not a big deal. Was it?

‘Coffee, Dennis?’ I held up the pot, which I’d been keeping warm on the counter. Most people I knew had these new-fangled machines that were overcomplicated and I preferred my very basic filter coffee machine. ‘Fairtrade of course.’

‘I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you. Yes please, milk and half a sugar please. It smells amazing I have to say.’

Whatdidsmell amazing was the very masculine musky spicy aftershave that wafted my way as I plonked his coffee on the table next to where he’d set up his computer. I noticed that he had certainly made himself quite at home. Dennis clearly had style and liked expensive clothes. Today he was wearing a pair of dark navy jeans and a white Ralph Lauren polo-shirt. As I looked at his feet, which looked huge, by the way, I noticed he was wearing a pair of Prada trainers.

Telling myself to say something sensible before I started thinking about what people said about a man with big feet, I blurted out the next thing that came into my head.

‘They do say that if you are selling a house, you should always have a pot of coffee on the go. I was rather hoping that the same extended to a bookshop and that people would want to stay if it smelt nice in here. That’s why I always have a scented candle on the go too.’

‘It’s a good idea. Though I was going to ask if you knew how much you’d spent on candles since you’ve opened.’

I could feel my eyes about to roll as I looked over his shoulder and he pointed to a figure on the screen.

‘That’s never right.’

‘I’m afraid it is.’

My voice became very high pitched.

‘Twelve hundred pounds on candles? Really? In six months. That’s impossible.’

He shook his head. ‘Sadly not.’

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