Page 7 of The Bookshop at the Cornish Cove

‘Idea of what?’

‘Of what it takes to run a business.’

‘How dare you?’

‘Nancy, I’m not saying this to be nasty.’

‘Well, you could have fooled me!’

‘I’m not,’ he said, his voice reduced to a whisper, then returning to its normal volume, he added, ‘You need to take your head out the clouds. You can’t play at having a bookstore. You’ve only been open a few months and you’re in a state already. I could help you if you let me.’

‘I don’t need your help.’ I stuck out my chin, pulled my shoulders back and stomped across the room. Footsteps behind me indicated that I was not the only one who had crossed the room.

‘You need someone’s help and it may as well be me. I’m here. You know me and I know that if you’d just listen to me and accept some cold hard truths, we could get you through a tough winter. The summer holidays have been and gone. You’ve got one school half term left this year, so one lot of holidaymakers, apart from Christmas of course, but with some diversification, I reckon it’ll be OK.’

‘I’m a bookshop, Dennis. I’m not diversifying from books.’

‘Look, it’s no good you standing there with your hands on your hips. I’ve seen the bills you’ve got coming in. I can have a very good guess at how much the shop earns. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that you can’t carry on like this.’

‘A business doesn’t have to make money in its first year,’ I said proudly.

‘Who told you that? Can I take a look at your business plan?’

‘My what?’

Dennis shook his head at me. ‘Tell me you have a business plan.’

I chewed the inside of my cheek.

‘Who else knows about this?’

I slumped against the counter and whispered, ‘No one.’ Another stray tear ran down my cheek but I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me wipe it away.

His voice softened. ‘Nancy, do you want this shop to work? It’s no skin off my nose. Do you want my help or not?’

‘Not!’

I don’t care how much experience he had; he wasn’t going to quash my dream. I had wanted to own a bookshop all my life. When I was a little girl, I used to pretend that I had one and livedabove it and it was all I’d ever wanted. At a careers interview at school when I was asked what I wanted to do with my life and I told them, I was told that it wasn’t a viable option. So, I did the next best thing and became a teacher instead. When I knew that it could happen, with the help of Aunt Theresa’s money, it was literally a dream come true. I would make it work if it killed me.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Let me settle up for Nan’s book and I’ll get out of your hair. Here.’

He thrust the bunch of bank statements he’d been analysing at me.

‘How much do I owe you?’

‘She’s already paid.’

Dennis took the book from the counter and stamped across to the door, slamming it behind him. I watched him go before running over to the door and tugging at the handle.

‘Dennis?’ I shouted. He kept on walking. ‘Dennis!’ I yelled. He stopped still, his back still facing me. ‘Dennis, please?’

He turned. God, he was infuriating. I’d like to say that the smug smirk on his face took away from his good looks, but sadly it didn’t and he was as handsome as I thought he had been on the very first day we’d met. Before I realised what a total know-it-all he was.

‘How much will I have to pay you?’

He looked me up and down, making me feel incredibly uncomfortable.

‘Oh, I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement.’ He winked.

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