Page 63 of Cupcakes and Kisses in Micklewick Bay

Mr Cuthbert picked up a file from his desk, pulling out the correspondence. ‘Apologies, Miss Ingilby, I’m afraid I’m what you’d call old school, and I prefer pen and paper to computers, hence the file.’

‘No need to apologise, I’m the same.’

After a moment’s flicking through the typed sheets of A4, the solicitor’s face brightened. ‘Ah, here it is. Yes, from the date on our copy of the letter, you should have received it last week.’

‘Last week?’ A thought pinged into her mind: the letters she’d scooped up and stuffed into her bag on the day she’d stomped down to the estate agents after the For Sale sign had appeared on her house. She’d read them, sitting on a bench on the top prom. Bizarrely, it was the day the Forsters’ letter had arrived. ‘One second.’ She unzipped her bag and after a brief rummage pulled out a crumpled envelope. ‘I think I might’ve found it.’

‘Ah, so you have.’ The solicitor’s face brightened. He watched as she slid her finger under the flap of the envelope to reveal a letter bearing Cuthbert, Asquith & Co’s letterhead.

‘Looks like this is it.’

‘In that case, my dear, I’ll give you a moment to read it.’

The letter was short and to the point, Jasmine’s face morphing from confusion to disbelief as she read.

‘But… but… Surely, this can’t be right? I mean… I…’

‘I can assure you, it’s right, Miss Ingilby. And, like the letter says, as soon as you instruct us as to your preferred way of receiving payment, we’ll get onto it right away.’

THIRTY

Jasmine had left the solicitor’s office in a daze, wondering when the roller coaster that her life had become was going to slow down or preferably stop so she could get off and find somewhere quiet where she could gather her thoughts. She needed time to absorb this latest piece of information, but her head was so full of other things, she was struggling to find a space for it.

She glanced at her watch, then over at The Happy Harte’s Bookshop. The bakery, where she was due to start her shift in just over half an hour, was two doors down. She could do with talking this new development over with Florrie before then; her friend had found herself in a similar situation a few years ago, though on a slightly larger scale.

A moment later, the bell above the bookshop door jangled noisily as Jasmine stepped inside, the inimitable smell of books rushing at her.

‘Hi, Jasmine.’ Leah, the young assistant, beamed at her from the counter where a small display of stationery and bookmarks had been artfully arranged.

‘Hi.’ Jasmine smiled back.

Gerty, the bookshop’s resident Labrador, heaved herself out of her bed by the counter and trotted over to greet Jasmine.

‘Hello there, Gerty.’ She bent and smoothed her hand over the Labrador’s velvety head.

‘Jazz! Great to see you.’

Jasmine followed the direction of the voice to see Florrie peering around a bookshelf, a clutch of paperbacks in her hand.

‘Hi, Florrie, don’t suppose you’ve got a minute? I could do with running something past you.’

‘’Course, I was going to take my lunchbreak just after I’d put these on the shelves. Give me two ticks, we can head through to the back.’

Jasmine gazed around the bookshop while Florrie finished her task. The salvaged staircase they’d had fitted had totally transformed the space, its ornate ironwork spindles and the rich patina of the handrail adding character. It led to the newly created tearoom located in the converted living quarters. Florrie and Ed were thrilled with it.

‘Right, that’s that done,’ said Florrie, emerging from the romance section. ‘Come on, I’ll pop the kettle on and you can tell me what’s on your mind.’

Arriving at the tiny kitchen, Florrie didn’t waste a moment. ‘So, is this about Max?’ Her eyes sparkled behind her tortoiseshell glasses.

Her question took Jasmine by surprise. ‘Well, it wasn’t, but maybe it could be.’

‘I see, I think.’ Florrie laughed as she reached for a couple of mugs. ‘Park your bum, missus, and tell me all about it.’

‘I’ll start with my original reason for being here.’ Jasmine pulled out a chair at the small table. ‘You know I had an appointment at Cuthbert, Asquith & Co today?’

‘Yes, it’s this afternoon, isn’t it?’

‘It was at half-twelve, I’ve just come from there.’

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