Page 8 of The Cornish Christmas Book Clu
‘True. I need tea supplies.’
‘I’ll bet. Eat and drink you out of house and home, they will.’
He bustled off and started picking things off the shelves. It seemed fruitless to point out that Georgie and his men should be done in a couple of days, so he didn’t need an industrial-sized box of cheap teabags, a huge bag of sugar and two litres of milk.
Vernon stopped at a display by the door and selected three packets of biscuits to add to the stack. ‘They’re on sale. Three for the price of two. Georgie likes his custard creams, and you can’t go wrong with digestives and ginger nuts.’ Back at the counter, he wedged everything into a large blue plastic bag. ‘Next time I’ll have to charge you five pence if you don’t bring your own, but you can have it for free today.’
Gage stifled a smile. At a wild guess, he’d say very few customers got something for nothing out of Mr Bull. Gage certainly hadn’t. Now the shopkeeper could boast about their meeting and send the abridged story of his injuries around Penworthal. If Vernon found out the main reason whythisparticular village, rather than any other location, would soon have a bookshop, he’d rub his hands with glee. Gage’s sympathy for Becky increased. When he’d made his plans, he’d had no real concept of what the fallout could be.
‘Cheers.’
‘If there’s anything you want to know about the village, you ask me. The Bulls have been around these parts since Methuselah was a baby.’ Vernon cackled at his own joke.
Before he could be pinned down any longer, the shop bell rang again and Gage took that as his signal to beat a swift retreat. If a certain barmaid was working, she’d probably inflict another barrage of intrusive questions on him and he wasn’t in the mood. Instead, he’d call it quits for the day and get some much-needed sleep.
Chapter Four
Toby cornered Tamara near the freezer in The Rusty Anchor’s kitchen. ‘So when were you going to tell me, Mum?’
She squirmed. She’d been mean, cowardly — or both — in ignoring her son’s calls. It’d been inevitable that he would hear eventually, but later rather than sooner suited her.
‘I was waiting until I knew for sure.’ A feeble excuse, even to her ears. ‘No point worrying you over nothing.’
‘I’m your son. I’msupposedto worry about you.’
‘No, you’re not. That’s my job.’ Tamara crossed her arms and glared. He glared back. The new steeliness he’d acquired during his nursing training caught her out. ‘Look, I’m sorry, all right?’
‘Have you started looking for another job?’
‘I won’t be sponging off you and Chloe, don’t worry.’
Toby went eerily still, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
‘Sorry. Again. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘No. You shouldn’t.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ve given meeverythingall these years.’ Toby held up a hand to stop her interrupting. ‘Willingly, I know, but don’t you think if I could help you for a change, I’d want to?’
‘Yes.’
That admission brought back her son’s impish smile. ‘There, didn’t kill you, did it?’
She managed a wan smile. ‘I can’t stand here nattering any longer. It’s opening time in a few minutes. Rocky’s off because his baby’s sick and you know Fridays are always jammed. Are you working tonight?’
‘No, thank heaven. Chloe’s on the way back from Plymouth. She’s meeting me here for our first date night in ages.’ He stifled a yawn. ‘I’m on the back end of four nightshifts and not at my sparkling best, but once I see Chloe it’ll all be good.’
How awful was it to envy her own son? It wasn’t that she resented his happiness. Far from it. But seeing the young couple so in love and shaping their futures together reminded her she’d never had that for herself. Oh, she was well aware that people the world over had it far worse, but that was little consolation on lonely evenings.
‘It’ll work out, Mum.’ He clasped her shoulder and the comforting touch brought a prickle of tears to her eyes.
‘I know. Now, off with you.’ Tamara shooed him away. It took a few moments before she was composed enough to join Pixie in the bar.
She heard Gage’s rich, deep voice before she saw him. Despite herself, Tamara couldn’t resist checking him out from a safe distance. He’d smartened up tonight. A dark-blue open-necked shirt. Snug-fitting jeans. His nose might be a little long, his mouth on the narrow side and eyes too deep-set to fit the brief for conventional good looks, but she’d never been much for those anyway.
Tamara had learned the hard way to take her own looks, and those of other people, with a pinch of salt. At school, the same boys who’d been her friends since they were five had changed into alien beings and started leering when her breasts had sprouted almost overnight at the age of twelve. Around the same time, she’d started shooting up too and had eventually towered over most of them.
‘This gentleman is looking for you.’ Pixie’s innuendo-laden voice made Tamara wince.
‘I didn’t . . . exactly . . .’
