Page 32 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
There were so many things she liked about this bookshop, but it also helped her clarify what she would do with her own. Ideally, she wanted a coffee machine; the premises on Main Street hadn’t been big enough for a café, but she didn’t think a coffee machine was out of the question, or a couple of comfy chairs. She wanted, more than anything, for her customers to feel like they could browse: that they couldtake their time and not feel harried or rushed. She had been imagining a children’s area with a beanbag, and possibly a small, raised section, somewhere she could host signings and poetry readings. Looking around Padstow Booksellers, she was worried she had been too ambitious.
‘I’m going to get this,’ Meredith said, hefting the art book under her arm. ‘Do you want anything?’
Thea shook her head. She had her Kindle with her. But then there was the hardback she’d been eying up, Sarra Manning’sLondon, With Love, released last month in all its pink and purple romcom beauty. She had beengoing to wait and borrow it from work once the initial flurry of loans had died down, but she was on holiday, and it would be a great addition to the romance bookshelf in her flat. Also, it was a momentous occasion: she would always associate it with coming here, looking at bookshops in Cornwall. A big step on the way to realising her dreams.
‘Actually,’ she said, picking it up, ‘I might treat myself.’
‘Good idea,’ Meredith said, peering at the cover. ‘A holiday book is an absolute necessity, and that one looks glorious.’
Thea grinned. She was starting to think she and Meredith could become good friends.
They sat in the window of Rick Stein’s fish and chip shop, having decided to treat themselves to scallops to start with, followed by traditional cod and chips. Crumble was lying under their feet, his lead tied to Meredith’s stool.
‘I love Ben’s idea of a breakfast bar,’ Meredith said, drizzling soy sauce vinaigrette onto her scallops, which had been presented in their large, elegant shells. ‘He needs to make the most of his ridiculous view.’
Thea sighed. ‘It’ssucha good location. I leave all the windows open when I’m in the cottage, so I have the sea as a low-level soundtrack. I’m so envious of Ben, getting to live with it permanently.’
‘I don’t think he appreciates it quite yet. He’s got so much work to do.’
‘He doesn’t seem that enthusiastic about it,’ Thea agreed. ‘If I had a whole house to renovate, and the skills and knowledge to do it myself, I think I’d be beside myself with excitement. He told me he’s finding it more difficult than he imagined.’
‘I don’t know,’ Meredith said, sighing. ‘Maybe it’s the wider picture he’s struggling with. He’s used to going into places and working to his customers’ plans, and I’m sure they all have strong views about what they want. Maybe it’s easier for him to take direction from other people, especially if, emotionally, he’s not quite settled into his new place.’
‘What do you mean?’ Thea asked, then put a forkful of scallop into her mouth, chewing slowly so she could savour every burst of flavour it had to offer.
‘He left the Lakes at the beginning of the year, and it wasn’t … I don’t think it was under happy circumstances. I mean, Iknowit wasn’t, but—’ she winced.
‘That’s OK,’ Thea said, waving a hand. ‘I’m not expecting you to share all your friends’ secrets with me, especially not Ben’s.’
‘Why especially not Ben’s?’ Meredith asked, her tone unashamedly curious.
‘He strikes me as a very private person,’ Thea said. ‘He’s been kind to me, but he’s not … ebullient. Effervescent. Irrepressible – except perhaps when it comes to cooking.’
Meredith laughed. ‘So true. When you get to know him, though, he does come out of his shell.’ She held up an empty scallop shell, and Thea joined in with her laughter. ‘I’m glad he’s been kind to you,’ she added.
Thea felt a flush creep onto her cheeks. ‘My first hike was disastrous. I’m not used to long tromps in the countryside, and definitely not solo, and he banished all my bad memories by coming with me, showing me things I wouldn’t have found on my own, forcing me to challenge myself with the scary parts.’
Meredith’s eyes lit with something new as Thea spoke. ‘That’s so good,’ she said. ‘For youandfor him.’
Thea nodded. She was desperate to ask Meredith what she meant, but didn’t want to put her in an awkward position.
‘And he asked you about the cook-off,’ Meredith went on. ‘Does that mean you’re coming on Friday?’
Thea hummed in happiness as her empty scallop shells were replaced with a box full to bursting with chips and a crispy, delicious-looking piece of cod. There was a parsley garnish, a lemon wedge, and a pot of garlic mayonnaise on the side. It smelled like food heaven. ‘God yes,’ she said, sticking her fork into the crispy batter, relishing the crunch. ‘Ben’s dish sounds amazing.’ Her eyes widened as she tasted the fish, the melt-in-the-mouth texture, the seaside flavour. ‘And he’s already cooked me the best breakfast I’ve had in years.’
‘He cooked you breakfast, did he?’ Meredith raised her eyebrows. She looked full of energy, as if she was just about managing to restrain herself from bouncing up and down on her stool.
Thea sighed, making her expression serious even as thesmile threatened. ‘It wasn’t likethat,’ she protested. ‘He came over to fix my bed, and – OK, that sounds wrong. It was entirely innocent, but he was kind, and generous. He stopped me from feeling lonely, and that’s the part of this trip I’ve been struggling with the most.’
‘How come?’ Meredith asked.
Thea explained what had happened with Esme, about her staying behind to work at the festival – and spending time with Alex – and about her own reluctance to do all the holiday things they’d planned when there was nobody to share them with.
‘In that case you’re definitely coming to the cook-off on Friday,’ Meredith said. ‘We’ll be your holiday buddies, if you can stand us for another couple of weeks. Me, Finn and Ben.’
Thea grinned around a chip. ‘I would love that,’ she said, when she’d finished her mouthful. ‘And I was wondering if you could help me with something?’
‘Sure,’ Meredith said, drowning a chip in homemade ketchup and eating it slowly, her eyes closing in appreciation. ‘What is it?’
