Page 53 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
‘Oh it’s lovely, thank you, Sylvia. It’s got a lot better since that first day.’
The old woman’s flinty gaze slid between her and Ben. ‘I don’t doubt it.’
‘Will you call your daughter?’ Ben asked. ‘I’ll talk to the council about the best way to get rid of the bats, but only if you speak to Marie about coming to get you sooner than planned.’
‘Marie will do everything in her own time. She won’t listen to me.’
Ben pushed himself up to standing. ‘I’m not sure I believe that. Give her a call. For me, OK?’
‘OK,’ Sylvia muttered. ‘Now, be off with you. That gory new drama is starting on Channel Four in a moment, and I don’t want to miss it.’ Ben leaned down and gave the old woman a quick kiss on the cheek. Thea stood and walked over to her, wondering if she should do the same. ‘Off you trot,’ Sylvia said, answering her silent question, but at the last minute she gripped Thea’s hand, squeezing it tightly before letting go. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she added, the harshness ebbing from her voice.
‘Of course.’ Thea wasn’t sure what else to say, considering she had done nothing except squeal when a bat flew at her.
She followed Ben down the stairs, on high alert for any more nocturnal creatures.
‘You go out and I’ll follow,’ Ben said. ‘I need to lock up, anyway.’
‘You mean if this big old beam starts to fall, you’re going to hold it up like Atlas holding up the heavens so I can escape?’
‘I really hope it doesn’t come to that,’ he said, amusement in his voice. ‘I’d end up flattened. Go on.’
Thea hurried outside and Ben followed, retrieving the key from his pocket and locking the door. He stood, gazing into the darkened space for a moment.
‘OK?’ Thea asked.
He nodded. ‘If she hasn’t called Marie by this time next week, I’m going to do it for her.’
‘Stage an intervention?’
‘Yeah. She needs to be safe, not stuck out here on her own when her mobility isn’t great. It’s not an ideal home, this building, as lovely as it is.’
‘No.’ Thea looked up at it. ‘I can see that. Great as a post office, though. Perfect for something like that.’
‘That’s what it was built for,’ Ben said, walking around to the driver’s side of the van. Thea climbed into the passenger seat, stroking Scooter who was snoozing, his nose tucked under a paw.
As they drove back through night-dimmed Port Karadow, Thea’s mind was on overdrive. Now she had seen inside the old post office, as dusty and animal-infested as it was, she had the beginnings of an idea that didn’t want to be dampened, however much reason she flung at it.
‘I’ve got a bottle of Prosecco on the go,’ she said when Ben pulled up in front of the cottages. ‘And I have sausage rolls, from the Trebah Garden café. I don’t think they really do takeaway, but they let me buy some. It’s just a thought, but you’re probably too tired.’
‘No, that sounds great,’ Ben said. ‘If you don’t mind giving me twenty minutes to shower? I don’t want to come into your cottage like some kind of ancient dust monster.’
Thea glanced at her clothes. ‘I could do with dusting myself down too.’ The Old Post House’s grime, it seemed, was quite clingy.
Inside Sunfish Cottage, she put the oven on to warm the sausage rolls, and the bottle of Prosecco back in the fridge door so it could chill. She changed into a jersey dress, and switched the lamps on in the living room. All the time, her brain was busy replaying their trip to the Old Post House – minus the bats. The generous rooms upstairs and down, the huge, light-attracting windows. All those shelves lined up against the walls.
The knock came twenty-five minutes later, and she opened the door to find Ben standing there in a black T-shirt and jeans. He looked freshly showered, his hair a few shades darker than usual.
‘Can I bring Scooter in?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think he’ll put up with being left on his own again.’
‘That’s fine.’ Thea stood back to let them in. ‘Pets are allowed here, though I haven’t brought one – obviously.’
‘You’re not a dog person?’ He hovered in the kitchen doorway while she got the sausage rolls out of the oven.
‘I’d love one, but my landlord doesn’t allow pets. One day, though.’
‘When you’ve got your bookshop?’
‘Hopefully. What sauce do you want? I have ketchup, mayonnaise or barbecue.’
