Page 76 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘Oh yes,’ Marion said, folding her arms. ‘Because ghosts and misery are a much better topic of conversation.’ She rolled her eyes, and Ollie had to look away from Max,worried that she’d explode into a fit of giggles. She could see that he was struggling not to laugh too, and felt his foot gently nudge hers under the table.
‘This is such a great room,’ Max said, as he, Ollie and Liam settled in the study after dinner. Marion had left them to it, saying she needed to get home to Adam.
‘It needs a good clear-out.’ Liam poured them glasses of brandy from the decanter, the newly lit fire beginning to take hold. ‘The curtains are being eaten by moths, and some of the older books could go the same way.’
‘Some of these must be decades old,’ Max said, craning his neck to look at the higher shelves.
‘Centuries, even,’ Liam replied, but when Max turned to him in surprise, he grinned.
‘I’ve been desperate to investigate all the books,’ Ollie said, ‘but Liam won’t let me.’
‘That’s not entirely true now, is it? I said when the manuscript was typed up, I’d let you loose in here. If I give you access now, you’ll get sidetracked and won’t ever go back to my stories.’
‘That’s actually a fair point,’ Ollie said. ‘Max, what are you doing?’ She laughed as he moved the stepped stool, which Marion had been using to dust the evening before, and climbed up it. It had three steps, with a wider platform on top – far from being a proper library ladder.
‘I’m just having a look.’ He pressed his fingertips into the shelves as he scanned the rows of books.
‘Be careful,’ Liam said. ‘There may be some old tomes up there, but I’d warrant there are a fair few spiders too, despite Marion’s dusting.’
‘I can’t see any spiders, but there are … wait a minute. What are these?’ He pointed to a row of books on the highest shelf. They were bare hardbacks, Ollie could see, in complementary shades – pale green, blue, mauve – and had gold lettering and a matching publisher’s stamp on the spine. They looked like part of a set, though from where she was, Ollie couldn’t read their titles.
Liam put his drink down. ‘Now, hang on, son. Not the ones right up there.’
‘Ollie,’ Max said, ‘you remember when we went on that walk to the beach?’
‘Come on, lad.’ Liam stepped forwards just as Max stretched, reaching up as high as he could, to where the books were nestled on the uppermost shelf, their tops brushing the ceiling.
‘Do you mean when we found the shell?’ Ollie asked. ‘What about it?’ Why didn’t Liam want him to see those books? Or was it simply that he didn’t want Max reaching up precariously like that? Something about the situation suddenly felt off.
‘You told me that … that Liam had never heard of him.’ Max’s voice was straining as he stretched. He sounded out of breath.
‘Heard of who? Please be careful, Max.’ Ollie put her drink down and went to stand behind him, reaching her arms up as if she could stop him falling, were he to tip back. But then a book fell, missing her by inches and landing on the carpet with a loud thwack. She put her arms up automatically, covering her head. Henry barked and bounded over to the steps.
‘Max? What are you—’ She looked up, and her words died in her throat. He was leaning against the shelves, his forehead resting on the books, his hand pressed against his chest. ‘Max?’
‘It’s just …’ he started. His voice was indistinct, his breaths short. ‘Just a little … dizzy.’
Ollie swallowed a sharp slice of fear. She climbed onto the steps, so she was just below him. ‘Hey, come on.’ She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. She could see that he was pale, and that beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. ‘Can you come down?’
His breathing was too shallow, and Ollie gripped his arm, squeezing roughly. When he looked at her, his gaze was unfocused.
‘We have to get you down,’ she said, feeling the sharp prickle of impending tears.
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘I’m …’ He shut his eyes, and Ollie tightened her grip. She tugged, not knowing if it was the right thing to do, but desperate to get him off the steps. If he fell from where he was, he could hit his head on the desk – anything. She glanced behind her, but she couldn’t see Liam, and she didn’t have time to find him.
‘Max,now.’ She held out her other hand.
He turned and took hold of her forearms, and she stepped backwards slowly, finding the step below her by feel, terrified that she’d slip and bring them both down. Henry was whining, and she could hear him padding backwards and forwards, agitated, on the rug.
‘You’re OK.’ She held Max’s gaze. ‘You’re fine.’ His breathing was harsh, and the colour had drained from hisface. He didn’t reply, and she thought he must be using up all his energy on staying upright.
Ollie stepped backwards again, bringing Max with her, the relief overwhelming when her foot met the soft rug. She coaxed him down the last step, and when they were both on solid ground, she half-walked, half-dragged him to the sofa, settling him on it as gently as she could.
‘Sorry,’ Max said, though it was more of a whisper, his eyes fluttering closed.
‘No, Max,’ she said. Somewhere between reaching the bottom of the steps and the sofa, her tears had begun to fall. ‘No, no, it’s OK.’ She felt in her pockets for her phone, but couldn’t find it. It was as if her worry had obliterated the rational part of her brain. She stroked his curls back from his damp forehead. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she admitted with a quiet sob. ‘Please don’t go to sleep.’ But Max didn’t reply, even when Henry put his head in his lap.
‘I’ve called an ambulance.’ Ollie jumped, then looked up to find Liam in the doorway, holding an ancient mobile phone. ‘They’re ten minutes away. Is it myocardia Max had?’
