Page 81 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘Do you think we could take Max some of these?’ she asked. ‘Will he be allowed them?’
‘We’d have to ask.’ Liam looked around his study. ‘I should have stopped him climbing those steps.’
Ollie shook her head. ‘That didn’t have anything to do with it, and you know that, because you reminded me last night. It would have happened wherever he was.’ Her words allowed other possible scenarios to rush in. ‘I think it was a good thing he was here. Imagine if he’d been at home on his own, and hadn’t been able to get to a phone.’ She swallowed thickly. ‘No, don’t imagine that.’
She put her mug down and sat forward. ‘What I’m saying is, you have absolutely no reason to feel guilty. You spent so much time at the hospital telling me it wasn’t my fault, so you can’t assume any guilt, either. It was awful, and terrifying, but he’s going to be OK. That’s all that matters.’ She exhaled a long breath and squeezed Liam’s arm.
‘Do you think you’ll go to the bookshop tomorrow? I’m sure Thea would give you some time.’
Ollie shook her head, her horror creeping back. ‘As long as she lets me see Max as soon as I’m able to, then I want to be there. It’s a busy time, and there are some things I need to make up for.’
‘What do you need to make up for?’ Liam’s forehead crinkled. ‘I thought the Book Wars, the crafting sessions, were successful.’
‘They were, mostly.’ Ollie took another huge bite of her mince pie. She didn’t want to tell anyone – not even Liam – about Sophia Forsythe-Hartley backing out of their event.She had been so distracted when Arabella had called, she hadn’t even challenged it, and she wanted to see if she could resolve whatever problem Sophia had. ‘It’s nothing to do with them, it’s just Christmas …’ Her gaze fell on an object lying on the floor. It was the book Max had been looking at when he’d collapsed, the one that he’d dropped. It was half under Liam’s desk, its pale green cover ghostly against the dark swirls of the rug.
‘What is it?’ Liam turned to see where Ollie was looking.
‘The book,’ she murmured. She slipped off the sofa onto her knees, and crawled forward. Why had Max been so interested in it? He’d been asking her questions about the beach, and then … She picked it up, read the gold lettering on the front, and her breath stalled.
The Legend of Kerensa’s Handprint: a Roskilly and Faith Mysteryby Bryan Mailer.
‘Wait a second,’ Ollie said. ‘You told me you’d never heard of him.Thatwas what Max was saying to me.’ She looked up at the shelf he had taken the book from. There were eight other books, all naked hardbacks, devoid of the bright covers and spines Ollie loved so much, but he had the whole series. Why did Liam have the entire series of Roskilly and Faith mysteries, when she distinctly remembered him giving her a blank look when she mentioned the author?
‘Ollie,’ Liam said. It came out as a sigh.
She shuffled round on the carpet. ‘Why do you have these? They’re … they’re …’ Her heart started to race as she flicked through the opening pages. ‘They’re first editions.’
Liam stared at her for several long moments, and Ollie had to move the plate of mince pies from the low side table to the desk when Henry, who she thought had been asleep,started to edge his nose towards it. Then she got to her feet, peered up at the shelves, and saw that, right in the corner, there wasanotherset of the Roskilly and Faith series, this time with the covers on. She hadn’t spotted it, hadn’t … She frowned. The entire top shelf was made up of copies of the Cornish-based mysteries.
‘Liam?’ she prompted. ‘I thought you said you’d never heard of Bryan Mailer.’ She sat abruptly back down on the carpet, and picked upThe Legend of Kerensa’s Handprintagain. She blinked.
Bryan Mailer.
Liam Byrne.
They were almost – not quite, but almost – anagrams of each other.
‘Holy fucking shit,’ she murmured. ‘This is … this is you!You’reBryan Mailer. Youwroteall these!’
He rubbed his forehead. ‘It was a long time ago. Decades.’
‘But … but!’ She shook her head. ‘I asked you! I was so excited and I told you all about them, and I … You don’t say anything about it in your memoir!’
‘You’ve only reached my twenties,’ he pointed out. ‘I didn’t write these until I was in my thirties, and that still makes them nearly fifty years old. It was a small press, and they were popular at the time, but their appeal didn’t last. I haven’t written anything for years. There isn’t a huge market for Cornish legends.’
Ollie spluttered. ‘Are you kidding me? There’s a massive market for these types of books, especially now, when Cornwall’s so popular! Did you see how many people had heard of Bryan Mailer at the quiz? I can’tbelieveyou kept this from me.’
‘It’s so far in my past.’
‘Liam! Peoplelovethese books!Ilove these books. I know your publisher shut down, but that means you have the rights back. We could find someone else to reissue them.’
‘Ollie,’ he laughed.
‘I’m serious.’ How had he kept this from her? From everyone, surely. Max hadn’t known – he’d been surprised by the discovery, too. Did Marion know, even?
Ollie loved these books. He wassucha good writer – but then she knew that because she’d been typing up his memoir for weeks. Somehow, it hadn’t twigged that they weren’t just the stilted tales of an old man who wanted to preserve his life history, but the well-woven stories of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. How could she have been so stupid?
Ollie walked towards him on her knees. ‘I can’t believe this! You’re a genuine, published author who’s writtennineexcellent novels. You didn’t tell me, and I didn’t figure it out. I know what happened yesterday was awful, but look what Max has uncovered!’ She held the book out to Liam on open palms, as if offering him a sacred treasure. ‘You dark, dark horse, Liam Byrne.’ She shook her head and returned to the sofa, holding his novel protectively on her lap.
