Page 83 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
Max was going to be OK, and, in a move that was highly ironic considering what they’d been searching for on their walks, he’d helped her to discover one of Port Karadow’s hidden treasures. She hoped that, soon, they would be able to return it to its former glory together.
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Did you know?’ Ollie asked Marion, when she had finished telling her about her discovery. When she’d finally left Liam’s study the evening before, taking another two mince pies with her, Marion had already slipped off home, like she so often did.
Now it was Monday morning, still too early for the sun to have fully risen, and Ollie was bleary-eyed after a night full of worrying thoughts about Max that, she knew, would linger until she’d seen him for herself. Hopefully, that would be later on today.
She stood in her dressing gown at the kitchen island, Marion on the opposite side, both of them clutching mugs of coffee. This time, Marion hadn’t even pretended to have an ulterior motive for turning up. The first words she’d said when Ollie had opened the front door were, ‘How are you doing, Ollie Spencer?’
She had remembered something Melissa had said to her once, the words staying long after she’d forgotten thecontext:Hard times bring people together, Ols. Human connection matters more than anything.
Ollie was grateful to have Marion to talk to on a day when she was going to have to tell Thea that the grand, spangly author launch she’d set up for A New Chapter, that they’d all been working towards as their impressive Christmas event, was about to become a big fat failure. They’d been selling tickets for Sophia’s launch – which was supposed to include a reading and a Q&A – and promoting it as if it was a Dolly Parton concert. And now they would have to do the one thing Thea had told Ollie she wanted to avoid: admit defeat and suck it up, not to mention refund all the ticket money. It wouldn’t just be disappointing: it would be a disaster.
‘Of course I knew,’ Marion said, scoffing as if any other scenario was utterly absurd. ‘You think Liam could keep a detail like that hidden from me? Don’t forget who’s been dusting those shelves.’
‘He kept it fromme,’Ollie said, unable to hide her disgruntlement.
‘I’ve known him for decades,’ Marion pointed out. ‘When he was younger, and prouder of his achievements. He always wanted the pseudonym, though: didn’t do any events at the time, and without social media and whatnot, it was easy to keep his true identity hidden.’
‘He didn’t want to bask in the glory?’
‘He’s always been a quiet man,’ Marion said. ‘He loved writing, giving people pleasure with his stories, but he’s never been a “look at me” sort of person. He doesn’t need me, you know, apart from a few bits here and there. I like being busy, and Adam still works in London four days aweek. It’s more like a partnership than one old farmer and his faithful housekeeper.’
‘I guessed it was mostly about the company.’
‘And now he has you, as well. I’m sure he could type that book all on his own, arthritic fingers or no.’
‘I’m quicker, and I know my way around a laptop.’
‘Still. The man could go out of an evening, to the Sea Shanty or the Happy Shack. He doesn’t need to employ people just to have friends. He’s incredibly personable, but he’s glued himself to his farmhouse these last few years.’
‘Well.’ Ollie put her cup down. ‘I’m hoping to change that, as it happens.’
Marion raised her eyebrows but held her silence, until Ollie started to squirm and was compelled to fill it.
‘I want him to do an event at the bookshop,’ she said. ‘He’s such a brilliant storyteller: he’d have everyone transfixed. I’ve been so intrigued by the Bryan Mailer mysteries since I found them, and a lot of people I’ve spoken to here love them too. Revealing Liam as this talented, popular author would be such a brilliant thing. His publishers are no longer in business, and the books are out of print, but I don’t think that matters. He’s local, and he’s a legend himself – never mind writing about them!’
Marion’s gaze was steady, but Ollie thought she could see a twinkle there.
‘You like it,’ Ollie went on. ‘You’ve turned into this silent, wise old woman, but—’
‘Less of the old, thanks. And yes, I do like it. I think it would be wonderful for A New Chapter, and the residents of Port Karadow, and Liam, too. Good luck getting him to see it that way, though.’
‘I know. I need to come up with a plan to convince him.’ She drummed her fingers on the countertop. ‘Do you want some pancakes? I feel like making pancakes, and it’s still early enough.’
‘Oh! Are you sure? I’d love some.’
‘Settle yourself down, then. I think it’s a myth that you need to leave the batter to stand, anyway.’
As Ollie prepared the pancake mix, she and Marion talked about Liam, about the town and the legends he’d invented, and Ollie admitted that she’d been completely fooled by them.
‘I assumed they were traditional Cornish stories that everyone knew. I spent a whole lot of time asking people if they’d heard of Bryan Mailer, but I didn’t ever think to ask about the legends: didn’t even consider that nobody would have heard of Kerensa and her handprint, or the ghostly battle at St Ethel’s church, outside of those books. Mind you, Max didn’t know about them, and he was keen to visit the locations with me.’ She chewed her lip, thinking back to the way he’d reacted. ‘Although …’ She spun round, but Marion held her hands up.
‘As far as I’m aware, Max didn’t know Liam had anything to do with them.’
Ollie waggled her whisk. ‘I bet he sussed it, though. I bet everyone would have, except me.’
‘Ollie, you’re not from around here. Of course the people who have grown up here, when faced with some supposedly traditional stories they’ve never heard of, might question where they came from. You were at a disadvantage from the get-go.’
