Page 93 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘Bloody hell,’ Becky said from above her. And then, ‘Oh shit!’ There was a rustling sound, and then Ollie’s hair and skin were peppered with the glittering confetti Becky was supposed to have thrown over her sooner, before she stopped speaking. As performances went, it was pretty haphazard.
‘What is this?’ Liam said again. ‘Why are you reading from that book in that ludicrous outfit, Ollie? It’s as if I’ve stepped into some sort of parallel universe.’
Ollie walked down the rest of the stairs. ‘Don’t you think it sounded good, though?’
‘Not in that accent.’ Liam’s brows were creased, and while Ollie didn’t think he was angry, exactly, she could sense his frustration. Had this been the wrong thing to do?
‘Forget the accent,’ she said. ‘Forget the get-up. That is a killer opening.’
‘Quite literally,’ Thea added. ‘I’m desperate to know what happens next.’
‘Me too.’ Becky hurried down the stairs to join them. ‘I’m borrowing it off Ollie after this.’
Liam just shook his head.
‘Liam,’ Ollie said. ‘I really hope you don’t mind that I told Thea and Becky you were Bryan Mailer. If you decide you don’t want to come clean, then I promise we will all keep your secret. But you’resucha good writer, and your books are set here. I know the exact spot Megan has been called out to: I know that rock. Of course, I thought Kerensa’s handprint was a traditional local legend, but we’ll skip over my gullibility right now …’
‘I wasn’t trying to make a fool of you,’ Liam said.
‘I know!’ Ollie beamed at him. ‘Max got it, though. He said that if you grew up here, then you’d know the legends hadn’t been passed down through generations, because that book – along with your novels – are the only places they appear. The point is, I was completely drawn in. Don’t you think, if you came here on pageant day, read the opening of this mystery, that customers would be overjoyed? So many people adore your stories: they would be thrilled if they knew you were the author.’
‘You’re part of this town,’ Thea added. ‘Everyone already loves you. If they knew this side of you, knew that you’d written these books, they’d just love you more.’
‘They’re all out of print,’ Liam said.
Ollie felt a skip of hope, because if this was his biggest counter-argument, then maybe he was coming round. ‘I found copies on AbeBooks,’ she said. ‘Ages ago, when I started reading the series. I’ve ordered a whole load of them,and they’ll be arriving here over the next few days. Some won’t make it before the event, but people can come and buy them afterwards.’
‘Why on earth did you do that?’
‘Because I believe in you, because I think you’re a local treasure and everyone else will feel the same, once they know. Also, we no longer have a star author for our pageant event, and we want you to fill that space. I’m sure our customers will be as excited to meet Bryan Mailer as they would have been meeting Sophia Forsythe-Hartley.’
‘You’re trying to flatter me into accepting?’
‘Flattery, honesty, straight-out begging,’ Ollie said. ‘I’ve already messed this up once. Please say yes, or I’ll have messed it up twice and Thea will fire me.’
‘Emotional blackmail now, too?’ Liam raised an eyebrow.
‘I won’t fire you,’ Thea said, sounding put out.
When Ollie had arrived at the bookshop and told Thea how sorry she was about Sophia and the problem she’d created, her boss had been sympathetic. Ollie thought she’d got away with it because of what had happened with Max, and it made her even more determined to fix it, because she didn’t want to accept a free pass or fail to be accountable for her actions.
‘You’d be brilliant, Mr Byrne,’ Becky said. ‘My Dylan’s just getting into scary stories – I’ve got him a copy ofA Christmas Carolfor his stocking – and if he sees you reading from this book, here, on pageant day … I reckon it’ll make him love books even more. And not just him, either. Those mysteries are really popular, so there’ll be fans, people who will be surprised that you’re Bryan Mailer, and new readers, too.’
Liam cleared his throat. ‘I was never the public face of those books – there wasn’t one – so I have no performance skills to speak of.’
‘That’s not true,’ Ollie said gently. ‘You tell your stories out loud as well as you put them on paper. You have it in you.’ She pressed her hands together. ‘And I promise we’ll look after you. We were thinking of promoting it as the first ever public appearance of Bryan Mailer, keep the fact that it’s you a secret until the night. You could come out of the upstairs storeroom, step onto the stage …’ She could imagine it so vividly. ‘We’ll put the spotlights on you, and you can start reading. It has the potential to be magical.’
Liam leaned against the bookshop counter. Ollie could tell he was considering it, and she looked at Becky, their eyes widening in unison as they communicated their hope to each other. Thea grinned, as if it was already a done deal. And Ollie, more than any of the ideas she’d had for the bookshop since she’d been here – more than Sophia Forsythe-Hartley, more than Marcus Belrose or Book Wars – wanted this to happen. Not just because it would save her skin, but because it felt so right for everyone involved.
A loved local author, and a well-loved member of the community were one and the same. It was a story that would appeal to children and adults, women and men. She had been fascinated by the legends, even when she hadn’t known the area. It would be so much better than a straightforward author talk: it would be about the community she had become a part of.
She realised, as she saw Liam’s frown turn into a smile, saw warmth replace the confusion in his eyes, that she was holding her breath.
‘I’ll do it,’ he said, but before any of them could cheer, he raised a finger. ‘On one condition.’
‘Anything,’ Ollie hurried.
‘You do not make me do it dressed as sexy Mrs Santa. That, Ollie, would be a step too far.’
