Page 18 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
With the evening finally on track, Ollie was able to steer any wayward discussions back to book choices, and they went round the circle, everyone talking about what they’d picked and why. There were questions asked – a lot from Finn – wine drunk, and scones eaten.
Night fell, the lights inside the bookshop burned more brightly, and Ollie let the twin joys of contentment and anticipation wash over her. This, she thought, was going to work. She wondered if Max was thinking the same, because he gently kicked the sole of her boot with his navy Converse. ShelovedConverse shoes. It wasn’t fair that he was wearing them. He had to havesomeflaws – didn’t he?
As the night wore on, and they fell into a heated debate aboutThe Thursday Murder Clubby Richard Osman – ‘Why would you ever want your crime to be cosy?’ Sylvia asked – and Thea topped up everyone’s glasses, Ollie wondered if she was charmed. Had finding Kerensa’s handprint, as ludicrous as it sounded, given her what she wanted? Had she been gifted her desires by a woman who had died tragically, hundreds of years ago?
She still had to win over Becky, who she was sure didn’t agree with her approach, perhaps mistrusted her solely because she had come from London, and she knew it would be hard to resist Max, with his beautiful eyes and his kindness. They could, she realised, be characters in an epic fantasy series that she had to overcome before she could get to the treasure: The Defier and The Temptation.
She had enjoyed her first delve into Liam’s life history, his scrawled notes as compelling as his story about thepoor woman who had lost her life all those years ago. She felt comfortable with him, and now – her two fantasy characters aside – this job looked like it would be as fulfilling as she’d hoped, with problems to navigate and events to orchestrate, and everything, for the next couple of months, with a twinkly, festive vibe.
She caught Max’s eye and he smiled at her, his green irises almost luminous beneath the glowing fairy lights. She felt a flutter low down in her stomach as she returned it. This, she decided, was going to be a bigger test than she’d first anticipated, but alongside the trepidation, there was hope. Liam, Marion, Thea and Max, Meredith and Finn. Maybe Maisie, Lizzy and Sylvia – and possibly Becky one day, too. She was building connections, forging friendships.
It felt like a new start.
Chapter Nine
Ollie spent her Sunday firming up how the book club would work. She had everyone’s title choices, and a plan to promote them online as well as at the bookshop. Thea had agreed that they would get generous stock in of each book, and design stickers for the covers. They had gone with Maisie’s choice, an anthology of ghost stories calledThe Haunting Season, for November, as it fitted with the time of year, and would appeal to a wide audience. Who didn’t love a ghost story in winter?
She had her laptop open, and was sitting on the thick carpet in the barn, eating a bacon sandwich while Henry chewed on Boris, his seemingly indestructible warthog chew toy. A Constantly Christmas radio station was playing through her computer, and her festive garlands shimmered in the sunlight streaming in through the glass doors. It was calm, quiet, and exactly what Ollie had been hoping for when she moved here.
Her gaze drifted over the titles on the bookshelf, and she wondered which book she would have chosen. There had been enough options on Friday, and she hadn’t wanted to impose her own suggestions. Now, however, she realised they were missing a book set in Cornwall.
She scooted over to the small selection she’d bought in the charity shop. She’d been drawn to them because of their bright, Seventies covers, and when she’d picked one up she’d seen the words: ‘A Cornish Mystery’ emblazoned on the back. Now, she trailed her finger along the spines, and her brain stuttered as she read the full title of one of the books:The Legend of Kerensa’s Handprint: a Roskilly and Faith mysteryby Bryan Mailer.
‘What the hell?’ she whispered to Henry, pulling the book out. The cover showed a stylised illustration of woods, hills and the sea, a stone with a handprint etched into it in the foreground. It was a bright design, mostly blues, greens and yellows, which gave it a cheerful, unassuming look. Right now, however, Ollie was feeling pretty bloody spooked. The name Kerensa hadn’t rung a bell when Liam had mentioned it the other day, but then she’d bought this set of second-hand books without paying much attention to the titles – beyond noticing that they were set in Cornwall.
She scrambled to her feet and hurried to the kitchen, where her handbag and its contents were spilled over the central island. She found the book of legends Liam had given her and took it back to her spot on the carpet.
She examined both books, frustrated when she couldn’t find an author’s name on the small volume of legends, almost as if it was an encyclopaedia, but they’d kept the compiler anonymous. Her charity shop find was undoubtedly fiction:a mystery story, starring a young policewoman called Megan Roskilly, and an older, jaded historian called Faith. It was part of a series, and this one was clearly centred around the legend Liam had told her, the handprint she’d stumbled across. Had Bryan Mailer written his series around famous local legends? Did they sell them in A New Chapter? She would have to ask Thea. For now, she needed to find out if—
Her phone beeped and she grabbed it, expecting a photo of Melissa with Tiago in sun-drenched Portugal.
Instead, there was another name on the screen.
Max.
They had exchanged numbers on Friday night, when Thea had said it would be a good idea if they worked together to source the coffee machine for the events space. Her stomach flipping, she read his message:
Hey Ollie, it’s Max. How about Tuesday morning? We could meet at the café and I could give you a rundown of the options.
She replied immediately:
Tuesday morning is great. Looking forward to it! Ollie. xo
Smiling, she returned to the compilation of legends and the mysteries she’d bought, picking up the first Roskilly and Faith novel. Soon, as was so often the case when she started a new book, she was lost inside the story, and didn’t come back out again for hours.
‘Fucking fuck!’ The words exploded into the still morning air and frightened a pigeon from a nearby tree. Henry barked at its departing form, and Ollie had the urge to shout an apology after it. ‘What am I even doing?’ She looked at her dog, who, even when he was excited, had those sorrowful dark eyes that made her either worry for his state of mind, or feel pitied by him.
She gripped the little grey book, juggling it between her hands while keeping a tight hold on her phone, the maps app open on the screen. She was meeting Max in less than an hour, but right now she was on the outskirts of Port Karadow, in a patch of land behind the northernmost houses, clambering over rocks to get to the ruins of a church that, she had to admit, looked like something out of a horror film.
She had discovered that, of the five mysteries she’d bought in the charity shop, four of them had corresponding legends in Liam’s book. She hadn’t had a chance to ask him about them yet, whether he knew of the series, and right now she was intent on getting to the bottom of the facts – or the real-life locations of the legends, at least.
She had spoken to her parents on Sunday night, found out that they had booked to go on a Scandinavian cruise over Christmas. They had asked her to accompany them, as they often did, and she had turned them down as always – though this time, with a new job that would only get busier in the run-up to Christmas, she had a more legitimate excuse than usual.
Now she knew for certain that her parents were going to be absent over Christmas, she had begun to settle to the idea that, in all probability, she would be spending it alone. Despite the connections she was making here, it was likelythat everyone would already have plans, and that she wouldn’t be an ideal fit for any of them. But it was fine. It was only one day, only one year. Nothing at all, in the grand scheme of things.
What shewasstruggling to settle with, however, was her attraction to Max. Ever since his innocuous message on Sunday, she had been on a countdown to the meeting this morning. She fancied him, undeniably and overwhelmingly, and she had resolved to stay relationship free, at least for the time being. Those two things were warring inside her, like pumice stones grating against each other. She knew nothing about him or his relationship status. He might be married to a gorgeous woman, or to a man. He might be committed to being single, and it was entirely possible that, even if none of these things were true, he wasn’t attracted to her. They had only met properly twice. He had been friendly, but then so had she. No big deal.
All these rationalisations should have comforted her, but she still felt unsettled, and she had woken up at five o’clock that morning, when the world was dark and wintry, and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. So she had decided to follow one of the legends in the book, to distract herself with something intriguing. The one she’d picked, because it was close to town, was a ghost story.
