Page 3 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
Foxglove Farm and its accompanying barn gave off the same vibe as their owner: no longer a spring chicken, but dependable and welcoming; trustworthy. The buildings were redbrick, with mature rose bushes outside, their winter leaves glossy and thriving. It was the type of farmhouse that would appear in a lavish historical adaptation on Netflix, and it was perfectly positioned, nestled in a snug valley and surrounded by hills, but with a view of the ocean. Ollie couldn’t have imagined a better place for her new start: she realised how lucky she was to be here.
‘I’m still getting the hang of it,’ she added, pulling the sleeves of her thin jumper over her palms. ‘The right number of sticks. One day soon, though, I’ll do it perfectly!’
‘Never understood all that myself.’ Liam slid his hands into the pockets of his sage green padded jacket. He was wearing it with a flat cap and grey trousers, and Ollie was struck by how he always blended in with the surroundings: countryside tones, a natural palette. She looked down at her neon lilac leggings. Countryside blending wasn’t something that came naturally to her. ‘Does it work, then?’ he asked.
‘The incense?’
He nodded.
‘Apparently. Loads of people say it has calming, healing properties, especially if you light it when you’re meditating.’
‘Hard to meditate with this pup around, I bet.’ Liam crouched when Henry, having exhausted his interest in the ancient yew tree at the edge of the lawn, came bounding up to him. ‘Hello, Henry Tilney.’ The chocolate Lab responded enthusiastically, jumping as if he was on a spring. ‘Never heard of a dog with his own surname.Northanger Abbey’s your favourite Austen, then?’
‘It’s completely underrated,’ Ollie said. ‘It’s funnyandcreepy, satirical, but still has a beautiful, genuine love story. Henry is such a laid-back hero, and sees past Catherine’s eccentricities to her good heart. He’s hardly ever angry with her, despite how wrong she gets things.’
‘You prefer that to Fitzwilliam Darcy’s hard edges?’
Ollie crossed her arms. ‘I don’t know why everyone loves him so much. He’s so uptight. If I was an insecure woman—’ she stopped herself, laughed. ‘All women haveinsecurities, and I don’t think, in real life, Darcy would be that appealing. All that stoic silence – I’d get so mad at him when he didn’t justtalkto me! Who wouldn’t go for twinkly eyes and a warm smile instead? A bit of patience and kindness? That’s so much hotter.’ She pictured a face: green eyes below thick, expressive brows, his dark hair a tumble of curls, a soft amusement in his expression that seemed etched in, so she couldn’t imagine him without it. He had one dimple, she’d noticed the last time, in his left cheek—
‘You could be on to something there.’ Liam’s mouth quirked up. He was rubbing Henry’s ears, the dog squirming as if he couldn’t cope with such extreme pleasure. ‘Though is Mr Knightley a good blend of the two?’
‘Maybe,’ Ollie said, but she had never loved George Knightley. Perhaps it was because she knew that she could be as interfering as Emma and, rather than face it, she gave all her affection to the escapism of naive Catherine Morland and her spooky houses. Besides, Catherine Morland loved books, andthatmade her Ollie’s ideal Austen heroine. ‘But Henry Tilney’s the one for me,’ she added.
‘Pooch or man?’ Liam pushed himself slowly up to standing. ‘My joints get stiffer with each new autumn,’ he said, more to himself than her.
‘Pooch,’ Ollie clarified, because she had traded in men for her beautiful dog, just as she’d traded in the hectic but suddenly hollow whirlwind of London for undulating hills and a barn conversion; her unsympathetic boss for a new job in an independent bookshop that actively wanted an injection of Ollie Spencer enthusiasm. She waited for the twist in her stomach, that strange mix of discomfort and attraction whenever her thoughts led her to her ex, Guy. Then, having let it intrude for a couple of seconds, she forced it away again. ‘Dogs are a lot simpler.’
‘That they are. You off into town today?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Ollie said. ‘It’s my first day at A New Chapter. The manager, Thea, called me on Friday to confirm. I could have started a week ago, I’m that ready to get stuck in.’
‘Thea’s a sweet, gentle girl,’ Liam said. The look he gave Ollie was warm, but with a hint of something – warning? She hadn’t started typing up his memoir, yet: he’d wanted to give her a couple of weeks to get settled first. But they’d had coffee; they bumped into each other most days, and although she’d only met him on a couple of visits withMelissa before she’d moved down here, it seemed he’d already started to form an opinion of her.
‘She seemed so nice at the interview,’ Ollie said. ‘She obviously loves her bookshop.’
‘It’s her passion; something she worked towards for years before setting up here, in Port Karadow.’
Ollie pushed her heels into the damp grass to stretch out her calves. ‘And once she’s got regular events happening, she’ll be even busier, even more successful. I’ve got experience running launches and campaigns.’ Perhaps notquiteas much as she’d told Thea and Becky, her colleague, at the interview. There were only so many events one bookshop could hold, and her enthusiasm had, ever so slightly, got away from her: she’d tweaked and embellished her experience, had possibly made it sound like she ran book-related events for a large portion of London. She knew, however, that she could live up to her own hype.
‘I understand that,’ Liam said. ‘Just …’ He glanced away from her, in the direction of the sea, then turned back. ‘Tread gently, Ollie.’
‘Of course I will!’ She gestured behind her, as if the gentle wafts of incense exiting the barn could back her up. She knew that she was a whirlwind of ideas and energy, and that sometimes, for some people, it was too much. But she also had a lot of good qualities, and she hoped Thea and Becky would see that. Anyway, part of her reason for being in Cornwall was to reset. She had her long walks in the countryside, and the meditation, and the wholeliving in the momentthing. ‘I’m not going to waste this opportunity,’ she told him.
‘I know you’re not one for doing things half-heartedly.’ Liam put his hand on her arm. ‘Come to the house for a glass of wine afterwards, if you like?’
‘And you’resureyou don’t mind looking after Henry? I’m hoping to persuade Thea to have him as a bookshop dog after a while.’
Liam looked down at Henry, who was gently chewing his shoelaces. ‘It’ll be a treat. Honestly.’
‘Thanks, Liam.’
‘And maybe go easy on the incense, next time?’ He winked at her, extracted Henry’s teeth from his shoelace, and strolled towards the farmhouse.
Ollie sank into a perfect, cross-legged pose on the grass, and Henry put his nose in her lap.
‘Is thirty-five too young for a mid-life crisis?’ she asked him. His eyes were dark pools, full of emotion. ‘Idon’t think that’s what this is,’ she added, running her hands along his soft, fuzzy coat. ‘Forget I said anything.’
She had turned over a new leaf: a whole tree’s worth of them. She’d been given the chance to move to Cornwall, to live differently, to start again in a new bookshop and help her best friend’s granddad with something that was important to him. She appreciated Liam’s concern, his suggestion of caution, but she was good at what she did.
