Page 30 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘It’s understandable that she’s being cautious, I suppose. Her shop’s still new, and she cares about it. She just … she wants me to rein in my ideas. Paper chains instead of fancy garlands.’ That was the best metaphor she could come up with, because she had promised Thea she wouldn’t tellanyone about her suggestion of getting Sophia Forsythe-Hartley to come to the shop. ‘But I could aim for satin paper chains, I suppose. Everyone loves a bit of satin, don’t they? Can I have a custard cream Danish, an almond croissant and a pain au raisin, please?’
She looked up when he didn’t reply.
‘Yeah, of course.’ He lifted a hand, as if he was going to rub his face, then must have remembered the face paint and ran his fingers through his hair instead. ‘Warmed up?’
‘Please.’
He turned away from her to put the pastries in the oven. ‘I’m guessing there was nobody to rein you in with the Victoria’s Secret purchases, though.’
Ollie went entirely still, a warmth pooling inside her that clashed with the warning signs flashing in her head.She hadn’t expected him to bring it up: she’d been embarrassed about the message ever since she’d sent it to him. She opened her mouth, about to tell him that it was Marion who had bought things from Victoria’s Secret, but realised she didn’t want to bring anyone else into the conversation.
‘No,’ she said softly. ‘Nobody else had any say in those.’
‘Right.’ Max’s voice was like gravel, and he cleared his throat before turning round. The white face paint was thick, so she couldn’t tell if he was blushing, but the way he looked at her – it made her breath stall somewhere between her lungs and her mouth.
‘Not sure what Thea would say if I took those purchases into A New Chapter and showed them off.’ Her laugh sounded strange. ‘Glow sticks are much safer.’ She smiled, but he didn’t return it. Instead, he took a step closer to the counter, closing the space even though there was still a barrier between them.
‘Ollie, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—’ He was cut off by the bell dinging and a small fleet of squealing children running through the door, accompanied by two frazzled-looking mums.
‘Trick or treat!’ the children shouted in an unruly cacophony, and after that Max was too busy with customers to finish his sentence, handing over Ollie’s pastries with what could have been an apologetic look – though it was hard to tell through his skeleton veneer – and a quick hand squeeze.
Ollie stepped out into the cool October air, and started the climb back to A New Chapter, wondering how she was supposed to focus on anything after that encounter. She thought that Victoria’s Secret and sexy skeletons would always, from this day on, make her think of Halloween.
Chapter Thirteen
As Ollie waited in the bookshop for her intrepid ghost-seekers to assemble, the ones who’d already arrived cracking their glow sticks and looking at the books, she realised how perfect Halloween was as a lead-in to Christmas. There were celebrations, parties, the outlandish decorations and dressing up. It was all so Americanised now, as Becky had said, but it still felt like a dress rehearsal or, at the very least, a warning:a more extreme version of this is coming, so you’d better be ready.There were a few days to prepare for fireworks night, and then it was all uphill – or downhill, depending on your point of view – until Christmas.
Her ghost-walk attendees ranged from young to old, eager-looking to trepidatious. Some were here to be entertained, some to be scared, and it was Ollie’s job to achieve both. The bookshop, with its lights turned low to enhance the spooky atmosphere, filled up, until all the ticket holders apart from Max had arrived.
‘Good to go?’ Thea asked, handing Ollie her coat. ‘I’ll be here when you get back, ready to help you sell hundreds of terrifying books.’ She widened her eyes, and Ollie laughed.
‘We’re going to be rushed off our feet. I—’
The bell dinged and Ollie turned just in time to see Max hold the door open for Dylan, then come in after him. She smiled at him and he smiled back, but there was wariness there, too. She hadn’t forgotten their earlier conversation – how could she? It hung between them, like a Halloween mist.
‘Good evening, everyone,’ she said, clapping her hands. ‘Happy Halloween! Welcome to the first Port Karadow ghost walk. Tonight isn’t only special because of the date, but because we are in one of the country’s – if not the world’s – most haunted places. Cornwall has so much history, so many mysteries nestled along its coastline, and deep in its forests, its buildings and ruins. Have you ever,’ she went on, dropping her voice, ‘felt a chill on the back of your neck when there was no wind? Sensed eyes burning into you when you were convinced nobody was there?’ She took a step towards her group. ‘Heard footsteps or whispers when you knew you were alone?’ She paused, waiting for the nervous titters to die down. ‘You’ll need to be on high alert for all those things tonight, because I am about to take you to some of Port Karadow’s spookiest places. I can see some of you are prepared.’ She gestured to a young family, the parents smiling behind two children dressed as ghostbusters, their jumpsuits with the famous symbol sewn onto the breast pockets. ‘The rest of you? You’ll just have to take your chances.’
Ollie pulled her coat tighter around her, clutched the book of legends to her chest, and swept through the small crowd to the front door. She thought she heard a familiar voice whisper ‘Terrifying,’ as she passed, and made a mental note to tease Max afterwards. The fact that he’d brought Dylan with him, when Becky said she couldn’t get a babysitter, proved that they did have a bond, and that Becky trusted him implicitly.
Outside, darkness was beginning to fall, and as she led her group to St Ethel’s church – close by, and with a dramatic story that Ollie knew well by now – they passed pumpkin lanterns on stoops, the flickering tea lights visible through eye sockets; orange and black bunting; a string of ghost-shaped lights in a window.
The air had that tantalising, smoky tang that was so reminiscent of autumn: of piles of leaves and conkers, cardboard cups full of milky hot chocolate, the sizzle of roasting hazelnuts, the sticky sweetness of toffee apples. The sun was a pale streak along the surface of the sea, crowded by the gathering clouds, its light eerily orange, as if it wanted to match the day’s decorations. It was, Ollie decided, one of the most stunning things she had ever seen.
Her group were enthralled by the ghostly battle at St Ethel’s church, the young ghostbusters running round the walls, fake Proton Pistols held high, and Ollie went over the top with her dramatic pauses, delighted when the eyes of her guests widened with fear and anticipation. It was fun, telling spooky tales, and she understood why Liam had been so keen to tell her about Kerensa’s handprint, rather than let her read it from the book.
‘Onwards,’ she said, after she’d told the group everything she knew about the phantom battle, with some embellished details of her own. ‘If you’re keen, you can come back here on the night of December the first, and experience the ghosts for yourselves.’
‘Not a bloody chance,’ said a short, robust man who Ollie had mentally assigned as the bouncer of a local nightclub. Perhaps she had misjudged him.
As she slipped through the crowd to reach the front, their next destination the town’s picturesque harbour, she passed Max and Dylan.
‘Having fun yet?’ she asked in a low voice.
‘S’all right,’ Dylan said, shrugging.
She caught Max’s eye and they exchanged a grin. It seemed she would have to work harder.
She had been worried that the harbour would be busy with people eating fish and chips, enjoying the light display created by the bobbing fishing boats, their cabins softly aglow, but as she walked onto the pathway in front of the water, she could see they were the only ones there. Perfect.
