Page 40 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘No, I mean whyOxo? How did you end up naming your pet afterstock cubes?’
‘It’s short, it trips off the tongue. It’s a step up from calling him Cat.’
‘I bet he’s thrilled.’
‘Honestly? I don’t think he’s that bothered.’
‘WellIthink—’
‘My lovelies! Care to step into our festive photo booth?’
They turned, distracted by the woman who had called out to them. She was standing inside her wooden stall wearing an elaborate elf hat. Her dangly star earrings brushed her shoulders.
‘No thanks!’ Ollie called.
‘Just five pounds for an instant print-out and digital copy of your Polaroid strip. You’ll have magical memories you can keep forever, and they’re perfect for those personalised Christmas cards.’
‘Oh, we’re not—’ she started.
‘That would be great,’ Max said, at the same time.
Ollie looked at him.
‘It’ll be fun,’ he said. ‘Come on.’
‘Max, no!’ She laughed.
‘Ollie, yes.’ He held out his hand. ‘What about Christmas giving you an excuse to be as silly as you want?’
‘I can’t believe you’re using that against me.’
‘Notagainstyou.Withyou.’
She stared at him, at his green eyes dancing with amusement and hope, his ungloved hand reaching out to her. Ollie took a breath. It felt like a leap; a decision that was about so much more than a strip of photographs. She took his hand.
‘Great,’ he said quietly.
‘Wonderful! Come in, my loves.’ The woman beckoned them inside, where most of the space was taken up by the type of photo booth common to post offices and railway stations. A red curtain with a stocking motif covered the entrance.
‘This is a single person booth,’ Ollie pointed out.
‘You can cosy up. Now, adorned or unadorned?’ The woman held up reindeer antlers and a Santa hat.
‘Your call,’ Max said.
Ollie swallowed. ‘Unadorned.’ When her eyes caught his, she wondered if she’d made the wrong decision: taking out the idiocy, distilling it down to something more serious.
‘You go in first,’ the woman said to Max, ‘and your gorgeous girl can follow.’
‘Right.’ Max cleared his throat and pulled back the curtain. He stared at the low stool, suddenly looking like a man on his way to the gallows.
‘Feeling particularly silly?’ Ollie asked him.
She watched his shoulders rise and fall in a breath, then he stepped inside the booth and sat down. He held his arms out to her, though she noticed that he couldn’t quite meet her gaze. She didn’t blame him.
She stepped forward, and had nowhere to go except down, onto his jean-clad thighs, her legs between his open ones. She sat slowly, wincing, and Max brought his arms around her waist. On his lap, she was slightly higher than him, and he spoke into her ear, his breath tickling her neck.
‘This was a really stupid idea, wasn’t it?’
