Page 59 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘When were you thinking?’ Becky asked.
‘I was hoping you’d help with that,’ Ollie admitted. ‘I don’t know what time of day would work best. Right after school, early evening, or should we limit these things to the weekends? It has to work for the parents and carers, too.’
‘After school is great, as long as they can get from school to here.’
‘Something as simple as story time would be popular, too,’ Thea added. ‘Especially with the pre-school kids. And parents love it, because it gives them a bit of a breather. A coffee and a browse round the bookshop while we’re in charge of their toddlers.’
Ollie felt the first flutterings of possibility. ‘I don’t want to turn this place into something it’s not, but we have the resources – refreshments, a customer toilet – to run more regular events for the community. We’re a bookshop first, of course, but … anyway. It’s just an idea.’ She sipped her latte – coffee rather than chai tea – and decided it was good, but not as good as the drinks at Sea Brew. Though those couldn’t be beaten, because they came with added Max.
Her insides warmed at the memory of their make-out session, how hot it had been, but also how natural, considering they hadn’t known each other that long. It couldhave easily led to more, but she was determined to do things the right way. She hadn’t managed to stay away from him – she’d already let herself off for that: staying away from Max was a lost cause – but she could take things slowly, get to know him better before hopping into bed with him.
She thought Max must feel the same, because after they’d finally come up for air, they’d talked more about Ollie’s ideas, planned their next legend hunt, and then he’d left, saying he didn’t want to abandon Oxo completely.
She’d floated her way through her typing session with Liam, though her ability to multitask meant that he hadn’t realised she wasn’t entirely present, and since then she’d been counting down the hours until she could see Max again.
‘I think it’s a wonderful idea,’ Thea said now. ‘We don’t want to overstretch ourselves – we’ve got a lot of preparation to do for our star author launch – but two children’s sessions would be doable. Becky, are you happy to help Ollie with those?’
Ollie realised she was chewing her lip. This was the most nervous she’d been since the day of her interview, when her whole future hung in the balance.
‘I guess I could,’ Becky said. ‘There’s a lot to consider.’
‘I was hoping you could help me with the details,’ Ollie replied. ‘I don’t want to get things wrong right at the start – it’s hard to claw your way back when you do that, and I care about this place, about its reputation.’ Her words were as subtle as a sledgehammer, but she hoped Becky would see that she was committed to being better, less narrow-minded.
‘Sounds good,’ Becky said. She had her arms folded tightly, and wouldn’t hold Ollie’s gaze for long, but Ollie still tookit as a win. She wanted to be friends with these people; to feel like this new life was really hers, rather than the experiment it sometimes felt like. She wanted to belong in Port Karadow, and it seemed as if, finally, she might be heading along the right path.
Later, in Liam’s sumptuous study, with the fire crackling and a glass of port on the desk beside her, Ollie turned to the next chapter of his life history.
As she typed up stories about his youth, about him growing up on the farm, the opportunities and the loneliness he’d experienced, her thoughts returned to A New Chapter. What other crafts could they do in the upstairs space? It wasn’t huge, after all, and wouldn’t take a whole classroom’s worth of children.
‘You’re like one of those newfangled robots they were talking about on the news,’ Liam said. He was on the sofa, idly turning the pages of a book. Ollie had got used to this: sometimes they talked about the stories in Liam’s manuscript, or Ollie’s job, or the legends she was discovering, and sometimes there was an easy silence, broken only by the sounds of typing and the dancing flames.
Ollie looked up from the screen. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Your typing seems automatic, your eyes are moving back and forth as if you’re computing a hundred things a minute, and your shoulders are up around your ears. Are you OK, love?’
‘Of course.’
‘Not too much burning the candle at both ends, going to work and coming here, walking that pooch of yours in between? Not too much legend-hunting?’
‘I love those legends,’ she admitted. ‘And – God, that Lost Fisherman one – I told you, didn’t I, that we almost saw him on my ghost walk? I planned it a bit too well and nearly lost all my customers before they had a chance to stock up on Stephen King novels.’
Liam rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Perhaps you did see him.’
Ollie frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What are ghosts, if not things that seem out of place, that make no sense within the context? If you hadn’t waited until that fisherman’s rowing boat had been spotlighted, then you could have said that you’d seen him. Who’s to say that the legend didn’t originate from people in exactly the position you were in?’
Ollie sat back in the leather chair. ‘Huh.’
‘We all assign meaning to things that have none: that’s human nature. And that’s partly, surely, what legends are.’
‘You’re wise beyond your years.’
Liam laughed. ‘Wiser than I should be at eighty-one?’
Ollie kneaded her shoulder, trying to massage away the ache. ‘I was frantic when I saw it. Not because I was scared, necessarily, but because of how my guests were reacting, and—’
‘And if you hadn’t had the patience to debunk it, they would have held on to their terror and run away from your walk, which would have been seen as a disaster because it didn’t generate any book sales, and instead generated unkind gossip about your so called “friendly ghost walks”.Thenyou would have been able to say: “I encountered the Lost Fisherman, and look how my luck changed for the worse, right afterwards.” Meaning, see? It’s everywhere.’
