Page 71 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
Ollie jumped onto the stage between them, and the murmuring dissolved into silence.
‘Good evening,’ she said, ‘and welcome – or welcomeback– to A New Chapter. Thank you for joining us on this crisp, pre-Christmas evening for the first round …’ she paused, drawing out the moment, ‘… of Book Wars! On my left we have Maisie, who will be extolling the virtues ofThe Snowmanby Jo Nesbo, a crime thriller about missing women and girls, and on my right we have Finn.’ Finn gave a little bow, and a few people chuckled. ‘Hewill be trying to get you on side with his choice ofThe Snowmanby Raymond Briggs, which features, you’ll be unsurprised to hear, absolutelynomissing women and girls, but actually, when you think about it, a missing boy.’ This time, the laughter was louder and more widespread.
‘Two more different books you couldn’t hope to find, and I am honestlybuzzingfor this competition! Howcan you compare the two? How will you, our audience, decide between them? Because we’re putting ourselves in your hands tonight: you will be the ones to cast your vote, and choose who makes it through to the next round. Earlier, we got Finn and Maisie to do a Rock, Paper, Scissors best of three, because we are the epitome of sophistication here at A New Chapter, and Finn is going first. Finn?’ She gestured to him. ‘Tell us why we need to vote for your chosen book.’
With that, Ollie hopped off the platform, allowing Finn to take centre stage, and went to stand at the side of the room.
Finn rubbed his hands together and offered his audience a wide smile, his blond curls glinting beneath the spotlights.
‘Good evening, Port Karadowans,’ he said. ‘I’m going to start by setting the scene for you. Imagine, if you will, finally making it home after this event, hurrying up the stairs toyour sleepy children, who you left with the incredibly reliable babysitter, hoping it’s not too late to read them a bedtime story. Their eyelids are flickering, you turn to the picture book on the nightstand, finding the place where you left off last time. You flick through the pages to the part where the boy looks out of the window at the snowman he created, full of wonder that it’s still standing in the dark, wintry night, and then his eyes fall on … a set of bloody footprints.’
A couple of people gasped, and Ollie could see that everyone was hanging on his words. His voice was loud and clear, showing no sign of nerves. She had guessed, the moment he said he wanted to take part in her Book Wars competition, that he’d be brilliant.
‘Your precious time with your child,’ Finn went on, sadness edging into his tone, ‘gone. Because someone took something as innocent, as wholesome, as a winter snowman, and turned it into a story about death. Is that really what you want?’
Ollie could see Meredith staring at her boyfriend open-mouthed, and Dylan, looking positively gleeful at being there, turned to grin up at his mum. Becky smiled at him and put her hand on his shoulder. Maisie was watching Finn closely, her steely gaze suggesting that, while Finn had started well, shocking the crowd and making them laugh, she had something good to follow with. Ollie couldn’t wait to find out what it was.
Thea was standing against the back wall, her arms folded. She looked relaxed, as if she was enjoying Finn’s pitch, but Ollie knew she would be watching carefully, assessing, deciding whether this event was right for her bookshop. Next to Thea was Ben, and next to Ben was Max. WhenOllie’s eyes drifted to him, as they so often did, she saw he was already looking at her.
He mouthed something that it took her a moment to process, her whole body tingling with pleasure when she did:You’re brilliant.
It was almost as good as if he’d mouthed those three little words, the ones that, despite the newness of their relationship, she was finding it hard not to say when they were alone together. She settled for mouthing back,You are, too,then returned her focus to the stage, where Finn was transforming a beloved children’s book into a bloodthirsty nightmare to prove that crime and misery weren’t what you needed at Christmas. Ollie’s heart was so full of hope and happiness that, even though she loved a gory thriller, right now she had to agree with Meredith’s boyfriend.
Afterwards, when the events space was beginning to empty, customers clutching copies of their preferredSnowmanbook – and in some cases, both – Ollie decided that this event, at least, could not have gone any better. No young children with scissors and not enough parental help, no little fires anywhere – let alone everywhere – no real-life ghosts threatening to send their customers away. It had been funny and engaging, and people were buying so many books. So, so many books.
‘This was a great idea,’ Becky said, as they both watched a young woman walk past holding a copy of Jo Nesbo’sThe Snowman,plus the new Imran Mahmood thriller and the Lindsey Kelk hardback that had arrived just in time for Christmas, and which Ollie planned to read over the holidays.
‘It’s gone well, hasn’t it?’ she said. ‘I’m so relieved.’ She hadn’t meant to sound so emotional, but she hadn’t realised quite how much she’d been hoping for Becky’s approval after all that had gone before. ‘And Finn was a gracious loser, too.’
‘Maisie was definitely better,’ Becky said, holding her hands up to Dylan, indicating that he had ten minutes to browse, ‘and you never know, maybe your Sophia Forsythe-Hartley event will go well, too.’
Ollie’s heart pounded. ‘That’s the plan!’
Becky shrugged. ‘I read the first book in her Cornish series. It’s really good.’
Ollie cupped her hand behind her ear. ‘Say it a little louder for the people at the back.’
Becky laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘It was good, OK? And for the record, I don’t have anything against author events, I just don’t think they’re the be-all and end-all.’
‘I agree,’ Ollie said. ‘The last bookshop I worked in was focused on the big names, and I suppose that’s where I saw the success – the packed shop and café. But this – Book Wars, the crafting events, are almost more satisfying, and they’re still selling a lot of books.’
Becky nodded. She opened her mouth, then paused.
Ollie raised her eyebrows. ‘Go on.’
‘I was thinking,’ Becky said, ‘we could plan some more crafting events in the new year. If you wanted to?’
It took all Ollie’s self-restraint not to jump up and down. Instead, she nodded sagely, and said, ‘I was thinking jewellery making, actually. There must be somewhere that will let us hire some cute little flame throwers. That kind of thing always goes well here, don’t you think?’
Becky folded her arms and let out an exasperated sigh. Ollie grinned, and the other woman struggled to stop a smile slipping onto her face.
As Ollie went to help Thea and Andrea behind the till, she wondered if, finally, she was starting to get things right.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Classical Christmas music was playing in the background while Ollie typed up Liam’s manuscript on Friday evening. Liam was in his usual place on the sofa, and Henry had been upgraded to lap dog – allowed to lie along the cushions, his head on Liam’s knee. Marion was dusting the shelves because, she’d said, she’d come in earlier, knocked a book off with her elbow and almost choked to death on the resulting cloud of dust.
The fire was an orange glow in the grate, and the decorations that Liam had finally put up – green and silver foil garlands, the type that unfolded like a slinky – twisted slowly in the heat. Ollie had a cup of hot chocolate next to her laptop, its last marshmallows dissolving into sugary blobs. It felt companionable, as if they were an odd family, and didn’t need to fill the silence. But Marion, Ollie knew, didn’t hold silences for long.
