Page 92 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
She stood against the wall and watched the nurse busy herself around her patient, the machinery beeping occasionally as she marked things down on his chart. When she’d finished, she clipped the chart back on the end of the bed.
‘You’re remarkably well, Max,’ she said, ‘considering where you were thirty-six hours ago. Doctor Riordan will come and assess you later this morning, and I’m confident he’ll move up your discharge.’
Max nodded, and Ollie wondered if Gillian had noticed the relief flash across his face. She thought that, even though he was recovering well physically, the mental impact of something like this must be huge. But Ollie would look after him, in any way he needed: she would do anything for him.
‘Now then,’ Gillian said, turning to her. ‘What’s this entertaining plan all about?’
Ollie pushed herself away from the wall. ‘It’s about A New Chapter, the independent bookshop in Port Karadow. I’m going to rescue their Christmas event – that I, admittedly, am in charge of – and unearth a local legend that has stayed buried for far, far too long.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ANew Chapter looked like a magical fairy grotto, a hidden, twinkly den, with only the lights at the back of the bookshop on, the Christmas decorations sparkling, and darkness outside.
‘He’s definitely coming, isn’t he?’ Becky spoke in a loud whisper, even though they knew Liam wasn’t here yet because the bell hadn’t dinged.
‘I don’t think he’d ignore the message I sent him, and I got the “read” notification almost immediately, so I think he’s keeping his antique mobile with him.’ Ollie pulled down the skirt of her dress. It was incredibly short, but made out of a thick, velvety fabric, so she felt both too hot and entirely exposed.
‘Won’t he be mad that you used Max’s situation to lure him here?’ Thea asked, from her position behind the counter. The till screen’s blueish glow lit up her face, and she looked striking, her pretty features enhanced.
‘I didn’t mention Max,’ Ollie said. ‘I just asked him to meet me here, and told him it was urgent.’
‘But he’ll probably think the urgency has something to do with Max.’
Ollie shook her head. ‘I called him when I left the hospital, told him Max was doing really well, and passed on his and his parents’ thanks for calling the ambulance, and for being at the hospital on Saturday night. There’s no way I’d make Liam – or anyone – believe there was a problem. I don’t ever want to joke about Max’s health.’
There was a moment’s quiet, then Thea said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested—’
‘Oh no, it’s fine,’ Ollie cut in, from her place at the top of the stairs. ‘I would use almost anything to my advantage, but Max … God. It scared me so much.’ She shook her head. She didn’t want to lower the mood. ‘But he’s recovering well, and he and Gillian, his nurse, totally approve of this plan – and that wasbeforethey saw the outfit.’ She looked at Becky, who was on the top floor, leaning over the railings and holding a paper bag, inside which was a crucial element of what they were about to do.
Becky grinned. ‘It was the only Christmassy thing I could come up with at such short notice, and it’s ancient.’
‘It’s also ridiculous,’ Ollie said. ‘But hopefully it will work in our favour.’
She pulled at the fabric which was too tight across her shoulders, then dipped down to a stupidly low neckline trimmed with white fur. It was a sexy Mrs Santa Claus dress, and when Becky had brought it to the bookshop that evening – her children were being looked after by Lola,their neighbour – Ollie had laughed for five minutes straight.
‘I’ll take a photo of you afterwards, and you can send it to Max,’ Becky said.
Ollie looked down at herself. ‘He might not be ready for this,’ she murmured, thinking of the check-ups he would be having over the next few months, to make sure his heart hadn’t suffered any long-term damage. She would be with him for every one of those, if she could.
The door pinged, and Ollie watched as a tall, slender shadow stepped through it.
‘Hello? Ollie?’ Liam’s voice was deep and sonorous. It wasperfectfor telling spooky stories.
‘Hello, Liam,’ Thea said cheerfully. ‘So lovely to have you with us.’
‘For what?’ he asked. ‘What is this?’
‘And …go!’Becky whispered, as if she was directing a play, which, Ollie supposed, she was. Sort of.
Ollie opened the book, her finger already on the right page, and, moving down a step, so she was directly under the spotlight in the ceiling, began speaking.
‘Megan Roskilly knew that taking her first posting after graduating from the Police Academy in the sleepy Cornish village would be an experience, but she hadn’t expected this.’She projected her voice, adopted a Cornish accent that she knew, without a doubt, was terrible, and took another step down as she continued to read:
‘As she stared at the unusual formation in the rock, her short, blonde hair dancing in the chill breeze of an early April morning, she had a sudden longing for the grimy streets, the harsh predictability, of London. “What is it again?” she asked,because when Mr Merrick, the old farmer who had called the station – the phone startlingly loud when all she’d had for company the last several hours had been the ticking of the clock – had explained it a moment ago, she hadn’t quite understood.
‘“Kerensa’s handprint,” he said, which told her nothing. And then, “A young girl who died here, centuries ago, left ’er mark behind.” Megan nodded, hoping her superiors were on their way, because it wasn’t the girl, Kerensa, or her handprint she was concerned about right now: it was the body beside it, the young woman who’d died here mere hours, not centuries, ago.’
Ollie stopped and raised her head. Liam was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his arms folded over his chest, staring up at her. She tugged on the hem of her dress.
