Page 96 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘Sounds good,’ Becky said.
‘Perfect,’ Ollie agreed.
She opened Instagram and, smiling to herself, switched from her personal account to the bookshop’s. The last few minutes had felt close to the early days of her and Melissa’s friendship, when they’d been giddy and inseparable, sharing the most personal details of their lives. Was it really possible that, after all these weeks where she’d still felt slightly on the outside – down, in part, to her own attitude – one of her new, genuine friends might actually turn out to be Becky? Wonders, she thought, would never cease. Except that it was nearly Christmas, and so even the most unlikely things were possible: that’s what she was counting on, to make project Secret Bryan a success.
Chapter Forty
As Ollie drove through Port Karadow in the darkness, ‘It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas’ playing on the radio and the festive lights frosting the town, she realised that, for the first time in a long while, her heart felt full.
She still had no firm plans for Christmas Day – the upheaval of the last few days had left little room for any organising – and she knew she might end up entertaining herself and Henry, but that suddenly seemed unimportant. It was only one day, and she was finally building a real life here, with real relationships that would last into the future.
She had been working furiously with Thea and Becky to get everything ready for the event tomorrow night. Most of the ticket holders had wanted to keep their tickets, thrilled at the thought of meeting Bryan Mailer, and some were coming simply because it was on pageant day and they wanted to be a part of it.
There was a lot to do, and Ollie had left the bookshop later than usual, then gone straight to the hospital. Max had seemed better, more cheerful and less pale, and she had stayed until Gillian told her that, unless she planned on bunking up with him all night, it was time to leave. When Ollie had told her she would love to stay all night, Gillian had laughed and shooed her out, saying they would all get in trouble if that happened. Max’s kiss, the strength of his embrace, had sent her on her way with less anxiety than when she’d arrived.
Now, she was taking a meandering route home that no satnav would ever advise, because she had deliveries to make. She had no idea if the occupants would be home, or if they’d welcome the intrusion.
The first house was the one she was most nervous about. It was a neat terrace to the south of town, not too far from the Happy Shack. She parked outside and admired the bushy wreath on the front door, with silver baubles nestled between the pine fronds, and the subtle snowflake lights shimmering above the windows.
Ollie took her first gift out of the boot of her car. She loved the meaning, the sentiment behind it, but it was undoubtedly unusual, and she was prepared to be met with blank faces or bafflement.
Becky answered the door wearing penguin pyjamas, her hair damp from a shower.
‘Ollie!’ She stared at her, then at the item she was holding.
‘Becky.’ Ollie smiled. ‘Happy Christmas, to you, Dylan, Meg and Billy. This is for all of you. Careful, it’s quite heavy.’
‘Have you been pilfering from the woods behind Foxglove Farm?’ Becky bent her knees and accepted the slender tree trunk.
‘Something like that. It’s a Yule log.’
‘It doesn’tlooklike chocolate,’ said a voice from behind Becky, and Ollie peered around her to see Dylan standing on the bottom stair. ‘If it is, then that is alotof chocolate.’
Becky put Ollie’s gift down and turned to him. ‘Bedtime, you.’
‘I heard the doorbell,’ he said. ‘Why have we got atree?’
‘It’s not made of chocolate,’ Ollie told him, ‘but there are peppermint creams in the bags tied to either end.’ Dylan’s eyes widened. ‘I don’t know if you have an open fire, but if not it could go in the garden, as a bug hotel or something.’ She rubbed her cheek. ‘Or I can take it back, if you don’t want it.’
‘We’ve got a fireplace,’ Becky said. ‘And thanks … I think?’
Ollie smiled. ‘Max told me about them – about Yule logs. When it’s burning, you’re supposed to stop doing any sort of work. You’re meant to rest, to celebrate the holiday season. And I wanted to say … if you ever need a babysitter – or a child-sitter,’ she amended, glancing at Dylan, ‘then I’d love to help out. But only if you want me to. And also, if you ever fancy coming to mine for a drink, a natter … then I would really like that.’ She laughed. ‘Usually I’m quite articulate. Basically, this is a Yule log and an olive branch rolled into one.’
Becky grinned. ‘That sounds great. Especially the drink and the natter. Let’s sort something out after Christmas. Are you ready for tomorrow?’
‘So ready,’ Ollie said. ‘The comments on our social media posts have been mainly understanding, only a few disgruntled ones, and there’s a lot of excitement about Bryan Mailer.He’s much more popular than he thinks he is, and I’m confident we’ll still get a good crowd.’
‘Did Liam really write a whole load of mystery books?’ Dylan asked.
Ollie nodded. ‘It surprised me, too.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Becky said, ‘I’ve only just told him. And he’s promised me, on pain of having to do all the washing up over the entire Christmas break, that he won’t tell a soul.’
Dylan mimed zipping his lips. ‘Did you make these?’ He pulled out a Christmas tree-shaped peppermint cream from one of the bags tied to the ends of the Yule log.
‘With help from Marion,’ Ollie said. ‘They’re for all of you.’
‘Billy and Meg are asleep,’ Dylan pointed out.
