Page 35 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘Oh really?’ Sebastian says, with one eyebrow raised. ‘Now who might we know who has a name beginning with J …Hmm.’ He pretends to think. ‘Could it be the local art-shop owner, perhaps?’
‘Jack?’ Poppy asks, her eyes wide. ‘I didn’t know you two were an item!’
‘We’re not,’ I quickly retort. ‘They’re not from Jack.’
‘How do you know?’ Sebastian asks, looking at Poppy. ‘There must have been a card.’
Poppy glances at me, but I shake my head with the tiniest of movements while glaring fiercely at her.
‘Anonymous,’ she says quickly. ‘We get them sometimes.’
‘Even more curious,’ Sebastian says, looking at each of us, ‘when you said just now they were from someone with the initial J.’
I sigh. ‘Okay, there was a card,’ I say, pulling it from my pocket. ‘Here.’
Sebastian examines the card. ‘Anita said you and Jack argued the other night. Why can’t they be from him?’
I was beginning to regret telling anyone anything about Jack. They seemed to spend all their free time gossiping about me.
‘Argued about what?’ Poppy asks.
‘It’s nothing,’ I reply. ‘Really,’ I insist, when both of them open their mouths to ask more questions. ‘These flowers won’t be from Jack. I’ll just have to wait and see whether my mystery admirer gets in touch another way,’ I say to appease them. ‘Now, Sebastian, we’ve got customers to attend to. Thanks for dropping these by, Poppy.’
‘Sure,’ Poppy says, taking the hint. ‘I need to get back to my own shop anyway. Amber is going for a dress-fitting this afternoon. I can’t believe that she and Woody are finally getting married – so exciting! Anyway, let me know if you figure the mystery out!’
Poppy leaves, and Sebastian and I spend the rest of a busy afternoon serving customers, but all the time at the back of my mind is the niggling little question: Whohadsent me the flowers that now stand blossoming in a vase on the shop counter? If it is Jack then should I thank him for them? Or should I wait until he approaches me first?
And if it isn’t Jack, then who is it? And why are they apologising to me?
Thirteen
‘Barney!’ I yell, as I watch him disappear around some rocks jutting out over the sand while the tide is out. ‘Come back here at once!’
But Barney, usually so obedient, keeps going. I up my pace and hurry after him, jogging around the rocks.
‘Oh!’ I cry, startled by what I find. ‘It’s you.’
‘It is indeed me,’ Jack says, looking up at me while he pats Barney.
‘How—How are you?’ I ask, suddenly tongue-tied.
‘Good actually. I’m trying out my new set of wheels.’ He gestures to his wheelchair. ‘They’re made especially for sand. I’ve been waiting for them to arrive since I got here. Now I can travel across the beach at low tide like everyone else. I came down the slipway,’ he adds, ‘before you ask how I got over the soft sand.’
I look across to the slipway, which at high tide is fully covered with water, but now while the tide is out it’s the perfect ramp for a wheelchair to travel down on to the hard compact sand.
‘It’s a bit like running on sand,’ Jack explains. ‘It’s more difficult than on solid surfaces, so you work harder and gain more fitness as a result.’
‘Ah … I see,’ I reply, not really knowing what to say. I feel a bit awkward, to be honest, as the last time we’d spoken it hadn’t exactly been friendly. ‘So now you have four wheelchairs?’
If I could have grabbed the words back before they floated across towards Jack I would have. I’m sure he didn’t need reminding of that.
But Jack doesn’t seem in the least bothered by my comment. ‘I suppose I do. They all have their own purpose though.’
‘You sound like me and bags,’ I say, trying to recover. ‘You can never have too many. Some women, it’s shoes. But me, its bags.’
‘Right,’ Jack says, nodding.
‘I mean, I’m not saying bags are like wheelchairs, obviously they’re much more important. Wheelchairs, I mean, not bags.’
