Page 24 of Kate and Clara's Curious Cornish Craft Shop
‘And the shop owner too by the sounds of it!’
Anita smiles demurely. ‘We only want what’s best for you, my dear. Besides, it might be pleasant for you to court a nice young man.’
I sigh. ‘Firstly, I have no intention ofcourtinganyone, Anita. And secondly, I’d hardly call Jacka nice young man.A difficult and often rude middle-aged man, perhaps?’
Anita just smiles again. ‘If you say so, dear. If you say so.’
I deliberately walk Barney in the opposite direction to Jack’s shop as I exit through my own shop door, even though I did have every intention of going to see him this morning.
It wasn’t Jack’s company I particularly sought. However, I did want to talk to him some more about what he had asked me last night before we were interrupted.
Because it had happened again.
When I’d been unlocking the shop this morning I’d glanced briefly into the window, as I always did, to check everything was all right and that nothing had fallen or slipped from our display overnight.
Nothing had been disturbed, but therewasan addition to the window – another embroidered picture sitting under the foot of the sewing machine, like someone had just finished stitching it. This time it depicted a huge turquoise wave splashing over some grey-blue rocks. Again, it was exquisite work, but who had created it and how had it got in my shop window?
I hadn’t said anything to Anita when she’d come in. I’d questioned her fairly intensively when the first picture had appeared, and it was clear she, like Sebastian, knew nothing about it, but now I had a feeling that Jack might.
After Barney has had a good run around I tether him to his lead and walk back in the direction of the high street and the art shop.
I’m pleased to see quite a few people already browsing inside as I stare though the window hoping to spot Jack. I spy him talking to someone very intently about some pastel sticks. As if he senses me staring he turns to the window and raises his hand beckoning me to come in.
I point to Barney.
Jack nods and gestures for me to give him a minute.
While Barney and I wait outside I take part in one of my favourite pastimes – people-watching.
It’s mid-morning and the majority of holiday-makers are just starting to appear from their holiday lets and the few hotel rooms that St Felix has to offer.
They’re an odd mix: some have dressed appropriately for today’s weather – slightly misty and damp with the promise of some light showers later – so a good few pairs of sturdy walking boots pass our way with sensible trousers and pack-a-macs at the ready, and some either haven’t consulted any sort of forecast or they’ve stubbornly decided they’re on holiday and are going to wear shorts, a T-shirt and flip flops, and consequences be damned!
I smile as I watch them amble by. I’d found it odd when I’d first moved here to be surrounded every day by people on holiday; they were rarely in a rush to go anywhere and it irritated me that they were always in my way, walking at what I felt was an incredibly slow pace. I’d spent a lot of my life living in big cities where people were always in a rush to get everywhere, but after I’d been in St Felix a few weeks I realised there was no point fighting against holiday-makers. It was like battling against the incoming tide – I was never going to win – so I’d allowed the much slower and more leisurely pace of life here by the sea to wash over me, and once I had I’d immediately noticed that I’d begun to feel much calmer and more relaxed too.
A couple of people exit from Jack’s shop, and Jack follows them into the doorway.
‘Hey, how are you?’ he says. ‘Do you want to come in?’
‘What about Barney?’ I ask. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Not at all. He’s used to your shop, isn’t he? He’s not going to pee all over my easels?’
‘I hope not!’
Jack reverses back in his chair and we follow him inside.
‘I’ve got a dog bowl here that I was going to put outside the shop,’ Jack says, reaching down behind the till, ‘but I’ve been so busy this morning I haven’t had a chance to fill it yet. Would you mind? Then Barney can have a drink.’
I’m touched he’s thought not only of Barney but of all the other dogs that pass through the streets of St Felix, thirsty from long walks and playing in salty sea water.
‘Sure,’ I say, taking the bowl. ‘Where should I … ?’
‘There’s a small basin by the loo at the back of the shop, but you’d be best filling it upstairs from the kitchen tap – it’ll be cleaner water up there.’
‘Okay, I’ll be right back. Be a good boy, Barney!’
Barney is already sniffing around Jack to see if he has any treats for him.
