‘What can I get you, love?’ she asks. ‘It’s unusual to see you in here … especially this early.’
‘Just an orange juice with ice please, Rita. Yes, I’m meeting someone.’
‘Ooh!’ Rita exclaims, as she reaches for a bottle under the bar. ‘How exciting!’
‘No, it’s not like that. It’s business.’
‘Oh,’ she says, not hiding her disappointment as she scoops ice into a glass and then pours my juice over the top. ‘How very dull. I hoped it would be something much more thrilling, I love a bit of romance, I do.’
‘Do you know anything about the shop that’s opening where the old butcher’s used to be?’ I ask, purposefully dodging her comment as I pass her a five-pound note. Rita knows everything and everyone in St Felix, so she was bound to know something about this.
‘It’s going to be an art shop, isn’t it?’ she says as she reaches into the till for my change. ‘The chap who’s opening it is outside right now having a drink if you want to speak to him. Ah … isthatyour business meeting?’
‘It is indeed,’ I say, taking the few coins Rita presses into my hand.
‘Nice chap. I can’t say I’d want to be running a shop in his position though.’
‘How do you mean?’ Suddenly, a large group enters the pub and Rita is forced to end our chat in favour of her own business interests.
The sun is so low in the sky as I head outside to the table with my drink that I have to shield my eyes from its glare. I take a seat opposite the man again.
I reach in my bag for my sunglasses.
‘That’s better,’ I say. ‘I couldn’t really see properly before – the sunlight is so bright here on the harbour in the evenings.’
My companion smiles. ‘It’s going to be a stunning sunset. Please tell me the weather is like this all the time.’
‘I wish. The only way to describe the St Felix weather ischangeable– we have our own microclimate. It can be bucketing down a few miles up the coast yet sunny here, and vice versa.’
‘I thought as much. Oh well, we’ll need to appreciate this glorious evening all the more then. You have to live for the moment, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I suppose you do. I haven’t introduced myself properly yet – I’m Kate.’
‘Jack,’ the man says, holding out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Kate. Now, I hate to talk business, but you seemed pretty concerned about something earlier when you were outside my shop. What is it I can do for you?’
‘I was just wondering what sort of shop you’re going to be opening,’ I say, taking a sip of my orange juice whilst trying to remain casual. ‘I heard it’s to be an art shop?’
‘That’s right, yes.’
‘And will youonlybe selling art equipment?’
‘Mostly, yes. I noticed there was a gap in the market here, and considering how many people come here to paint every year it seems a waste not to plug that gap, so to speak.’
‘Wesell art equipment in my shop,’ I tell him, still keeping my tone light. ‘We do quite well with it. You’d be surprised how many people run out of shades of blue when they’re painting their seascapes.’
‘Exactly my point!’ Jack says, ‘This place is crying out for a decent art supplier. Which shop are you again?’
My teeth grind together as my jaw tightens. Did he not realise he was being rude?Decentart shop indeed!
‘I own Kate’s Cornish Crafts on Harbour Street,’ I say purposefully.
‘Oh yes, I think I’ve seen it. You sell homemade bits and bobs, don’t you – tea cosies, bags, that kind of thing.’
‘They’re a bit more than bits and bobs. I personally design and make all of the items – well, I have a little bit of help from some very talented ladies in the town – so our stock is all handmade and one of a kind. I do all the machine embroidery myself.’
Jack looks at me with an amused expression. ‘Steady! I wasn’t having a go. That sounds very cool. And you do quite well with it?’
‘Very well as a matter of fact.’
