Page 1 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
Chapter One
Ollie Spencer reached blindly for her mug of tea. She grabbed it and took a long swallow, barely noticing that it was still too hot to drink. Her eyes were locked on her phone, on the email that had just arrived, announcing itself with its usual, gentle ping.
From behind her, where she was sprawled on the sofa in their minuscule living room, her best friend Melissa said, ‘What is it? You’ve gone as white as the paintwork’s supposed to be.’
Ollie cleared her throat and turned. That electronic ping – such a dainty noise, one she heard tens of times a day, had a big impact this time. It was a blaring klaxon, a brass band marching past the window, playing her favourite tune. As the words began to sink in, she felt a smile take over.
‘It’s here.’ She held out her phone, even though Melissa wouldn’t be able to read it from where she was. ‘They’ve paid out.’
Melissa pushed herself to sitting, her long dark hair falling over her shoulder. ‘Seriously? It’s actually arrived?’
Ollie sat next to her, the sofa springs protesting beneath the worn cushion. ‘It’s real. It’s a real, genuine thing that has happened – to me.’ She sounded – felt – awestruck. ‘Fifteen thousand pounds.’
‘Hey.’ Melissa squeezed her arm. Her hand was almost unbearably hot, in the middle of August in this tiny flat that never seemed to have any air, even when they opened all the windows. ‘If you’re feeling guilty, then stop. You’reowedthis. You couldn’t work for months, and since then …’ She let her words trail away, because they both knew what the end of that sentence was.
‘I don’t feel guilty.’ Ollie rubbed her shoulder, which still ached sometimes, as if the bones were grinding together. Her doctor had told her that in the autumn and winter, when it was cold and damp, was when she would feel it the most. ‘I know it’s right. I just—’ She waggled her phone. ‘It’s somuch money.’
‘Enough to do what we talked about, and then some,’ Melissa said.
Ollie rested an arm along the back of the sofa, one leg dangling over the edge, settling in for a serious discussion.
‘I’m moving to Cornwall,’ she said. She’d meant it to come out as a question, one dripping with cynicism and scepticism, because wasn’t it the most ridiculous idea? But for the last few weeks, it was all Ollie had thought about: going to the picturesque Cornish town where Melissa’s granddad lived, with its curved harbour, cobbled streets and lush green countryside, and breathtaking views over the rugged coastline. It was a world away from the citystreets she was used to. Right now, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else with the money.
The accident had been a scene stolen straight from one of those awful, predatory injury claim adverts. She’d been hurrying along a damp pavement, takeaway coffee in hand, used to the bustle of London mornings: everyone in their own bubble, focused, laser-like, on their destinations. The office block ahead had been covered in scaffolding for weeks, adding a temporary tunnel to her journey. No big deal. She had barely registered the shout, had thought, at the second of impact, that someone had slammed into her from behind. But then she’d found herself sprawled on her back on the pavement, pain radiating out from her shoulder, its intensity quickly consuming her consciousness, while concerned faces loomed over her.
A piece of metal had fallen from one floor up, had landed on her shoulder and fractured it. She had tried her hardest not to think about what would have happened if it had hit her head. The long recovery had meant months away from her job at Grady Books, and since then, she hadn’t managed to get back into her stride. Her boss, Ruth – not the most sympathetic of women to begin with – had taken her injury and subsequent absence as some sort of affront, and had handed over Ollie’s responsibilities: the events she loved to organise, the social media – everything that drew books and customers closer together – to her replacement, Andie.
Ollie wasn’t the type to give up easily. She had tried to charm and persuade her way back into Ruth’s good books, but her boss had become increasingly impatient. Andie was the new golden girl, and while Ollie was still hanging onby her fingernails, this insurance payout would allow her to let go.
She’d had legitimate reasons for claiming it. Her sick pay at the bookshop was only statutory, and Ollie couldn’t survive in London for very long on that. Also, the doctor who had overseen her recovery had told her she might always have some stiffness in her left shoulder. She hadn’t been able to brush the accident under the carpet, even though she’d wanted to more times than she could count.
‘You’re moving to Cornwall,’ Melissa repeated her words, her tone defiant. ‘Every single star in the universe has aligned. You want to get out of London as much as I do, and you won’t get a chance like this again. If you stay here, that money will be gone in months, on rent and coffees and nights out. Instead,’ she leaned forward, pressing her point home, ‘you take it, you move to Port Karadow, and you help my granddad with his book.’
‘While you and Tiago build a new life in sunny Portugal?’
Melissa shrugged, not looking remotely guilty. ‘I love him. This ismyfresh start, and now you have one, too. You remember how gorgeous Port Karadow is. It’s got that slower pace, that living-by-the-seaside vibe you can’t get enough of whenever you’ve visited with me; you can help my granddad get his life story typed up’ – she gave a tiny, affectionate eye-roll – ‘and the last time I spoke to him, he told me that there’s a new bookshop opening up in the Old Post House in town. An independent bookshop, Ollie. Looking for staff! For someone to run events, be the link between the shop and the community.’
Ollie’s pulse picked up. It had sounded idyllic before, but with a new bookshop she could apply to work in too? Werethe starsreallyaligning? Giving her a chance to press the reset button?
She could move out of London, move away from the tiny flat that she shared with Melissa, but which was soon going to be entirely hers, including the full monthly rent payment. Move away from the job she used to thrive in but had come to hate since all the creative aspects had been given to someone else, leaving her with orders and accounts, back office functions she couldn’t get inspired about. And move far away from the man she had loved but who, she had discovered in recent months, wasn’t the kind-hearted boyfriend she had believed him to be, resulting in a messy, painful break-up only a few weeks ago.
‘I know that look,’ Melissa said. ‘Don’t think about Guy. It wasn’t you, Ols.’
She shrugged, wanting to gloss over it. ‘I was a pain in the bum while I was recovering.’
‘You were bored, in agony a lot of the time, unable to work. He should have looked after you, been compassionate, not got uptight and short-tempered. I’m glad he did, though, otherwise you wouldn’t have seen that side of him until it was too late. Until you were tied together.’ She waggled her ring finger. ‘This accident, as horrible as it was, is opening doors for you: letting fresh air blast through and clearing out the cobwebs. Make the bloody most of it, I say.’
Ollie nodded. ‘You’re right. Guy should have been better about it. He should have been a better person, full stop. It’s good that I found out. Great, really, that things have worked out the way they have.’ She straightened her spine, tucked a strand of long, cherry-red hair behind her ear. ‘It’s timeto move on,’ she added, the slow smile curving her lips like a satisfied cat.
This was an opportunity to have all the things that – cooped up in the flat during the long convalescence, her shoulder at first a fiery, all-consuming pain, then a dull, agonising ache – she had decided she wanted. The work–life balance; the green space and seaside; the calm.
‘You could take Henry Tilney,’ Melissa said, and Ollie looked up, surprised. The chocolate Labrador puppy, named after Ollie’s favourite Jane Austen hero, was six months old now. Their flat was, arguably, too small for such a boisterous dog, but Melissa had worked from home – as a self-employed life coach – and had been able to give him all the attention he needed and take him for walks, building up the distance and his stamina as he grew.
‘You don’t want him with you in Portugal?’ He was lying on the rug by their feet, and Ollie reached her toe out to stroke his silky fur.
‘It’s complicated, taking a dog out there,’ Melissa said with a sigh. ‘And hot, as well. I think he’ll be happier in Cornwall, with you.’
Ollie rubbed her neck. ‘I’ll be out all day, if the bookshop job works out – wherever I end up working.’
