Page 64 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘You could bring Max too? I know you and he have become quite friendly.’
Ollie thanked her lucky stars that when her cheeks heated, her skin colour didn’t change much, otherwise she would be a Belisha beacon right now, and someone might position her on the harbour wall to stop boats from crashing into it.
‘I’ll ask him,’ she said, aiming for casual. ‘I don’t know if he’ll be free, but I’d love to join you.’
‘Fab! I’ll let the others know. We’re going to the Sea Shanty, one of the pubs in town. It’s impossible to get a table at the Happy Shack in December.’
‘Not sure I’d be up for bumping into Marcus Belrose on a night out anyway,’ Ollie said, her smile slipping. She didn’t need any more reminders of her recent failures. ‘Pub grub and a few drinks sounds perfect.’
‘Excellent. We’d better get back to the gluing, do you think?’
They returned to the throng, helping small hands make Christmas paper chains, while Port Karadow twinkled in all its December glory outside the windows.
An hour later, the children who had been so frantically productive, little fingers covered in glue and paper links rustling, were silent. They were sitting on the floor, facing Thea, who was on the sofa – the elegant mint-green throw covering it – her back to the window. It was close to five o’clock and almost dark, only a faint line of amber above the horizon in the distance, the lights of the town a scatter-gun of gold against the shadowy buildings.
The children had mugs of warm hot chocolate sprinkled with marshmallows, the accompanying adults had cups of tea or coffee, and all was quiet while Thea read themThe Polar Express, her steady voice ringing out, perfectly creating the soothing, train-like rhythm of the story. It was clear to Ollie that she’d done this before – evenshewas captivated, and her thoughts had, until that moment, been in a tailspin: would Max want to join her and the others at the pub? Would Beckyeverbe happy with what she did?
As the story came to an end, she and Becky got out the paper bags decorated with stars, snowmen and Christmas trees that she’d ordered online, and together they helped the children carefully pack their decorations, coiling their chains of shimmery links into the bags.
‘You can’t just let helpers not turn up,’ Becky whispered, her smile fixed in place. ‘Not when it’s a kids’ event.’
‘They left without telling me,’ Ollie said. ‘When they booked their tickets, I logged the parents who said they would stay and help out, and we had enough people. I have their emails.’
‘Emails don’t mean anything. Why didn’t you check everyone against the list when they arrived with their children? Something could have gone seriously wrong.’
‘It didn’t, though—’
‘That’s not the point!’Becky spun to face her. Her smile had gone, and her eyes were glittering with anger. ‘You can’t just do whatever you feel like and expect everything to work out. That’s not how the real world works!’
Ollie floundered, searching for a reply. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ll be more careful in future.’
‘Next time, we’ll sign people in together, OK? Make sure we’re not putting our customers, or the bookshop, at risk. There are rules about this sort of thing, you know. God,’ she added, ‘even I didn’t think you’d be this stupid.’
‘Right,’ Ollie murmured, because what, really, could she say to that?
They went back to lowering paper chains into bags, Ollie’s heart pounding erratically. It was as if she could feel her confidence, usually so robust, shrivelling to nothing. She wondered if anyone could see beyond her painted-on smile to the shame that was slowly filling her up, drip-drip-drip, like water from a broken tap.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Sea Shanty was full of character, with hardwood floors, a warped but varnished bar, the chairs round the dark wood tables a mismatch of styles and ages, but all softened with plush cushions. There were framed photographs covering the walls, a mixture of colour, black-and-white and sepia, showing Port Karadow through the ages: a row of fishermen, arms crossed, in front of their boats at the harbour; Main Street looking similar to today, but with people in Victorian dress strolling along the cobbles; the Old Post House when it was the town’s post office rather than A New Chapter, a young couple standing outside.
The pub-friendly smells of beer and chips lingered in the air, a jukebox played sporadically in the background, and there was a rowdy, pre-Christmas atmosphere that made their table of six – nine, if Ollie included Henry Tilney, Meredith’s beagle Crumble and Ben’s dog Scooter, lying beneath it – have to raise their voices.
‘How do you like Port Karadow?’ Finn asked, once they had greeted each other and clinked their glasses together. Ollie felt like she knew Finn and Ben a little now, since they’d been at some of her events. Events that, for tonight, she was trying very hard to put out of her mind.
‘I love it a whole lot,’ she admitted. ‘It’s busier than I imagined it would be at this time of year. I had the impression that a lot of seaside towns shut down over winter, but if anything, Port Karadow has more life now than when I arrived in October.’
‘Christmas is a big thing here,’ Meredith said, and Finn kissed the top of her head, his grin unabashed.
‘What was that smile for?’ Ollie asked.
‘Meredith used not to be a fan of the festivities,’ Ben told her, and Ollie remembered Meredith admitting as much, when they’d been talking in Cornish Keepsakes one day. ‘Finn brought her round last year, with some kind of wacky Christmas challenge.’
Meredith sat up straighter. ‘Ibrought myself round, thank you very much. Finn might have been … instrumental in showing me the positive side of mince pies and bells on woolly hats, but if I hadn’t wanted to change, I wouldn’t have.’
‘It was like Christmas rehab,’ Finn said, which earned him a glare from his girlfriend.
‘Shouldn’t that beanti-Christmas rehab?’ Thea pointed out. ‘Otherwise you would have been weaning MeredithoffChristmas.’
