Page 87 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘You can go in now,’ the nurse said.
Ollie shoved her hands into her coat pockets and walked up to the doorway.
The first thing she saw was Max sitting up in bed, his dark curls a tangle against the white pillow. Early morning sun filtered through the window, hitting the side of his face, emphasising the purple smudges under his eyes. But he was smiling, saying something to Dylan while Becky stood beside her son.
She hesitated, not wanting another confrontation, but as she shifted, her boot scraped the floor and Max looked up. His smile widened, his eyes latching onto hers, and he beckoned her forward.
‘Ollie. Come in.’ He sounded just like normal, no hint of weakness in his voice.
‘I don’t want to interrupt.’ She hovered at the end of his bed.
‘You’re not,’ Max assured her. ‘Please.’
He held his arm out, and Ollie couldn’t hold on for another second. She rushed forward and put her hands on either side of his face, lifting it gently so she could kiss him. Seeing him, touching him, pressing her lips to his felt overwhelming after the hours of fear and uncertainty. She wanted to pull him tightly against her, wrap him up forever, so instead she kissed him again, kissed his nose and then his forehead.
‘Hey,’ he said, laughing softly. ‘I’m OK. I’m all right, Ollie. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘Well, you did,’ she said. ‘But I forgive you, as long as you’ll let me look after you.’
‘I don’t need looking after. The doctors have said I’m going to be fine. I just need to take it easy for a bit.’
Ollie pushed away her guilt. ‘You have to let me make you tacos, at the very least.’
‘You do make excellent tacos.’ Max took her hand as she sat on the side of his bed.
‘We should go,’ Becky said. ‘I have to get back to the bookshop, and Dylan needs to go to school.’
For a moment, Ollie had forgotten they were there.
‘Mum.’ Dylan drew the word out with a long-suffering sigh.
‘Thank you for coming to see me,’ Max said. ‘It means a lot.’
‘I’m glad you’re getting better,’ Dylan said solemnly.
‘I am, too,’ Becky added. She glanced at Ollie, then dropped her gaze.
‘Wait,’ Ollie said. ‘What I told you – outside? I meant all of it. I never wanted to offend you. I’ve just been trying to … to fit in.’
Becky pressed her lips together and took her son’s hand.
Ollie felt suddenly frantic. It wasn’t the right time or place to have this conversation, but Becky didn’t seem to want to give her a chance. Perhaps if she said it in front of Max and Dylan, she would listen.
‘I suppose for me that means shouting loudly, making my mark,’ she went on. ‘How will anyone know what I’m capable of, if I don’t immediately show them?’ She chewed her lip, wondering how to say what she wanted to, and felt Max squeeze her hand. ‘I knew when I moved here that some people would always see me as an outsider, but I still wanted to try and prove them wrong. Maybe I came across as cavalier, perhaps I triedtoohard and it looked like I was throwing things at the wall and seeing what would stick. But it has never been because I didn’t care, because already, being here feels like …’ She looked at Max, took courage from the way his eyes held hers. ‘It feels like home, and I don’t want to give that up, not so soon after I’ve found it. But if I haven’t listened to you enough, to anyone, then I’ll stop shouting and start listening instead.’
‘Mum,’ Dylan said, in a loud whisper that nobody could miss, ‘what is she talking about?’
Ollie laughed, and even Becky cracked a smile.
‘I’m trying to apologise to your mum,’ Ollie said.
‘What for?’
She sighed. ‘For not being thoughtful enough. For—’
‘She’s apologising for things I’ve accused her of,’ Becky cut in, ‘but that aren’t true.’ She rubbed a hand over hereyes. ‘I was surprised when Ollie came to work at the bookshop, and I suppose I didn’t like the way she did things: how she was so positive, all the time.’
Dylan frowned. ‘You didn’t like her being happy?’
