Page 80 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
The first was the strip of Polaroids she and Max had had taken at the Christmas market in Porthgolow, thephotos telling a story of awkwardness to attraction in four, short frames. Looking at that last shot, their faces so close, lips almost touching, never failed to make Ollie’s stomach flip. The second item was the cardboard tag that Max had tied to her Yule log. She pulled it out of its place and rubbed her thumb over his handwriting.
Life is too short to spend every moment working or worrying. Mxx
She bit the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t stay here, doing nothing. And if she couldn’t see Max, then she would go to the other person who, since she’d moved to Cornwall, had become a solid, steady presence in her life.
‘Come on,’ she said to Henry. He jumped off the sofa and was by her side in an instant.
She didn’t bother to put her coat on, just picked up her phone and slid Max’s tag and the strip of photos into her pocket. She pushed open the front door, stepped into the bitter night-time air, and walked to the main entrance of the farmhouse.
Liam might be asleep after their hospital vigil the night before, but if he wasn’t, she would insist on typing up more of his book, or making a shepherd’s pie with him to feed Max when he was better – anything that would mean she was being productive: anything that would stop the worries circling closer and closer, like hungry sharks, inside her head. They were getting so close to consuming her.
She lifted her hand to knock and jumped backwards when the door swung inward.
Liam looked perfectly put together in a mustard jumper and grey trousers, but she noticed that his chest was rising and falling, as if he was out of breath or upset or—
Fear crept down her spine. She opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it.
‘I was just coming to find you, lass. Come in.’
‘Is there news?’ she asked, walking her dog over the threshold.
Liam led the way down the corridor and then paused, the dining room on their right, the study on their left. He turned to face her. ‘Come and sit down,’ he said. His smile was gentle, his voice soothing.
‘Why?’ She gripped Henry’s lead tightly. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I’ve just been speaking to Mrs Holden,’ Liam told her. ‘I’ve got an update for you, on Max.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘So … so he’s going to be OK?’ Ollie was sitting on the leather sofa, Henry at her feet, Liam’s Christmas decorations twirling gently in the breeze coming through the open window. It wasn’t really warm enough for the window to be ajar, but perhaps he needed the cold to stay awake, or he just wanted to fill the study with fresh air after what had happened. She understood that: this place was Liam’s sanctuary.
He pulled his chair out from behind the desk, then moved it so he was sitting in front of her.
‘Max is stable,’ he said, showing no signs of irritation at having to repeat himself. The first time, the words had washed over her. ‘A relapse of myocarditis is very rare, apparently, so the doctors were understandably concerned. But according to Cath and Philip, Max’s parents, his heart function is already starting to return to normal. He’ll need to rest, to recuperate, and they’re going to keep him in for a few days, but they’re hopeful there will be no long-term effects.’
‘But … he could get it again?’
Liam spread his hands wide. ‘I suppose there’s always that chance. I don’t know enough about it, but when Cath called, she sounded relieved.’
‘Is he awake?’
‘He has woken up, but he’s sleeping a lot, I think. I left my number with the nurse when we were there, and Cath very kindly called me, to give me an update.’
‘Oh my God.’ Ollie slumped forward, relief rushing through her like a tidal wave. ‘He’s going to be OK.’
‘He’s going to be fine,’ Liam said softly. ‘Especially now he’s got you to take care of him.’
Ollie nodded. She couldn’t think of anything she’d like to do more than nurse Max back to full health. She just wanted to be near him. ‘When can we see him?’
‘Cath’s going to give me a call. Now—’
‘Tea and mince pies.’ Marion appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray. She put it on Liam’s desk, then rearranged a side table so it was between the two of them. Then she moved a plate piled high with sugar-dusted mince pies, and two steaming mugs of tea, from the tray to the table.
‘Come and sit down, Marion. Bring your own tea.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m grand. Especially now we have positive news about Max. Goodness, his poor parents! You two get that sugar inside you, look after each other for a bit, and I’ll be back in a while.’
‘Thank you, Marion.’ Ollie selected a mince pie and bit into it, relishing the crumble of pastry and the explosion of sweet, sticky Christmas flavours, the way her body craved it after hours of not eating, worry filling all the space insideher. She and Liam exchanged smiles as they ate, and the atmosphere in the room seemed to soften.
