Page 18 of Ghost Note

When I looked up, I shook my head. “He’s nobody left here to come back for now. It’ll be the last time I ever have to stand in front of him. Even though it hurts, it’s finally over. Danny will have already gone back to his life, and now I’d like to go back to mine.”

Six

Iwas late opening the shop that morning, and even though I could have left it closed, the work would keep my hands busy and my mind on anything other than the night before. With the chalkboard positioned outside, declaring us open, I slipped behind the white-framed glass door and turned the sign there around, too. My thoughts were threatening to be too loud, so I’d slipped a little Hans Zimmer on in the background, listening to a mixture of his film scores as I busied myself by dusting down shelves and stock, replenishing the baskets with wax melts, lip balms, and bath bombs along the way.

The weather was glorious that day, and we were heading into the heavier parts of the season, so I expected to be busy. My shop sat on a slight hill, meaning I could watch as cyclists tore down the road, and groups of kids skipped towards the beaches with their buckets and spades. The locals would often wave if the door was open, but when it was closed like this to keep the cool air from the fans effective, they walked on by without much thought.

It was strange to sit behind the till and see people I’d known my whole life going about their routines and trying to imagine some people didn’t have any set order to their days. When my mind began to drift to Danny and the chaos of his life, I shook my head, blew out a breath, and opened up my accounting book to get lost in the figures I’d have to show Gina at the end of the month.

The door burst open in a flurry, the bell above it rattling wildly as a group of four young girls came bounding into the shop with high-pitched squeals and ear-piercing screams.

“Girls, girls, girls!” I called out, laughing at them as they rushed towards my counter.

I recognised the first one to reach me. Her name was Sienna Lloyd, and she was the daughter of Ivan Lloyd who owned the caravan park a half a mile away. The busiest one in our village. Sienna had long-flowing blonde hair, and she always wore a ribbon in it somehow. Today’s was wrapped around a long ponytail, and her big, brown eyes were wild as she looked up at me, panting her thirteen-year-old heart out.

“Oh myGod,Daisy!”

“You okay?” I asked, a half-smile in place and a brow raised. “Have you had too much sugar with breakfast?”

“Uh… no!” She slammed her hands down on the countertop, and my other brow jumped up too. “I need, like, a book or something.”

“And a pen! Four pens!” the girl behind her called out. I think her name was Jo.

“Like, Sharpies, if you have them,” another girl I didn’t recognise chipped in.

“Okay…” I pulled my chin back and came back to Sienna. “I may have something for you.” Moving out from the counter, I listened as the girls squealed together and bounced on their toes, every other word that left their mouths being ‘like’ or ‘duh’. Oh, to be young again.

Bending down under the shelves full of aromatherapy candles, I pulled out a large sliding drawer and dug through some stock I hadn’t displayed yet.

“Hurry up, Daisy,” Sienna called to me.

“Going as fast as I can, Sienna.” My smile was forced as I pulled out two large hard-backed notepads that were covered in decorative stones. “These any good for you?”

“I don’t care. I’ll take, like, anything.”

I frowned. “What’s going on? You guys have a school project you’re late on or something?”

“Uh…no,” she said, sounding very American. I was about to warn her about the effects of watching too muchGleewhen she reached for one of the pads and started turning it over in her hands. “We just have to get over to Beechfield Park quickly before he leaves.”

“Before who leaves?”

“Danny Silver!” Her eyes lit up, and the mention of his name had the other girls squealing and bouncing around in the background again, while my face fell, and my stomach turned over. “Can you believe he’s back? Oh my God, Daisy, I have his posters, like, all over my bedroom.”

“Allover,” said Jo.

“So do we,” the other two cried.

“We need Sharpies. Do you have any? I’m going to ask him to sign my arm,” Sienna declared, cutting me off from my thoughts—the thoughts of Danny having stuck around and not gone back to his old life the way I needed him to.

I blinked at her several times, searching her excited face and watching as her smile turned into a frown of confusion.

“Daisy?”

“Pens,” I croaked. “Gotcha.”

Quickly clearing my throat, I spun around to walk into the back room. I pushed through my seashell string curtain, and once away from them, I found a stack of Sharpies of my own I hadn’t even opened yet. When I caught sight of my fingers, I realised my hand was shaking.

Hans Zimmer’s score seemed to reach its peak, making everything around me feel like I was standing in the middle of a blockbuster film, and my time had finally come.

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