Chapter Twelve

Pen was sweeping up behind the counter when Billy the postman came in.

"Morning, Billy," she said as he pulled out a stack of letters.

"Oops, almost didn't see you there, Fabs," said Billy, neatly stepping over the cat to place the letters on the counter. "Since when does Fabio live over here?"

Pen sighed. "Ash doesn't like him. Well, pretends not to like him. I'm not sure which. I mean, who couldn't like a cat?"

"Especially one as lovely as Fabio," Billy agreed, taking the bun that Pen offered him.

"Exactly. Anyway, she keeps sending him over here, but he just keeps going back."

"There's no keeping someone from home," said Billy, leaning against the counter. "So, she's not all that then, this Ash?"

Pen smiled a little at the memory of hugging Ash. She shouldn't have done it, but she just hadn't been able to help herself.

"Oh, so she is alright then?" Billy said. "You're grinning like the Cheshire cat over there."

"She's… a tough nut as my mum used to say," Pen said loyally. That had to be the truth though, didn't it? After all, no one could be quite as cool and detached as Ash pretended to be. She had to be hiding something, covering up her feelings so people didn't see her vulnerabilities. And Pen could definitely work with that.

"You know what my mum used to say?" Billy said. "That you can't change a leopard's spots. You be careful Pen, getting involved with someone who doesn't want Fabio might not be the best thing."

"Your mum still does say that, due to the fact that she's very much alive and kicking. I saw her at crochet circle just the other day," Pen said. "And since when did you become a font of romantic advice?"

"Since Mary got me into those fantasy romance books," Billy grinned. "Can't get enough of ‘em. In fact, I'll have to go and see this Ash of yours at some point to get my fix."

Pen felt a glow at the idea that Ash could possibly be hers. "You'll have to go and see her at some point to deliver letters," she said. George's head bobbed outside the window, heading into the shop. "Or you could just hand the bills over to George, he'll do the job for you."

"What are you volunteering me for now, Pen?" George said, coming in. "I'll have two coffees to go."

"She's saying you'll take the shop's letters is all," Billy said. "But as it happens, there aren't any, so you're getting off easy. But I've got a full sack, so I'm off."

George opened his mouth and Pen jumped in before he could speak. "You know what he meant, George, don't be juvenile."

George giggled as Billy left and Pen put on the coffee machine. "Quite the stack of letters you've got, Pen-pen," he said, his hand patting the pile of envelopes Billy had left on the counter.

Pen's heart flickered and the back of her neck got sweaty. She tugged the letters away from him and shoved them under the counter. "I'll deal with them later," was all she said, knowing that dealing with them just meant adding them to the pile by the door of her little flat.

"You can't possibly be grumpy," George said.

"And why not?" asked Pen, placing a take away cup under the coffee stream.

"Because you're never anything less than a hundred percent sparkly rainbows and unicorns," laughed George. He leaned over the counter and managed to plant a kiss on Pen's cheek. "And we do love you for it, you're our little sunshine."

"Alright, alright," said Pen, blushing at the compliment.

The shop bell rang and Sarah Hanson came in, collection box rattling in her hands.

"What are we collecting for today," Pen said cheerfully.

"Same as always at this time of year, Pen. The lifeboat fund. Morning, George," said Sarah, gray curls stiff against her head and lipstick spreading slightly in the corners of her mouth.

"It's no good asking me," George said. "I'm skint. I've only just started working again and who knows how long that's going to last."

"Oooh, I heard about the new one," said Sarah, placing her box on the counter. "I've heard she's quite the little madam. Didn't even participate in bookclub, if you can believe it."

"Because she's new and hadn't read the book," said Pen, pulling a twenty pound note out of the till and stuffing it into the collection box.

"That's very generous, Pen," Sarah beamed, picking up her box. "Thanks very much. I'll be around later for a loaf of white, so set one aside for me." She was still smiling as she left the shop.

"You don't have to defend Ash," George said when Sarah was gone.

"I wasn't defending her, I was just telling the truth."

"You were being overly generous, just like with the lifeboat fund. I mean, honestly, Pen, giving to charity is important, but you have to look after yourself as well."

"I'm very well looked after," Pen said, not at all believing it but equally not wanting to fight with George about anything. She probably could have used the twenty pounds for something else.

"Mmm," was all George said about that. He sniffed. "So, had any more bright ideas about the shop then?"

"As it happens," Pen said. "I have. In fact, I was going to text you to come around for lunch, but since you're here now I might as well run it past you." She took a deep breath. "So, here's what I'm thinking: development grant."

George frowned. "Huh?"

Pen shook her head. "Honestly, don't you pay attention to anything in the Tetherington Times? Or, for that matter, a word that comes out of Marjorie Thurst's mouth?"

"Nope and definitely nope," George said.

Pen put both elbows on the counter and explained what she was talking about.

"So you think we could apply for part of the grant to buy the shop?" George said when she was done.

"I don't see why not," said Pen. "I looked into it a bit. The money is supposed to be allocated to projects that improve cultural life or in some way bring a sense of community, which seems like us to a T."

George blew out a breath. "It's a fine idea, Pen, but are you sure you can convince the council to go along with it?"

Pen shrugged. "We can but try. And you're going to help."

George picked up both coffees. "Of course I am." He pushed the shop door open with an elbow and Fabio sneaked out of the gap. George sighed. "She'll send him back again," he warned.

Pen felt a tingle of warmth. "I'll come and get him a bit later," she said. It would give her a chance to bring Ash some of the Battenberg cake she'd been working on.

IT WAS AFTER lunch by the time Pen had time to leave a note on the bakery door and take a small box to the bookshop.

"Oh no," Ash said, when Pen walked in.

"Oh no?" Pen asked lightly. Not really the reaction she'd been hoping for.

"I thought we talked about this. There's no need to drop by all the time."

"I bought cake," Pen said temptingly.

"If I ate cake every day I'd be the size of a house," Ash said. She turned back to the computer screen. "Come back when you've got something to tell me about buying the shop."

"I'll just leave this here then, shall I?" Pen said, putting the box on the shop counter and catching a quick glimpse of Ash's computer screen. "Oh, I used that site once. Me and my cousin did a family tree for my uncle's birthday."

"Right, well maybe you know how to add a record then," Ash said, turning the screen. "I keep getting an error like this."

"That's because you haven't filled in the title box at the top," Pen said. "Here, let me." She typed quickly and pressed the ‘add record' button. "There you go."

"Huh," Ash said. "Thanks."

"No problem, happy to help."

Ash turned to her, eyes dark blue and nose sharp and Pen could just kiss her in the early afternoon light. "And is there something I can help you with? Other than gossip, attempts to feed me cake, or things of the like?"

Pen caught a glance of Fabio. "I came for the cat. He escaped."

"Oh, good." Ash looked a bit unsettled and Pen had to smile again. "Make sure it doesn't happen again."

"I'll try," Pen said. "But this is his home, he doesn't seem to want to be anywhere else." She cleared her throat. "And on the subject of the shop, George and I have had an idea about finding funding. Nothing concrete yet, but I wanted to let you know that we are working on it."

"Good," said Ash. She paused, raising an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

She's just not used to living in a small town, Pen reminded herself. She's not used to being a part of a community. A little patience, a little time, and she would get used to it, maybe even grow to like it. And then, said a little voice at the back of her head, she might even want to stay.

"Um, yes, actually," Pen found herself saying. "There's a pub just down the road, just on the sea front, you can't miss it."

"I haven't missed it. I'm not blind," Ash said, attention on her computer screen.

"Yes, well, there's a sing-along tonight. I'll be there. George too. If you fancied coming?"

Ash finally turned her full attention to Pen. "I don't think so," she said. "Do you?"

Pen sighed. "I suppose not," she said. She took a breath. "I'll be going then."

"Mmm," said Ash.

Maybe she really was as cold as George said she was. Pen went out into the sunshine. It was only when she got back to the bakery that she realized she hadn't even asked Ash what she was doing on the genealogy website.