Chapter Twenty Seven

Pen felt like she'd eaten rocks, like they were weighing her down and she was sinking, breathless and panicking into the darkness.

"But, but I don't understand," was all she managed to say.

"It is simple," said Jesús. "Ashley is the daughter of an old friend of Mary's. They once lived together in some English village. When Mary moved here, she kept in touch with Ashley. They wrote letters, it was almost like, what do call it in English? Pencil pals?"

"Penpals," Ash said.

"So where is she now?" asked Pen, demanded really, her voice felt high and tight. "I mean, if she was so important, where is she?"

Jesús shook his head. "I have no idea," he said. "She left three months ago, which is why I know what she looks like. The last time I was here, Mary and I went to see her off at the airport. We drove a long way, got up really early, all to wave this girl goodbye. So I know she was important to Mary."

"Where did she go?" asked Ash.

Again, Jesús shrugged. "I think she's in Australia, maybe? I'm not sure. She's doing what they call a gap year. Except, as Mary explained to me, many people do this gap year between school and university, whereas Ashley had just finished university."

Pen was playing catch up. She'd come to bring Ash lunch, a croissant sandwich fresh from the oven, and to bring George his favorite biscuits, and found the bookshop door locked. Now here she was, sitting at the kitchen table being told that the happy ending she'd believed in was all a lie.

If anything, she was offended. How dare her optimism be punished like this?

"So what happens now?" George asked.

Ash ran her tongue over her teeth and Pen knew what she was going to say before she said it. "I have to call the solicitor," she said.

"But from what you're saying, this girl isn't even Mary's niece," Pen put in, trying desperately to think.

"And neither am I," Ash said carefully.

George took a breath and laid a hand on Jesús's shoulder. "You've had a shock. Do you feel like a drink? I certainly do."

Jesús looked curiously at Pen and she saw that he had brown, kind eyes. The sort of kind eyes that she knew Mary would love. And her heart crumbled a little more because this man had just lost the woman he loved, whether they lived together or not, and he must be hurting and yet here he was patiently explaining to Pen why her life couldn't be the way she wanted it to be.

"Yes," Jesús said. "Perhaps that would be best." He looked at Ash. "And so…"

Ash grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and scribbled down her number. "That's my mobile, text me so I have your number. I'll talk to the solicitor this afternoon, tomorrow morning at the latest, and let you know what he says. He's going to need to track down the real Ashley and I think he'll want your help with that."

"Of course," said Jesús. He cleared his throat. "I wonder if, perhaps…"

Pen was about to speak, to tell him that of course he should go upstairs, but Ash got in before her. "Please, take your time, if there's something of Mary's you'd like, help yourself. And, uh, I'm sure that George will be happy to fill you in on the details of what happened and where her memorial is."

"Absolutely," George said.

It took another forty five minutes before Ash was closing the shop door behind George and Jesús, leaning back against it, facing Pen. "I know what you're going to say," she said.

"You do not," Pen said.

Ash crinkled her face into a smile. "Give me some credit, Pen. I have gotten to know you at least a little over the last few weeks." She bit her lip. "And let me just put this out there: I want to continue to get to know you."

The weight in Pen's chest lifted a little. "You do?" she said. "So you're not leaving?"

"You're about to tell me to pack my things up and move them into your flat, aren't you?" Ash said.

Pen shifted her weight to her other foot. She had been about to say exactly that. "Um, well, you could sleep on the couch if you think it's too soon to officially move in and everything."

Ash shook her head. "I can't do that, Pen. It wouldn't be fair on either of us."

"Why not? I'm inviting you. You said that you liked it here, you said that you were thinking of staying. Or did I imagine all that?"

Finally, Ash moved from in front of the door, coming and looping her arm through Pen's, leading her back through to the kitchen and sitting her down. Fabio chirped and rolled over on the table that he'd just jumped up on so that Pen could scratch his belly.

"Pen, let's be sensible here."

"What's not sensible? I like you, you like me, you like it here. I see that things aren't quite as easy as they were a couple of hours ago, but I don't see why we have to change so much."

"Because…" Ash sat down opposite her. "Because, in words that maybe you can understand, perhaps it wasn't supposed to be like this."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pen said, her voice sharp again because she didn't want to cry. "I thought you said you wanted to get to know me more."

"I do," Ash said reasonably. "But two hours ago, I had a potential home and a business to run here in town, one conveniently located next to a woman that I find very interesting indeed. Now I don't have those things and, realistically, I do have a flat and a life in London."

"Which is very far away," Pen said dismally.

"It's not that far."

A thought suddenly came to Pen. "What if he's a scammer?"

"A scammer literally called Jesus?" asked Ash, raising an eyebrow. She sighed. "Did he honestly seem like he was lying to you?"

Pen thought back to the hurt in his eyes, painted across his face, and shook her head. "No, I suppose not."

Ash leaned forward, putting out her hands so that Pen could take them. "Pen, this isn't the end of the world, you know? I'm literally sitting here at this table telling you that I like you. I like you a lot."

Not enough to stay though, said a little voice at the back of Pen's head. But she forced herself to smile at least a little. "I know," she said. But it wasn't going to be the same, was it? Ash was already independent enough, already set in her own ways, and Pen was worried that without a constant reminder, Ash would simply… disappear off into the smoke of the city.

"We can make this work," Ash said, squeezing Pen's fingers. "You can come and visit me in London."

"Mmm," said Pen, because she really didn't want to go to London. She found it dirty and overwhelming and not at all nice. Mind you, if Ash were there, perhaps it would be nicer.

"And I can come here and visit," said Ash.

"Mmm," Pen said again.

"And in a while, maybe a few months, maybe a year, we can re-evaluate," Ash said, sitting back and letting go of Pen's hands. "What do you think?"

"It sounds… sensible," Pen said. Because it did. Eminently sensible. And not at all romantic, not even a little.

"It is sensible. It's a good plan, a solid one."

"But it doesn't take into account the fact that I'll miss you," Pen burst out, unable to keep her feelings inside. "The fact that I want to have you right next door, I want to have you here with me, I want to see you every day and be able to touch you and hold you and all the rest."

Ash's face had gone pale and Pen knew that she was overdoing it, that she was scaring her, putting her off, so she slammed her mouth shut. But she'd already said too much.

"Pen, I can't do this. Not that way. I just… I can't. It's too much, too soon, I need my space." Ash's eyes were pleading. "I need you to be my sunshine, I need your optimism, please. Just for this. Just for now. I need you to have hope."

She was being selfish and unfair wanting Ash to stay, she could see that. So she nodded. "Alright, I'll try."

"It's a shock," Ash said. She smiled a little. "You know, I was just getting used to the idea of owning a bookshop and now it turns out that I don't own one at all. It's a shame really, I'm going to have to find a new way to finance my new-found romance book addiction."

Pen sighed. "Maybe the new owner will want to sell. There's always hope in that. We haven't heard back from the council, but maybe they'll give us the money and we'll try." She tapped Ash's hand. "You can have a discount if we all buy it."

Ash smiled back. "Thank you. And… if there's something that I can do to help with all that, just let me know." She scratched her head. "At least I don't have to learn to crochet. I looked it up online, it looks like tying very complicated knots with sticks."

"Mmm, yes, maybe the crochet circle isn't for you," Pen said, holding onto Ash's fingers. She was quiet for a minute. "Ash, I have to ask. Are you really sure about all of this?"

Ash looked down at their twined hands. "Yes," she said softly. "I'm sure. I need to go home, we need more time, but I honestly think we can do this."

Pen's heart hurt. "It's odd, you being the optimistic one," she said. And she tried very, very hard not to think of being alone.