‘Night, Pete. Thanks for everything.’
Pete gave her a two-finger salute and disappeared into the shadows, the sound of his flip-flops slowly fading into the dark.Daisy stood there for a minute longer, hands in her pockets, the air cool against her face. Then she shut the gate, flicked the bolt back across, made her way along the path and thought about what Pete had said and wondered whether his advice was good or not. She hated the way she always had a feeling as if she was waiting for the walls to fall in.
The echo of Pete’s flip-flops had completely gone, the cat had vanished under the bakery gate, and the seagulls were quiet. All Daisy could hear was the wind brushing against the shed and the distant churn of the tide. As she stepped back along the path, past the table under the lean-to and a broken plant pot that needed clearing, she sighed and smiled at all the jobs she had to do. Little solar fairy lights blinked half-heartedly along the fence and an old doormat caught under her foot by the back door as she stepped in.
Inside, she clicked the door shut and walked back into the kitchen. It was already looking better. The table was still in the middle, cluttered with mugs and piles of things, but it felt like progress. Pondering what Pete had asked about Miles, she screwed up her face. The thing was, she was scared and she didn’t know how it was going to go. Funny really because she was a dab hand at painting things, rearranging cupboards and running a house. She knew how to be a mum, how to make a meal out of what was left in the fridge, how to comfort crying children with just the right words and a packet of chocolate buttons. But she didn’t know how to fully let someone in. Not deeply in. Not into her routines, the mess and the fragile parts she kept hidden behind being capable and cheerful and always, always fine.
She didn’t want to admit that it made her uneasy to be the one cared for. To have someone turn up and bring dinner. To be told she was enough without having to do anything.
It should be lovely and it was, but there was a small part of her, tucked behind the smile, that kept its nice, fat, thick, old, wrought-iron guard up. Waiting for a change in tone, a silence or a message that never came. A look that meant the end of something she hadn’t seen coming. Daisy sighed because shehatedthat about herself. That even now, as her life had improved when things were steady and calm and Miles was lovely and kind, she still found herself scanning for cracks.
Sighing and sniffing, she stared at the shelf for a bit longer and then turned out the light. Upstairs, the twins were quiet, the place was still and Daisy, arms folded tight across her chest, walked slowly towards her room, her mind full of what would happen in the next few months. What she wasn’t yet aware of was that she was correct to err on the side of caution. Up ahead, there was going to be a little bit of a bump in the road in Daisy Henley’s perfect new life in Pretty Beach.
7
By mid-morning, Daisy had lost count of how many times the bell above the shop door had jingled. It wasn’t that the bookshop was especially manic, but for Pretty Beach, it was definitely on the brisk side of busy. The counter had already seen about ten dirty coffee cups, quite a few card payments, two handwritten receipts for customers who preferred the old-fashioned way of doing business, and one toddler who had enjoyed a full-scale meltdown over a cinnamon bun.
The little reading table near the window was entirely occupied by a group of school mums Daisy recognised from the next town along. They were loud and at first she hadn’t minded that in the slightest, but then their noise had slid into irritating her. One of them had a baby who had kept grabbing bookmarks and two others were involved in a conversation about school fundraisers and PTA politics. One of them, a tall woman in posh gym leggings and a sweatshirt that said “I’m Not Tired” waved Daisy over with a beam on her face. ‘Do you do birthday parties in here?’
Daisy gave her best polite smile. ‘Not at the moment, no. We’ve had a few enquiries, though. I’m still working out how the space could be used outside opening hours.’
The woman nodded and went back to her oat flat white while her toddler attempted to eat a board book shaped like a bear. Daisy backed away towards the counter, adjusted a stack of paperbacks with one hand, checked the payment gateway app on her phone total tallied with the other and her mind skipped ahead to balancing her spreadsheets later on that day. The front bell went again. This time, a couple in matching jackets, matching trainers, and accents that were clipped and bright. Daisy felt just by looking at them that she ought to be offering sparkling mineral water from a local well and a glossy brochure about how many other branches she ran.
The woman’s eyes darted around to the window nook and the chair under the fairy lights. ‘Is this the shop that’s been going round on Instagram?’
Daisy was straightening a chalkboard sign on the desk. ‘Yes. The video has been shared a fair bit.’
‘Fair bit? Everyone’s talking about it.’ The man pulled his phone out. ‘I’ll show you. We saw it last night in bed and I said, we’re going to Pretty Beach tomorrow. What with the train these days, it’s a no-brainer, right?’
Daisy nodded. ‘Ahh, thanks, nice to have you. We’ve got new stock this week and there’s tea if you want to sit for a while.’
The woman gave a wide smile. ‘It’s like a dream. I want to live here! Do you do bed and breakfast?’
Daisy didn’t know what to say. She’d heard the gushing response multiple times. All her little tweaks and pottering were paying off more and more. The books, the library ladders, the paint colours, and the baskets had people swooning. Sometimes, though, when someone said they wanted to live in what she’d created, it made her feel slightly off-kilter. Like she was both the person making the tea and the person being observed in a goldfish bowl doing it. Still, it was a compliment, a good one and she wasn’t complaining.
She moved back behind the counter, the chatter of the school mums bouncing off the walls and the couple drifted past the Penguin classics and into the poetry section. Daisy chuckled to herself as she tidied cups away. The social media video had done her well, but it did make her laugh because it had been filtered, captioned and made into something tidy, unreal and oh-so perfect. It didn’t show the biscuit crumbs under the counter or the damp patch in the hallway from a leak she’d had the week before. It didn’t show her trying to get the payment dongle to connect to the WIFI while Margot was having a meltdown about a lost ballet shoe.
The bell rang again from above the door, and as Daisy looked up, she felt her stomach do a small, very pleasant, oh-my-gosh-you-are-handsome, twist. Miles, looking very, very attractive, walked in and took her breath away, a bag over one shoulder, a takeaway coffee in one hand, and a book tucked under his arm. The group of mums most definitely went quiet.
He beamed and glanced around. ‘Hey! Busy day?’
Daisy lowered her voice and chuckled. ‘Tell me about it. It’s been school mums, book clubs and people from the internet. I’m not far off hiding under the counter and hibernating for a bit. Show me the end of the day, a glass of wine and my feet up.’
Miles stepped in close and handed her a coffee. ‘I thought you could use this even though you have your very own machine right there. Who doesn’t love a delivery coffee?’
Daisy took the cup, her fingers brushing his. ‘Thanks. Aww, yes, just what I need. I haven’t had a chance to catch my breath.’
Miles leaned in and kissed her. Light and just there, in front of everyone, simple, quiet and as if he had been in her life forever. Nice, just so very, nice. Daisy moved behind the counter, pretending to adjust the card machine. The publicness of his kiss had surprised her. Whether she liked it or not, he wanted to be part of her everyday.
The door opened again, the bell chimed and someone else strolled in. Miles glanced over her shoulder as the door swung shut again behind the latest visitor, a man in a green wax jacket who nodded politely as he passed the mums’ table and headed for the fiction shelves. The group of women hadn’t quite resumed their full chatter since Miles had walked in, though one was now saying something to the baby and pretending not to be listening. Daisy lifted the lid on the biscuit tin and offered Miles one with a raise of her eyebrow. He took it, bit the edge, and leant both elbows on the desk.
‘Do you need a hand with anything? You look like you’re five minutes away from throwing the card reader out the window.’
Daisy pressed the side button on the payment dongle. ‘Don’t tempt me. Actually, I do. These boxes under here have been annoying me all morning. If you don’t mind shifting them into the hallway by the stairs, I’d be grateful.’
‘The ones down there with the faded brown tape?’
‘That’s them, yep. They’re from Uncle Dennis’s collection. I was meant to sort through them this week, but every time I try, I get sidelined so I’m going to pop them out there for now.’
