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Ash felt her chest relax a little. She breathed out and her muscles unwound. She didn’t even complain when Pen linked anarm through her own and practically escorted her into her own shop. Almost her own shop.

THE COUCH was back under the window and the coffee cups were up-ended on the draining board by the sink. Ash had even ensured that the bookclub’s next read was the book she was currently reading. That way if George couldn’t come in to take control of matters at least she wouldn’t have to ask for too much help.

Not that she had any intention of actually running a bookclub. She did want to keep the business viable though.

“There, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” beamed Pen, draping her tea towel over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “Although it might have been a bit better if you hadn’t been glowering at everyone from behind your computer.”

“I was going about my own business,” said Ash. “And I wasn’t glowering.”

“Mmm, well, you might want to work on that a little bit,” Pen said. She paused as though waiting for something. Apparently, whatever she was waiting for didn’t appear, because after a couple of moments, she said: “So, I’ll be off then.”

“Right,” Ash said, wondering if it was too late for a walk on the beach now.

Pen cleared her throat. “I’ll, um, get going.”

“Right,” Ash said again. Then she thought of something. “Take the cat.”

But Pen was still hesitating.

“What?” Ash asked, anxious to get on with her evening.

“Um, nothing you want to say?” Pen asked, lifting her eyebrows suggestively.

Pen liked her face. Ash just remembered that, remembered George saying it and then dismissing it. What did that mean?Liking someone’s face? As far as Ash was concerned her face was neither likable nor unlikable. Maybe that was what Pen was waiting for, some kind of… face appreciation?

“A thank you wouldn’t go amiss,” Pen said finally.

Ash once again felt her chest loosen and her breath come easier. “Oh, right, yes, obviously. Sorry, I was distracted. Thank you. Your help was appreciated.”

Now was when Pen would ask for something in return, Ash was sure. She just hoped it had nothing to do with liking faces. Or cats.

But Pen simply smiled. “You’re very welcome,” she said as she scooped Fabio up off the kitchen table and let herself out.

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?”