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“Mmm,” was all Ash could think of to say. She started walking again.

“But does that mean you’ll be, I don’t know, selling the flat privately?” pushed Pen. “Or does it mean that you’re thinking about staying around town?”

Ash sighed. “I can’t answer that question right now, Pen. I’m sorry. I know you’d like me to say that I’m staying but I honestly don’t know. I have been toying with the idea of moving out of London. But I don’t know if this is the place for me. It’s… small.”

“But lovely.”

Ash laughed. “Not the point. It is a very pretty town. But everyone knows everything and I don’t know if that’s something I want.”

“You don’t want a community?” Pen asked, sounding surprised.

“I don’t know what I want, not yet. And anyway, who’s to say that the community wants me? Not only that, but you do know that I haven’t actually signed any paperwork at all accepting this inheritance yet.”

“I thought you said that your mum said that you definitely had an Aunt Mary?”

“Mmm,” Ash said again. She loved her mother, but the woman was scatter-brained and the phone line had been bad and she wasn’t quite ready to risk everything on that just yet. What if this wasn’t right? What if someone showed up five years down the road demanding their rightful inheritance?

“Tetherington is a nice place,” Pen said, sliding her hand back into Ash’s. “You’ll learn to love it.”

“You sound confident.”

“What’s not to love?” asked Pen, swinging her arm so that Ash’s swung with it. “Couldn’t you imagine living like this? Walking on the beach every evening hand in hand with the love of your life.” She paused for a second, their hands stuck up in the air. “Not that I’m saying that’s me, of course, just, you know, a general love of your life.”

“They come in general kinds, do they?” Ash asked, pulling their hands back down again and swinging them. “I might prefer a more specific flavor.”

“Really?” Pen said, stopping once again. “What flavor is that then?”

“Sunshine flavor sounds quite good,” Ash said, pulling Pen in again.

With each kiss she grew more confident, she relished the feeling of something actually feeling right, comfortable. She liked the idea of having someone like Pen. Or maybe even Pen herself. She just wasn’t completely sure that this was the life for her. Not yet.

But, an hour later, when she’d bid a reluctant goodbye to Pen and sent her home, as she opened the bookshop door and Fabio slid inside, as she walked past the shelves full of books knowing that whilst not all of them spoke to her, a certain section really did, she thought that perhaps she could get used to this.

Chapter Twenty One

“Ash and Pen sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” George sang.

“How old are you, five?” asked Pen, shifting on her uncomfortable plastic chair.

“Old enough to know that the two of you are getting dirty.”

“We are not!”

“Are so!”

“George, we’ve literally just kissed.”

His eyebrows almost shot off his head. “You’re kidding? It’s been like, two weeks.”

“Which is a perfectly acceptable amount of time to kiss for,” Pen said. “Not that we’ve been kissing for the whole two weeks. Not that I’d mind if we had, but we didn’t.”

“Uh-huh,” said George. “Not interested in more then?”

“Stop it,” said Pen. “She’s new to all this, new to the idea that she might like other women, we’re taking things slowly.”

George sighed and sat back, banging his head against the window behind him. “Ow. If you go much slower you’ll stop.” Hegave Pen a sideways glance as he rubbed his head. “Sure it’s not because you don’t want to get too attached because she might be moving away?”

“She also might not be moving away,” Pen said. “She hasn’t decided yet.”