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“She hasn’t decided yet whether or not she actually owns the damn place,” complained George. “You should see her ferreting around the shop looking for evidence that she’s actually supposed to be there.”

“She wants to do this right, I have to respect that.” Pen stretched her legs out, her feet were already aching in her heels.

“It’s almost like she’s looking for excuses not to own the shop.”

“Listen, as much as I appreciate you coming for moral support, you’re not actually helping me feel better right now.”

George looked around the town hall corridor which was conspicuously empty. “There’s no one else here to support you.”

“Ash is at the shop, as you well know, and it wouldn’t be right for her to be here, it would look like she was trying to make money off the council. This has to come from us, the community, not from Ash who’s trying to sell the place.”

“The place she doesn’t actually own yet,” put in George.

“Not helpful.”

“Fine.” He sighed. “What are we going to do if they say no?”

Pen grinned at him. “Come up with a plan B, just like we always do.”

“Sarah Hanson came around with her collection box this morning,” George said, steering into safer waters.

Pen bit her lip. It had been a difficult moment, but she’d overcome it. “I put in twenty pence.”

“A fair amount,” agreed George. He took her hand. “You’re doing okay then?”

“I’m waiting for the debt councilor to get back to me with a payment plan, but on the whole, yes. She was nice actually, kind, and she said that plenty of people get into trouble like this and the most important thing is to be willing to fix the problem.”

“Good advice.” George paused. “Thought anymore about whether the bakery needs an investment?”

Pen, who had thought about it and was still on the fence looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I feel like adding money into the mix might not be a good idea.”

“A fair point,” said George. “But the offer’s there if you want to take me up on it.”

Pen was about to thank him when the door opposite them opened. “We’re ready for you, Ms. Robson,” said councilwoman Thurst.

“Break a leg,” George whispered as Pen got up. “I’ve got everything crossed for you.”

Pen looked back and saw that George did indeed have his arms, legs, fingers, and from the odd bumps in his shoes his toes, all crossed.

She smiled and followed councilwoman Thurst into the room.

PEN BREATHED OUT a sigh of relief that it was all over. The council members shook her hand and she felt like she’d made a decent argument as to why buying the bookshop would be a good use of the development grant.

It was a bit weird to see people that she’d known her whole life acting as town government rather than buying biscuits, but she’d taken it seriously and was proud of herself.

“What did you think?” she whispered to councilwoman Thurst as she was shown out of the room.

Thurst regarded her then gave a brief nod. “You impressed me,” she said. “You’re more than just a pretty face, that’s clear. I can’t speak for the rest of the council, but I’ll be giving your suggestion some serious thought.”

“It was alright then?” Pen asked, still panicking just a little.

“It’s a strong candidate,” Thurst said, giving her a rare smile. “We’ll let you know when a decision has been made.”

“Thank you,” said Pen, opening the door and letting herself out.

“So?” asked George, bouncing up and down in his seat with excitement.

“They’re seriously considering it,” Pen squeaked. “See? I told you everything would turn out for the best. Come on, let’s get back so we can tell Ash.”