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“Why would you think that?” George asked. “Ash is devoted to you. Quite sickeningly so. I’m surprised she’s not hanging all over you right this minute, I nearly never see you alone anymore.”

“She just doesn’t talk about things,” said Pen, aware that she sounded sad.

“Then ask her,” George laughed. “It’s a little thing called communication. Everything will be fine, Pen, you know that.”

She should know that. Really she should. She forced herself to smile. “You’re probably right. Alright, let’s talk icing, royal or buttercream?”

Her worries about Ash could wait. She had other things to do right now.

AT HALF PAST two the bookshop door was flung open so hard that the little bell rang dementedly, bouncing on its spring. Ash looked up from her book to see a familiar figure struggling in with a far too large suitcase. Her stomach sank.

“Mum.”

“Darling,” said her mother, dropping the suitcase and opening her arms wide as she swooped on Ash. “Darling, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Where’s Ted?” Ash asked, suspecting that she already knew the answer.

“Ted? Ted?” screeched her mother. “Don’t get me started on Ted. In fact, no, let’s never mention his name again. Not once.”

“So you’ve left him,” Ash said. It wasn’t a question. Her mother’s marriages tended to last around a year, so poor Ted was already getting to his expiration date.

“I have. And I thought what better way to mend a broken heart than… well, in The Mended Hearts Bookshop,” she said. “A little sea air will do me good.”

Ash eyed the suitcase. “Mum, I don’t mean to be uncharitable but, um, there’s only one bedroom.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” said her mother, beaming. “I’ve got a room at the pub, I just wanted to stop by here first. Where’s Pen?”

Ash rolled her eyes. Her mother had taken an unexpected shine to Pen and the two of them together could talk the ear of a donkey. In fact, there was a solid chance that her mother was here more for Pen than for her. “She’s working.”

“Right, well, I’ll just pop next door to say hello, shall I?”

A second later, her mother was gone, leaving the enormous suitcase sitting in the middle of the shop. Ash groaned. She had enough to deal with right now without her mother visiting as well.

PEN WAS SWEEPING the floor when she saw Lucy walking by the window, she banged on the glass and Lucy came in. “I wasn’t going to stop,” Lucy said. “I’m on my way to the town hall.”

“I won’t keep you,” said Pen. “I just wanted to ask if you’ve got catering for the opening yet?”

Lucy opened her mouth then stopped, her face getting pale. “I hadn’t even thought about it,” she admitted.

Pen laughed. “You’re having an art exhibition opening, I think you have to have some hors d’oeuvres at least. Shall I knock up some quiches or something for you?”

For an instant, she saw the same look pass over Lucy’s face as she’d seen on George’s just that morning when they’d been talking about flowers. A mixture of relief and… guilt perhaps?

“It’s alright, thanks though, Pen. I’ll handle it,” Lucy said. She checked her watch. “And I have to run, see you later.”

Pen watched her go, a little unsure of what had just happened. It was almost as though no one wanted her help anymore. Was she really that useless? Thinking back on it, she couldn’t even remember the last time Moira had dropped by with the kids, or Sarah Hanson with her collection box.

It was like people were avoiding her.

She finished the sweeping in a glum state of mind, but as she turned the shop sign to closed and left the door unlocked she couldn’t help but start to smile again. Ash would be closing up the bookshop right about now, which meant it couldn’t be morethan ten minutes before they were safely ensconced upstairs together. Her heart sped up a little at the thought.

Until she remembered Ash’s mother was in town.

Not that she disliked her, not in the slightest. In fact, she found Ash’s mum pleasantly upbeat and optimistic, particularly for someone who’d been married as many times as Lisa Whatever-Her-Last-Name-Now-Was.

But she could use a little time alone with Ash. Things weren’t right and instinctively, Pen knew it. She just didn’t quite know what was wrong or why or anything else.

She was surprised a quarter hour later when Ash climbed the stairs alone, carrying a sheaf of papers.