‘Live forever, Bedlingtons,’ Jowan told him, as if reading his mind. ‘At least, I hopes they can.’ The old pirate turned pensive.
‘You’re just in time for a cherry bun and tea, if you like?’ Annie offered.
Aldous watched her through sleepy eyes as she made for the kitchen. He’d have been offended at the lacklustre petting he’d received if he wasn’t so cosy by the fire.
Jowan followed her through the low door and Harri went behind him, his eye on the two shopping bags in Jowan’s grip.
‘Quiet on the slope today,’ Jowan confirmed, while Annie told him they hadn’t taken a penny all morning.
‘Some days is like that,’ he said, his accent as thick as Devonshire clotted cream.
Harri hung back by the cafe entrance while Annie poured out three mugs of tea and lifted the glass dome off the buns.
‘There we are,’ she said.
Before Jowan sat, he offered up the bags onto the cafe counter. ‘Minty sent these, for the shop. They were left over from a Big House wedding last Valentine’s. Thought you could brighten up the place.’
Harri took his tea and watched Annie unpack the love heart bunting, blush balloons, baby-pink tealights and scarlet tablecloths.
‘I can definitely use these!’ she said. ‘Tell Minty thank you from us.’
Jowan took a long slurp of tea. ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. ‘Oh, and there’s been a deal of interest in your silent reading club; half the village is plannin’ on coming. It might pay to make it a potluck with the baking. Reckon you’d run short on buns, knowing this lot.’
‘Got it,’ said Annie, happily.
‘I hear you’ve fallen into Mrs Crocombe’s clutches,’ Jowan went on, smile-lines radiating from the corners of his eyes.
‘Does everyone know?’ said Harri, dismayed.
Annie was setting about hanging some crocheted heart bunting along the shelves behind the cafe counter.
‘I should say so,’ said Jowan, gently. ‘There’s a pretty penny riding on young Annie here and our Kit.’
Annie laughed hard.
‘What about me?’ Harri acted affronted, folding his arms, all to cover the very real pang of offence he felt.
‘My money’s on you,’ Jowan twinkled.
Annie turned, an enquiring look on her face. ‘Who?’
‘The two of you,’ Jowan said, and Harri’s opinion of the bookish old pirate plummeted. He’d thought he was above Mrs C.’s betting book. Obviously not.
Jowan tried to cheer him up. ‘There’s no harm in it, not really. We need sommit to get us through the long winters.’
Annie set a cherry bun before him on a plate. ‘Harri’s nervous about tonight,’ she told Jowan, like Harri wasn’t standing right there.
‘Anjali’s the gentlest soul,’ Jowan replied. ‘Pretty as a picture an’ all. Nothing to be nervous about.’
Harri was about to grumble that it wasn’t Anjali he was worried about, but all the Clove Lore eyes upon him, when the door tinged open in the shop.
‘I’ll go!’ Annie swept out, leaving Jowan and Harri alone with the jumble of Valentine’s décor.
‘That one’s a firecracker,’ Jowan observed.
‘Yes she is.’
‘Delicate though, I reckon, underneath it all.’
