Page 101 of The Bookshop By the Loch

He looked at me, his eyes glittering. “Underneath this devilishly handsome exterior beats the heart of an angel.”

I laughed at his attempt to maintain a straight face. “Now you’re just being ridiculous!”

We both remained rooted to the spot, drinking in one another and reluctant to leave. My thoughts were cartwheeling everywhere. What was going on between us? Tobias had made his feelings clear. He thought of me as a friend and yet, just when I thought this man couldn’t surprise me anymore… I realised I wasn’t speaking and was studying the planes and contours of his face. I recovered myself. “Thank you again, Tobias. Really. That was lovely what you did, smoothing things over with Maeve like that.”

He gazed back down at me, his attention travelling from my loose hair, down to my mouth. My heart was jumping out of my chest. Could he hear the noise it was making against my ribs?

The sound of it thundered in my ears.

I was oblivious to what was happening outside Book Ends – the odd, freewheeling gull, the occasional honk of a car horn and the melting sun stroking the pavement.

An odd look flitted across his face, breaking the spell. Tobias took a step backwards and pulled his attention away from me. “It’s no big deal,” he insisted. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“No, they wouldn’t.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders under his lemon sorbet-coloured shirt. His sleeves were rolled up. “Well, it’s like you said before. That’s what friends are for.”

He delivered a brief smile and gestured to his art gallery. “Have you had lunch yet? I’ll pop out and get us a sandwich from Mrs Hegarty’s.”

The moment was over, like it had never begun. “Er, no,” I faltered, forcing a smile. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

I dived under the counter to fetch my bag. “Here’s some money. Get yourself your lunch from this as a small thank you.”

I straightened up but he’d already gone.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“What do you say to the daughter you gave up as a baby? I’ve written easier letters in my time.”

Celeste attempted to force some dark humour into the emotional proceedings.

The three of us were arranged in a semi-circle in her accommodation at the residential home, as early evening spread across the sky.

Celeste was sat in her wheelchair, decked out in layers of silk finery, while Maeve was to her left and me to her right.

Every so often, my attention would drift across towards her wardrobe. It was like a sumptuous dressing-up box and I was itching to take a closer look at what other gems were concealed within it.

Celeste’s window was open and her apricot and gold checked curtains danced in the gentle evening breeze.

In front of us, she had insisted her finest tea set, a Royal Doulton Old Country Roses, was to be used. Accompanying it, was a plate of clotted cream shortbread.

“I’ll spoil my dinner.” I half-sighed at the sugar-coated wedges.

“Oh tosh,” insisted Celeste. “A little bit of what you fancy does you good.”

“You’re a terrible influence.”

She glittered at me with her dancing eyes. “So I’ve been told over the years. Go on, Maeve. Lexie. Get stuck in!”

I reached across for one of the shortbread fingers and held it up, ready to take a bite. “Are you both sure you want me here? I feel like I’m intruding.”

“More tosh!” said Celeste with a withering expression.

“Absolutely,” joined in Maeve. “You’ve been such a support to both of us these past weeks.”

“That’s very kind of you to say so.”

Maeve leant forward and poured a stream of hot tea into the three dainty white cups, decorated with burgundy and lemon roses. The fine bone China let out a tiny rattle. “Here you go, Lexie. Now, let’s get on with this letter, shall we?”