The Cornish Guest House by Emma Burstall Read Free Book Online Page A

To her relief, there was no sign of its inhabitants, but by late afternoon, when she came out of the bakery in Market Square where she’d been buying iced buns for tea, she spotted Oscar in his stroller with a dark-haired girl.
    It was almost closing time, twilight was approaching and the little boy, who was well wrapped up in a bright red jacket and pompom hat, was gazing at a ginger cat washing her fur in someone’s doorway. His minder, meanwhile, was talking to the fishmonger, Ryan, who’d come out of his shop in his white, blood-streaked overall and was leaning against the window, holding something between fingers and thumb.
    ‘Hi, Liz,’ he said, breaking off his conversation with the girl, who turned to see who it was. ‘This here’s Pilar.’ He glanced at her to check that he’d pronounced the name properly. ‘She’s from Spain. She’s an au pair.’
    He said ‘au pair’ in the kind of hushed tone normally reserved for royalty or pop stars, and at the same time his dense black eyebrows, which nearly met in the middle, shot up to meet his bushy hairline.
    Liz smiled. ‘Is she? Wow!’
    Pleased with the response, Ryan went on to explain that Pilar was delivering invitations for a party at The Stables. Tabitha hadn’t scotched the plan, then. Liz wasn’t sure what Pilar’s English was like, but she seemed content to have Ryan speak for her.
    ‘I can give you a hand if you like, soon as I’ve locked up here,’ he suggested, turning back to his new friend.
    Pilar looked doubtful. ‘I think there are not too many left,’ she replied slowly, taking a tasselled brown bag off her shoulder and looking inside. ‘I have nearly finished.’
    Ryan was undeterred. ‘I’ll take you out tonight, then. Introduce you to our famous Tremarnock watering holes!’
    Pilar frowned. ‘Watering holes? I am sorry, I do not understand.’
    Ryan grinned. ‘Pubs. You know, where you go for a drink. Una cerveza. ’
    His accent wasn’t the best and Liz doubted that Pilar would know what he was talking about, but she seemed to get the gist.
    ‘OK.’ She shrugged. ‘I do not think there is anything else to do in this place and I am not busy.’
    She didn’t sound exactly thrilled, but neither had she turned him down.
    ‘Good idea.’ Liz marvelled at his quick work. Mind you, he’d probably have some competition from the lads in the village. There’d no doubt be great excitement once they heard about the new girl in town, and a Spanish senorita at that.
    Half an hour or so after she reached home, her invitation arrived in an envelope marked ‘Mr and Mrs R. Hart’. For a moment she thought it must have come to the wrong address; she still wasn’t quite accustomed to her newly married status, having previously been on her own for so long. Handwritten on thick white card in black ink were the words ‘Tabitha and Luke Mallon would be delighted if you can join them for drinks and food to celebrate their recent move’, followed by the address, date and time. At the bottom it said ‘No need to RSVP’ and there were two small, discreet champagne glasses outlined in silver in the corner.
    As she placed it on the mantelpiece, she reflected that it was perhaps surprising Pilar had been given the task of postmistress. Luke might have wanted to do it himself, or Tabitha, come to that, as it would have been an opportunity to introduce themselves and get to know the layout of the village. Still, they were both busy with the move, and maybe Luke was also working at whatever he did for a living; he’d mentioned that it was Tabitha who was to take over the main running of the guest house.
    Pat called soon after, when Liz was parcelling orders for RosieCraft, wrapping hair accessories in pink, scented tissue paper sprinkled with glitter, and sticking them in envelopes ready to take them to the post. She had a steady stream of customers now, mainly from Europe and Japan, and although she didn’t make enough money to live on, she