Which was what Juliet had said about answering phones. Lucy had been so stung then, but now she felt only bemused. “No, thank goodness. But I’ve leapt into enough situations in my life, Liz, trust me. I’m trying to learn my lesson and be more cautious.”
Not that it was really working. For as nervous as she was, there was a part of her—a big part—that wanted to leap in headfirst, asshe did with everything. A bigger part, however, did not want to make a fool of herself, or feel like a failure. Again.
“What do you really have to lose?” Liz persisted. “So it doesn’t go well. You stop.” She shrugged. “And we look for another specialist art teacher who’s willing to work for free.”
“Ah, now I see why you’re keen for me to start teaching.”
“Seriously, Lucy.” Liz gave her a stern teacher’s glare. “Hartley-by-the-Sea is the type of place where everyone pitches in and gets the job done. You’re part of that, aren’t you?”
Was she? She knew she wanted to be. She’d come here wanting people to love and accept her, but maybe she needed to fulfill her half of that bargain. “Okay,” she said, and held up a hand to keep Liz from offering any more arguments—or making her feel any guiltier. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Liz said, “Because I’m the one teaching art to the Year Sixes right now and I can barely manage stick figures.”
Lucy’s heart was both light and full as she headed back to Tarn House. She stopped in at the post office shop, as she’d occasionally taken to doing; after Dan Trenton’s terse explanation of how he’d ended up in Hartley-by-the-Sea, he had graduated to gruff hellos whenever Lucy came in. Lucy counted each one as a triumph.
“Hey, Dan,” she greeted him cheerfully as she stepped into the single room, its shelves crowded with tins of baked beans and loaves of bread.
“Hello.” He was counting bills at the register, the muscles in his tattooed forearms rippling, and Lucy saw the tiniest smile quirk the corner of his mouth.Progress!
She grabbed a copy of theWhitehaven News, which she’d started reading; the local-interest stories fascinated her. Where else could a primary school’s bake sale make the front page?
“So, how are things?” she asked as she put the paper on the counter. This was new territory; she hadn’t attempted more than ahellobefore.
“Hey!” Dan’s shout made Lucy jump a little, and then he marched from behind the counter and grabbed the arm of a boy who Lucy hadn’t noticed was loitering by the candy rack. “You little bugger. I saw you nick that.”
With her heart seeming to both sink and rise to her mouth, Lucy saw the boy was Oliver Jones.
“Get off,” Oliver yelped, trying to twist away from the huge man. “I didn’t steal anything.”
“What’s this, then?” Dan demanded, and yanked a bag of chocolate buttons from the pocket of Oliver’s school trousers. Oliver glared at him in stony silence, and now Lucy’s heart really did sink.
“I’ll buy it,” she said quickly. “I don’t mind—”
“Maybe I mind,” Dan growled, and gave Oliver’s arm a little shake. “How often have you been nicking things?”
Oliver didn’t answer, and Lucy took a step towards them. “Look, he won’t do it again,” she told Dan, and then gave Oliver as stern a look as she could. “Will you? Because it would be really, really stupid if you did.” Neither of them spoke and Lucy continued, a bit desperately now, “Look, Dan. He’s only nine. And . . . well.” She could hardly mention Oliver’s home situation. “Give him a break. It’s only seventy-five pence. Please, for my sake.”
“Why do you care?” Dan demanded.
“I was nine once too. We all did stupid things when we were young, didn’t we?”
After a long, tense moment, Dan let Oliver’s arm go. “Fine. But I’m warning you. . . .” He shook a finger at the boy. “If I catch you doing something like that again, it’s straight to the police. You ever heard of Lancaster Farms?” Warily Oliver shook his head.“It’s a prison for kids who get into trouble. Not a nice place.” Dan glowered at him meaningfully. “You don’t want to end up there.”
Lucy put a comforting hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “Okay, so seventy-five pence for the chocolate buttons, and a pound for the paper.” She slid a two-pound coin across the counter. “And we’re all good?”
Slowly Dan nodded, and then handed her twenty-five pence change. Lucy turned to the door, her hand still on Oliver’s shoulder.
“Right,” she said once they were outside. “What did you do that for?”
Oliver jerked away from her. “Thanks for the chocolate,” he said, sounding decidedly ungrateful. He started walking up the main street.
“You don’t get off that easily,” Lucy said, and fell into step alongside him.
Oliver looked at her suspiciously. “What are you doing?”
“Walking you home.”
“You going to tell my mum?”
