‘It’s not an unreasonable request, your mother will know what it looks like. It’s only fair that I do, too.’ Taking in Florrie’s shocked expression she’d said, ‘Well, it is! And there’s no need to look so outraged. What harm could it do for me to take a look? It’s not as if I’d tell all and sundry what it’s like. And don’t tell me you hold with all those ridiculous, old-fashioned superstitions about it being bad luck for anyone else to see it. We all know that’s a load of claptrap.’ Dawn had craftily made sure to make all of her comments out of Ed’s earshot while he was busy working in the window. And though she’d attempted a smile, there was no disguising the challenging glint in her eyes.
Ed’s mother had continued to push to see the dress until Florrie had taken Gerty and left the bookshop for the vets, her insides churning, her stress levels climbing skywards. Which was probably why the relief at not hearing her future mother-in-law’s voice on her return was so welcome.
She looked at Ed, taking in his expression. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was looking more than a little sheepish.
‘Has something happened?’ Florrie asked. She had a horrible feeling she wasn’t going to like what she was about to hear. Her eyes switched to Leah at the counter. The young girl, who was out of Ed’s eyeline, pulled an exaggerated scared face.
‘Er, no. Everything’s fine. She’s… um. She’s at Samphire Cottage,’ he said.
‘Samphire Cottage?’ Surely she couldn’t have heard right? Florrie’s mind went straight to her wedding dress that was hanging on a hook on the back of the door in the cottage’s tiny box room – the room where Ed’s mum had wanted to stay. Granted, it was hidden beneath a garment cover, but knowing Dawn, she wouldn’t put it past her to take a look. It made hersuddenly wish she’d taken her mum up on her offer of keeping it at their house.
Ed cleared his throat. ‘She’s doing us a favour. I got a text saying the new kettle was going to be delivered – it’s a day early and there’s been a mix-up with the address. I think I must’ve forgotten to change the delivery option to here rather than home after I put my card details in.’ Watching Florrie’s frown deepen as she processed this information, he continued, ‘And since I was covered in paint, and Leah was busy with a load of customers, my mother offered to go and wait in for it – I’d just picked up the notification email; the kettle was due for delivery any minute, so she drove there.’
‘Right.’ She could just imagine that Ed had been steamrollered into agreeing to it by his mother.
The implications started racing around Florrie’s mind. Dawn was currently in possession of a key to their home, had free range of it, was able to peer into cupboards and drawers, nosey around the rooms – not that they had anything to hide, but it still made her feel uneasy. Though she was Ed’s mother, she was still no more than a stranger to Florrie.
‘How long ago was that?’
‘Um’ – his gaze went to the clock above the counter – ‘about half an hour ago; fifteen or so minutes after you went out.’
Samphire Cottage was no more than a five-minute drive away. If delivery had been as imminent as Ed had implied, why had Dawn not returned?
‘Okay.’ Florrie didn’t know what else to say, Dawn was his mum after all. He was in a difficult position, and she knew he’d feel just as concerned as she did about Dawn being in their cottage on her own, especially when she’d never been willing to set foot in it before. The last thing Florrie wanted to do was to make him feel any worse about it. There was always a chance the delivery driver had got lost and had been late. She held back from saying her mum was at home, which wasn’t far from Samphire Cottage. It would’ve made more sense for her to pop round and take deliveryof the kettle, which is what Florrie would’ve suggested if she’d been there. Paula would’ve been happy to help, and she had a key, after all. And now, so did Dawn. ‘I’ll just go and dry Gerty off. That mizzle’s heavy; we got a bit soggy, didn’t we, lass?’ Gerty looked up and wagged her tail.
‘That flippin’ woman’s been atotalnightmare,’ Leah said quietly, when Florrie returned and Ed was back working on his window displays. ‘She’s a right cow, and the way she talks to Ed is just awful. I mean, he’s her son, but she sounds like she can’t stand him. I wanted to say something so many times and had to bite my tongue cos I know it’s not my place, but… ugh! She has no right to talk to him like that. I don’t know how he puts up with her.’
‘No, neither do I.’ Florrie gave a sigh and started chewing on her bottom lip. She suspected it had probably become the norm such that neither mother nor son noticed it any longer. Though, on reflection, Ed had seen how she interacted with her own parents and had often commented on the supportive and loving dynamic they shared, not to mention the respect they had for one another. And, from the conversations they’d had over the last couple of years, she knew he’d compared it to his relationship with his own parents. She assumed he continued to put up with it since to tackle his parents about it would run the risk of incurring their wrath, particularly his mother’s. Dawn had a reputation in the Harte family for her volatile temper and anger issues – though Florrie didn’t know her well and hadn’t actually met her to speak to until last Friday when she landed at the bookshop, it was the first thing that sprang to mind whenever Dawn Harte was mentioned.
She rubbed her brow frustratedly.
‘We’re going to have to go around and check the bookshelves cos she decided we’d got it all wrong and started rearranging things as soon as you went out,’ added Leah. ‘Honestly, she was moving that fast she was like a tornado. I don’t know if you noticed, but she’s taken Jenna’s books off the main display table and put them under the counter. Said they were drivel and that no one was interested in “romance rubbish” as she called it. Said books on travelwere far better and that people round here needed to broaden their minds and explore the world – or words to that effect.’
‘Shewhat?’ Florrie turned to see the table unimaginatively piled with hardback travel books where Jenna’s display had been. Rage surged through her with such force, she was struggling to rein it in. ‘That woman has overstepped the mark, big time. She clearly has no idea what a popular genre romance is, or how offensive that is to our romance readers who are amongst our most loyal customers. And Jenna’s books are probably our biggest sellers.’
‘That’s what I told her, but she wouldn’t listen. She just steamed on regardless. She was literally stomping about that hard the floorboards were bouncing and the bookshelves shaking.’ Leah gave a quick demonstration on the spot complete with an exaggerated determined facial expression. Florrie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘She had a right face on her and just started ranting about how we needed to make the bookshop more highbrow if we wanted it to be a success, and that everything about it was generations behind the times. I tried to stop her, but she’s bloomin’ scary when she gets going. I’m really sorry.’ Leah gave an apologetic look. ‘Customers were looking, it was really embarrassing so I thought it best to stay quiet.’
Florrie rested a hand on Leah’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you go apologising for what Dawn’s doing. I’m glad you didn’t say anything; I wouldn’t want her to be horrible to you, especially in front of customers, which she would have no qualms about, and I know would’ve made you feel even more embarrassed. She doesn’t take being challenged very well. Though, bizarrely, she seems to like nothing better than a disagreement.’ From what Florrie had gathered over the years, Dawn seemed to thrive on confrontation, and she wasn’t going to allow Leah to bear the brunt of Dawn’s bad temper. She was a sweet-natured girl and didn’t deserve that.
‘Yeah, I kind of gotthat.’
Florrie couldn’t wait to get home after work. They’d locked up and left the bookshop as soon as possible. It was definitely a case of best foot forward as they made their way along the top prom, with Ed jokingly asking if she was training for a run.
But though he didn’t say it, she knew he’d realise the reason for her haste: Dawn still had Ed’s house key; she hadn’t returned to the bookshop, and what’s more, they hadn’t heard a word from her. Florrie’s mind had been working overtime, her stomach churning for the rest of the afternoon.
When they were finally back home, Florrie kicked off her shoes and raced upstairs, citing needing the loo as her reason. She arrived on the compact landing to see the door to the spare room standing ajar, which she was certain wasn’t how it had been left that morning. Florrie had got into the habit of keeping it closed since she’d started using the room to store her wedding dress and accessories, not that she thought Ed would go looking for a second, but just in case he forgot it was temporarily out of bounds and ventured in by mistake.
But seeing it like this sent suspicion curling around inside her. She pushed the door open and tentatively stepped inside. Though nothing leapt out as being different, Florrie couldn’t shake the feeling that Dawn had been snooping in here, no doubt checking that they were telling her the truth about not having enough room for her to stay. She’d very probably found her dress in the process. Florrie shuddered as unease rippled up her spine.
‘Everything okay?’ Ed looked up from pouring boiling water into the teapot as Florrie walked into the kitchen. ‘Thought we’d use the old kettle one last time before we put it into retirement.’ The smile he flashed pushed through her feelings of annoyance with his mother.
‘Yeah.’ She smiled back. It wasn’t his fault his parents behaved the way they did, and since she couldn’t be one hundred per cent certain that the door had been closed when they’d left that morning,she decided to keep it to herself. What was the point of piling more worries onto Ed, when she knew he was feeling bad enough about his mum’s attempts at taking over at the bookshop. Florrie was still riled at Dawn removing Jenna’s display, but their wedding was just around the corner and she didn’t want to spend the run-up squabbling with him because of his parents. If only he hadn’t given his mother the key to their home, she thought for the umpteenth time that day.
THIRTEEN
TUESDAY 14TH APRIL
‘How’s your father doing, lovey?’ Jean asked, handing Florrie a mug of tea. The bookshop had been busy all morning and they were taking advantage of a quiet spell before they were hit with the lunchtime rush.
