Beryl had been Nova’s predecessor at the center, a St. Tredock local who’d been in the job for thirty years until Sandy caught her drinking whisky out of a coffee mug during the Under-Fives Stay and Play. Although Nova hadn’t even been living in Cornwall at the time, she was pretty sure there were some who blamed her for Beryl getting sacked, Phyllis included.
“Next time you want to get some proper biscuits, like a Hobnob,” the older woman continued. “But not the chocolate ones, mind, as Craddock can’t eat those.”
“Noted, I promise,” Nova said.
Phyllis sat down in a chair and Craddock lay heavily at her feet, farting with the exertion. Nova glanced at the clock and saw it was almost 7:05.Please, please let someone else come so it wasn’t just her and Phyllis for the next hour.They sat in silence for several minutes, the only sounds Phyllis munching biscuits and the snuffling snores coming from the dog’s direction.
“Right, well it looks like it’s just us tonight, Phyllis. Shall we—”
“Evening all, sorry I’m late!”
The door flew open and in strode Arthur Robinson, a giant of a man dressed in a thick woolen jumper and a pair of green corduroy trousers, his white beard in stark contrast to his ruddy, weather-beaten face. He was followed by Ash, a gangly teenager who was clearly still adjusting to his new height as he bumped into both the doorframe and a chair while crossing the room. He sat down at the far side of the circle and gave Nova an embarrassed nod of greeting before hiding behind his long, dark fringe.
“Good evening both of you,” Nova said, trying not to smile at Arthur. Although she knew she shouldn’t have favorites, she was always delighted to see the pensioner. He’d stumbled into her first book club meeting by accident, when there was a room mix-up with the Carers Support Group summer social, and the eighty-one-year-old retired dairy farmer was now Nova’s most enthusiastic participant. Or rather, her only enthusiastic participant.
“You look lovely tonight, Nova,” Arthur said, nodding at her 1950s gingham swing dress. “You always bring a touch of glamour to the community center. Oh, digestives, my favorite.” He helped himself to a biscuit and sat down. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight all week. A helluva book pick, I have to say.”
“You enjoyed it, then?” Nova said.
“Absolutely! What a cracker, a real page-turner. Esi and I stayed up well past our bedtime to find out what happened.”
“What did she think of it?”
“She loved it, especially the bits with Tate. You know how my wife enjoys a proper love story.”
Nova had never met Esi Robinson, but Arthur had told her all about the woman. They’d been married for almost sixty years and lived on a farm a couple of miles inland from St. Tredock. Esi was now housebound and Arthur was her carer. The woman apparently loved romance novels but was no longer able to read them herself, so Arthur read aloud to her every day. Part of the reason Nova had picked Delia Owens’s book was because she hoped Esi would enjoy the romance plot.
“I didn’t think much of it at all,” Phyllis said with a sniff. “Far too slow.”
“I thought you might appreciate the whodunit part?”
“I would if the story had focused on that, but instead there was all that nonsense about insects and birds. Honestly, reading it was like getting stuck behind Jimmy Wallis in the post office queue, waffling on about his twitching holidays.”
“Esi and I loved all the nature bits,” Arthur said. “Although I’ve never been to America, I felt like I was there among the herons and fireflies of the North Carolina marshes.”
“What about you, Ash? Did you enjoy the book?” Nova smiled encouragingly at the teenager, who looked panicked at being addressed directly.
“Erm…eh…yeah? I mean, I’ve not really read anything like it before, so, I don’t know…”
“You’re right, lad, it was different, wasn’t it?” Arthur said, and Nova saw relief flash across the boy’s face before he retreated behind his hair. “Esi and I thought the same, that we weren’t sure we’d read anything quite like it.”
“It wasn’t even a proper murder mystery,” Phyllis grumbled. “I worked out who did it by chapter three. And where were the red herrings? The misdirection and twists? And don’t get me started on that terrible ending. When he—”
“Before we discuss the ending, why don’t we chat about some of the themes in the book?” Nova said. “I thought we could start by talking about Kya’s abandonment, which is a running theme starting from—”
She was interrupted by a loud creak as the door swung open. Nova glanced up to see the miserable-looking man who’d come for the first time last month, and who she’d been sure wouldn’t come back. His expression was even unhappier this evening, exhaustion etched around his eyes, and there was a large splatter of ketchup onthe front of his shirt. He had a bulging bag slung over his shoulder and was clutching a copy ofWhere the Crawdads Sing.
“Oh, hi…” Nova faltered, trying to remember his name.
“Michael,” the man said quietly.
“Of course, lovely to see you again. Come on in, we’ve only just started.”
He hovered in the doorway for a moment, his eyes flicking around the occupants of the room. There were two free seats between Arthur and Phyllis, and he took the one next to the older man.
“I see you’ve got the book with you,” Nova said. “Did you enjoy it?”
Michael looked at the book in his hands as if only just realizing it was there. “I only read a bit.”
