Chapter 5
Carrie attempted to put her good mood for the rest of the work day down to the fact that she was feeling more confident in the bookshop and was enjoying being in this sweet little seaside town and seeing how well Poppy, now at holiday club, was settling in.
But when she closed the shop and quickly raced upstairs to the flat before leaving to pick up her daughter, she found herself checking her reflection in the bathroom mirror, changing her top and putting on extra mascara.
It wasn’t really warm enough to go in the water again like Poppy had hoped, but they could at least go for a walk down to the beach with a bucket and spade . . . And they might even see Michael and Monty.
Carrie shook her head at her behaviour and stopped preening.
She was acting like a teenager with a crush, and it wasn’t something she was used to.
She’d fallen in love with Tony and then, when he’d left, she’d been far too busy dealing with life as a single parent to think about romance.
She hadn’t actually been attracted to anyone since Tony.
It was a strange feeling. But she couldn’t deny there was something about Michael that she really liked.
It wasn’t just that he was good-looking, he seemed.
.. like she could trust him. Maybe because she’d known him as an awkward teenager, even though they’d never got further than saying the occasional “hi” to each other back then.
Carrie had to rush to the community hall to be on time for Poppy and arrived hot and sweaty; the opposite of what she’d intended when spending extra time on her appearance before coming out. They walked slowly down to the beach, with Carrie trying to make herself look less dishevelled.
They sat down on the sand near the top of the main beach because Poppy couldn’t wait to start building a sandcastle. Carrie sipped on the water she’d brought down for them both. She focused on chatting with Poppy and not thinking about Michael or spending the whole time scanning the beach for him.
They stayed for an hour, by which point Poppy’s fabulous castle was complete and she was more than ready to head home for the spaghetti Bolognese she’d been promised for dinner.
Carrie found she was taking her time packing up their stuff and wiping the sand off her feet, putting off leaving the beach for as long as possible. She knew it was silly for her to be disappointed that Michael hadn’t shown up, but she couldn’t help it.
* * *
Carrie dropped Poppy off at holiday club again the next day and popped into Boots on the way back to the bookshop to pick up some sun cream for them both. The weather had turned sunny again and she’d only brought a tiny travel-sized bottle with them.
She quickly found what she needed and was wandering the aisles with a few minutes to spare, considering whether there was a single town in the UK that didn’t have a Boots chemist in it, when she spotted a teenage girl walking around. There was something about her which caught Carrie’s eye.
She was taller than Carrie, probably about five eight or nine with dark hair and pale skin. She wore glasses and was dressed in typical teen jeans and a hoodie despite how warm the day was. There was something strange about the way she was moving. Shiftily. Continually checking over her shoulder.
Carrie watched as the girl moved over to the hair accessories.
She looked through them in a bored fashion, lifting them off the metal hooks and putting them back again.
She glanced over her shoulder once more and, taking a small packet of pink hair slides off the stand, she pushed them up the sleeve of her jumper.
With her head down she began to move towards the exit.
Carrie spotted a security guard eyeing the girl and beginning to walk towards her. Without thinking, she called out, “Sweetheart!” Her cheeks reddened as everyone in the store turned to look, but she ignored them and hurried to join the teenager, who’d stopped momentarily.
She reached her. “I’m so sorry,” she said to the confused-looking girl. “I forgot to get those hair things that you wanted from you. I was just going to pay. Let me have them and I’ll do it now.”
The girl slowly took the clips out from the sleeve of her jumper and handed them to Carrie, realisation hitting her as she spotted the security guard watching their exchange closely.
“Actually, I’ve decided I don’t want them after all,” said the girl, quietly.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind buying them for you,” said Carrie.
The teen shook her head.
“OK, let’s put them back then,” Carrie said.
The girl followed her back to the stand and Carrie placed the hair slides back on there. Carrie wasn’t sure whether the girl was still putting on a show for the security guard or actually wanted to stay with her.
Carrie paid for her sun cream and they walked out of the shop together.
“I’m Carrie,” Carrie said once they were outside.
“Layla,” replied the girl.
“I think you were right to decide against those slides. They didn’t look like the kind of thing you’d wear.”
The teenager shrugged.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Before Layla could answer, her name was called. Carrie turned and saw Michael coming up the road towards them.
“Hi,” he said when he reached them. “I see you’ve met each other then.”
Seeing the confusion on Carrie’s face, he said, “Layla’s my daughter. She was going to be spending the summer holidays with her mum, but there’s been a change of plan.” He put his arm around the girl.
“I can see the family resemblance,” Carrie said.
“Layla, did Carrie tell you she’s running the bookshop for the summer?”
“No, she didn’t,” said Layla, avoiding looking at Carrie.
“I hope to see you in there sometime,” Carrie said cheerfully, aiming to put the teenager at ease. “Anyway, speaking of the bookshop, I need to get back there.”
Carrie hurried up the hill to the shop, going over her interaction with Layla. She seemed like a sweet kid and appeared to be close to her dad. What could have prompted her to try to steal? And something she didn’t even seem to want . . .
* * *
Carrie was cleaning up after dinner that evening when she heard a brrrriiiinnnngggg.
It took her a second to work out that it was the doorbell to the flat.
Telling Poppy she was just popping downstairs, she walked down and into the shop and over to the front door where she could see Layla waiting outside, her arms wrapped tightly around herself even though it was still warm.
Carrie quickly unlocked the door. “Hey, Layla,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
She felt a small wave of disappointment that Layla’s father wasn’t with her.
“I . . . I wanted to apologise for what happened earlier and to thank you for not saying anything to my dad . . .” Layla looked at the ground.
“Would you like to come in?” Carrie offered.
Layla nodded and walked into the shop.
“I hope it’s OK that I came round,” she said, evidently awkward as she fiddled with her hands.
“Of course it is. It was lovely to meet you today,” Carrie reassured her.
“I don’t usually go around nicking stuff . . .”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Carrie said, making Layla smile.
“It looks like you’re doing a good job running this place,” Layla commented.
“I don’t think I’ve messed up anything too badly so far.”
“It was me who got Mary to add in a young adult section, you know,” Layla said, proudly.
“That was a smart idea — it’s very popular,” said Carrie. She knew she needed to give the teen time and let her return to the topic she’d come to discuss when she was ready. She didn’t have to wait long.
“I don’t know why I was going to take the hair slides,” Layla blurted out. “You were right, they’re not even my style . . .”
“No one behaves perfectly, especially when they’re your age,” said Carrie, gently. “You had a blip. You said it won’t happen again, and I believe you.”
“It definitely won’t,” Layla said earnestly.
There was a knock on the bookshop’s door.
Carrie turned to see three women, one of whom was Lucy from the coffee shop next door, standing outside.
They waved in greeting. Carrie opened the door and they came in.
They were carrying bottles of wine and platters of food, and each held a book in their hands.
“Hi!” said one of the women. “Hello, Layla. And you must be Carrie! It’s wonderful to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you from your auntie. I’m sorry we’re a little early, but we thought we could help set up?”
“Set up?” said Carrie, in alarm.
“We weren’t sure if you’d have time to get things ready,” said the third woman as they came in and looked around. Her loose, dark hair reached almost down to her waist. “I’m Rachel, by the way. The bakery on Cockle Street is mine.”
“Nice to meet you. Um... ready for what?” Carrie asked.
“Oh my goodness,” said Lucy. “Did Mary forget to tell you about our book club meetings?”
Carrie’s heart sank. “She did.”
“Oh dear, but she must have had such a lot on her mind. We usually meet on the third Wednesday of the month, but the Women’s Institute was having a big fundraiser so we postponed it and we’re a week late.
This month is A Court of Thorns and Roses.
” All three women held up their copies of the bestselling romantasy book.
“I’m so sorry,” Carrie said. “I had no idea . . .”
“Don’t worry,” said the first woman, who now introduced herself as Jo and who worked part-time in the coffee shop. “If it’s all right with you, it won’t take us five minutes to get everything set up. You won’t even know we’re here.”
“Though it would be lovely if you’d join us. Have you read the book?” asked Lucy.
“I have actually,” said Carrie. “I was just going to get my little girl ready for bed though . . .”
“What if you came back afterwards?” said Jo and the others nodded encouragingly.
“I wouldn’t be happy leaving Poppy alone upstairs,” said Carrie.
“I don’t mind staying with her if you like,” said Layla suddenly.