Chapter Three
Ivy stared at him, her heart thumping wildly, wondering if she was interrupting the politest robbery of all time.
‘I was expecting you at some point of course,’ he went on, still smiling at her. His accent was American, Ivy thought dazedly, broad and cheerful, like he came from someplace sunny and relaxed. ‘Josie said you’d be in this morning. You must be Ivy.’
‘I … what?’ Ivy managed, finding herself frustratingly unable to string a sentence together. Her gaze caught on his muscles in his loose vest, effortlessly holding his yoga position.
‘My sister’s Brooke Wakefield. Josie’s guest?
She’s upstairs, sleeping off the jet lag.
We got here last night. I’m staying here too.
Originally it was just going to be Brooke, but she showed me the photos of this town and this bookshop and I had to see it.
It’s spectacular! But yeah, Josie didn’t mind.
In fact, she said I brought great psychic energy to this place.
Which is already as amazing as I expected, by the way.
I feel like I’m in a picture postcard. And I haven’t even seen it in daylight yet!
’ Talking all the while, he flowed unselfconsciously into some kind of warrior pose, muscles shifting yet again.
Ivy’s brain finally kicked into gear. The pieces clunked into place.
Clearly, Josie’s new lodger, Brooke, came with a brother attached.
Another person to accommodate, an unnervingly cheerful and unnervingly handsome person with long limbs, unruly chestnut hair and caramel-brown eyes, doing yoga on the shop rug and chatting away without a care.
Thanks for letting me know, Josie, Ivy thought, smoothing her unbrushed hair and rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
‘Um, okay. Well, welcome to Wildest Dreams,’ she said. ‘Tea?’ She was meant to look after the guests, after all. ‘Coffee? Chai?’
‘No, thanks,’ Trip said, without breaking his pose. ‘I thought I might get a green juice later. Get some vitamins in after the flight. Maybe an echinacea smoothie or something.’
‘Sure,’ Ivy said. She didn’t want to break it to Trip that the closest thing Fox Bay had to a smoothie was probably mushy peas from the chippy. ‘Good luck with that.’
‘I’ll just finish up here and then I’ll come and introduce myself properly,’ Trip said. He gave her an unexpectedly sweet smile. ‘See you in a minute, Ivy.’
Ivy had just managed to make a coffee that was strong enough to wake her up – even if it did taste of mud – shelved the rom coms and was immersed in a new edition of the Paris Review when Trip appeared.
‘Hey!’ he said. ‘Oh man, this place is so charming. I can’t get over it. Even that refrigerator. Look at it. Super neat.’
Ivy turned the page without looking up. ‘It’s a fridge. A fridge that looks like it’s from the 1970s. In fact, I think this whole place is one big health and safety violation.’
‘And these coffee cups!’ he went on, picking one up. ‘Brew and Prejudice. That’s funny, isn’t it? Because—’
‘Yes,’ Ivy said, groaning internally. Trip was clearly someone who enjoyed puns. That wouldn’t get old at all. ‘I get it. Like Pride and Prejudice, but it’s … a brew.’
‘That’s right.’ He beamed at her. ‘So cool.’
‘Josie designed the mugs and had them made at the print shop. They’re full of typos. Look closely and you’ll see she’s spelled “prejudice” with two js.’
Trip was seemingly undeterred. ‘I love how much personality this place has. And it’s so peaceful. The sea, lulling you to sleep … it reminds me of home.’
‘Which is where?’ asked Ivy, turning the page, although she couldn’t concentrate on her article over the sound of Trip’s enthusiasm.
‘California.’ He leaned on the counter, eyes bright and expectant. ‘Mostly in Santa Cruz. So what’s your story? Josie says you live in Fox Bay?’
‘I grew up here,’ Ivy said shortly. His wide brown eyes were still fixed eagerly on hers so she found herself carrying on.
‘I should have been born in London but Mum moved here when she was pregnant because she’d met a Cornish guy.
They had my little sister Liv and then the Cornish guy moved to Spain. We think, no one seems too sure.’
‘Awesome,’ said Trip. ‘Growing up here must have been amazing. I bet you’re out every day in the summer, catching waves.’
‘Nope,’ Ivy told him, turning back to the Paris Review. ‘I’m a freak of nature. The only non-surfer in Fox Bay. When I walk through the streets the townsfolk point and stare.’
‘Oh,’ he said, sounding a little uncertain.
Ivy sighed. As usual, her sense of humour, such as it was, had fallen flat; not that she cared. She was used to blank stares.
Then, to her surprise, Trip said, ‘Do they ring a bell as you walk past and pelt you with rotten eggs?’
She glanced up at him, startled, and saw a smile tugging at his mouth. ‘Not quite,’ she said. ‘But I have to warn you, the stocks are still in the town square.’
He grinned. ‘Noted. So are you back for winter break?’
‘Yeah, I’m at art college in Truro right now.’
‘Wow. That’s so cool. An artist. You must be full of ideas.’
Ivy froze for a fraction of a second, a page half-turned, the smile stiffening on her lips. The words hovered awkwardly. Artist. You must be full of ideas.
‘I guess,’ she said. ‘Whatever. Look, Trip,’ (was that really his name?) ‘I should get on. Lots to do. Josie might plan her day according to the lunar cycles, but she also works me pretty hard.’
To her relief, Trip took the hint. He stood and tied his hoodie round his waist.
‘I’m gonna head out for a quick run, anyway. I read that running at sunrise helps your circadian rhythms and resets your body clock after a long flight. Jet lag hack, I guess. See you later, Ivy.’
‘See you,’ muttered Ivy, watching as he bounced out into the rain.
The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Ivy let out a breath and put down her magazine.
It was way too early for that much conversation and enthusiasm.
Too early for anyone that cheerful. She relished the sudden return to silence, moving to the kids’ corner and straightening scattered cushions, aligning the tiny chairs round the table.
She refilled Kathleen Lee’s display, knowing that fans would make a beeline for it the second the door was unlocked.
Somehow, Wildest Dreams had become the official Kathleen Lee stockist. Feeling obscurely sorry for the local authors, such as Serena Woods, she pushed some of their books to the front of the display, hoping they would get picked up too.
A few minutes later, Josie arrived, humming and windblown, her grey curls wild, with a fresh box of paperbacks and a baguette from Fin’s bakery in her arms. ‘Goodness, the rain is coming down now!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re here early, darling. You’re always so punctual. It worries me, Ivy.’
‘Isn’t punctuality a good thing in an employee?’ said Ivy, wrapping her rainbow-cardigan round herself against the sharp breeze from the open door.
‘Well, I suppose, although frankly I think good time-keeping is overrated.’ Josie set the box on her hip and kicked the door shut behind her.
‘Being on time is useful, I suppose, when you have trains to catch and shops to open – but in the grand scheme of things it’s a bit dull.
I wouldn’t have had half the adventures I’ve had if I hadn’t missed the odd flight or two.
You’re young.’ She waved a hand. ‘You should be staying out late, partying, sharing ideas, thoughts with like-minded souls. You should be texting me to say you’re not coming in at all because you’ve – you’ve run off to Marrakesh with a poet! ’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Ivy. Like there was anyone she would want to run off to Marrakesh with, she thought.
‘Good.’ Josie set the box down with an exhale. ‘Have you met Brooke yet?’
Ivy shook her head. ‘She’s asleep. Or so her terrifyingly perky brother told me.’
‘Oh, so you met Trip, did you?’ Josie said.
‘An unexpected addition but I said he was very welcome. Such a nice boy. So enthusiastic. Most young people seem depressingly jaded these days.’ A sly look came into her sparkling sea-green eyes.
‘And my goodness, he’s a handsome boy. Those dimples.
’ She added casually, ‘He’s about your age, darling, isn’t he? ’
Ivy stifled a groan. ‘Whatever you’re doing, please don’t.’ Josie was about as subtle as a plank. The last thing she needed was Josie deciding that she and Trip were like-minded souls and should run off to Marrakesh together, because Ivy would never hear the end of it.
‘What?’ Josie laughed. ‘I was only thinking that you could show him around. Explore Fox Bay together.’ She winked. ‘By moonlight, perhaps.’
‘I’d rather eat a Kathleen Lee hardback,’ Ivy said. ‘Or reorganise the Russian poetry shelves.’
Josie tapped the box. ‘Fine. Someone’s got to put these on display.’
‘Perfect,’ said Ivy, taking it and heading to the romance shelves. ‘This should take a nice long time.’
Josie called after her, ‘Suit yourself! But don’t pretend you didn’t notice those dimples!’
Ivy set to work, muttering under her breath. Trip. Seriously, what kind of name was that? She shelved another book with a little more force than necessary.
‘You’re an artist? That’s so cool. You must be full of ideas.’
Sadly not, Trip, Ivy thought bitterly. She was an idea-free zone. She shuddered anew at the thought of her final tutorial.
Find out what you care about and start from there.
The shop door chimed open, and Ivy instinctively braced herself for the influx of customers. She peered round the shelves into the front of the shop. But it wasn’t a Kathleen Lee fan or an eager shopper. It was Trip again, this time with wet hair and a soaked T-shirt.
‘Good morning, darling,’ Josie said. ‘Nice run? Did you do the route I suggested, along the cliffs?’
‘Yeah. It was perfect. Wet, but perfect. Fox Bay,’ Trip declared, still catching his breath, ‘is even better in golden hour.’
Golden hour. Ivy snorted. She considered telling him it wasn’t called golden hour here. It was just ‘morning’ and besides it was pouring with rain. But she decided against it.
‘Do you want me to help out at all, Josie?’ Trip was asking.
‘No, no, darling,’ Josie said. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is your holiday. What is it with you serious young people? Always looking for jobs.’
‘It’s called a cost-of-living crisis,’ Ivy told her from the romance shelves. ‘That plus student loans.’
‘Ignore Ivy,’ Josie said. ‘Go and find a book and read. I can recommend some excellent avant-garde Russian authors.’
‘I do have some reading to do for college,’ Trip said. ‘Oh hey, Ivy,’ he said, turning to her like they were already best friends.
‘What are you studying?’ Ivy asked, to be polite.
‘I haven’t made my mind up on what I want to major in. Or which college I want to go to, to be honest. But I’m leaning towards Philosophy. I want to study the mechanics of joy.’
Ivy groaned. ‘Of course.’
Just then, the door opened again and this time a group of five people came in, clearly from out of town, all clutching Ocean Deep totes stamped with a glass-stoppered bottle and a cluster of seashells.
‘Have you heard the rumours about the film?’ said one. ‘I hope they can get Jacob Elordi to play the captain.’
‘I heard they might go for an unknown for Lily,’ said another.
‘And the sequel is meant to be in the works too,’ a guy said excitedly. ‘Ocean Far. You find out all about the captain’s younger brother. I wonder if we can pre-order it here? The owner is friends with Kathleen …’
‘I think I’m needed,’ said Josie. She took a bite of her baguette and sighed. ‘Of course, all this business is wonderful, but does anyone miss when Fox Bay was just a little quieter?’