Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4)

Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4) Page 92

I look up blearily to see a middle-aged man in tan cords and a green jumper looking down at me, half disapproving, half concerned.

“Is it the end of the world?” he says in abrupt tones. “You’ve old people trying to take naps around here.” He gestures at the cottages around the green. “You’re making so much noise, you’re scaring the sheep.”

He gestures up at the hill, where, sure enough, a couple of sheep are looking inquisitively down at me.

“I’m very sorry I’m disturbing the peace,” I gulp. “But things aren’t going that brilliantly for me at the moment.”

“A tiff with the boyfriend,” he states as though it’s a foregone conclusion.

“No, I’m married, actually.” I lift my left hand so he can see my ring. “But my marriage is in trouble. In fact, I think it might be over. And I’ve come all this way to see my sister but she won’t even speak to me… ” I can feel tears spilling over onto my cheeks again. “My mum and dad are away on a therapy cruise, and my husband’s gone to Cyprus with Nathan Temple, and my best friend likes someone else more than me, and I haven’t got anyone to talk to. And I just don’t know where to go! I mean, literally, I don’t know where to go after I get up from this bench… ”

I give an enormous hiccup, reach for a tissue, and wipe my streaming eyes. Then I look up.

The man looks nonplussed.

“Tell you what, love,” he says a bit more kindly. “How does a cup of tea sound?”

“A cup of tea sounds wonderful.” I falter. “Thank you very much.”

He heads across the green, carrying both my suitcases as though they weigh nothing, while I totter behind with my hatbox.

“I’m Jim, by the way,” he says over his shoulder.

“I’m Becky.” I blow my nose. “This is really kind of you. I was going to have a cup of tea in London, but I’d run out of milk. In fact… that’s kind of how I ended up here.”

“Long way for a cup of tea,” he observes dryly.

That was only this morning, I suddenly realize. It seems a million years ago now.

“We’re not about to run out of milk, anyway,” he adds, turning into a cottage with SCULLY STORES in black lettering above the doorway. A bell starts tinkling as we walk in, and from somewhere at the back I can hear a dog barking.

“Oh.” I look around with fresh interest. “This is a shop!”

“This is the shop,” he corrects me. He puts down my cases and gently moves me off the mat, at which point the bell stops tinkling. “Been in the family for fifty-five years.”

“Wow.” I look around the cozy store. There are racks of fresh bread, shelves with tins and packets lined up neatly, old-fashioned jars of sweets, and a display of postcards and gift items. “This is lovely! So… are you Mr. Scully?”

Jim looks bemused. “Scully is the name of the village we’re in, love.”

“Oh yes.” I blush. “I forgot.”

“My name’s Smith. And I think you need that cup of tea. Kelly?” He raises his voice, and a few moments later a girl appears through a door at the back. She’s about thirteen, skinny, with fine brown hair pulled into a ponytail and carefully made-up eyes. She’s wearing jeans and a pink sleeveless T-shirt, and is holding a Heat magazine.

“I was minding the shop, honest, Dad,” she says at once. “I just went upstairs for a magazine—”

“It’s OK, love. I’d like you to make a nice cup of tea for this lady. She’s been through a bit of… distress.”

“Oh, right.” Kelly peers at me a bit doubtfully, and it suddenly occurs to me that I must look an absolute fright.

“Would you like to sit down?” Jim pulls out a chair.

“Thanks,” I say gratefully. I put down my hatbox and fish in my Angel bag for my makeup case. I snap open my mirror and peer at myself — and oh God. I have never looked worse in my life. My nose is all red, my eyes are bloodshot, my eyeliner is smudged like a panda, and a streak of turquoise “24-hour eye dazzle” has somehow ended up on my cheek.

I quickly take out a cleansing wipe and get rid of the whole lot until my face is bare and pink, staring sadly at me from the mirror. Half of me feels like leaving it at that. Why should I put on any makeup? What’s the point, if my marriage is over?

“Here you are.” A steaming cup of tea appears in front of me on the counter, and I look up to see Kelly watching me avidly.

“Thank you so much,” I say, my voice still a little unsteady. “You’re really sweet.”