The Cornish Vintage Jewellery Shop – Chapter One

The Cornish Vintage Jewellery Shop

Escape to Cornwall with Belle as she opens a vintage jewellery shop. With help from local builder, Nick Penhale, she’s refurbishing her father’s old shop. Nick is handsome and charming, but Belle isn’t looking for love. 

Chapter One

The door wouldn’t open. Belle braced her shoulder against it and pushed with all her strength. Hinges groaned, and the door inched open. The bottom scraped against the floor and a high-pitched screech resounded around the shop. Belle breathed in and a musty smell assaulted her senses. She screwed up her nose and left the door ajar to allow the salty sea air to filter in. She took another step into the shop, ignoring the echoes of memories surrounding her. 

“How does it look?” her father, Louis, asked. 

“It looks like nobody’s stepped inside for ten years,” Belle replied. She flipped the camera on her phone so Louis could see for himself.

“It’s how we left it,” Louis said. His French accent thickened, and he cleared his throat. 

“Just with a few inches of dust,” Belle said, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Yes, well, that can be cleaned. When’s the builder coming?” 

Belle checked her watch. “He’s late. Should have been here five minutes ago.” 

“That’s Cornish time for you.” 

“It’s like that in France, too.” 

Louis let out a harrumph. “I have to leave for an auction. I’ll speak to you tonight about what the builder says. Au revoir, ma chérie.” 

Belle said her goodbyes and hung up. The shop was eerily quiet. Outside, the sun shone brightly in the sky as eager tourists milled around with cups of takeaway coffee. Seagulls lurked at every corner, waiting to swoop down and steal flaky pasties from unsuspecting hands. The water was a hive of activity as skippers bustled around on boats, readying them for their daily outings. It was like the calm before the storm as the little harbour prepared for the daily influx of visitors. 

The builder was now ten minutes late and the stuffy air inside the shop felt as though it was becoming thicker with every breath. Belle opened the windows and winced as a chunk of paint came away. It had been ten years since she was last inside the shop. She’d been fourteen years old and life had looked very different. Then everything changed after that phone call. Belle could remember the day as though it were yesterday. She’d finished school and walked to her father’s antique shop on the harbour. It was a dismal November day, and the weather was horrendous. Belle was soaked through from the rain and windswept from the gale-force winds. Her father had ushered her into the backroom before she could drip on any of his priceless antiques. 

She had sat in his office, warming her hands by the electric heater, when the phone trilled. She knew better than to answer and waited for him. Belle had watched his face turn ashen as he listened. 

“Hello?” a male voice with a Cornish twang called from the doorway, pulling Belle from her memories. 

Belle jumped and turned to see a pair of green eyes staring at her. The light caught them as they glistened a deep Colombian emerald shade of green.

“Can I help you?” she asked. Her mouth was dry, and it was an effort to get the words out. His sandy hair stuck out in all directions from underneath his baseball cap. He wore a tatty t-shirt which was almost see-through in the bright sunlight and highlighted his toned body. Belle tore her gaze away. 

“I’m Nick, your builder,” he introduced himself and pointed to the door in an unsaid question. 

“You’re late,” Belle said, motioning for him to come in.

“Sorry. My alarm didn’t go off. You know how it is.” 

Belle frowned. She didn’t know. “Does it happen often?” 

“More than it should.” He winked. 

“Brilliant,” she sarcastically bit back. “I’m Belle.” She held out her hand. 

“I was expecting you to be more French,” he said and shook her hand. His grasp was firm. 

“French?” She glanced down at their hands. He still had her hand clasped in his. At her look, he let go, and Belle took a step back.

“Your email address was French.” 

“Oh, of course. I’ve just moved back from France.” 

“That’s a relief. I was worried you’d only speak French.”

“My emails were in English.” Belle’s thoughts were becoming muddled and with it, she was moving away from the tangled emotions that had crept up on her. 

“You could have been using a translator.” Nick shrugged and looked around the shop. 

“I don’t speak French.” 

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Nor do I. All I know is Voulez-vous coucher—”

“I think we all know that one,” Belle interrupted. A blush rose on her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “Shall we have a look around? I’m only looking for a quote at the moment.”

“You won’t get anyone else. It’s the busiest time of the year. Everyone’s getting their building work finished before the season starts. Lucky for you, I’m free.” 

“Why are you free when everyone else is busy?” Belle raised her eyebrow. His business card had been pinned to the Padstow-on-Sea’s community noticeboard. She’d expected a middle-aged man with experience to turn up, not a muscular, Cornish, Ken doll.

“I’ve just started. You’re my first customer. Congratulations.” He smiled. His face lit up and a cheeky glint danced in his eyes.

“You’ve just started?” she enunciated each word. However good-looking he was, it was his experience she was interested in. 

“Yep. Lucky you, eh? Right, let’s have a look around.” He rubbed his hands together before he pulled a pencil from behind his ear and a tatty notepad from the back pocket of his jeans. It was falling apart. “I’ll take some notes on my phone instead.”

Belle went to take a deep breath but stopped as she saw the dust particles floating through the air. “There’s nobody else available,” she muttered under her breath and followed him through to the office. 

Nick wandered around and made notes.

“So, what’s the verdict?” she asked. 

“It’s structurally sound,” he said, nodding as he looked up towards the ceiling. 

“I know that. I had a survey.” Belle’s father had insisted on having a structural survey before he signed the shop over to her. 

“What do you want doing?” His gaze bore into hers and a flush rushed across Belle’s cheeks. 

“The place needs re-plastering and then decorating. The kitchen and bathroom look as though they’d be fine after a good scrub. I’ll need some new shelves and cabinets. The office needs painting. It’s got all the safes in there and I want to keep them.” 

Nick raised his eyebrows at her. “What kind of shop are you opening?”

“Vintage jewellery.” 

He let out a low whistle. “You should probably get those safes serviced.” 

“Is that a thing?” Belle’s brow furrowed. Something else to add to her endless list of things to do. 

“No idea. Should be though. Maybe it’s a service I should offer.” He winked at her again, and Belle ignored the way it made her stomach flutter.

She decided not to point out the pitfalls in his plan. “The shop needs a complete refit,” she said, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. “The shelving is all dated and damp. I think it’s best if we rip it out and replace it.” 

“Sounds good. What did you want to replace it with?” 

Belle pulled out her phone and brought up her Pinterest app, which was filled with interior inspiration. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted, although she had gathered a handful of pictures.

“I could use reclaimed wood to make the shelving units and whitewash them to give them the shabby-chic-meets-nautical style you’re going for,” Nick said. He held Belle’s phone and was studying the picture. 

Belle blinked. “You can do that?” 

“Woodwork is my speciality. There’s not enough demand for it around here, so I’ve diversified into building work.” He handed her back the phone. 

“Sounds smart,” Belle commented. 

“What about security?” asked Nick.

“I’ve got the safes out the back and I’ll look into some CCTV.” 

“I’ve got a friend who can do that and he can install a panic button under the till. I’ll give him a call.”

“Nick, I’m not sure I can afford it.”

“He owes me a favour.”

“I couldn’t ask that.” 

“I’ll sort it,” he promised. “So, when do you want me to start?” 

“Shouldn’t you send me a quote first?” Belle raised her brows. 

“I can, but you want to snap me up before someone else does.” He smirked, and the edges of Belle’s lips quirked upwards. She stifled the smile before he could see it. 

“I suppose you’ve got me backed into a corner, but I expect a first-customer discount.” 

“Sounds fair.” 

“So, when can you start?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Don’t you need to get permits for skip hire and stuff like that?” Belle didn’t know much about building work, but she suspected the quaint town of Padstow-on-Sea wouldn’t appreciate a skip filled with rotting wood on their picturesque seafront. 

“I’ll fill my van and take it to the skip at the yard.” 

“Tomorrow sounds good,” Belle agreed. 

“Perfect. We’ll get you open before the end of the season. The winter months can be tough.”

“Thanks.” 

“See you tomorrow, Belle.” He waved and Belle’s stare fixed on him as he left, already missing how he made her smile.

Alone, Belle glanced around the shop. She should start clearing things to make it easier for Nick in the morning, but being here sent a chill down her spine. It was an empty shell of the once bustling Louis’s Emporium. Her father’s antiques had left Cornwall with them, packed into the back of a hire van. After the death of Belle’s mother, Cornwall lost its charm and Louis took Belle home to France. They hadn’t been back since.

The shop’s beating heart had stopped that day and never started again. Once settled in France, Louis started buying and selling antiques, and Belle spent her spare time working with him. She’d never really settled into their new life. Her poor grasp of the language kept her on the outskirts of the community and her father’s successful business afforded a tutor for her, which meant outside of their bubble she had very little contact with children her age. Despite it all, Belle was never lonely. How could she be when she was always surrounded by antiques and the memories they held? 

Unable to bear the emptiness any longer, Belle grabbed her keys and locked up. Outside, the sun was high in the sky and the sound of chatter drowned out the gentle crashing of the sea. Belle wound her way through the crowds of tourists to The Little Coffee Shop by the Sea on the opposite side of the harbour. The exterior was painted black with its name in gold swirls above the door. A little brass bell rang out as the door opened. Inside, the dark interior was complemented by the big windows and their sea view. Rich coffee beans and sweet cakes filled the air, and Belle’s stomach rumbled. She’d been too nervous to have any breakfast. 

“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the counter. Her hair framed her face in an explosion of corkscrew curls as dark as a starless night in winter. She wore silver rings on both hands, each with intricate detailing on the bands. 

“Could I have a cappuccino and a slice of that chocolate cake, please? To take away.” Belle pointed to the decadent dark chocolate sponge cake, covered in a tempered ganache with fresh, vibrant berries piled atop. She deserved an indulgent treat after stepping back into the shop after ten years.

“Good choice. I’m Jada, by the way. Owner of this delightful coffee shop and baker of these delicious desserts.” 

“Lovely to meet you, Jada.” Belle smiled timidly at the woman. 

“This is usually the part where you’d introduce yourself.” Jada shot her a wink. 

“Sorry, I’m out of practice meeting new people.” Not that she’d ever been in practice. Her experience with meeting new people was limited to auctions where they all had a passion in common. “I’m Belle. I’ve taken over the old antique shop.” She glossed over the fact it had once been her father’s. 

“Lovely to meet you, Belle. It’ll be nice to have another young female business owner around. Give me a shout if you need anything.” 

“Thanks, Jada. I doubt I’ll be able to stay away from your café for very long.” Belle’s eyes lingered on the other goodies on display as Jada made her cappuccino. 

“I’ve recently bought a recipe book from an amazing patisserie chef, Carrie Mackenzie, and I need someone to try my creations.” 

“I’m your girl.” Belle relaxed in the woman’s presence. 

“Perfect. See you soon, Belle.” Jada handed her the coffee and a large slice of cake nestled inside a takeaway box. 

“Bye,” Belle called. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of me.”

 

It was a short walk home, although it was made longer by the tourists milling around and stopping to take pictures down the quaint cobbled streets. Belle had to move someone off her doorstep. Her little cottage had no front garden and tourists could come straight up to her door. She breathed a sigh of relief once she’d closed the door behind her. The cottage was the one place Belle truly felt at home. She’d grown up there with her parents, and it was where her happiest memories lived. Belle set her coffee down on the worktop and got some cutlery for her cake. The forks were all small and Belle suspected they were meant for children. Over the last ten years, Louis had rented out the cottage and an array of other people’s belongings had been left behind. Belle was thankful for it since her budget hadn’t stretched to furnishing somewhere. She’d made a few changes to make it feel like home. Belle had found a nautical blue and white striped rug in a charity shop, which she’d put down on the bare wood floors in her bedroom. The existing furniture was sparse, so she’d ended up with a jumble of cheap charity shop finds and expensive antiques. As a moving-in gift, her father had sent her a catalogue for an auction and told her to let him know what she needed. Belle had wanted to circle everything but had settled for an antique oak console table, a Georgian writing bureau, and an antique Rococo walnut bed frame. Her father had bought it all and had it shipped straight to her. He’d also picked up an old chair with worn blue upholstery, a collection of mismatched plant pots, and a hatstand. It was an odd collection, yet somehow, Belle had thrown it all together, and it worked.

At the back of the cottage was a small courtyard. It was a combination of weed-choked flower beds around the perimeter and an overgrown hedge. With a little time and effort, it could be pretty. For now, Belle was happy to have some outside space to herself. She sat on the bench and put her coffee beside her. The cake was rich and delicious as she sat with the sun shining on her. In the silence, she allowed her mind to wander over the day. Going into the shop had stirred up a plethora of emotions and memories that Belle would rather have forgotten about. Nick’s appearance had silenced her mind and she couldn’t help the way he’d made her smile. She was looking forward to working with him. Despite his infuriating cheeky charm, he would be the perfect distraction to her past.

Belle pulled her phone out to find an email from Nick. She was pleasantly surprised by his quote. He’d included a five per cent discount for being his first customer. The email ended with a jaunty ‘see you tomorrow’ followed by a thumbs-up emoji. She smiled and emailed back, reminding him to be on time.

 

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