CHAPTER THREE

  Star yawned as she made her way inside STAR Crystals & Jewellery, the shop she had rented and run in Ferry Lane Market for the past six years. Taking a sip of the sweetened coffee, she grimaced then cranked up the heating. She hated the winter, mainly because it reminded her of those freezing days living in the static home with her mother and a young baby. The memories of all three of them cuddling together under a blanket were not quite as romantic as the version her mother had fondly recalled. Probably because Estelle Bligh had been warmed through with brandy or pot, Star thought grimly. The experience had, however, made her determined that as soon as she could afford a place of her own, she and her beloved only child Skye would never be cold again.

  Oh, how hard she had worked to create her own little business and forge her way in the world. Steren Bligh had always been a grafter. As soon as she was old enough, she had put herself on the bus to work on Saturdays and after school at Sibley’s, the newsagents in Penrigan, owned by her Great-aunt Florrie and her Great-uncle Jim Sibley.

  The childless churchgoers had always looked out for their pretty little fair-haired assistant. And when she became pregnant at just sixteen years old, despite their Christian beliefs – or perhaps because of them – they had not turned their backs on her; on the contrary, they had taken care of both her and the baby. The couple had kept Star’s job open, and they’d also made sure that, when Estelle was working at her ‘witchcraft’ as they called it, Skye was fed and cuddled in the flat upstairs. Their great kindness allowed Star to carry on working her regular shifts and never having to find money for childcare.

  This also meant that Star could save up her wages to buy beads, silk threads and fastenings. Then, staying up as late into the night as possible before her eyes shut without her permission, she would make bracelets and necklaces to sell along Penrigan Beach on a Sunday to the many visiting holidaymakers. Putting Skye in a makeshift papoose and ably managing to dodge the council do-gooders, the young entrepreneur did excellent business, with her little white-haired bairn proved a valuable attraction. To the coos of ‘what a gorgeous baby’, her basket full of trinkets was soon empty, and her money belt was full.

  This routine continued until she finished her exams and began helping out more in the newsagents. By now, Florrie and Jim were allowing her to sell her handmade jewellery from a stand next to the magazine rack, and she also sold at as many arts and craft fairs as she could fit in around her shift.

  Everything changed when her beloved great-uncle Jim dropped down dead the day before he and Florrie were due to retire. He had been just seventy-five.

  Not being greedy folk, the Sibleys’ retirement plan had been for the pair to fold their business, stay living in their modest flat above the newsagents and donate the space below for charitable and church causes. It wasn’t until they both passed that their heirs would be Star, Skye, the RSPB and the local church.

  But with his untimely passing came an unexpected gift: the generous legacy of twenty-thousand pounds which Jim, with the full support of his wife, had left Star in his will.

  Thus, when the lease of the much sought-after unit on Ferry Lane Market came up for sealed bids, Star’s dream to have a shop and a home of her own came to fruition far sooner than she could ever have imagined.

  Star often thought that, if it hadn’t been for the passing of her employer, three generations of Bligh girls would still be living all on top of one another in the small park home on top of Hartmouth Hill. When she had inherited the gift of money from a man she had looked up to and loved, and with the blessing of his dear wife, she had felt that the universe had been listening to her dreams and that she really did have a guardian angel.

  Turning on the display window lights against the gloomy November day, Star’s phone beeped with a text. My battery went last night, sorry mum. At work, can’t talk. See u later. xx

  Star took a deep breath of relief. If the world were powered by the angst teenagers caused their parents, there would be no need to worry about global warming ever again, that was for sure. As the heater at her feet began warming her up, she set about unpacking the new order of precious stones and crystals, which she would use to make jewellery for her sparkly new Christmas gift collection.

  To find out more, order Starry Skies in Ferry Lane Market by Nicola May now!

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