Page 33 of The Village Shop for Lonely Hearts

‘There’s Todd,’ said Amber, looking at a photograph of him playing his guitar. ‘I barely remember him, I’m afraid. Except that he was fun and sort of animated all the time.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Tilly, nodding. ‘He had such an enthusiasm for life. He had a big hearty laugh that you could hear three doors away. He was so gifted as well. He used to sit on the veranda on my husband’s rocking chair and play his guitar. Such a talent.’

‘Have the boys inherited his gift for music?’ asked Amber.

‘Pete has,’ said Tilly. ‘He’s really good, although I haven’t heard him play for years. Not Josh, I don’t think. I mean, he’s a good lad but not particularly creative in that way.’

‘But he was good at his job,’ said Amber.

‘Oh yes,’ Tilly told her. ‘Earned quite a bit of money as well, from what I heard. He was always going on about climate change and trying to be greener.’ She frowned. ‘He doesn’t do that so much these days.’

‘I guess he’s had a lot on his mind,’ said Amber.

‘I suppose.’

The next album they looked at was much further back in time.

‘This was Bill’s,’ said Tilly, as Amber peered at the faded black and white photograph dated 1900.

‘How amazing,’ said Amber. She looked more closely at the photograph. ‘And that’s the shop?’

Tilly nodded. ‘Those were the days,’ she said. ‘They sold black twist tobacco by the inch.’

Amber couldn’t believe how different it looked. ‘So much of the food was loose produce,’ she said, studying the crates and baskets full of fresh fruit and vegetables.

‘Even the flour and butter had to be measured out. Nothing was in tins or plastic in those days,’ said Tilly. ‘Not until later on, before the Second World War. Then it all changed again.’ She flicked through a few of the pages to a photograph that read 1938. ‘There, you see? How everything is more mass-produced?’

Amber peered at the photograph. The shop had definitely changed.

‘Only the bell above the door is the same,’ she said.

‘And me,’ said Tilly before frowning. ‘Or rather not when I think about my grey hair. And that I’m not part of it any more.’

Amber saw that Tilly was looking upset. ‘I’m sure you could come and help out whenever you wanted to in the shop,’ she said quickly.

Tilly shook her head. ‘I tripped and almost broke my wrist last year. Cathy and Josh don’t want me hurting myself, so they said.’

‘Then perhaps once we’ve tidied the place up a bit you could come in,’ said Amber.

‘Perhaps,’ Tilly replied, with a small smile. ‘It would be nice to feel useful again.’ She sighed. ‘Otherwise I’m just sitting here with the television on. I haven’t even got anything to knit at the moment.’

She pointed to what appeared to be a bag full of knitting needles and balls of wool.

‘What do you normally make?’ asked Amber.

‘Blankets for cots, little hats and scarves.’ Tilly shrugged. ‘Anything really.’

As Tilly retreated into a bit of a gloom, Amber thought quickly as to how she could keep her busy.

‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘Maybe you could make me and Mum a blanket each. It would be lovely to have something home-made for a change.’

Tilly’s face brightened up. ‘You’d want something like that? A bit old-fashioned, don’t you think?’

Amber shook her head. ‘Traditional,’ she told her. ‘That’s the difference. And I’d know that you’d made it. Think how chuffed Mum would be when I show it to her when I arrive. It could even be a Christmas gift.’

Grandma Tilly’s face faltered for a moment. ‘Well, hopefully we can keep you for a bit longer before then.’

However, by the time Amber left, Tilly looked far more cheerful and was talking colours and patterns for the blankets. As Amber walked back down Riverside Lane, she at least felt as if she had helped in some small way to cheer Tilly up. She was hoping it would be as easy with Josh, but she very much doubted it, given the scale of the shop’s problems.