Page 13 of The Cotswold Christmas Bookshop

‘Really? Everyone’s been saying how good it was and people have been asking when the next session is. I told them same time, same place, next week. I hope that’s okay?’ Penny said with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

‘I suppose it will have to be.’ Isla gave an exaggerated grimace, although she was really rather pleased with how well it had gone, and at least she had a whole week to prepare herself for the next time.

‘Honestly, it’s well worth it,’ Penny continued. ‘We’ve sold that many books off the back of this morning. Not only the books you read aloud today, but also a lot of the pre-wrapped books too.’

It was gratifying that even small changes were having a positive impact on the shop. Isla wondered what changes she might be able to bring about if she actually put some real time and effort into it.

She had revelled in the animated buzz that had radiated around the old building this morning, the sound of excitable chatter and laughter. She only wished Jonathan and Miriam had been there to see how busy and vibrant the place could be.

10

Isla peered out of her bedroom window at the dark and gloomy night and wondered if this wasn’t a bad idea. It was bitterly cold out there and she would have much preferred to change into her pyjamas, curl up on the sofa, and watch the new gripping Netflix thriller with her parents and Oscar. Then again, she had spent every night since she’d been home doing exactly that and perhaps she needed to step out of her comfort zone. It was the weekend, after all. Pulling on a pair of black jeans, a bright-red fluffy jumper as a nod to the season, and her black boots, she dabbed some powder over her face, a stroke of eyeliner, some mascara and blusher, and a smear of lip gloss, giving a smile of encouragement to her reflection in the mirror. She threw her faux fur coat over the top to add a touch of understated glamour and headed down the stairs to the car.

She wasn’t sure what was compelling her to spend time with her ex and his wife. Perhaps it was a desire to inflict personal pain on herself, or simply a natural curiosity to discover what had happened to Charlie in the years since they split. Besides, it would be a chance to catch up with some other friends who she hadn’t seen since her school days. It was too late to be having second thoughts.

‘Thanks for running me into town, Dad.’

‘No problem. It means you can enjoy yourself, have a drink or two.’ He turned to look at her, affection in his eyes, as he navigated the car out of the drive and into the country lanes to make the short trip into Bramlingham. ‘Make sure you text me when you want collecting.’

‘I’ll try not to be too late.’

‘Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to come whenever you’re ready. It’s not as though it happens often these days.’

‘That’s true. I promise I won’t make a habit of it, though. It makes me feel like I’m eighteen again.’

‘Well, you’ll always be my little girl, however old you get. You know, if there’s anything you ever want to talk about, work, or relationships, then I’m here for you, we both are,’ he said with an encouraging smile. ‘Not that I’m an expert in these matters, but a problem shared is a problem halved, isn’t that what they say?’

‘Thanks, Dad.’ She flashed him an appreciative glance, grateful that his focus was on the road in front of him so that he couldn’t see the flush of embarrassment on her face.

It wasn’t the first time since she’d returned from London that her dad had gently probed about her well-being. He’d always been sensitive to her moods, picking up when she was upset or troubled over something. She thought she’d done a pretty good job at hiding her present worries but her dad was more perceptive than that. There’d been times when she’d drifted off, her thoughts elsewhere, and her dad had caught her, observing her with a curious expression. Quickly, she would bring herself back to the moment, readjusting her expression, pretending everything was fine.

Walking into The White Hart was like stepping back in time. Even though the pub had undergone a major refurbishment since Isla had last been here, it still carried the same smell and essence of the historic building that she remembered, and it greeted her like an old friend. It had been a regular haunt on Thursdays and Fridays after school when a whole group of them would descend, unwinding from the stresses of mock exams and revision, relaxing with the help of some good-natured banter, laughter and cheap booze. She remembered being in this very room with Charlie, his arm slung casually round her waist, his breath in her ear as he whispered sweet words to her, making her feel loved and adored, and believing then that it would always be the case.

Now, the snug had been transformed into a craft gin bar, with rustic shelves and colourful bottles, the stools reupholstered with velvet fabric, retaining the olde-worlde charm of the pub but giving it a modern, quirky edge. Isla had deliberately turned up late so that she wouldn’t be hanging around on her own, but she needn’t have worried because as soon as she walked through the door, she saw the raised arm of Charlie on the other side of the room, beckoning her over.

‘Hey, Isla. I’m so pleased you could make it. What do you fancy to drink?’ He stood up to greet her, leaning in to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, his friendliness immediately putting her at ease and brushing away any awkwardness she might have been anticipating. Charlie had always been that way, sociable, funny, sporty, an all-round good guy, which was probably the reason she’d fallen in love with him in the first place. And probably the reason Sophia, who had been sitting alongside him and waved hello to Isla, had fallen in love with him too. Now, Isla was able to see the real Charlie, not the idealised, romantic version that she’d kept in her head, but the successful financier, loving husband and father, and good friend that he clearly was.

Handing her a rhubarb gin and tonic, he introduced her to the other people in the group, some of whose names she remembered vaguely from school but couldn’t really place and others she’d never met before, but it was easy enough to make conversation with their local connections. Not that people were completely focussed on the conversation, especially when the local indie rock band started playing a mix of covers and their own songs. It was a lively atmosphere and people stood and clapped, and sang along to the band, and Isla found herself relaxing into the evening.

‘Hey, remember me?’ said a guy, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, who sidled up alongside her as she moved her body to the music.

‘Hi,’ she said, not having the faintest idea who he was, but suspecting she should, judging by his expectant expression. ‘It’s…’ She floundered, hoping for a flash of inspiration from somewhere.

‘Ryan,’ he said, helping her out with a smile. ‘Ryan Goodge.’

‘Of course! Ryan! How’s it going?’

Ryan had been one of Charlie’s closest friends, but she was struggling to conjure up too many details about him now. Probably because her entire focus at the time had been directed towards her boyfriend. She’d lost touch with so many friends from her school days. They had all gone their separate ways and made new friends and lives.

‘Yeah, good. It’s Isla, isn’t it? What are you doing these days? I’ve not seen you in years.’

‘Well, I’ve been in London for a while now. I work in publishing,’ she explained, thinking how convincing it sounded to her own ears. ‘Just staying with my parents for a few weeks over Christmas. What about you?’

‘I’ve been working in the family business since university. Goodge’s Farm Shop?’

‘Yes, yes!’ It was all coming back to her now. The farm had been there for years. She drove past it every day on her way to the bookshop. It had started out as a small wooden shed selling fruit and vegetables but had grown into several large barns selling a variety of fresh produce, plants and flowers, and gifts.

‘What you drinking?’ he asked as he wandered off towards the bar.