Page 16 of The Cotswold Christmas Bookshop

Taking her time, she mooched along the street browsing in the shop windows, admiring the displays, dashing into one store to pick up some Christmas cards. She stopped outside a vintage gift store and saw a poster advertising the late-night shopping event which was taking place the following week. From Tuesday until Friday, the shops would remain open until 9 p.m. to attract those people who were unable to visit during the day, and there were plenty of festive activities arranged to make the event a special one. There would be carollers, a jazz band, a nativity display, and a full-on grotto in the market square with wooden huts selling a range of artisan gifts and food treats, and of course, a visit from the big man himself. Isla couldn’t wait as, hopefully, she would be welcoming plenty of new customers to the bookshop.

In the coffee shop, Isla ordered a latte for Miriam and a cappuccino for Jonathan. She hadn’t been able to persuade them to try one of the festive specials despite her waxing lyrical about the creamy caramel delight Guy had bought her – conveniently omitting the detail about Guy, even if she wasn’t sure why. Now, she stood in front of the chalkboards for ages, deliberating over what she should choose for herself, but she was overwhelmed by the number of options, and in the end, decided to go for the same crème brûlée latte again, as it really had been that delicious. She also picked up a bag of warm sausage rolls, some iced mince pies and a paper bag filled with gingerbread men, before heading out of the bakery, where she immediately spotted Guy across the other side of the road. It was as though she’d conjured him up simply by thinking about him and the sight made her momentarily stop in her tracks. He was with the same woman as she’d seen him with in the pub, and they were deep in conversation, totally oblivious to Isla watching them. He leaned in to embrace the woman in a hug and kissed her on the cheek, before turning to leave in the opposite direction, giving her a cheery wave as he went on his way. Isla’s shoulders sagged beneath her coat, feeling unsettled, and she wasn’t even certain why. She took a steadying breath of cold, crisp air before dashing back to the shop as the uniform grey skies above began to blow light sleet all around her.

‘Oh my goodness, it’s absolutely freezing out there and I wouldn’t be surprised if we have snow by the end of the day.’ Isla wiped her feet on the doormat, to the echo of the doorbell, brushing down her coat with her hands as water fell to the floor around her.

‘I do hope not,’ said Jonathan and Miriam firmly and in unison, exchanging a glance of solidarity.

‘It’s lovely if you’re tucked up at home and can watch it from the window, but it’s no fun if you need to go anywhere. And we can’t afford to have any accidents.’ Miriam grimaced.

Isla could understand their lack of enthusiasm at the idea of snowfall. It might look pretty and was great fun for children, but she could see how it created all sorts of problems for travelling and made it hazardous for getting about, especially if you were already unsteady on your feet. Still, Isla couldn’t help holding onto a hope that it might snow, carpeting the streets of Bramlingham with a dusting of magic for the festive season.

‘Anyway, look what I’ve got,’ she said gleefully, placing the coffees on the counter and tearing open the paper bags which filled the room with a medley of warm rich flavours. If anything could lift her mood, it was this special treat. ‘Thanks, Jon,’ she said, unable to wait any longer and biting into the flaky pastry, which was every bit of delicious as it promised to be. ‘Uhmm,’ she said through a mouthful of crumbs, ‘there are lots of posters around in town for the late-night shopping next week. It should bring the crowds in as there’s plenty of extra events going on in the town. I thought it might be an idea to get a couple of tubs of Christmas chocolates in that we can leave on the tables for people to help themselves to, and also any free bookmarks we have lying around. I have some at home that I could bring in.’

‘Good idea. It’s usually very busy, so I’ll come and help out on those evenings,’ said Miriam, ‘and Penny’s offered to do one of the shifts. I do feel guilty that we’re putting too much on you. You must say if you can’t come in for any reason, or if you need to have some time off.’

‘No, I’m looking forward to it. Honestly, I would say if it wasn’t convenient, but I’ve really been enjoying being here every day. Funny thing is, it doesn’t feel like work at all.’

It was true. Work, these last few months, had been all about pressure, responsibility, accountability, targets and spreadsheets, and she’d lost sight of what it was she’d loved about publishing in the first place.

Being here had reconnected her with her love of books and given her the opportunity to share that enthusiasm with other people. No two days were the same. She got to meet a wide variety of customers, and people were generally in a good mood when they were browsing or buying books. Spending time in such a beautiful old building too, surrounded by shelves of new and old books, was a definite bonus, and usually she would have a book squirrelled away at the counter that she could dip into during any free moments she could find. Of course, this was a business like any other business. It needed to pay its bills and make a profit, but nothing had shown her in the short time that she’d been here that it wasn’t a strong and profitable proposition.

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said Jonathan wistfully. ‘It’s always been the same for us. Whoever said, “Find a job you enjoy doing, and you will never have to work a day in your life,” was a very wise person. We’ve been very lucky and privileged to have worked together throughout our careers and to have been the custodians of this wonderful place. I think my father would have been proud that we’ve managed to keep the shop open for so long.’

Isla nodded her wholehearted agreement, only slightly unnerved by the impression that Jonathan was talking as though it was the end of an era. The shop had been in the Finch family for a couple of generations and while Jonathan and Miriam didn’t have any family of their own to pass it on to, that wasn’t to say that the business shouldn’t remain a viable company for years to come.

‘But of course, it’s a much more competitive environment these days. We’ve seen lots of independent bookshops come and go over the years. The rents around here are prohibitive, as you know. The only reason we’ve been able to stay is because we own the freehold on this place. But now we’re competing against the discount retailers that are moving into the town and taking away business from us. It’s a slippery slope.’

‘But there’s room enough for both kinds of bookstores, surely?’ Isla remembered that first day back in Bramlingham when she visited the new outlet that had been doing a roaring trade. ‘They sell popular, cheap books on a buy-one-get-one-free deal, which is a totally different model to what we offer here. People make a special trip to come to Finch’s. They like to browse, to be amongst the books, to feel them and to smell them, to order something that they might not find on the shelves and to ask for our recommendations. That isn’t something you can put a price on.’

‘I understand that, Isla,’ Jonathan said with a kindly smile, noting her passion, ‘but the landscape is changing and who knows what it will look like in a few years’ time.’ There was a note of resignation to Jonathan’s voice as he sipped at his cappuccino.

Isla reached into the drawer beneath the counter and pulled out the business card that Guy had given her. It seemed like the perfect time to mention it.

‘Did Guy get in touch? He said he would.’

‘Yes, he did, thank you,’ said Jonathan, not giving anything away.

‘Oh, what a lovely young man, he is!’ said Miriam, clasping her hands together enthusiastically. ‘So helpful and charming.’

Isla couldn’t really argue with that. She’d been on the receiving end of Guy’s easy and friendly manner, as had her own mother. Clearly, he had a way with women of a certain age. Was it the disarming smile, the way his brown eyes shone with amusement or his sense of understated style? Probably all of those things and more, she thought wryly, along with his warm, mellifluous voice. It was an undeniably beguiling combination, but was he really as likeable as he made himself out to be or was it all part of his act to create a good impression? He was a property consultant after all. He was in the business of winning people over and making profitable deals.

‘We were surprised, weren’t we, Jon, with his assessment on the property. We had no idea!’

The way Miriam’s eyes lit up in delight told Isla everything she needed to know about what might have been contained in Guy’s professional advice. The shop was in a listed building with its own one-bedroomed self-contained flat in a prime spot in town. You didn’t need to be a genius to work out that Jonathan and Miriam were sitting on a gold mine.

‘Indeed. He’s given us plenty of food for thought, but that is for another time,’ he said, holding his palms up, subtly bringing an end to the conversation.

Isla flashed him a glance, trying to decipher what might be going on inside his head. It might explain why he seemed brighter in himself because he’d already come to terms with the decisions he needed to make. Perhaps Guy had been able to persuade him that selling the bookshop was the answer to all their problems and would release some much welcome retirement funds. Isla didn’t have time to dwell on it as there was a sudden flurry of activity within the shop: two people were waiting to be served, one customer was asking if they had a certain book in stock and Heathcliff took that particular moment to pounce on a strand of tinsel in the window display, threading it between his paws and sending a couple of books toppling over.

‘Oh Heathcliff,’ she exclaimed, laughing.

Much to Isla’s relief, Miriam volunteered to see to the cat, Jonathan served the waiting customers, leaving Isla to go off in search of the requested book. It was funny the random thoughts that occurred to her as she ran her hand over the spines of the books as she searched for what she was looking for. What on earth would Henry and Heathcliff the cat do if the unthinkable happened and the shop were to close?

13

A couple of days later and Isla still hadn’t seen Henry, and it was niggling away at her. It had been almost a week since he was last in and she wondered why she hadn’t seen his friendly face about the place. Every time Heathcliff strutted past, she was reminded of Henry’s absence, as in her mind, the two of them were inextricably linked. Perhaps Henry was poorly and was taking a few days to recover at home. There were a lot of coughs and sniffles going around. In fairness, the weather was very December-ish – dull, overcast and gloomy – so she could see why anyone might decide to stay at home and hunker down, but she couldn’t ignore that little pang of alarm gathering in her chest. Isla had mentioned it to Miriam the other day, but she hadn’t seemed unduly concerned.

‘Oh, Henry, does that. He’ll be in every day, then we don’t see him for a few weeks. Sometimes, he goes to the social club.’