Page 2 of The Cotswold Christmas Bookshop

She’d even been able to move north of the river, into a much nicer flat with one of her friends, Cherry, and another girl, Briony, who made a lovely third flatmate.

Everyone had been so proud: her parents, her friends, her brother Jake and of course, the family’s friends and neighbours in Upper Leaping, because Diana wasn’t one to hold back if there was any good news to share. Now, Isla couldn’t bear the thought of their collective disappointment.

Somehow, she managed to put those thoughts out of her head as she moseyed around the shops. There was certainly enough to keep her distracted. The window displays celebrated the season with tasteful decorations, in keeping with the historic nature of the area and the always magnificent Christmas tree stood resplendent in the middle of the market square. There were no gaudy plastic snowmen or flashing Santas here.

In the large outdoor-wear store that sold jackets, wellies, hats and gloves, she was charmed by the woodland animals that had arrived for the season. Foxes, badgers, squirrels and hares, adorned with local foliage, were positioned strategically around the shop, looking as though they had just emerged from the undergrowth.

‘Look, Daddy, there’s a little deer. He’s got snow on his nose!’

Hearing the small children’s cries of delight as they spotted yet another creature put a big smile on Isla’s face. She gathered some ideas too on what to buy for her parents: a cashmere neck warmer for her mum, which would be ideal for her dog walks, and a new pair of leather mules for her dad, as she’d noticed his old ones were well-worn and had obviously seen better days. There was still plenty of time until Christmas and she would be back in town on several occasions before then so she would pick them up later.

She also wanted to buy lots of books. It was her favourite thing to buy, and everyone on her Christmas list would always receive a book or two, along with their main present, even those people who protested they never read. She loved the way books looked when they were wrapped and nestled beneath the tree. Pleasingly shaped and solid, not hiding their identity, but gently guarding the promise of what was contained beneath the pretty paper and within the pages.

She could lose hours mooching around a bookshop, and frequently did, putting extra special care and attention into choosing exactly the right gift. Not necessarily anything on the bestseller list or something piled high on the tables at the front of the bookstore, but something special, individual, that would be pertinent to the recipient at that moment in their life. Luckily, she knew the perfect place to do some book browsing.

First though, she needed sustenance. She discovered a café at the top of the hill, a new addition to the high street since she was last there, with a welcoming frontage which beckoned her inside where she found comfy sofas, striking pendant lighting and cheerful baristas. Ordering a mushroom and goat’s cheese panini, along with a gingerbread latte, she sat on one of the tall stools by the window, happy to watch the world go by, relishing the anonymity but enjoying the buzz around her. Taking her time because she was in no hurry to be anywhere, it was about an hour later before she was ready to head out again, crossing the road to walk down the other side of the street. She stopped in her tracks when she came across another new arrival on the high street. It unsettled her to think that the place she loved so much, that she knew so well, was slowly, imperceptibly changing in her absence. Thankfully, Bramlingham was in a conservation area so businesses were restricted in the changes they could make to the exteriors of the buildings so as to retain the beauty of the stone-built and half-timbered properties from down the ages.

‘Excuse me, lovey!’ A middle-aged lady with a shopping trolley barrelled her way past Isla to get into the shop and Isla was curious, peering through the window to see how busy it was inside. A new bookshop. A discounted bookshop by the looks of things. And it was obviously proving to be very popular indeed.

Isla wandered inside, her head turning this way and that to take in the rows of shelves stacked to the ceiling filled with a host of familiar titles. Bright lights shone on recent crime and thriller books, cosy romances, sagas, fantasy and historical stories, their shiny covers adorned with loud stickers. Alongside the books on central display tables were puzzles and toys, and random bits of stationery, but the tables were packed so tightly together that it was difficult to navigate a way through to the back of the shop without bumping into other people. Isla frowned, feeling overwhelmed by the busyness, eventually reaching the end of the shop before realising there was no place else to go. Feeling claustrophobic, she turned around, to head out again. There were no quiet nooks or crannies where you could take a book and sit for twenty minutes. Instead, their sales model seemed to be, grab a basket and fill it as high as possible with as many cheap books as you can fit in.

‘Can I help you? You seem a bit lost. Was there something in particular you were looking for?’ A young man in a bright-orange polo shirt appeared in front of her with an eager expression on his face.

She didn’t know what possessed her. A sense of mischief, perhaps. It wasn’t the young man’s fault.

‘Yes, I was looking for I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. It’s one of my favourite books. I was hoping to buy a copy for a friend.’

‘Oh.’ He appeared crestfallen as he looked around haplessly. ‘David Smith, you say. Is that a thriller?’

‘No, Dodie Smith. It’s a coming-of-age story, from the 1940s. A bit of a classic.’

‘Right…’ His mouth formed into a grimace. ‘No, I’ve not seen that one before. We only get a certain selection of books come in and when they’re gone, they’re gone! You need to be quick.’ He injected some enthusiasm into his voice. ‘Check out our shelves. Lots of our books are on the buy-one-get-one-free deal. You might find something you like. They make great stocking fillers.’

‘Thank you.’ She agreed with him wholeheartedly on that particular point.

She was heading for the front door when he called out, ‘You might want to try Finch’s. For that book you’re looking for. It’s an old-fashioned sort of place. They have specialist books in there. Down the hill and past the post office. There’s a small alleyway on the left. Peacock Mews. Follow the cobbled path and the bookshop is in the far corner.’

‘Thank you,’ she said again, this time with a wide smile, gratified that the young man knew about Finch’s, at least, and had even recommended it. Not that there had been any need to do so on her behalf. She had been intending to visit there next anyway. After all, no trip to Bramlingham was complete without a visit to her favourite bookshop.

3

‘I don’t believe it! Isla! How lovely to see you! Jonathan, look who’s here!’

Walking into Finch’s Bookstore evoked so many memories for Isla. From the old-fashioned bell that rung above her head when she entered through the front door, to the low lighting provided by the vintage lamps dotted around the store, to the floor-to-ceiling wooden shelves that were filled with an array of different books, in what seemed like a haphazard manner, but were in fact part of Jonathan’s methodical filing system that only actually existed in the deepest recesses of his amazing brain. The newer editions were displayed at the front of the shop, but if you ventured further into the old building, down the half flight of stairs, the shop opened up into a maze of small rooms that housed the specialist and antiquarian books. Most of all, it was a delicious, sweet aroma that welcomed Isla, a heady mix of vanilla and scorched wood that ignited all her senses.

Miriam Finch walked out from behind the wooden counter to greet Isla, wrapping her in a hug. Even Miriam wore the same signature scent, as though she had sprayed it liberally behind her ears, from an expensive glass bottle from a Parisian parfumier.

Miriam took a step back, clutching Isla’s face in her hands, as if she was checking that it was really her.

‘How are you? You’re looking very well. The new hairstyle really suits you.’ Isla had recently had her long blonde hair cut into a swingy layered bob and she’d received plenty of compliments on the new look. ‘Are you home for the weekend?’

‘No, I’m back until the new year now. I thought I’d take a proper break.’ The more often she said it, the more she could believe it was actually true. That come January, she would be returning to her job in the glossy West End offices when instead, she would be scanning the job sites to find something new, a prospect she didn’t relish. From what she’d heard, the job market was bad out there, and although she had enough money from her payout to see her through a six-month period, she knew that the safety net might quickly disappear, especially with her expensive rent and living costs. What would she do if she couldn’t find exactly the right kind of job that she was looking for? And that was a big part of the problem. She didn’t actually know what she was looking for.

‘What a lovely surprise!’ Jonathan Finch came to join his wife and greeted Isla just as effusively. ‘You are a sight for sore eyes, you really are.’

‘How are you both?’

‘Not too bad,’ said Miriam, casting a nervous glance towards Jonathan, but Isla didn’t need to ask; she had known instinctively that something was adrift. The moment she’d walked through the door, despite the warm welcome, she sensed a shift in the atmosphere since the last time she was here. It wasn’t only the slight whiff of neglect that hung in the air; she noticed too how weary they both looked. Jonathan, especially, wore a tiredness around him that was palpable; he moved slowly and purposefully, and he’d lost weight, his trousers tied tightly around the middle with a belt. ‘We’ll be pleased to see the back of this year, though.’