Page 41 of The Cotswold Christmas Bookshop

‘Yes, he should be in soon,’ Isla said, weighing up the envelope in her hands. What was inside? she wondered. There was only a couple of things it could possibly be. A contract? An invoice? Whatever it was, she was certain it contained the important details on the future of the bookshop. She looked at Guy’s grinning face, wondering if his obvious good mood was because he was on the brink of securing a big deal. Did she actually know the first thing about this man? Was he really as decent and likeable as he made himself out to be, or was he a ruthless, single-minded entrepreneur, out to make the most possible money and profit from one of his business dealings? And could those two things ever be compatible?

‘What is it?’ she asked, unable to help herself, but also knowing that it had absolutely nothing to do with her. She held the envelope aloft by way of demonstration.

If Guy was taken aback by her question, then he didn’t show it. He paused for only the briefest moment.

‘I’m sure Jon will tell you all about it in the fullness of time.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Look, I’m sorry I can’t stay and chat for longer, but I do have another meeting to get to. I’ll see you tomorrow. We can catch up then,’ he said, swooping out of the shop in the same way that he had swooped in, having ruffled all her feathers in every conceivable way.

Was Guy being deliberately evasive or did he really have to rush off to another appointment? She ran her fingers around the edges of the envelope, trying to ascertain what was inside. It was obviously the reason Jonathan and Miriam were taking her out for lunch today. Not only as a thank you for her hard work over the last few weeks, but to break the news that they would be selling the bookshop that she, and so many others, loved so much.

26

Trattoria Amalfi was doing a roaring lunchtime trade, but then it had always been one of the most popular eateries in town. Giovanni the maître d’ greeted Jonathan and Miriam effusively, with lots of hugs and back slapping, and kisses on the cheek for Miriam and Isla. The intense aromas of garlic, olive oil and simmering tomatoes wafted around them, and the sound of animated conversation and laughter resonated in the air with people sharing Christmas get-togethers and goodwill.

Giovanni showed them to a circular table at the back of the room, pulling out their chairs and unfolding their napkins with a flourish and placing them on their laps. Ordinarily, Isla would have delighted in the lovely gesture from Jonathan and Miriam, soaking up the festive atmosphere and enjoying the bonhomie, but she was harbouring a bad feeling today. She sensed that she was about to receive unsettling news. Giovanni came across and poured the Prosecco that Jonathan had ordered and the three of them raised their glasses in the air together. Isla smiled, enjoying the sensation of the bubbles at the back of her throat, reaching her nose, as she tried to shake off the feeling of unease.

‘This is a proper treat,’ she said as they pondered the menus. ‘I can’t remember the last time I came here, but it hasn’t changed in years. It’s always so welcoming and such a lovely atmosphere too.’

‘Well, we couldn’t let you leave without saying a proper thank you for all your hard work over the last few weeks,’ said Miriam.

Leave? There were still a few days until Christmas Eve and what about the busy period between Christmas and New Year when people wanted to exchange presents and spend their Christmas money? Did this mean that the Finch’s would be permanently shutting up shop for the last time at the end of business on Christmas Eve?

‘We are truly very grateful,’ added Jonathan. ‘It’s been a joy to see the shop thriving again. I suppose, rather self-importantly, I had assumed that the place would flounder without me, or should I say us, being there to run it.’ He gave a kindly glance towards Miriam. ‘But you have breathed a new energy into the business, which has been wonderful to see. I’ve had customers getting in touch with me personally to say how impressed they are with the changes made.’

Isla felt a swell of pride. If her stint at Finch’s had shown Jonathan and Miriam that the shop was still a viable and appealing business proposition, then her time working there might not have been wasted.

‘That’s very kind of you to say so, but I can’t really take any of the credit. It’s always been a popular shop, certainly my favourite in the whole of Bramlingham,’ said Isla with a wicked smile. ‘It’s been you and Miriam who have built on your family’s foundations at Finch’s and made it the success it is today. Our customers have come to appreciate and depend on everything the shop has to offer.’

Her gaze travelled around the busy restaurant as the waiter arrived to take their food orders. There was so much she could say, but she was conscious of the fact that Jonathan and Miriam were coming to the end of their working lives and would have a different perspective to her.

‘It’s great to see though that reading and books, in general, have had a bit of a resurgence over recent years. Thanks to social media and things like Booktok.’

‘Booktok,’ said Jonathan, shaking his head and giving a wry smile, and Isla suspected it might have been the first time that he’d ever uttered the word. And probably the last time too. ‘I’ve still no idea what that’s all about, but anything that encourages books and reading has to be a good thing in my eyes.’

‘Exactly,’ agreed Isla.

‘I suppose it’s a big thing in your job,’ said Miriam with a curious expression and for a moment, Isla was uncertain of her meaning. ‘I mean, in publishing these days…?’

‘Yes!’ Isla had almost forgotten that she was supposed to be keeping up the pretence of having a proper job. ‘It’s something we certainly keep a close eye on to see what’s popular, to get a feel for the latest trends and to inform our marketing strategies.’

‘It sounds terribly interesting and dynamic… your job,’ Miriam added, nodding as though inviting Isla to go on, but Isla simply gave a small smile.

To be honest, it had come as a relief to have a break from thinking about trends and forecasts and strategies. By contrast, working in the shop, meeting customers, chatting about preferences and selling books, had reconnected Isla with her fundamental love for reading. It was satisfying in a way that wasn’t always immediately attainable in the planning and production of the next bestseller when you could be beset with disappointments and problems.

Thankfully, at that moment, the food arrived, which was a welcome distraction and it was greeted by a round of appreciative oohs and ahhs. Jonathan had opted for a sea bass fillet with sautéed potatoes and green beans, Miriam chose the Pollo Milanese served with a tomato salad, while Isla selected the spaghetti carbonara. Giovanni arrived to top up their glasses and the waiter sprinkled liberal quantities of black pepper and Parmesan over the top of their meals, before they eagerly tucked in.

‘This is delicious,’ sighed Isla when she’d finished her first mouthful of the velvety, decadent pasta. ‘So, dare I ask,’ she said, a moment later, unable to hold back any longer. ‘Have you made any firm decisions yet about the future of the bookshop?’

She saw the barely perceptible glance that took place between Jonathan and Miriam, and realised in that moment that she should have waited until after they’d finished eating before asking such a leading question.

Or waited until, at least, they had brought the subject up themselves. Now she was at risk of spoiling the meal for everyone concerned, and whatever they had decided to do – and Isla already thought she knew the answer to that question – shouldn’t she accept this occasion in the spirit it had been offered? As a reward for all her hard work and a celebration of the festive season.

‘Sorry,’ she said, holding up a hand. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. We’re having such a lovely time. Let’s not spoil it, eh?’

‘No, you’ve every right to ask, and of course, we wanted to speak to you about that, but do you think we should wait until we’ve finished our meal?’ said Jonathan, always the pragmatist, although his comment did nothing to allay Isla’s fears.

‘Have you heard, Isla, we’re in for a white Christmas.’ Miriam deftly moved the conversation on. ‘Snow is coming on Christmas Eve, apparently, and is likely to hang around until after Boxing Day.’

‘Can we believe the weather people, though? They keep forecasting snow and then it never materialises, or if it does, it’s just a few light flakes that never actually settle. It would be lovely to have a proper downfall, especially over Christmas when everyone’s tucked up at home, but I’ll believe it when I see it.’