Page 12 of The Bookshop By the Loch

This couldn’t really be the end of Book Ends, could it?

I surveyed the interior. It was like a Tardis in here. A modest appearance from the outside, but inside, it was big and brimming with potential. All that extra space towards the back of the shop too.

Book Ends had so much more to give, not just to the locals of Bracken Way, but to the tourists, day trippers and second homers who flocked here. It was just stuck in the past. For thirty years, it had been a part of the community, but it hadn’t evolved. The old-fashioned furnishings and drab, weary decor confirmed it.

If only Trevor would decide not to close up and give Book Ends a makeover instead. Inject some twenty-first century pizazz into the place?

“What about not giving up yet?” The words were out of my mouth before I knew it. I flushed shocking-pink.

“What do you mean?”

I stared around myself at the tired Formica tables. Oh well. I’d started now. “What if you gave Book Ends an upgrade? Perhaps you could give the interior and exterior a fresh lick of paint; update the shelving; modernise the furniture; undertake some advertising?”

Trevor stared at me with a mournful expression from behind his glasses. “I think it might take more to rejuvenate the shop than that.”

“Then do more.” I pinned him to the spot with my growing enthusiasm. “You could run book-based competitions and events; hold book signings for prominent authors; have themed displays in your windows.”

I carried on. “I know you won’t like this suggestion, but I’m going to make it anyway. You could create social media accounts for Book Ends.”

Trevor let out an agonised groan. “Oh God, no. All that faffing around.” He gave a theatrical shudder. “I did take a look at all that Twitter and Insta-whatsit once, but I ended up with a migraine.”

“But all the faffing around would be worth it.”

Trevor listened as I described the ever-growing community of book bloggers, readers and authors on the likes of Instagram and Twitter. “You’re missing out on so much engagement. You have to remind everyone that Book Ends is still here. I know it can be a bit intimidating, but all businesses need that sort of presence now. If you don’t, you get left behind.”

He rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

“You could always get someone to assist you. They could post details about Books of the Week, read-a-longs and competitions.”

He stared around himself at the familiar jaded paint and shabby tables and beanbags.

“You could put up details about three for two book offers; authors who are making a splash; ask followers to talk about what books they remember from their childhood – that kind of thing.”

Trevor digested the suggestions that were tumbling out of me in a torrent of growing excitement.

“You could organise reading sessions with authors and charge a small fee for people to attend.” Another idea struck me. “Do you have a Book Ends loyalty card?”

Trevor flushed. “No.”

“That sort of thing is very popular with shoppers. Buy six books and get the seventh free, or customers could accumulate points towards future purchases.”

“Er. Right.”

“And do you have a Book Ends gift card?”

There was that embarrassed flash of colour in his cheeks again.

“People can come in and if they aren’t sure what book to buy someone as a present, they can have the card loaded with a certain amount of money and the receiver can choose what book or books they want.”

Trevor gazed at me, his black arched brows rising even further to his receding dark hairline. The shelves of books were reflected in his spectacles. “What else would you do, if you were in charge?”

“Me?”

“Yes. You.”

Oh God. I hoped I hadn’t offended him with my torrent of suggestions. But if there was any way of making Trevor see that giving up might not be the best solution, then perhaps some ideas might make him reconsider.

I eyed the bookshop windows, which were decked out in short, brown, frilly tie back curtains. “I would run seasonal themes. You could have pink and red covered books in the window on Valentine’s Day; blue and yellow buckets and spades with yellow and blue toned books during the summer, with piles of romantic beach reads surrounding them.”