Page 14 of The Bookshop By the Loch

I leant against Mum’s pine kitchen worktop, taking in the lime hessian blind at the window and her ceramic mug tree.

Grandpa slid me a look. “What is it, lass? You want to talk about something.”

My cheeks flipped with guilty colour. “You know me so well.”

Grandpa rattled his teaspoon and abandoned it in his empty mug. “So come on then, Lexie. What’s bothering you?”

I stared down at my trainers, before looking back up and into my grandfather’s expectant face. “Did you know Book Ends is closing down?”

He widened his crinkly pale blue eyes in surprise. “Is it? Are you sure? Bloody hell! That’s the first I’ve heard.” He looked thoughtful. “I know Trevor has had a tough time of it since he lost his wife.” He paused. “I know how that feels.” He appraised me. “That’s such a shame, though. Och, Bracken Way will be the poorer for losing it. Pattie loved taking you there.”

“I know she did. And I loved going in there with her, even when I grew up.”

He eyed me again with curiosity. “So, what is it you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh, Grandpa. I don’t know.”

He gestured to the kitchen table and we both sat down next to one another.

I slumped back in Mum’s kitchen chair, as if the air and fight had been sucked out of me.

I could hear Mum’s sitting room clock delivering its subtle click from above her stone fireplace across the hallway.

My grandfather studied me. “Well, you must have wanted to talk to me for a reason. I know I’m scintillating company.”

I laughed, despite my inner turmoil. “To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know where I’m headed and then hearing about Book Ends; I suppose I’m feeling a bit off-kilter right now.”

Through Mum’s kitchen window, lunchtime sunshine was managing to punch its way through a bank of surly cloud.

Grandpa digested what I’d just told him. “I can’t say I’m surprised, sweetheart.” He offered a supportive wink. “But things have a habit of working themselves out in the end.”

One corner of his mouth hitched up under his silver moustache. “I must say though, I’m stunned that Trevor has decided to call it a day. Grandma Pattie used to adore reading the romances she bought from there.”

I smiled at the images in my head I had of her, scrambling to scoop the latest Dame Barbara Cartland, Loretta Chase and Julie Garwood from the Book Ends shelves.

A knock on the front door, made me almost bang my knees on the underside of the kitchen table.

“That’ll be your mother. She said she was going to drop by the corner shop on the way back from Fiona’s for a few bits.” He rolled his eyes. “But we know what the definition of a “few bits” is with your mum. She’ll have emptied poor old Eric Robertson’s shelves like she’s taking part in Supermarket Sweep.”

“Well, let me come and help.”

I followed my grandpa’s tall, thin frame towards the door.

He eased it open.

It wasn’t Mum though, laden down with bulging groceries and looking harassed.

It was Trevor, out of breath. His complexion was flushed.

He exchanged a few pleasantries with my grandfather.

“So, Trevor, what can we do you for?” asked Grandpa.

Trevor pushed his glasses up his nose. “Actually, it’s Lexie I’ve come to have a word with, Gerald.”

I was bemused. “Me?”

Trevor glinted behind his spectacles. “Yes.” He shot me a bashful expression. “It’s about Book Ends.” He inhaled a mouthful of air. “I’ve been thinking long and hard about what we were talking about; you know, improving the shop, giving it a new lease of life and purpose, dragging it kicking and screaming into the modern day. That goes for me too, I suppose.”