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‘How many?’ Jude was close to tears now.
‘I dunno; a lot. See it every time I open a trade paper. It’s the rents doing it, and the landlords, and the whole world being skint, ’cept a handful of millionaires.’
‘Not the booksellers themselves?’ Magnús shifted his feet, tipping his head in interest.
‘How could it be their fault?’ Jowan wanted to know, his eyes narrowing.
‘Not being good enough? Having the wrong stock? Bad service?’ Magnús could have gone on, listing all the things he’d blamed himself for when Ash and the Crash folded.
Jowan gave a crumpled smile, making his beard bristle beneath his lips, and the sides of his eyes crinkle. ‘No, and it’s not the readers, neither. Folks want books more than ever. Think how desperate everyone was to hold a book when we couldn’t get outside or do much else? Even with all this demand, it’s a hard game, bookselling. Do you hear me, Magnús?’
The way Jowan pinned him with his eyes set off a shift in Magnús’s chest and he knew he was in danger of crying.
‘Small bookshops go under all the time, even with the best staff in the world.’
Magnús inhaled shakily, his mind working.
Jowan kept his eyes fixed on him as he spoke. ‘People think bookselling’s easy. In reality it’s a lot o’ hard work for not a lot of money, and that was before the big book behemoths came along and ate up so many little stores just like this one. Do you understand?’
Magnús nodded, his eyes flitting around at nothing, like it was finally sinking in.
‘You don’t know what I’ve seen, over the years. The changes. Isolde and I, we were young and idealistic, couple of hippies my pa called us.’ Jowan said this with a faraway look and a laugh. ‘We made this place in a time when if you wanted a book you had to go looking for it. Your bookseller would order it for you, or you’d send away for it. Yes, really!’ He looked now at Alex. ‘Borrow-A-Bookshop’s kept going with takings from the café and the holiday lets. I think you saw that, all of you?’
Jude, Magnús and Alex couldn’t help but agree. They looked at the ground, not wanting to vocalise it. Magnús thought of the tiny profits of the last week. Not even enough to cover the electric and gas they’d used up, he guessed.
Jowan was waxing warm now, his hands clamped together and his eyes barely seeing the mess in the shop. ‘Booksellers are a rare breed. They’re born with a love of books so strong they can’t do nothin’ but get into the book trade. I should know, I was one of ’em, and so was my Isolde. We did well for years, we were lucky. Down to the tourists, it was. But starting again now? That’s a different story. I’m not the man for resurrectin’ the place. I’m, I’m…’
Jowan wanted to say that he was tired. He’d given up the bookshop, then he’d given up the B&B. He wanted retirement and peace and most of all he wanted companionship and something easy and quiet. ‘I don’t want to be redesignin’ and refittin’ and restockin’ a shop. I’ve no appetite for seeing this place stripped out and changed beyond recognition into something my Isolde wouldn’t know as her own.’
‘What ifyoudidn’t do the work?’ Alex interjected, her feet shuffling, and her finger raised. ‘And what if the shop could look the same, only better?’ She glanced back and forth between Jowan and Magnús. ‘What ifwedid it all?’ Alex said, her eyes shining. ‘What if we stuck around and fixed the shop for you?’
Magnús’s face lit up. He too looked imploringly at Jowan. ‘Já, Jowan, what if?’
Jowan only listened, his face stretching long.
Jude joined in now. ‘Maybe this is the bookshop’s chance to move into this century?’
‘You have to admit it needs new heating?’ Alex said.
Magnús added, ‘Needs rewiring too. Can’t do that without replastering anyway.’
‘True,’ Jowan said eventually. ‘But how will you live?Wherewill you live?’
‘No idea!’ Alex told him, grinning.
‘It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard,’ Jowan told her.
‘Ó, já!Me too, totally the worst,’ Magnús had to agree. ‘But still, I want to do it. If Alex does. We can stay upstairs once the place is dry and watertight again. Live and work on site. And we will do a full restock. These books are curling already!’ Magnús plucked a book from a shoulder-height shelf. It was soft with damp. ‘Já, we’ll restock.’ He replaced the book and wiped his hand down his thigh.
‘And re-open the café as soon as we can,’ Alex bounced upon her heels. ‘All the workers coming into the village will need somewhere to grab a coffee and a bite to eat. I can do that side of things too.’
‘Is that what you want?’ Magnús asked, turning to her. ‘Truly?’
Alex nodded vigorously. ‘Yes. Don’t you?’
They were grinning at one another now as if they weren’t standing in the ruins of Magnús’s holiday and Jowan’s life’s work.
‘Don’t you have real jobs?’ Jowan asked. ‘Elsewhere?’
