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‘Too old?’ scoffed Jack. ‘You’re thirty-seven, for goodness’ sake, and you haven’t let yourself go like me. You don’t look a day over… well, thirty-seven.’
‘Ha ha,’ said Callum sarcastically, smiling at his joke.
‘But seriously, what will you do? Actually, that’s a dumb question. You could retire – lucky bastard.’
‘Jack, language!’
‘Oops, sorry.’
Callum didn’t know what to say in response to Jack’s assumption that he could retire, and the inference that he could sit on his backside for the rest of his life.If only. So he changed the subject.‘Look, the reason I’ve travelled all this way, apart from to drop in on my best friends, is that I’m here to visit a bookshop.’
Jack, who had been about to eat another forkful of stew, lowered his fork. ‘Did you just say you’ve travelled all the way from Scotland to visit a bookshop?’
Callum nodded.
‘You do realise that you could have found one a bit closer – oh, I don’t know, say in Edinburgh.’
Callum shook his head. ‘Very funny, Jack. I’m looking for a particular bookshop.’
Beth said, ‘Why? What’s so special about it?’
‘Well, here’s the thing. It turns out that I own it.’
Beth and Jack exchanged a confused glance. ‘Pardon?’
‘Yeah. I went to visit my dad—’
Jack interrupted. ‘How is Henry?’
‘Oh, you know …’ Callum trailed off. He didn’t want to think of his father in that care home. It didn’t help that he’d arrived home to his mum running a book club with her friends. He was sure she had a special friend too. Callum thought of the only guy in the club.
It didn’t seem right, somehow. He understood she was entitled to move on with her life, but should she have done it that fast? He knew he shouldn’t knock her. Perhaps it was her way of coping with such a big change, effectively the loss of her husband. Unfortunately, with the illness his dad had, the grieving process had already begun as they lost him bit by bit.
Callum caught Jack and Beth exchanging a glance. ‘So, about this bookshop,’ said Beth, changing the subject.
‘Yes, the bookshop—’
‘May I get down from the table?’ interrupted Fergus.
‘Don’t interrupt while someone is talking.’
Fergus frowned. ‘Sorry.’
Callum smiled at him. ‘It’s okay.’ He glanced at Beth.
Beth said, ‘All right, Fergus. Why don’t you go and play for a bit. It will be bedtime soon.’
Callum watched Fergus get down from the table and run out of the room. When he turned around he caught Beth staring at him. Beth quickly looked away.
‘So, about this bookshop,’ said Jack, scooping up the last of the hotpot onto his plate. He hesitated, holding up the ladle with the last of the stew. ‘Does anyone want some more?’
Callum sat back in his chair, and wiped his mouth with a serviette. ‘Nope, not for me. That was delicious, but I’m stuffed.’
Jack put the last of the stew on his plate.
Callum got the photo out of his wallet. ‘Ever seen this place before?’ The solicitor he’d spoken with about the deeds had given him the address, but there was no Satnav in the van, and the bookshop didn’t have a website, which didn’t surprise him. ‘I know it’s in Aldeburgh, in Suffolk. It’s called The Bookshop of Memories.’
‘The Bookshop of Memories – no way!’ Beth looked at him in surprise. ‘I know that place. It’s opposite The Potting Shed.’
