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‘I’m sorry.’ I shake my head. ‘Have you tried your pockets?’
He stands there for several minutes, making a show of going through them before eventually producing it with a flourish. He looks at it, utterly baffled. ‘Haven’t a clue how it got there.’
‘It’s good you’ve found it.’ I do my best to normalise it.
‘Yes.’ He beams at me. ‘Well, I’d better be getting on.’
‘Bye, Ernest.’ I watch him head towards the door. Far from striding, he looks wobbly, and as he goes outside, suddenly I find myself worrying about him.
It turns out to be a surprising Monday as, for the rest of the day, I’m kept on my toes serving a stream of customers until just before closing when I go over to my favourite shelves, looking for a book about original wisdom, and find it in the wrong place just as the door opens and the bell jingles. Looking up, I see the girl from last week.
She’s in jeans and a baggy sweater that dwarfs her, and her brown hair is loose around her shoulders as she strides over.
Seeing the look on her face, I’m slightly on my guard. As I found out last time, she thinks nothing of saying it like it is.
And today, she’s no less outspoken. ‘There are so many fricking people out there today. Haven’t they got better things to do?’
I do a double take. ‘I need those people,’ I point out. So does she – or at least, the hotel does.
She shrugs indifferently. ‘I suppose.’
Feeling somewhat trepidatious, I change the subject. ‘How are you getting on with the books you bought?’
‘They’re interesting.’ She drops her guard slightly. ‘You have good taste.’
Having half-expected a derisory comment, I’m relieved she likes them. ‘You’ve read them already?’
She nods. ‘I couldn’t put them down.’ Pausing, she looks around the shop. ‘So, I’ve come back for something else.’
Not sure whether she wants my help or not, I wonder if I’m imagining the slight note of desperation in her voice. ‘Do you have anything particular in mind?’
Her eyes flicker briefly towards me. ‘Anything escapist, really. After the other two, I trust your judgement.’
‘Thanks. Um… Let me think for a moment.’ I study her for a moment, remembering she’s a travel writer. I wonder what she’s trying to escape from. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
She looks surprised. ‘Tea and books? Why not?’
Leading her to the sofa at the back of the shop, I switch the kettle on before going to get her the book I have in mind. ‘This is the one I was thinking of.’
Taking in the cover photo of a tropical wilderness, she raises her eyebrows. ‘Another travel book?’
‘This isn’t at all like the other one. In fact, it probably isn’t like anything else you might have read.’ Sensing her uncertainty, I go on. ‘Seriously. It’s about places in this world that feed the soul.’
Taking it, she’s silent as she studies it.
‘How d’you like your tea?’
‘Black,’ she says, leafing through the pages, adding, ‘No sugar.’
I watch her for a moment. I defy anyone not to be blown away by this book. It holds page after page of beautifully shot, vivid images of mountains, wild shores and rainforests that tug at the heartstrings, with quotes about the very essence of life.
Leaving her engrossed, I make two mugs of tea and bring them over. ‘Here.’ Placing one on the table in front of her, I pull up a chair. ‘So what do you think?’
‘About the book?’ She meets my eyes, and for the first time I register uncertainty there. ‘It’s glorious. And to be honest, right now, it’s a bit like rubbing salt in my wounds.’ There’s a hint of cynicism in her voice.
‘Oh?’ I say quizzically.
She hesitates. ‘I’m only in Arundel because I broke up with someone. The job in the hotel came up just at the right time.’ She shakes her head. ‘I was planning to go away soon – I think I toldyou. But the owner called me last night and asked me to stay on a little longer.’
