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‘Now, there’s an idea,’ Brenda said.
‘I was going to look for a job but had put it off until the new year,’ Avril said thoughtfully.
‘Bee’s looking for someone part-time for the moment. And, let’s face it, the commute down Harbour Hill from your place isn’t exactly onerous. Along the prom with a sea view, or you could cut through the gardens. Still have the sea view! She’s lovely, is Bee, no sting despite her name and she’d probably be happy with you working around Merryn’s school hours.’
‘Sounds ideal to me,’ Brenda put in. ‘Weren’t you in that sort of thing before?’
‘I worked for John Lewis but I was office-based rather than on the shop floor.’
‘This would be a doddle after working for John Lewis,’ Tracy put in.
‘Or, knowing Lullbury Bay’s good and godly, absolute hell,’ Brenda said. ‘And you’d be busy once the tourists return.’
‘Fair enough. Any customer-facing job isn’t a picnic,’ Tracy admitted.
‘But, I could try it out to see if I liked it?’ Avril said slowly, the idea beginning to appeal. ‘And if Bee would have me.’
‘Of course she’ll have you.’ Tracy put an arm around Avril’s shoulders. ‘She’s over in the bookshop now. Why don’t you pop along the prom and discuss it with her?’
‘I might, Tracy. Do you know, I might just do that!’
CHAPTER25
‘IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE CHRISTMAS’ – MICHAEL BUBLÉ
Tuesday 21st December
Honor popped into the bookshop on the afternoon of the RNLI carols event. She needed to get a few last-minute Christmas presents and thought some holiday reading for her mum would be perfect. She was surprised to see who was serving behind the till.
‘Avril, what are you doing working in here?’
‘Hello, Honor. How lovely to see you. I’m having a trial run to see if I’m up to the job. If Bee thinks I’m up to muster, I start properly tomorrow.’
Bee, the bookshop manager, staggered past, laden with a pile of hardbacks. She collapsed onto a chair, her coltish legs splayed out in front. Blowing her fringe out of her eyes she made her violet eyes go huge. ‘Trust me, I’m never letting her go. She’s already sorted the children’s corner and it looks a million times better.’
Honor looked around. She loved this place and popped in all the time. Bee often hosted children’s events so Honor would bring her class in. The bookshop was a quirky convert from a couple of shops and was situated perfectly on the high street. Some time ago, the premises adjoining the book shop had been converted into a community-run café and social hub and knocked through. It was possible to buy a book and then sit and read accompanied by some really good coffee and one of the café’s delicious waffles. Honor’s all-time favourite pastime was to get engrossed in a fat best-selling paperback while scoffing a waffle topped with melted chocolate, pecan nuts and whipped cream. If she was lucky, she scored a table against the window at the back which overlooked the bay and the endless shifting sea. As it was four o’clock and dusky-dim, now all that could be glimpsed was the festive flashing white lights strung all along the prom and gently swaying in the breeze. The red lights decorating The Old Anchor could be spotted at the far end, on the harbour. Dimpsey was the local word for this time of day, and it summed up the soft light just before night fell perfectly. Turning away from the view of the pub, she shuddered a little, remembering her adventures with cider in there. It hadn’t ended well and she had sworn herself off cider for life. Or at least until another night in the pub with her friends.
Bee always decorated the bookshop according to season; her Hallowe’en displays were legendary, and now she’d really gone to town with all things Christmassy. Festooning Bee’s Books at the moment was white netting hung low from the ceiling, with thousands of tiny white lights threaded through. It made the place feel magical. On tables, at intervals in between the bookcases, small white Christmas trees had been set up and decorated with the same lights. A larger, real spruce stood in the middle with a red upholstered chair, a glowing stove, a pile of recommended seasonal books, and a glass bowl heaped with sweets wrapped in glittering paper, with a sign saying to help yourself. A cosy reading area with leather sofas, comfy cushions and throws with a Nordic theme was half hidden behind an arch with greenery and hung with yet more tiny twinkling white lights. Frank Sinatra classic Christmas songs played quietly in the background against the happy hum of contented booklovers browsing to their heart’s content.
‘That’s fabulous, Avril,’ Honor said, returning her attention to the woman behind the till. ‘I can’t think of a nicer place to work than a bookshop at Christmas, and it’s looking gorgeous in here at the moment.’ Seeing two customers waiting to pay, she added, ‘I’ll let you go. Looks like you’re busy.’
Bee returned, looking puffed out. ‘I meant it when I said I wasn’t letting Avril go. She’s been marvellous.’ She dusted down her hands and asked, ‘What can I help you with, Honor?’
‘Holiday reading for my mum. Paperbacks please as she’s got to cram them into her suitcase.’
‘Well, I hate to say it, seeing as I sell print books for a living, but she might be better to load up her Kindle.’
‘It’s a cruise, so there’s no weight limit. There’s a library on board apparently, but Mum wants a few to keep her going until she gets the hang of things. They’ve never cruised before.’
‘Exciting! What does she like to read?’
‘She likes most things, historical romance, a cosy crime.’
‘This way then.’ Bee led her to the side of the shop next to the leather sofas. ‘You can have a browse through our General Fiction section. Romance is on these two bookcases, crime’s on another and anything we can’t categorise is listed alphabetically on the third. I’ll leave you to it but give one of us a shout if you need any help. If you buy a pile, which I most sincerely hope you do, and you’re on the way to the carols at the lifeboat station, Avril will stash them behind the desk for you. We’re open late tonight so you can pick them up on the way home. The Sea Spray is, too. Doing a nice range of takeaway soup and turkey rolls, I think. Your pal Lucie is in charge, with some help from little Merryn who is selling home-made mince pies, and all proceeds go to the RNLI.’
‘Thanks, Bee.’ Honor was fond of the woman, who was of a similar age to herself. She’d like to be better friends and was always inviting her out for a drink or a trip to the cinema, but Bee was welded permanently to her shop. In the same way Tom was dedicated to his animal sanctuary, Bee was besotted with books. Honor turned to peruse the bookshelves. She loved books, her to-be-read pile at home was enormous but she accepted that, along with her mother’s presents, she’d sneak in an extra couple for herself.
Twenty minutes later, she carried ten fat paperbacks to the till and joined the queue to pay. She noticed, for the first time, that Ivy, the Pengethley’s spaniel, was curled up in a dog bed by the desk. The dog raised her head and looked intently at the shop’s door. The sight cheered Honor inexplicably. She liked living in a town where the bookshop tolerated dogs and gave away sweets. A second later, she started as a rush of icy sea air blew in. The shop door opened and then shut. Looking around, she saw it was Jago. Ivy whined in a loving greeting and Honor felt like joining in.
