How to Find Love in a Book Shop (16 page)

Fourteen

It had taken Andrea a few weeks to plough through all the paperwork and get a clearer picture of the kind of shape Nightingale Books was in financially. Several more worms had crawled out of the can.

Emilia had unearthed a pile of pro-forma invoices that didn’t seem to have been paid. They were from some of their main suppliers. She wouldn’t be able to order any more books until she’d paid them.

Then a credit card bill had arrived with the morning post. She opened it and was horrified by the balance. There were no purchases for that month, of course, but neither had any minimum payments been made, because Emilia hadn’t been aware of the card’s existence. It hadn’t been in Julius’s wallet.

She searched through the piles of paperwork on the desk, and found two copies of previous bills in unopened envelopes. The withdrawals were all cash. The interest was compounding due to the lack of payments.

She phoned Andrea, who told her to bring the bills round straight away.

‘That must have been what he’d been using to pay the wages,’ Andrea sighed. ‘This is one of those cards with six months nought per cent finance. He must have taken it out to cover his cash flow. But of course now the interest is going to kick in big time. I’ll phone the company and put them in the picture. And I’ll have to pass it on to your solicitor for the probate.’

‘It’s nearly four thousand pounds.’

Andrea sighed. ‘It’s easily done. He’s not the first and he won’t be the last.’

Emilia felt disconsolate. She was just getting her head around the existing debts and feeling she could manage.

‘The debts are just getting bigger and bigger.’

‘We can consolidate them.’ Andrea tried to sound reassuring. ‘Don’t worry – you’re sitting on a goldmine. You can take out a loan if you need to.’

‘I suppose so. I’m just not used to such big sums of money.’

‘I wish all my clients felt like that. Honestly, this is nothing in the grand scheme of things.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.’

Andrea took Emilia off to the bank in the high street where Nightingale Books had had its account since the day Julius arrived in Peasebrook. There, they negotiated a generous overdraft facility with the bank manager.

‘Now you don’t have to worry about how to pay the wages.’

Emilia shuddered. ‘I’ve never been in this kind of debt. I don’t even go overdrawn usually.’

‘It’s good debt. It’s debt you’re investing in the business. It’s not Louboutin debt.’

Emilia looked down at her battered old sneakers. ‘No,’ she said ruefully. She eyed Andrea’s shoes – high and shiny and undeniably expensive.

Andrea grinned. ‘I’ve earned them. It’s my one indulgence. And there is some good news. Look – your takings are up, week on week this month. You must be doing something right. Not that your dad did anything wrong,’ she added hastily. ‘But it’s obvious his eye wasn’t on the ball.’

Emilia looked at the last couple of weeks’ spreadsheets. Something
was
working. Dave had turned into a social media guru, tweeting book reviews and special offers, and they’d seen an upturn. They had opened the last few Sundays, and had done rather well. But the in still didn’t cover the out.

‘But the shop isn’t making enough to cover its outgoings now, let alone a monthly payment if I take out a loan.’

‘But you need to do that to grow the business. That’s how it works.’

Emilia put her hand to her head. ‘I understand it all in theory – of course I do. But it’s making my head spin. It’s the decisions; the
commitment
. The responsibility! Maybe I should just walk away.’

‘Are you mad? Don’t give up after all this.’ Andrea checked herself. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t try and influence you.’

Emilia looked at her.

‘When I first came in, you said I shouldn’t be sentimental.’

‘I know.’ Andrea gave a rueful shrug. ‘But I was walking along the high street the other day. I went past the shop. I saw you in there and you looked as if you belonged there.’ She laughed. ‘Listen to me! I’m supposed to be Miss Ruthless and Pragmatic. Now
I’m
being all sentimental!’

Emilia sighed. ‘I’ve just booked Mick Gillespie to come and do a book signing.’

Andrea’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses. ‘Mick Gillespie? Wow!’

‘If I sell a hundred copies of his book, it still won’t pay the electricity bill.’

‘I know it’s a big decision for you. It’s down to you, Emilia. Whether you want to make Nightingale Books your life. Like your father.’

‘I don’t know yet. In my heart, of course I do. But in my head …’

Andrea gave her a kind smile. ‘We can play for time. Let me see what I can do with the figures. I can find ways of offsetting some of the debt.’

‘Bloody money,’ said Emilia.

‘Yes. Well. It makes the world go round. Don’t worry. Nightingale Books isn’t on the scrap heap yet.’

Emilia walked back along the high street, her hands in her pockets. Just when she thought the shop was on the up, reality kicked in. And it was all new to her. She’d never really got involved in the behind-the-scenes machinations, and now she was cross. She should have paid more attention, but it all just seemed to tick over without her needing to know any of it.

She’d foolishly thought running a book shop would be easy, and that she knew everything. But of course there was more to it than finding someone the perfect read for their upcoming cruise, or recommending a christening gift, or tracking down a book when someone said, rather vaguely, ‘Its got a blue cover …’

Andrea had done her best to keep her spirits up, but Emilia felt that keeping the shop open was becoming less and less viable: something she was just doing because she didn’t want to let her father down.

She passed The Icing on the Cake, its windows crammed with sugared doughnuts oozing wine-dark jam and shiny chocolate cakes and golden custard tarts. She went in and bought a sausage roll – she was more of a savoury than a sweet person – and devoured the melting pastry and herby sausage meat in three bites.

To cheer herself up, she called Bea with the news about Mick Gillespie. ‘You’ll never guess who I’ve got coming to the shop.’

Bea squealed when she heard the news. ‘Oh my God – he’s my favourite actor of all time. That Aran jumper he wears in
The Silver Moon
– I bought Bill one like it.’

‘Do you think people will come?’

‘Of course! And we’ll dress the shop.’

‘Not leprechauns and shamrocks?’

Bea laughed. ‘No. I’ll think of something clever.’ She gasped. ‘Do you think we can take him out for dinner afterwards?’

‘I’m booking him a room at the Peasebrook Arms.’

‘You’ll have to give me his room number.’

‘Bea – he’s an old man!’

‘I know. I’m only kidding. But that’s great. You’ll have them queuing round the block. We’ll make it a night to remember.’

Emilia hung up, smiling to herself. Suddenly all the problems of the past few weeks began to recede. She felt a little shoot of hope. Maybe she
could
turn the shop round, with a bit of help and a bit of imagination?

Sarah managed to find a rare parking space on the high street in Peasebrook. She was en route to the hospital for her daily visit but there was something she really needed to do. She locked her car and took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for what she was about to do, but if she waited until she was ready she would never go.

She could feel him as soon as she walked into Nightingale Books. The very essence of Julius. The shop
was
him. She looked around, expecting to see him bent over a table of books, looking up to meet her gaze, smiling at her over his spectacles.

The memory, the longing and the sadness were overwhelming. No one had ever made her feel like Julius. That meeting of the mind and the soul. And the body … She chastised herself. That wasn’t why she was here – to wallow in her memories of what would never be again.

Emilia was hanging up the phone as she walked over to the counter.

‘Emilia? It’s Sarah. Sarah Basildon.’ She wasn’t sure Emilia would recognise her, necessarily. Sarah was modest. She never assumed people knew who she was, even though they usually did.

‘Sarah. How lovely to see you. Hello.’

‘How are you?’

‘Oh … you know. It’s been tough but I’m getting there.’

‘You must miss your father dreadfully.’

‘Oh God yes.’ Then she remembered. Marlowe had told them about Alice at the last rehearsal. A car crash. She’d been taken to hospital. ‘But how’s Alice? I heard about the accident. I’m so sorry.’

‘Well,’ said Sarah. ‘The great thing is she will be all right. Her leg was very badly injured. But she’s in very good hands. We’re hoping she’ll be back on her feet for the wedding. Literally! Otherwise she’ll be going up the aisle on crutches.’ Sarah tried to laugh. It was obvious she was being brave.

‘Would you give her my love?’ Emilia didn’t know Alice well, but she liked her. They’d both been at Peasebrook Infants. Alice was a few years below her, but Emilia remembered her in the playground, with her flaxen hair and duffel coat. Emilia had gone on to the high school, and Alice went off to boarding school somewhere, so they’d drifted apart, but Emilia was looking forward to playing at her wedding. It was bound to be a fairy tale.

‘She’s why I’m here, actually. I wanted a copy of Alice’s favourite book – I can’t find it anywhere at home. But I thought it would be nice for her to have something to read.’

‘Of course. What is it?’

Sarah gave a smile. ‘
Riders
. Jilly Cooper. Do you have it in stock?’

‘Of course! A book shop’s not a book shop without
Riders
. Especially round here.’ Emilia walked over to the fiction shelves. She could see a range of fat paperbacks in the C section. The comfort of Jilly Cooper. She’d read them all herself: it was always a celebration when a new Jilly came out. ‘Here we are.’

‘That’s wonderful – she’ll love that. I remember when she first read it. I didn’t get a word out of her for about a week.’

Sarah handed over a ten-pound note. As Emilia wrapped the book in a bag, she hesitated, as if she wanted to say something. Eventually, she cleared her throat.

‘Emilia, I wondered if you would come and have tea with me? There’s something I’d love to talk to you about. In confidence. Something your father and I had been discussing.’

‘Oh!’ Emilia wondered what it could be. Her father hadn’t ever mentioned talking to Sarah Basildon about anything. Well, not specifically. The Basildons were great customers. They were very good at supporting local businesses in general, and they always bought a lot of books, especially at Christmas. They were very popular in the area. They didn’t think they were better than everyone else because they lived at the Big House. ‘Of course. When would you like me to come?’

‘What about Thursday? About three? That gives me time to nip to the hospital in the morning – I like to go and see her every day.’

Emilia had a quick look at the calendar and the staff rota. There’d be one person in the shop, which was fine at the moment.

‘Of course. That’s perfect.’

Emilia watched Sarah go, intrigued. It would be good to get out of the shop and go to Peasebrook Manor. She’d had enough of uncovering nasty bills today. After this morning’s meeting, she actually felt a bit cross with her father. It was no way to run a business, leaving accounts undealt with. But she was starting to realise Julius hadn’t really seen Nightingale Books as a business, more a way of life.

The question was whether it was to be a way of life for her as well.

Sarah left Nightingale Books with a sense of relief and headed off to the hospital. She had been putting off going in there because of the memories, but she couldn’t spend the rest of her life avoiding the book shop. And she wanted to see how Emilia was. She felt she owed it to Julius, to keep an eye on her. After all, Emilia was on her own, with no mother.

Sarah remembered the day Julius had told her about Rebecca, and the terrible start he’d had to fatherhood.

‘It was an awful shock,’ he admitted. ‘But I was very young. I suppose at the time, I thought Rebecca was the love of my life. Things happened very quickly: her deciding to stay in England, then getting pregnant, so we hadn’t really had time to fall
out
of love. I don’t know how long we would have lasted in the real world, a young couple with the pressure of a baby. It’s very easy to romanticise it.’

‘You must have been very lonely, after she died.’

Julius gave her a cheeky grin. ‘Oh, don’t worry. There’s nothing women find more attractive than a single man in charge of a baby. I coped.’

Sarah had pretended to be outraged. ‘And there was me thinking I was the first person to melt your frozen heart.’

He looked at her seriously. ‘You’re the first person I’ve really cared about.’

She remembered the woozy sensation of realising how much she meant to him. Though despite his declaration she knew she would only ever come second to Emilia, and rightly so. Sarah had a strong maternal instinct. It was an awkward situation, but she wanted to make it clear to Emilia that she was there if she needed her. That if she ever wanted to talk about her father, or just to come up to the house for supper because she wanted to get out, then Sarah’s door was wide open.

It was the least she could do for her lover.

It was delicate, though. She could tell by the way Emilia greeted her – polite but warm, with definitely no hint of knowing in her eyes – that she had no inkling of their relationship. And she couldn’t just say ‘By the way, your father and I were long-term lovers, so please do consider me your surrogate mum …’

She thought she had found the ideal way for them to start a conversation and possibly develop a relationship. She smiled when she thought of her brainwave: it really was a brilliant idea. She’d spent a lot of time in the car lately, driving backwards and forwards to the hospital, and car journeys were the perfect catalyst for light-bulb moments. And here she was again, driving out onto the Oxford road. She looked at the book on the passenger seat. Goodness knows where the original copy had gone – she’d given it to Alice for her fourteenth birthday – but it might cheer her up.