How to Find Love in a Book Shop (25 page)

She looked around the folly, touched to the core by Dillon’s kindness and thoughtfulness. He must have spent hours. She’d have a wood-burner put in, she decided, and get some decent furniture. She could come here and read whenever life got too much. It could be her little hideaway once again.

It made her realise something else. Whatever Hugh had said about Dillon, whatever claims he had made, they couldn’t be true. He cared for Alice, she could see that. He was loyal and trustworthy and stalwart. How could she have doubted him, even for a moment?

That evening Alice plucked up the courage to confront Hugh. She had to say something. It was eating away at her, what Dillon had told her. They were sitting in the little drawing room before dinner. Hugh had lit the fire and was pouring himself a gin and tonic. Alice just had the tonic – she still couldn’t face spirits.

‘I need to ask you something.’

‘Of course,’ said Hugh, popping a couple of ice cubes into his glass.

‘Do you ever … do coke?’ Alice asked, feeling awkward even just using the word. It sounded so stupid when she said it. ‘Cocaine, I mean.’

Hugh looked at her in astonishment. ‘What on earth’s made you ask that?’

‘I just … heard something. A rumour. And it’s been worrying me.’

‘A rumour? Where? From who?’

‘Oh, just – just in the pub. Someone said you did.’

Hugh was silent for a moment. He looked down into his gin and tonic. When he looked up his face was grave.

‘Do you want the truth?’

‘Of course,’ said Alice, feeling her stomach flip with fear.

Hugh sighed. ‘I used to. I was in with a bad crowd and for a couple of years, I dabbled a bit. It was what people did.’

‘Oh.’

‘But we all do stupid things when we’re young. It’s all behind me now. I wouldn’t touch it with a bargepole these days.’ He smiled. ‘I’m glad it’s out in the open. I don’t want us to have any secrets between us. But it’s not the sort of thing you can just bring up out of the blue, so I’m glad you asked me.’

Alice nodded. ‘Thank you so much for being honest with me. I was worried to death!’

Hugh chuckled. ‘You thought I was going to snort Peasebrook up my nose?’

‘No. I just wanted to know the truth.’

‘Well, now you know my murky past. But I’m a reformed character. So you can tell the rumour-mongers to put a sock in it.’ He grinned. ‘How about you? Have you got any confessions? Any dark secrets you think I should know before it’s too late?’

Alice found herself going red. She told herself it was the heat from the fire.

‘To be honest, I don’t think I have, no.’

‘Are you sure?’ teased Hugh. ‘You look a bit guilty to me. No cheating at Pony Club camp?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Alice stoutly. ‘I got every single one of my trophies fair and square.’

‘Well, I’m glad to hear it,’ said Hugh.

Alice took a gulp of her tonic.

She wasn’t going to tell him about wanting to kiss Dillon. She didn’t think that would go down very well at all.

Twenty-Two

On Monday morning, Emilia phoned the staff and told them each about the flood but asked them not to come in. She made up an elaborate excuse about a difficult meeting with the insurers, otherwise she knew they would all be there helping to clear up and she couldn’t face them yet. She knew she was betraying them by selling, and although she knew she didn’t need to keep the shop open just because of them, it still sat uneasily with her.

She stood in the middle of the shop and looked at the damage. It was a sorry mess. Sorting out the books that hadn’t been damaged was going to be a job in itself and she wasn’t sure what to do with the remaining ones. Have a big sale? Donate them to a library? Let the townspeople come in and help themselves to whatever they wanted?

She’d been stupid to try and keep Julius’s dream alive. It wasn’t her dream. Or her world. Nightingale Books was hers in name only. Trying to keep it open had been more trouble than it was worth. She’d been keeping it open from a sense of duty. Out of sentimentality. She had to let go.

She’d have to find the courage to tell Sarah Basildon what she was doing as well. She knew Sarah would be upset, not least because that would mean there was no chance of the literary festival she had dreamed of going ahead. Was she being selfish? No, she told herself. She couldn’t keep the shop just because she didn’t want to upset Sarah. If Sarah wanted to set up a festival in the future, she could find someone else to run it for her. There’d be loads of people in Peasebrook ready to help.

She felt popped, as if someone had taken a pin to her. Deflated. As if her spirit had evaporated. She wasn’t sure she deserved to feel like that, but she supposed it was partly grief, partly stress and partly not being sure what to do with her life.

She wanted a new chapter. She smiled at the metaphor. If only you could just rewrite things, she thought. Where would she go back to, if she were going to rewrite her life?

There was somebody in the doorway. She hoped it wasn’t one of the staff. She didn’t have the heart for a conversation about the shop’s future.

It was Jackson.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said, surveying the chaos.

‘I left the taps running.’ Emilia made a face. ‘The bath overflowed.’

‘I can get you some dehumidifiers. That’ll help dry it out.’ He looked up. ‘And I can patch up the ceiling for you if you want. Temporarily.’

‘Thanks, but there’s not much point. I’m just trying to rescue as many books as I can. The next person can worry about the damage.’ She looked at him. ‘I’m selling the shop.’

Jackson didn’t tell her he already knew.

‘You can’t sell up. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I haven’t got any choice.’

‘But it’s wonderful. The shop’s wonderful. What you do changes people’s lives. For the better.’

‘Oh, don’t romanticise.’

‘Seriously. You changed my life, with those books you gave me. You made me see things as they should be. You’ve made me see what
I
should be. It’s too late for me and Mia, but … well, I understand where I went wrong now. I’m not going to make the same mistakes next time. And that’s down to you.’

‘Well, that’s great. That’s wonderful.’ Emilia tried to smile.

‘But if you close the shop, you’ll never be able to do that for anyone again.’

‘Of course I will. In some other way.’

‘I think you’ll regret it.’ Jackson’s eyes were burning with intensity. ‘When I came into this shop you seemed so happy with what you were doing. You couldn’t wait to find me something to read. You were made up when I came back and I’d liked it. What other job would give you that?’

‘I don’t know yet!’ Emilia shrugged.

‘Don’t sell it,’ said Jackson. ‘It’s part of who you are.’

‘Oh God,’ said Emilia. ‘Jackson, it’s really sweet of you, but the shop’s in debt. I can’t afford to give it the refurb it needs. There’s – there’s about a million reasons why it’s not a good idea. Anyway, I’ve shaken hands on the deal. I can’t go back on it.’

‘You can,’ said Jackson. ‘I’ve got a confession.’

‘What?’

‘I didn’t really come in here to buy books. I was under cover.’

Emilia frowned. What was he on about?

‘You’re not from the Inland Revenue?’

‘No.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I work for Ian Mendip. I was supposed to try and persuade you to sell the shop to him.’

Emilia tried to take in what he was saying.

‘Bastard!’

‘Who – me, or him?’

‘I don’t know. Both of you.’ She looked furious. ‘So you didn’t want to read to Finn at all? That wanting to be a good father line was just a bluff—’

‘No! It was to start with, I suppose—’

‘Get out,’ said Emilia, pointing to the door.

Jackson stood his ground.

‘Look, I don’t feel good about it. Once I’d met you, I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t realise you were going to give in.’

Emilia shrugged. ‘Well, it’s too late. I can’t afford to stay open. Not now. Look at it. It’s completely ruined. It’s going to cost a fortune to fix the damage.’

They both looked at the mess.

‘I’ve got a suggestion.’

Emilia rolled her eyes. He wasn’t getting the hint.

‘Thank you for your interest, Jackson, but can you please just leave me alone? I’m not in any mood to listen.’

‘Just give me one minute, will you?’

The two of them stared each other out. Emilia sighed. ‘One minute.’

‘I’ve looked at the plans for the glove factory,’ Jackson told her. ‘I’ve looked at the car park and measured it out. I’ve done the maths. If you knock down that flat-roofed extension at the back, where the office is, and sell Mendip a third of the car park, it gives him the parking space he needs for four more units, which will make him an extra two hundred grand.’

‘Two hundred grand?’ Emilia’s eyebrows went up.

Jackson nodded. ‘So he could afford to give you half that.’

Emilia took what he’d said in. ‘A hundred grand? For a bit of car park?’

‘I know you’ll lose the extension the office is in, but I don’t think that’s a problem, because you could put the office down in the cellars. They’d probably need a bit of work but as long as they’re solid and dry …’

‘You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?’

‘Yes. Because I don’t want the book shop to go. And I don’t want you to miss the opportunity to make a few quid out of Mendip either, if it’s there to be had. He’s a greedy bugger.’

‘Are you sure he’ll agree to it? He’ll be furious if I don’t sell, surely? He’s not going to want me to make money out of him.’

Jackson grinned. ‘If he doesn’t have that bit of car park, he’ll end up losing money. He’ll give in eventually. I know him. He’s more interested in profit than pride.’

‘He’s not going to be very happy with you, is he?’

‘Well, that doesn’t matter, because I’m not going to work for him any more. I’m giving in my notice. I’m setting up on my own.’ He grinned. ‘In fact, you can be my first client, if you like.’

‘Ah. So there is something in it for you?’

‘I was kidding. Sort of …’

Emilia folded her arms. She looked around the shop. It was a disaster. It smelled terrible and she’d had to pull up most of the carpet. She couldn’t imagine order restored.

‘You’re going to have to empty the place anyway, to repair the damage. So while you’re at it, you can get it replastered. Do a bit of rewiring. Put in some smart lighting and sound …’

Emilia looked at him evenly. ‘Why should I trust you? You’ve already admitted trying to stitch me up.’

Jackson put up his hands. ‘Fair enough.’

There was silence for a moment.

‘How long would it take?’ asked Emilia.

‘Don’t you want a quote first? And it depends what you want. What sort of finish.’

Emilia walked over to the counter and found Bea’s plans. She handed them to Jackson.

‘That’s what I want.’

Jackson started leafing through it. ‘This is really cool. But you could do it, no problem. Three weeks would do it, I reckon.’

‘Give me a price. Let’s make it happen.’

‘Seriously?’

Emilia pulled out her phone.

‘Do you want to listen while I tell Mendip …?’

Mendip was livid, but as Jackson predicted he capitulated eventually. Knowing the extent of his skulduggery, Emilia played hardball with him. She secured a hefty cash deposit from him for the deal, which would allow her to finance the repairs.

Andrea was open-mouthed with admiration. Even though Mendip was her client, she was jubilant.

‘Don’t feel too bad about pressuring him,’ she told Emilia. ‘He’ll do well out of the glove factory. Everybody wins this way.’

Mendip was surprisingly calm when he heard that Jackson was leaving him. Though he didn’t know that it was Jackson who’d given Emilia the inside info.

‘I knew I’d lose you one day,’ he told him. ‘You just had to find the balls.’

‘I’m doing a quote for the book shop refurb,’ Jackson told him, hoping he wouldn’t put two and two together.

Mendip nodded and held out his hand. ‘You’re a good lad,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right. I’m sorry to lose you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I wouldn’t mind using you. For a bit of sub-contracting.’

Jackson walked Wolfie home that night filled with glee. Things had worked out even better than he expected. He had his first job, and a promise of more work. And it was all on his terms.

‘Would you babysit for Finn tomorrow night?’ he asked his mum. ‘I want to take Mia out for a meal.’

‘Of course, love,’ said Cilla, sensing a sea change in her son. Sometimes she had worried he would go under and lose his way completely, but he was getting it together.

The next day Jackson told Mia he had something to talk to her about.

‘I need to tell you over dinner. I’ve booked a table at the Peasebrook Arms.’

She was reluctant, but she finally agreed.

‘What’s this all about then?’ she asked him, brittle with wariness.

‘I’m setting up on my own. I’ve left Mendip. Finally. It’s going to be tough, but I think in the long term I’m going to be better off.’

‘Oh. Is that it?’

‘It’s a pretty big deal. For me.’ Jackson was disappointed she wasn’t more impressed.

She sighed. Jackson frowned. He thought she had tears in her eyes.

‘It’s not something to cry about. Don’t worry. I’ll still give you your money.’

This wasn’t going quite how he expected. He’d wanted to ask her to start again. But obviously all she was worried about was where the money was going to come from. She wasn’t interested …

She
was
crying.

‘What? What is it, Mia?’

‘It’s OK. I just thought – you were going to tell me you were seeing someone else.’

‘No!’ Jackson frowned. ‘Not for a minute.’

‘Good.’ Mia nodded. ‘Because I don’t think I could handle that.’

‘Me seeing someone else? Why would you even care?’

Mia looked down at the tablecloth.

‘I – I miss you.’

‘Miss me?’

She nodded. A big tear rolled down her cheek.

‘I’m sorry for throwing you out. It was wrong.’

‘What?’ One glass of wine on an empty stomach – did she know what she was saying?

‘I was too hard on you, Jackson. But I was scared. Being a mum – being a mum really freaked me out. I know I was difficult. Impossible. Neurotic.’

‘You weren’t that bad!’

Why was he fibbing? She’d made him feel like the worst husband and father on earth.

He was fibbing because getting Mia back was more important than proving a point. He was fibbing because life was too short and he
had
been irresponsible and let her down, occasionally. But he’d learnt, and he loved his son with a passion, and more than anything, he realised he wanted Finn to have a family. The family he already had.

‘I thought you hated me,’ said Mia.

‘What?’ Jackson was horrified. ‘No!’

‘I thought you couldn’t wait to get away from me.’

He looked at her. ‘I thought
you
hated
me
.’

Mia shook her head. ‘I hated
myself
.’

‘Me too.’ He remembered the feelings of self-loathing, after one too many beers.

The two of them looked at each other.

‘Come back,’ said Mia.

Shit, thought Jackson. He was going to start blubbing now.

They walked back home, hand in hand.

Mia unlocked the door and led him inside. Inside his home –
their
home.

‘Come here,’ said Jackson, and she walked into his embrace.

Jackson stared over her head as he held her. He saw the big black-and-white photos they’d had taken of Finn when he was tiny. The coat rack, with the white coat he’d bought her the Christmas before he left. He heard Finn bound down the stairs and saw him leap off the bottom step then come to a standstill as he saw his mum and dad in an embrace.

‘Mum?’ He stepped forward, protective, and Jackson felt pride. He held out an arm.

‘Come here, you,’ he said, and for a few moments the three of them stood together in a group hug.

Cilla appeared in the doorway of the lounge. She felt a surge of pride in her son. He was a wayward boy, but he’d found his mettle.

‘You’d better drop me home,’ she said with a smile. ‘And pick up your toothbrush.’