Page 2 of The Bookshop Ladies

‘It’s fine. Everything is going to be fine, it really is,’ she said, as much for herself as for Yves.

‘No, Monsieur Bachand, please, you must put this oxygen mask on, it will help you breathe and…’ The EMT was placing the mask between them, pulling the elastic out so it would not catch in his hair.

‘This is important, I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I never did.’ He placed his hand up in front of the mask. ‘I have a daughter…’

1

Robyn Tessier rubbed her dry eyes. If only there was a market for dust and cobwebs, she’d be a millionaire already. They’d been organising the bookshop for days now when she caught sight of her reflection in the old-fashioned mirror that had once hung in her uncle’s bakery. Even in the antique glass, she looked faded, her green eyes dulled by the shadows around them, her complexion pale – who ever said pale was interesting was having a joke, she reckoned. She needed a long hot shower. Her white T-shirt was covered in book dust, even her fine blonde hair seemed to have dulled to a waxy yellow thanks to teeming layers of cobwebs in every corner of the old shop.

‘Hey, stop slacking,’ Kian pushed through the door that led from the flat upstairs.

And this was why, Robyn knew, she loved Kian Lawson. He was standing, balancing a box of books in one hand and two large mugs of tea in the other. His dark hair was falling into his eyes and he had a silly grin on his face. It was hard to believe he had a PhD in early German philosophy! They were both tired. It had been a long day, trying to make sense of a system that had maybe meant something to dear old Douglas Howard once. Now, what with the thorough cleaning she’d had to give the place and the addition of new shelves in what had once been Douglas’s kitchenette, well, chaos was a kind word.

‘It won’t take us that long, come on, Robyn,’ he wheedled, although he needn’t have bothered, she’d do anything to get the place off the ground. The bookshop. Her own business, right here in Ballycove. Since she’d taken it on, a nervous panic seemed to seep into her consciousness too often to be ignored. She was scared and maybe Kian was the only one who knew it. He was definitely the only person to whom she could admit it.

‘But what if…’

‘Come on, there’s no point in what ifs now! You’ve said you’re opening this place in a week. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do and, if it kills me, you’re opening it in a week’s time. Now, your choice, are we putting these books on the shelves or shall we just leave them stacked up in the boxes?’ He was making fun of her now, but at least it made her smile. He made her feel safe; he’d always made her feel safe.

The boxes were everywhere, stacked one on top of the other, endless cubes of cardboard filled with second-hand books bought from Douglas Howard’s niece. Robyn’s great-uncle Albie had been cross, thought she’d paid far too much, but what was a shop without stock? If she went out to buy new stock, she’d have had to spend ten times more.

‘A stóirín, Robyn,’ her great-uncle had said to her gently, ‘if people didn’t buy them in all the years that Douglas had them stored up in that little shop, what on earth makes you think they’ll buy them now?’

‘I won’t be selling them just to passers-by in Ballycove, Albie, that’s the difference.’ And it was true. ‘Books aren’t like pastries. They don’t have a sell-by date and I can post a book off to the other side of the world so long as the customer pays for packaging.’

Of course, she had Kian with his love of quirky hard-to-track-down books, to thank for that too. It was Kian who had introduced her to the world of online sales for special interest books. Really, you could say it was down to Kian that she might have some chance of making a living at the one thing she’d pinned her hopes on.

‘True, it’d be hard to do that with my brown soda loaf,’ and he scratched his head, as if the world was passing him by too quickly, although there was nothing slow about her uncle Albie.

‘Where do you want me to put this?’ Kian broke into her thoughts and somehow managed to quell the panic rising up in her at the thoughts of opening day looming so close now.

‘Um, let’s see, trains, planes and automobiles? I thought maybe we’d put everything to do with transport into the little sitting room at the back. What do you think?’ She had the idea that maybe, if she created separate areas of interest, maybe she could make something of the place on social media. The shop floor was big, but it was broken into a series of nooks and crannies which really leant themselves to doing something very special. Instagram and TikTok loved a gimmick, something cute, something eye-catching. The place, she had decided, would be her shop window. She was much better at dealing with people online than in real life anyway; why not make the most of it?

‘Good idea, so if I pick up every book with a transport theme and drop it in there, that’s going to be quite a bit sorted.’ He was being optimistic.

‘I thought a children’s section just inside the door.’ There were so many children’s books, some of them so old probably no one would want them, but still, the bookworm in her couldn’t bear not to put them on a shelf. ‘I can make a bit of a thing of new books then in the window, when I…’

That was a bit off; she knew she’d have to start turning over a profit before she could even begin to think of ordering in the latest bestsellers. They set to work quietly, each lost in the sorting and carrying of books. She was lucky to have Kian here, and she wondered, as she so often did over the years, why he kept coming back. After all, he worked in a university where there would be no shortage of people to spend time with – surely, there must be other friends he could be catching up with? He would have colleagues, too, and doubtless the college bars would be filled with people – well, girls, not that much younger than her, with whom he could have spent every other weekend instead of coming down to help her.

‘I love coming here,’ he said when she mentioned it to him later. ‘I’m hoping you’ll make me a partner, actually. I could definitely do with a share of the profits.’ He was joking. He had managed to get his dream job a few months earlier, lecturing in one of the most prestigious philosophy programmes in the country. The department thought he was the second coming when it came to the early German thinkers.

‘So, I’d do all the work and you’ll end up with the Porsche?’ No one was less likely to want a sports car than Kian. ‘Hmph, I don’t think so – for now, we’ll call it an internship, or maybe your goodwill hours!’ She laughed as he held up a book with a photograph of an old Model T on the cover.

‘Come on, it’s time to feed me,’ he said and he pulled her up from the floor. She sprang up like a gymnast, the physical work of the last few weeks had been good for her. Although she ached, perversely she’d never felt fitter or happier. ‘Actually, maybe on second thoughts, let’s get a takeaway, yes?’ he was pulling her to the door of the shop.

Outside, night had drawn in and the streets glistened with damp from rain that she hadn’t heard falling. Two doors down, someone was working on the little shop that had once been a fishmonger. It had closed years ago, when Robyn was still a kid, left to gather cobwebs and cracks.

‘It looks like a coffee shop, that’ll be handy,’ Kian said, peering through the glass. A young man was painting the old counter. It had been so dark brown that Robyn almost remembered it as being black. Now it was being transformed into a rich maroon.

‘It could be gorgeous,’ she said. The old-fashioned counter ran from one wall to the other facing the street. Somehow, it inspired Robyn with a little more optimism. She was not the only person in the world willing to take a chance on a sleepy little village overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

‘You know…’ Kian spun around and grabbed her as she almost fell into his arms. They stopped for a moment, the moon a golden crescent that seemed to look away from them, so it was just the two of them on the empty street and the sound of rain dripping from the drainpipe. Robyn held her breath, was this it? Was he about to kiss her? She closed her eyes, no one would know, out here, just the two of them, it felt as if they were the only people in the world. She wanted it so badly. And then, he righted her, his strong, thin arms steadying her so her feet were on the path again. It was just a clumsy moment. As it passed, she remembered that she was his friend, nothing more. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘anyway, I was going to say, it’s a good sign, don’t you think?’

‘I do,’ Robyn replied quietly, too busy trying to keep her voice steady. She was in love with Kian, had been for years probably, but it was a one way street. She’d always known that, whatever had gotten into her tonight, she needed to remember it. The last thing she wanted was to spoil their friendship, just because she lost the run of herself thanks to the excitement of her bookshop finally taking shape and the magic of a big old golden moon in the sky.

2

Joy had insisted on travelling with Yves in the ambulance to the hospital. Of course, she was in shock; only half aware that they were speeding through damp and foggy wet streets and skating around corners as if their lives meant nothing.

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