Page 22 of The Bookshop Ladies

Robyn.

It was unsettling at first, knowing who she was. There was no question that she was Yves’s child. The resemblance was striking. Sometimes, when they were working together in the bookshop, silently cataloguing or updating details in the online bookshops, it felt as if she was standing next to Yves. The feeling was so strong; she almost had to stop herself from reaching out and touching Robyn’s arm, to check she was real. If she stayed here much longer, would Robyn’s green eyes seem more familiar to her than those of the man she’d loved for over two decades?

‘We must have dinner one of these evenings,’ Albie said.

‘That would be great, my treat,’ she said.

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly allow that…’ he laughed.

‘We’ll see,’ she said, but she knew for a fact that on Tuesday nights, he never did anything apart from watering his plants and listening to traditional Irish music that tugged at her heart, even though she hadn’t a word of the Irish language in which they were sung.

She decided that one of these Tuesday nights, she would make an omelette and knock on his door with some crusty fresh bread and see if he wouldn’t concede that maybe Americans did know a thing or two about how to bake a loaf.

‘Oh dear Lord, is that the time?’ Joy gathered up her book and her handbag, leaving a euro on the side of the saucer for the girl who had to clear away the remains of her breakfast.

‘No need to be in such a rush, you’re not in Paris any more.’

‘No, but I am still an American.’

‘Joy, you know, my grand-niece is very happy that you are here…’

‘Thank you Albie.’ Joy stopped for a moment and looked at the old man. She wondered what he would say if he knew who she really was and how she was actually connected to Robyn. ‘And I am glad to be here too, I’m glad of the chance to work in the bookshop and to call Ballycove home for now.’

‘It’s your home for as long as you stay.’

‘Not if I don’t turn up for work on time…’ As Joy strode off towards the bookshop anyone watching her might think she hadn’t a care in the world. The truth was, that as each day passed, she was becoming more and more attached to this place, to Albie and to Robyn.

The shop looked different when she entered it that morning. Although Robyn had set out the daily papers and her favourite radio programme hummed softly from the Bluetooth on her phone, half the shop was in darkness and a pile of unopened post lay discarded on top of the bestsellers table.

‘Robyn?’ Joy called out.

‘Joy? Oh, you’re here.’ Robyn appeared from the cellar with a pile of books in her hands, looking as if she was emerging from a crypt.

‘What happened, you look awful?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ then a huge tear rolled down her cheek.

‘Good Lord, it is clearly notnothing,’ Joy stopped. What would she do if Robyn confronted her about why she was here in Ballycove? She knew she was not yet ready for this showdown.

‘Here.’ Robyn handed her the books in her arms and she placed them on the counter. Then she walked to the back of the shop and flicked on the lights. Back at the door she flipped the sign. ‘Come on.’ She led Robyn down to the basement where they had set up a small kettle and cups – at least here, she was out of the gaze of any customers who might pop in. ‘Tea,’ she said, flicking on the kettle, rinsing yesterday’s cups and scalding them. The girl needed to talk and Joy could go back up to the shop and deal with any customers. ‘Tell me… is it the bookshop?’

‘The bookshop?’

‘Yes. There were hardly any customers yesterday and I wondered if perhaps…’ She felt ridiculous saying it, because no good businesswoman would take on a member of staff, not even unpaid staff, if they were facing imminent closure.

‘Oh, Joy,’ Robyn shook her head as if the bookshop was the very least of her concerns. ‘I…’

‘If every day is like yesterday, it’s hardly making enough money to pay for the cappuccinos. How on earth are you staying open?’ Harsh, but she was still American and sometimes, she couldn’t help calling it as it is. She stopped suddenly, seeing Robyn’s eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, please don’t cry, I’m sure we can do something to make things better, I mean, together, we can…’ but it was no good, she had properly upset Robyn now. She stood there awkwardly.

‘You’re right, of course, the truth is, I’m only keeping afloat thanks to the online orders and, even then, you know how they are a feast or a famine. I’ve been living on my credit cards, working one off against the other, but it won’t last forever. At most, I’d say I have about six months left and then…’ Robyn sobbed. ‘I never expected to be a millionaire, but I had hoped to make enough to live on. But now, you see it for yourself, apart from what I sell on Amazon and some of the specialist sites online, the only regular customers are my own relatives. I just don’t have the… I’ve never been exactly sociable, you know, but I thought with this place I could…’ she wiped the tears from her face and then said softly, ‘change.’

‘Fake it till you make it?’ Joy hated that saying.

‘Something like that, but it turns out, I can’t even fake it.’

‘Oh, come on now, it’s not all that bad. I mean, you’ve got the whole online side of the business set up, which I’ll wager is more than the previous owner managed.’

‘Poor old Douglas, he made do with an old-fashioned ring-up cash register. I don’t think he even had a mobile phone, much less an internet connection.’ Robyn smiled sadly.

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