Page 62 of The Bookshop Ladies

‘Next Monday, eight o’clock, if that suits everyone,’ Georgie looked around and checked with everyone.

‘It looks like that’s a date so…’ Joy said happily.

‘Oh my God, I can’t believe it,’ Robyn said as they moved towards another group of people all enjoying large glasses of red wine and Shane’s food.

‘Believe it. Now you’ll have to organise gingerbread – that will really make them feel welcome, we’ll talk to Shane about doing something a little quirky, yes?’

‘Of course, of course,’ Robyn agreed.

As if by magic, the night she might have dreaded only a few months earlier seemed to whizz along, almost too quickly. Joy steered her from one group to the other. She’d wondered how on earth, after hardly being in the village five minutes, Joy had managed to round up the huge numbers. It was amazing. She seemed to know exactly what everyone needed from the bookshop. By the time they got to the readings, they had agreed to three different book clubs and a knitting circle meeting. It turned out the community centre’s loss was their gain.

‘Of course, it will be even more important for when the sun isn’t shining and the tourists aren’t here… you’ll need to have as many locals coming in as possible, if you want to really thrive,’ Joy whispered as the poet took to the podium to recite what Robyn knew to be his most popular work.

‘Wewill need the locals on board, isn’t that what you mean, Joy?’ Suddenly it felt as if Joy was, in some small way, saying goodbye to Ballycove with this final push for the bookshop.

‘Ah, my darling friend, I can’t stay forever and it isyourbookshop after all…’

‘I don’t see why you can’t.’ It felt like a gut punch. ‘And anyway, I wouldn’t have a bookshop worth talking about in six months’ time if it wasn’t for you.’

‘Don’t say that, of course you would have. You just needed a little refocussing and some self-belief.’ Then, she moved towards Albie who was struggling with several pages and, by the look of things, had forgotten his reading glasses. Oh dear.

At the cash desk, Robyn caught Kian’s eye for a moment. He smiled at her. There was a sort of faraway quality in his expression as if he was apologising for something she wasn’t sure about. Next to him, Imogene looked as if she would be willing to trade her false eyelashes to escape.

How was it, after all the years of convincing herself she was in love with Kian – now she felt nothing more than sisterly love for him? All that tying herself up in knots over him had come to nothing. She wasn’t in love with Kian any more than she was with Shane.

‘So that’s the Adonis?’ Shane asked as he handed her a glass of wine. She’d seen him talking to Kian earlier.

‘I’m not so sure I think he’s an Adonis any more,’ she said leaning into Shane.

‘Good, because I have a feeling there’s more to life than just settling for the first boy you fall for,’ he smiled. ‘Anyway, you deserve someone who’s more fun…’ his eyes twinkled.

‘Kian is fun.’ She pouted, but she imagined that he probably wouldn’t have very much in common with Shane.

‘Okay, if you say so, but you know he’s going to leave here after five so he can go study in a library all day tomorrow?’

‘Stop it,’ she batted him away. ‘You’re making him sound like a dry old academic. I do hope you were nice to him.’

‘Of course, I told him to call in for coffee before he leaves in the morning, I have to open early anyway for a delivery.’ Typical, Shane would manage to get on with the devil himself, if there was a way to serve coffee across the fire and brimstone. ‘I think he will too, he loved the savoury bites.’

‘The food was…’ Robyn closed her eyes and groaned with the sort of pleasure, in her experience only good food can give.

‘Of course, what did you expect?’ Shane put his arm around her and squeezed her in a friendly hug. ‘It’s been a magical night. After this, the bookshop is definitely on the map.’ And of course, he was right. The photographer from the local newspaper had even whispered to Robyn that he could see the editor giving tonight’s photos a two-page spread – barring any major news breaks over the next twenty-four hours.

‘Oh, Shane, I’m just relieved that it’s been a success,’ she said, although she couldn’t quite shake off a feeling of loneliness at the idea of Joy heading back to Paris again. With that, the microphone squawked and Robyn saw Albie and Joy standing on the podium.

‘Hello everyone, I’m Joy Blackwood and, for those of you I have not had the pleasure of meeting before, I help Robyn here in the bookshop. Now, it’s my great pleasure to introduce the one and only Albie Keeling, to say a few words to you tonight.’

‘Oh, God,’ Robyn breathed, ‘no poem, I did wonder when I saw him looking for his glasses.’

‘It’s going to be okay,’ Shane whispered.

‘Hello, hello, hello.’ Albie leant towards the microphone and was rewarded with a huge cheer from the crowd both inside the bookshop and those who were spilled along on the pavement outside. ‘So, I promised a poem and I’m sorry to say that there’s no poem – not without my specs at least. But not to mind, with all the excitement tonight, I figured we haven’t actually toasted the real stars of the show. So…’ he peered around the bookshop, ‘come up here, Robyn and Joy, for a moment…’

‘Oh, no, I’m going to die of mortification,’ Robyn whispered, through gritted teeth, as Shane pushed her forward.

‘Now, that we have you here,’ Albie said, standing between the two women and linking their arms. ‘Don’t be embarrassed, Robyn, I won’t go letting you down. So, for those of you who don’t know already, Robyn is my darling grand-niece, her mother is the wonderful artist Fern Turner and, behind my back tonight, you can see one of her most beautiful paintings. We can thank them both until the cows come home, but the truth is, none of us would be here tonight if it wasn’t for Joy Blackwood.’ He looked across at Joy now with undisguised paternal love. ‘Especially me, isn’t that right, Joy?’

‘I couldn’t possibly comment, Albie.’ Joy laughed.

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