Page 15 of The Battle of the Bookshops
“Well, you’ve definitely got me at least,” said Jules stoutly. “Now I think the first thing I need to do is schedule a planning meeting on your next evening off. I might even cook supper for you, if you’re really lucky,” she added, pulling a face at her own bravado. What kind of idiot friend cooked dinner for a world-class chef?
Coming back into the shop, Jules found Aunt Flo deep in conversation with a tall, elegant older woman... Diana! One of her aunt’s staunchest friends—loyal and perceptive—and always a lot of fun.
“Aha!”Diana said, turning to greet her. “Another of my favorite Capulets—I gather you’ve been giving those Montagues some grief.”
“Just as long as you’ve not got Roman and me down as Romeo and Juliet,” Jules counseled her. “Cos I’m more likely to killhimthan kill myself. And anyhow, don’t make it out that we’re the ones causing trouble,” she went on. “Theywent and opened a crappy bookshop.”
“I’m not sure itisso crappy,” said Diana, cocking her head.
“How do you know?” retorted Jules rudely. “Don’t tell me you’ve been consorting with the enemy?”
“I was at the launch.”
“Traitor,” growled Jules.
“Ah, but now I am the bearer of potentially useful insider knowledge,” Diana told her.
“Go on, then,” prompted Jules a little more encouragingly.
“Well,” said Diana, draping herself more comfortably over the counter, “it’s had some serious dosh spent on it, I can tell you that.”
“Some people have more money than sense,” Jules muttered, and then, catching Diana’s admonishing eye, made a lip-zipping gesture, nodding for her to carry on.
“Thankyou,” said Diana heavily. “So... fancy fit-out, lots of wood, fabulous café on the mezzanine—you know? Where they used to keep the saucy underwear? It’s all very elegant, spindly tables and chairs, proper linen napkins, patisserie from, I’m guessing, Freya’s—”
“Freya?” burst out Jules in spite of herself. “So, she’s a traitor too!” Freya might have told her, she thought sourly. Maybe she thought if she fessed up, Jules wouldn’t have agreed to do the maid of honor thing.
“Am I telling this story or not?” Diana queried, one immaculate eyebrow raised.
Jules nodded. “You are, you are,” she said.
“So, yes, clearly lots of money spent. What the staff are like I can’t really tell you, although I did talk to this glamorous American girl, Cally? Kayley? Carly? She was awfully nice and very bright. I do wonder if the others he’s recruited have the first clue—”
This time it was Aunt Flo. “He’ll get nowhere without the right staff,” she interrupted. “If they don’t know their stuff, if they can’t make good reader recommendations...”
“Quite so,” said Diana, nodding sagely. “But I will say, it all looks very nice. Besides which, that Roman is distinctly easy on the eye and quite the golden boy among the Montbeaus nowadays.Apparently, he took New York by storm, and now the family expects big things of him. I don’t envy him the weight of expectation, I must say...”
“Don’t feel sorry for him,” Jules scoffed.
“Oh, I don’t,” said Diana quickly. “I admire him, though—and you—clever and energetic, with your lives stretching out in front of you both... Bright young things, are what you are. You’d make quite the dream team,” she added naughtily, and then laughed at the expression on Jules’s face. “I’m just teasing, darling, I’m well aware of the enmity, and the less said about the fate of Romeo and Juliet the better,” she added, pulling a face. “But, as far as books are concerned, it does look an awful lot like he knows his stuff, plus he’s got this glamorous what’s-her-name floozy, floating about with a clipboard, looking frightfully efficient too. I do wonder if there isn’t a slight frisson between them, so perhaps the two of you aren’t fated to get together after all.”
“Likethatwould be the reason,” Jules said, smiling to show she didn’t mind Diana’s teasing, although she was dying inside, just a little bit. How ridiculous! Buy her a cup of coffee and she’s anybody’s, apparently. Infuriating how she couldn’t shake the memory of his mocking laughter at her in her green silk dress when she was sixteen. It was ancient history, for heaven’s sake. And teenage angst should be the last thing on her mind, with a business to save and an enemy to vanquish while she was at it.
“Aaanyway,” said Diana, relinquishing her tormenting of Jules and turning her attention to Flo, “I’m here to order my book club book. It’s going to be a good one, I think: P. D. James’sThe Children of Men?”
“Ooh, thatisa good one,” said Aunt Flo, nodding approvingly. “Not the usual P. D. James thing at all—more like John Wyndham in many ways. I think you’ll enjoy it very much. Whose choice?”
“Mine,” said Diana with a hint of smugness. “I’ve been meaningto read it for ages. Apparently if you love that whole postapocalyptic, dystopia thing—and I do—it’s an absolute winner.”
“Of course, there’s the usual ten percent off for you and the other book club members,” said Aunt Flo, making a note to herself on the pad of scrap paper by the till. “I’m afraid it’s not in stock, but if the other ladies would like to come in this week, I’ll get all the copies ordered on Friday.”
At this Diana looked shifty, apparently paying close attention to her shoes.
“Or,” said Flo, puzzled but not alarmed by Diana’s reticence, “to keep it simple, I could just go ahead and order a dozen copies, and they can come in and collect whenever they like?”
“Best not,” admitted Diana. “Some of us might pick up a copy somewhere else, I suppose...” She stared at a point just above Flo’s head.
“I do hope you’re not referring to the online-book-retailer-who-shall-not-be-named but might just also be the longest river in South America,” asked Flo mock sternly.
