Page 16 of The Battle of the Bookshops
“Oh God,” Diana burst out, “you forced it out of me. That Roman’s been sucking up to the other ladies—honestly, they’re such tarts for a younger man, cougars to a woman, even Joan—and he’s offered to get in our monthly book club choices for a twenty-five percent discount. There, I’ve said it.”
She looked miserable as she met Aunt Flo’s dismayed gaze, but Aunt Flo quickly recovered: “Diana, my love, you mustn’t be upset. I can’t offer twenty-five percent, you know I can’t. I make little enough on the rates the wholesaler offers me anyhow. If Roman can do that for you, then of course you must take it. You’d be mad not to.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Diana staunchly. “I’ll always get my books from Capelthorne’s, you know I will.” She sighed. “But I can’t speak for the others.”
“Course you can’t,” said Flo stolidly. “It’s fine, isn’t it, Jules? He’ll soon find running a bookshop is a marathon, not a sprint, and he’ll go under pretty darned quickly if he’s prepared to offer discounts like that every five minutes. The other ladies in the group will find Capelthorne’s is a better bet in the long run.” A thought suddenly struck Flo. “Will you be holding your meeting here again next month? I’m happy to do a thermos of tea and some biscuits as before.”
Diana winced again.
“Don’t tell me,” Aunt Flo said with a sigh. “Roman’s laying on champagne and caviar if you meet over there instead.”
“Don’t be daft!” protested Diana. There was a tiny pause. “Actually, prosecco and sushi,” she admitted, flushing.
Jules thought she had never seen Diana look so uncomfortable.
“But nothing’s decided. Not yet,” Diana went on apologetically, her eyes pleading with Flo to understand.
“Well, the offer’s there,” said Flo, pursing her lips.
Jules couldn’t imagine many in the book club preferring thermos tea and custard creams to the sybaritic lure of prosecco and Japanese food. Healthy competition was one thing, but rank bribery was another. She and Flo would have to hope the book club ladies placed loyalty over cheap glamour. They would know the answer soon enough.
Chapter 7
Damn him! Once Diana had apologetically left, Jules tried hard to eradicate thoughts of Roman’s latest sneaky trick from her mind, so she could concentrate on drafting her business plan. As much as she tried to work on marketing strategies, adjectives to describe him kept popping into her mind: “arrogant,” “entitled,” “privileged,” “underhanded”... And what about this glamazon Cally woman whom he’d imported from New York? It was clear he thought himself above any of the local women who would, doubtless, still be breathlessly eager to shack up with him even so...
For some reason, this thought irritated her most of all. “Pig,” she muttered, under her breath. “Montbeau pig.”
Jules was still growling to herself as she tried to dredge up something scintillating to post on the shop’s underused Instagram account—her new daily habit—when the doorbell clanged and in bounced a tall, slim, androgenous figure with an arresting white-blond crew cut, multiple face piercings, and baggy black trousers held up with rainbow braces. The figure moved with a natural elegant grace, as they seemed to waft over to the till where Flo was sitting.
“Hello again,” said Flo warmly, before Jules had a chance to utter a greeting. “I remember you.”
“Yo,” they replied with a broad smile, holding out a smooth, dark, impeccably manicured hand for Flo to shake. “Came in last week, didn’t introduce myself. Charlie. He, him.” His voice was light and musical, with a note of humor in it that was just short of a chuckle.
“Flo. She, her,” Flo responded, promptly giving the hand a hearty shake. “It’s a pleasure, Charlie. What can I help you with today?”
“Got a thing to ask you.” He raised his bleached-blond eyebrows, inquiring after permission to continue.
“What kind of ‘thing’?” asked Flo, giving him an encouraging smile.
“Kind of a favor thing?” Charlie screwed up his face, wincing, but Flo’s warm expression clearly engendered confidence. “Okay, so, basically, über-cool bookshop. I’d really like to work here.” He rushed to the end of the sentence and huffed in relief, slumping slightly.
“Ah,” said Flo sadly, glancing at Jules. “That’s not going to happen, I’m afraid. We just can’t afford to take anyone on at the moment. Maybe try Portneath Books across the road?”
Jules glared at her aunt.Seriously?she signaled with her eyebrows. Why was her aunt actively helping the enemy now?
“Even if I want to work for free?” Charlie asked.
This time Flo’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t tell Portneath Books that,” she counseled. “You’d be selling yourself cheap.”
“Fair. But anyhow, I don’t want to work for Portneath Books,” Charlie went on. “Too bright and shiny—not my thing.”
“I know! Right?” chimed in Jules, finding the conversation a lot more compelling now that it had turned into a bitch-fest over Portneath Books. “So blingy and tasteless, don’t you think?”
“Y-eah,” said Charlie uncertainly. “You know what else they are? Too new. They’ve only got new books, and I’m mainly into old ones. I’m actually an antiquarian books expert.” Charlie ran histhumbs up his braces, standing tall with a hint of pride. “Except I’m not. Not yet,” he added, slouching a little again.
Jules was intrigued. She wasn’t sure what an antiquarian book expertdidlook like, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t normally anyone like Charlie, who was cool and getting cooler in Jules’s eyes by the minute. Not least because he didn’t think much of Portneath Books.
Emboldened by Flo and Jules’s obvious interest, Charlie continued. “Yeah, so, thing is, I’m doing a doctorate,” he explained. “First I studied English lit, but now I’m into antiquarian books big-time. I did an MA and I’m in the middle of a PhD. And yeah, I want to be an auctioneer or maybe a specialist librarian...” His face was lit with enthusiasm.
