Page 23 of The Battle of the Bookshops
“For God’s sake, go and get into bed for a couple of hours,” Flo implored her. “Use mine, it’s comfier, and I’ve just changed the sheets.”
Jules was persuaded. She wasn’t planning on staying in bed long, so she couldn’t be bothered to put on pajamas. She just slipped into Flo’s bed fully dressed, with a mug of tea and a book, Rosamunde Pilcher’sThe Shell Seekers—a comfortingly familiar reread that she loved because she could totally imagine it being set in Portneath.
The next thing Jules knew, she woke up to see the light fading. Outside, stars were starting to come out, pinpoints of light in the inky cobalt sky.Flip! It must be late.Nearly half past five. She had been unconscious for about six hours. Feeling lightheaded, Jules got up, slipped on her shoes, and flumped wearily down the stairs to the shop to help Flo with closing up. She arrived to discover Charlie already gone and Flo just cashing up at the till.
“That was a good long sleep,” said Flo. “I popped up to see if you wanted lunch, but you were dead to the world. How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad,” Jules lied. “Shall I lock the door?”
“Do,” said Flo.
There was a wicker basket sitting on the doorstep.Weird,thought Jules, opening the door and bringing it in.
“Someone’s left their shopping,” she said, putting it on the table. Delving in to see if there was anything to identify the owner, she unearthed a fat, shiny lemon, a chunk of ginger, a jar of Hollytree Farm honey, and a half bottle of scotch whisky. There was no purse or wallet, but right at the bottom was a white envelope with her name on it. Intriguing.
Inside was a slip of paper:
HOT TODDY
Combine honey, grated ginger, and sliced lemon with boiling water. Add whisky and drink. Repeat as necessary until well.
“Ah...” said Jules, touched. “That’s so sweet. It must be from Freya. The honey’s definitely from her anyhow.”
“Ha! Or it’s from a secret admirer?” Flo suggested.
“An admirer of people with snotty noses and hacking coughs,”scoffed Jules. “Yup, I’m irresistible.” Having to stand up was beginning to make her feel lightheaded. She had had far too much sleep to want to go straight back to bed, though.
“Go up and make yourself that drink,” said Flo. “I’ll just finish up here. We’ve had a stunning day, by the way. Best trading day since Christmas! Well done you, with your remainders stock.”
Up in the little kitchen, Jules followed the instructions and then took her steaming glass into the sitting room. She wrapped herself in the hairy checked sofa blanket and curled up on the window seat, sipping as she gazed dully out. The honey soothed her raw throat, and the lemon really did seem to clear her stuffy nose a little. The warm alcohol on an empty stomach rapidly seeped into her bloodstream, relaxing and soothing her aches and pains. So, the encounter with Roman had rattled and disturbed her, but they had had a good day in the shop.Fifteen–love to Capelthorne’s,Jules thought as she gazed across at enemy lines. Odd how Portneath Books still had all the interior lights on after closing. Usually, it was just the mega-bright halogen spotlights—which, even on their own, caused Jules to sanctimoniously tut about the planet—illuminating the window displays. Surely, they weren’t open late today, were they?
And then she saw.
There was a gaggle of women sitting at the biggest table in the café on the second floor, perhaps eight or ten of them, chattering animatedly. The book club! And there was Diana, of all people, sitting at the head of the table, tipping back her head to drain her champagne glass and then holding it out for a refill.
Et tu, Diana?thought Jules, narrowing her eyes.
If he wanted to fight dirty that was fine. Whatever he could do she—Jules—could do better. And she would. Just as soon as she stopped feeling quite so rubbish.
Chapter 11
By the end of the week, Jules was feeling much better at last, with just slightly wobbly legs and a woolly brain to remind her how ill she had been.
“Thanks for the hot toddy stuff,” she said to Freya as she collected the bread—she and Flo treated themselves to a small sourdough loaf a couple of times a week, and Finn’s stuff from the deli was the best.
“What hot toddy stuff?” replied Freya with a quizzical frown.
Jules explained. “It was Hollytree Farm honey,” she added. “I just assumed...”
“You’ve got a secret admirer,” Freya teased as Jules headed for the door.
“Yeah, that’s what Aunt Flo said, but sadly you’re my only two fans in the whole world.”
“Who said I’m a fan?” joked Freya as Jules closed the door with a wave.
Well, that was weird,she thought as she crossed back over the road.
Jules picked the post up from the mat as she came through the shop. She was flicking through the distributor catalogs and halflistening, with a smile, to Aunt Flo playing twenty questions with a middle-aged lady in navy: “The main character is called Ella,” the lady was saying. “Or it might be Emma. Anyhow, it reminded me of that thing on the television where we think the secret narrator’s the old woman but it’s actually the young girl with the ringlets...”
