Page 66 of The Battle of the Bookshops
“Now, you’ve got your trip to London tomorrow,” said Flo, getting up and lifting the cat gently off Jules’s lap. “Off to bed with you.”
Chapter 29
Flo insisted on getting up at the crack of dawn the following morning, even though she could perfectly well have slept in, with it being Monday and the shop being closed. By the time Jules was washed and dressed, she had made a pot of tea and got some porridge on the go.
“Have a good breakfast, darling,” she said, pouring Jules a cup of tea out of the old brown pot. “You’ll be busy today, and you don’t know when you’ll get the chance to eat.”
“I wish you’d let me bring you a cup of tea in bed,” fretted Jules. “You look...” Jules studied her. Flo looked tired and a little gray in the face. “You look actually a little bit unwell,” she concluded apologetically. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay on your own?”
“Of course, I am, darling. Why wouldn’t I be? Remember, until eight months ago, I was living alone all the time,” said Flo robustly. “Not that I haven’t absolutely adored having you here,” she added.
“Okay, well, just take it easy,” said Jules. It was a waste of breath telling Aunt Flo that, of course. “I mean, if you decide you want to take an afternoon nap or something, there’s nothing urgent to do in the shop. The orders and invoices are all up-to-date.”
“Whatever you say, darling,” said Flo, dropping a kiss on the topof Jules’s head as she put a steaming bowl of porridge in front of her. Jules took that as a no.
“Yo, dude,” Charlie greeted Jules on a windy railway platform in the gray dawn light. He handed Jules a disposable coffee cup. “Oat milk latte.”
“Wow, Iloveyou,” Jules pronounced gratefully.
“A whole lotta love goin’ on, then,” Charlie commented with a grin. “Talking of which, not got lover boy with you this morning, I see?”
“God no, poor Roman, he’s got enough to do with the fire and stuff.”
Charlie nodded his understanding. He looked particularly striking that morning, as he had decided to dye a mohawkish streak of bright blue into his short bleached-blond hair. That, with his favorite Vivienne Westwood tartan dungarees, made him an arresting sight.
“I’m taking up a few of my best finds,” Charlie explained to Jules as they perched on a wooden bench at the end of the drafty platform. “Too valuable, I hope, to just throw them up for sale online. We’ll see today.”
“Fingers crossed,” said Jules somberly, remembering that awful rental flat poor Aunt Flo was looking at.
It was a slog of a journey to Paddington, but the benefit of joining the train so far out was they had their choice of seats. The two of them settled themselves comfortably facing each other.
The first thing Jules did was call Roman to touch base.
“It was an electrical fault, we know now,” he told her. “I had the whole shop rewired as part of the refurbishment, but something was amiss in the fuse box under the stairs.”
“That explains why it took hold so quickly. Those old oak stairs...”
“Thank Christ no customers were caught in it. And thank Christ you and I had the back stairs to escape down. I can’t even...”
There was a heavy silence.
“You still there?” probed Jules gently.
“Yeah,” Roman replied. He cleared his throat. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Jules replied, grinning as Charlie rolled his eyes.
“So, tell me more about this thing we’re going to?” asked Jules, when she ended the call.
“FIRSTS,” declaimed Charlie. “TheRare Book Fair, like no other. Twice a year at the Saatchi Gallery. Be there or be square, dude.”
“That place just off the King’s Road? Cool,” said Jules. “And are we actually selling?”
Charlie shook his head. “Just getting valuations. The books I have here are special—the best of our secondhand stock. It makes them worth putting into a physical auction. Or at leastIthink they are. If my guy agrees, then I’ll leave them with him.”
“And who are we meeting again?”
“Everyone, but”—here Charlie put a hand on his chest just above his heart—“we’re actually having coffee with a guy called Richard Davenport.” Charlie puffed up visibly with pride. “It’s a bit of a coup, if I say so myself. He’s chief auctioneer for antiquarian books in Sotheby’s.”
