Page 2 of Winter Nights at the Bay Bookshop
‘I know so. It’s how it happens in our family.’ He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, and I knew he was referring to how he and Mum got together. ‘Ready to face the day?’
‘I am now. Thank you.’
Dad unlocked the back door and deactivated the alarm while I flicked on the lights. My spirits couldn’t help but lift as the children’s section lit up, revealing the colourful spines on the paperbacks, beautiful illustrations on the picture books and adorable bookish soft toys. I loved this shop so much and experienced such a sense of belonging every time I walked through the doors and breathed in the smell of books. This was my world and had been for as long as I could remember. It was hard to believe that Wes could have thought for even a minute that I’d be willing to walk away from it to move to Dubai with him. I realised that, in isolation, that made me seem selfish but the reality of our relationship was that he’d known that I never wanted to leave Whitsborough Bay and he’d been fine with that because he’d felt exactly the same way. At first.
A wide archway took me through to the front of the shop where we kept the commercial fiction titles and showcased new releases and bestsellers on sturdy wooden tables and display stands. It was also home to a range of beautiful stationery products and book-related merchandise. We kept the classics and poetry on level one and the non-fiction titles on the upper levels. Customers often likened the shop to Doctor Who’s TARDIS as it didn’t look very big from the outside but step inside and it went back a long way as well as up all of those levels, giving us the space to stock a fabulous range of titles and making us the leading book retailer in town.
I dumped my handbag on the counter and switched on the computer which connected the till, ordering and stock control system.
‘Would a treat from The Chocolate Pot take the edge off?’ Dad asked.
‘I think it might. A hot chocolate and maybe one of Tara’s brownies for elevenses.’
The Chocolate Pot was a gorgeous café three doors along from us. It had opened just over twenty years ago and was one of the longer-running businesses on the cobbled street, although Bay Books was by far the oldest, celebrating a whopping forty years next summer. The Chocolate Pot’s owner, Tara, made the most incredible brownies with the perfect balance of gooey loveliness inside and a slight crunch on the edges. Actually, all the food she made was divine but the brownies were my personal favourites. The café didn’t open for the takeaway trade until half eight but, as Tara was in the kitchen baking way before that, she didn’t mind the Castle Street traders messaging her with an order. It was such a lovely, supportive community and I was proud to call many of the traders my good friends.
‘I’ll take the bags and coats downstairs while you message Tara,’ I said.
Dad passed me his belongings and I headed down to the lower ground level – home to our staff room, a kitchenette, staff toilets and a storeroom. Cassie and I were on a mission to keep Dad on the ground floor as much as possible. He’d been really struggling with his knees and, any day now, was expecting confirmation of a date for a double knee replacement operation. He didn’t like us making a fuss but there was no point him suffering unnecessarily with the stairs, especially when there were so many of them. Bay Books was a five-storey building with a unique layout inside. My grandparents had taken on a builder who’d restructured the upper three floors to create six levels. The smaller rooms gave the bookshop a cosier feel as well as making it easier to categorise books by genre or subject.
All those stairs provided a daily workout but we didn’t need to carry new stock to the upper floors or bring drinks up the stairs thanks to the genius move by my grandparents of installing a dumb waiter behind the till. They’d affectionally called it Jeeves after Bertie Wooster’s valet in the P. G. Wodehouse books – an invaluable member of staff.
After his knee operation, Dad would need a fair amount of time off to recover so we’d agreed to advertise a fixed-term contract for a four-month period, allowing for a week’s handover and some leeway at the end. The job description and advert were ready to go as soon as the date came through. Dad thought we should also advertise for a part-timer to give some flexibility but I was adamant I’d be fine working seven days a week instead of my usual five. It wasn’t like I had a boyfriend who’d feel pushed out if I upped my hours and, in all honesty, the distraction would be welcome.
‘Tara says we can pick up the order in five minutes,’ Dad said when I returned upstairs.
He was busy working through the overnight orders so it made sense for me to go. I stepped out onto the cobbles, locked the door behind me and breathed in the freshness of the morning. In my opinion, Castle Street was the best street in Whitsborough Bay. All the shops and cafés were independently owned and beautifully maintained. The cobbles and Victorian lampposts gave a quaint olde-worlde feel which made for an inviting shopping experience, especially at Christmas.
Immediately next door to Bay Books was Castle Jewellery but I averted my gaze. The last thing I needed to see this morning was a selection of sparkling engagement rings, taunting me that my own engagement wouldn’t be happening. Conveniently positioned next to the jeweller’s – and also far from ideal today – was The Wedding Emporium owned by my friend Ginny. I’d have avoided looking at that window too but Ginny was standing outside with her hands on her hips, frowning at the display, so I could hardly dash past ignoring her.
‘Morning!’ I said. ‘You look puzzled.’
‘Something’s wrong and I can’t for the life of me work out what it is.’
I stood beside her for a moment studying the autumnal window display and smiled as I spotted the problem. ‘Your bridesmaid’s arms are on back to front.’
Ginny clapped her hand to her forehead, laughing. ‘How on earth did I not see that? Cheers, Lily.’
‘Pleasure. It’s a stunning display.’
‘Thank you. I like creating my spring and summer displays but there’s something about the autumn and winter ones that excites me so much more.’
‘I’ll leave you to fix your bridesmaid’s broken arms,’ I said. ‘Hot chocolates to collect.’
‘I might have to get one for myself before I open. I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those days where sugar’s the only thing that gets me through.’
‘You and me both!’
In The Chocolate Pot, I requested an extra hot chocolate for Ginny and called in at The Wedding Emporium on my way back.
‘Aw, Lily, that’s so kind of you,’ Ginny said, smiling gratefully. ‘Thank you.’
‘Got one of your favourites too,’ I said, handing her a bag containing a millionaire’s shortbread. ‘Elevenses.’
‘You angel! But I don’t think it’ll last that long. Is there such a thing as half-eightses?’
Outside, I paused by the window to check out the bridesmaid mannequin, who was looking much better with her arms now attached the right way round. Ginny had created a stunning autumnal display with garlands of red, orange and brown leaves draped round the window and loose leaves on the plinth alongside flameless candles. The bride’s dress was ivory with long lace sleeves, the bridesmaid’s was burnt orange and a child-sized mannequin displayed an ivory dress with an orange sash and cape.
Although Wes had wanted to wait until he returned from Dubai before we got engaged, we’d talked about our wedding on several occasions and had agreed that autumn would be best, sandwiched between the bookshop’s peak times of back to school and October half-term but well ahead of Christmas – our busiest time of the year.
