Page 26 of Winter Nights at the Bay Bookshop
‘I’ve got a job in a bookshop,’ I told her. ‘I start on Monday.’
‘A bookshop? Oh, Lars, that is wonderful.’
Kára and Ari mustn’t have gone far as they reappeared behind Freyja, expressing their excitement. A love of literature was deep-rooted in the history and culture of Iceland, with a third of the population reading books daily. My brother and sister fired questions at me such as how big Bay Books was, how many books it had, whether I’d get a staff discount and the title of the first book I planned to buy.
‘I wanted to invite you to visit for Christmas,’ Freyja said when she had the phone back to herself, ‘but I see now that it won’t work with your bookshop job.’
‘Sorry. Being available throughout December was one of the essentials.’
‘Perhaps you will spend next Christmas with us?’
‘Yeah, perhaps.’
She raised her eyebrows at me and fixed me with a stern look, both of us knowing full well the reason for my hesitation.
‘He misses you,’ she said.
‘I wish I could believe that.’
‘It’s difficult for him.’ She gave me a weak smile. ‘Yes, I hear it. It’s difficult for you too. I will fix this one day. I promise.’
I appreciated the sentiment but it wasn’t her responsibility to fix things between Pabbi and me. Only we could do that and I wasn’t convinced he wanted to. Over the years, I’d tried to apologise for my teenage outburst but he’d told me to stop dwelling on the past and focus on the future. If only he’d taken his own advice. We barely spoke and, if I visited, the atmosphere was strained.
‘The conversation has become sad,’ Freyja said, ‘and I don’t want this. We love you, Lars. We are so happy you will be working with books. Call regularly and let us know your favourites so we can read them too.’
‘I will. I love you all too. Speak soon.’
I smiled at the goodbye shouts from my siblings and the wave from Freyja. I always ended a conversation with them feeling lifted. Even though we weren’t physically close, we were emotionally. Just a shame the same couldn’t be said for Pabbi.
I’d loved how supportive they were about my job. I’d been looking forward to starting at Bay Books but the enthusiasm from Freyja, Kára and Ari had me really fired up and I couldn’t wait for Monday to come round. Putting my phone back in my jeans pocket, I gazed round the sparse lounge and wondered if my Icelandic family would ever visit. I could picture Freyja, Kára and Ari here, but Pabbi not so much. I couldn’t imagine him ever returning to the UK. I tried to imagine what the room would look like with furniture and a Christmas tree but I was shockingly bad at visualising things like that. It wasn’t how my mind worked. A vision of a woman sitting on a chair bouncing a baby girl on her knee suddenly appeared in my mind and my breath caught. The dark curls, the heart-shaped face. Lily.
15
LILY
‘First day for Lars,’ Dad said as we set off towards work. ‘How are you feeling about him joining us?’
‘Nervous.’ From the moment I woke up my stomach had felt like it was on spin cycle.
‘Because he’s a new starter or because of who he is?’
‘Bit of both.’ I always felt anxious when we had new starters, hoping not only that we’d made the right decision but that they’d made the right choice about joining us.
‘But more of the latter,’ I admitted when Dad gave me a sideways glance. ‘Like I told you, he’s apologised so there’s a line in the sand and hopefully it’ll be smooth sailing from now on. Anyway, how was your swim this morning?’
Dad had turned sixty at the start of last year and had decided that a landmark birthday year was a great time to try new things. He’d kicked that off with joining a friend on a fishing trip but was soon bored rigid and regretting not having a book with him. He’d tried wild swimming but found no pleasure in the bitterly cold North Sea so only managed a few outings before deciding swimming was for him but in the warmth of the indoor pool. His doctor had encouraged him to keep it going, saying that it was great activity for strengthening the muscles around his knees, which would aid him with his recovery post-op.
‘Good. It’s amazing how good my knees feel when I’m in the water and then I get out and have a stark reminder as to why I need the operation.’
‘Did you manage to get ahead with your assignments?’ His final big birthday change had been to enrol on a Master’s in English Literature with the Open University. He was loving studying again, joking that it kept him out of mischief on his Fridays and Saturdays off.
‘Yes, but not as far as I’d originally planned because it struck me that studying might be a good way of relieving the boredom while I’m recovering. I’m dreading it. All that time off! I’ll be crawling up the walls.’
‘You’re going to be a nightmare patient for Kadence, aren’t you?’ I said, smiling at him.
‘I told her not to take the time off, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’s a glutton for punishment, that one.’
As Dad’s operation was after half-term and Mum would be back at college, my sister had insisted on taking a week off work to keep him company and make sure he didn’t try to do too much too soon. Hendrix had booked a few days off at the start of the following week and I felt bad that I couldn’t do my bit but Dad had reminded me that I was already doing more than my fair share at the shop.
