Page 82 of Winter Nights at the Bay Bookshop
‘Sorry I’m a bit late with it this year,’ I said to Nanna, handing her a vibrant red poinsettia plant in a gold pot which I’d purchased from Seaside Blooms at lunchtime. Nanna loved poinsettias and I bought her one every year, but usually at the start of December. ‘Hope you haven’t bought one for yourself.’
‘I nearly did, but I knew you wouldn’t forget. This is beautiful, Lars, and I love the pot. Very festive. I’ve got the perfect spot for it.’
I followed her into her apartment where she placed the plant on a lamp table before disappearing into the kitchen to make a brew. As I looked around the room, I tutted as my eyes rested on the pre-lit, pre-decorated artificial tree which I’d hoped hadn’t survived the move. On the coffee table was a flyer for the Christmas events in Bay View and Nanna’s signed copy of Josephine Forrest’sA Winter of Broken Promises. From the position of the bookmark, she wasn’t far from the end.
‘Enjoying the book?’ I asked when Nanna appeared with the drinks.
‘Oh, it’s wonderful. I should get it finished at bedtime.’
‘I can’t believe you’re still using that bookmark. You must have so many others.’
‘But none as special as this one.’ She swapped the flyer for the bookmark and passed me the latter. ‘It means you and your sister are with me every time I read.’
I’d made the bookmark at primary school. The whole class had created embroidered bookmarks or coasters using pieces of binca. My lack of creativity meant my attempt hadn’t been particularly adventurous – a border of crosses and another of straight lines andNANNAin capitals. I’d stitched my name in capitals on a second bookmark and took it home for Pia to embroider her name next to mine, after which my teacher helped me stitch the two pieces together to create one double-sided bookmark.
‘Pia wanted to add a snow dragon,’ I said, handing it back to Nanna. ‘We both had a go but it just looked like a melted snowman so we decided less was more.’
‘It’s perfect as it is.’
As she placed the bookmark back in her novel, I took a deep breath. The forecast for tomorrow was dry and bright so I’d be distributing the Christmas Paperback Pixie’s final gifts of the year and (hopefully) revealing my identity to Lily. It felt right to share my secret with Nanna first.
‘There’s something I need to tell you…’
‘You already know?’ I stared at Nanna, stunned, after I’d revealed my secret identity. ‘How?’
‘Box after box of books arriving was a bit of a clue.’
‘But I told you they were for me and for work.’ To avoid arousing suspicions at the bookshop, I’d ordered some books under Nanna’s name and had set up several PO Boxes for the others, all being delivered to Fountain Street.
‘Which I never doubted at first,’ Nanna said, ‘but your bookshelves didn’t expand at the rate of your deliveries so I worked it out. I assumed there was a reason you wanted to keep it secret and that you’d tell me in your own sweet time. Admittedly, I didn’t think it’d take quite this long.’
‘Didn’t have you down as Miss Marple.’
‘It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.’ She winked at me. ‘What made you do it?’
‘You tell me, super sleuth.’
‘The use ofpixiesuggests something to do with your sister.’
‘Spot on.’ I told her how the idea came to me as a way to celebrate Pia and her love of reading with the anonymity being the best way to keep the focus on the books and the finders rather than me.
‘I’m so proud of you,’ Nanna said. ‘I bet our little Pixie is too.’
‘I’d like to think so.’
‘Seeing as you’ve shared a secret with me, I have one to share with you, although I’ve only been sitting on mine for days rather than years. I had a video call with your mum last week and I read her the riot act. I told her that I understand how devastating it was for her to lose two of the people she loved most in the whole world but she still has two family members left and she needs to stop hiding from them or she’ll lose them forever too. The upshot of that is I’ve pinned her down to coming home in early January. Her flight’s booked and she’s even emailed me the confirmation to prove it.’
I stared at Nanna, stunned that she’d taken such a hard line and that Mum had responded positively to it.
‘Let’s hope she doesn’t cancel,’ I said.
‘If she does, she does and we know where we stand, but I want to believe that she won’t let us down.’
‘So do I,’ I assured her. ‘Good on you for trying. Ball’s in her court now.’
I hoped for Nanna’s sake that Mum did get her act together and make a decision to be more present in our lives. That didn’t mean she needed to stop travelling; just that she needed to make time for us while she was away and between her projects. I didn’t think it was much to ask – but could it be too much for her?
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