Page 7 of The Vanishing Bookstore
‘Why have you followed me home, sir, I do not know you?’
He paused; how could he say what he wanted to say to her when he did not know her either?
‘I am Captain Ambrose Corwin, at your service.’ He performed a bow similar to the one Thomas had made minutes before.
She laughed and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.
‘And what service would that be?’
He stumbled, he did not know and found himself staring into her eyes, mesmerised as if in some kind of trance. The sound of flapping wings broke his gaze as a big black crow swooped down to land on her shoulder, making his entire body jolt backwards.
‘Shoo, get away, bird.’ Ambrose waved his hands at the crow, which made the woman laugh even more.
‘You cannot chase him away; he is not scared of you, and he is my pet. Hades, this is Captain Ambrose, he is at our service.’
Ambrose stared at the woman. ‘You have that wild bird as a pet?’
She pulled a face at him, lifting a hand to stroke the bird’s glossy black feathers and whispering, ‘Hades, he means no harm. I think Captain Ambrose is under a spell of some kind.’
‘What kind of spell would that be, miss, I do not even know your name.’ But a voice inside his head whisperedIsadoraand he wondered what her answer would be.
‘My name is Isadora English and, forgive me, but have we met before? You do seem familiar the longer I look at you.’
Ambrose could not lie, he had never met her before, yet he knew her name, he knew her beauty and he wondered perhaps if he was enchanted. If she was a witch as Thomas had claimed, had she put a spell on him when their eyes had locked down by the port?
‘I feel as if we did know each other perhaps in a different time. This may sound strange, and forgive my forwardness, but I think I am in love with you, Isadora English.’
Ambrose smiled to himself at that particular memory, which he had managed to store at the back of his mind forever, releasing all the others he hadn’t realised he had, he had indeed known this woman and loved her more than life itself. He had kept his promise to Isadora and not told a soul about her mother’s spell book. After Dora had been taken from him the first time in 1692, six months later he had gone looking for hishidden bookstore to see if there was a way to bring her back, but things had changed. The woods were much denser, thicker and the brambles so thorny they had taken over all of the old paths he’d known, making it impossible to find. He had spent days searching for the right path; he needed that book, perhaps it could make things right.
5
LONDON, PRESENT DAY
Dora was awake early. She liked to peruse the flower market at Columbia Road. Taking in its heady scents and beautiful blooms never failed to chase the cobwebs away. She hadn’t slept very well; she’d had vivid dreams about being chased through the woods by men with dogs and had woken several times. Eventually, she’d given in and got up for a cold shower to wash the lingering memories away.
The thought of grabbing a hazelnut latte and wandering along the road through the bustling stalls was already making her feel better. The smells were overpowering, but in a good way. She could have taken her van, but she didn’t really need any stock unless something took her fancy. She just wanted to be out there doing what she loved in a place that made her feel warm and fuzzy.
As she dressed, Lenny’s offer of a holiday to the States lingered on in her mind. She was tempted. How amazing would it be to visit Salem? She’d always had this deep longing inside her to go visit there though she’d never told anyone about it. It was strange that Lenny suddenly had a work trip that was going to involve a visit to Salem. She got off the tube at Queensbridge Road and headed for Queens Deli to grab her coffee. Waiting inthe queue, the faintest whiff of Bleu de Chanel filled her nostrils and she tried to ignore it. There must be thousands of men in London who wore that particular brand of aftershave. It didn’t mean anything at all. Ordering her coffee and a cinnamon roll to go, she couldn’t ignore the sensation of eyes prickling the soft skin on the back of her neck and she knew she was being watched and gave in. She turned around slowly and saw him sitting at a table not too far from her. She wouldn’t say he was staring at her, but he was looking in her direction. She smiled at him then turned away, wondering what he was doing here. Of all the places he could be eating breakfast in a city the size of London, what were the chances that he just happened to be here?
‘Hazelnut latte, warm cinnamon roll to go.’ The barista shouted so loud it made her jump.
‘Yes, please, that’s me.’ She took the cup and warm bag and, turning around, she realised that she couldn’t avoid him, he was sitting at the table nearest the exit. He looked up again at her and this time she waited until their eyes met, he smiled.
‘Dora, isn’t it? From the flower shop.’
She nodded. ‘Yep, guilty as charged. How are you, George?’
‘I’m okay, why don’t you take a seat and eat your breakfast. Or are you in a rush?’
Dora couldn’t think of anything worse than having to eat in front of a complete stranger. She wasn’t sure if she could make small talk without mentioning his recently deceased girlfriend and the awful mess she’d made of yesterday, but she was a pushover and didn’t want to offend him, so she pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.
‘I don’t want to disturb you.’
‘You’re not, so what are you doing here? Let me guess, this place makes the best coffee in London.’
She laughed. ‘Well, it’s pretty good, but not even close.’
He looked perturbed. ‘Oh, do you live around here then? It’s quite some way from your shop?’
