Page 19 of A Snowy Seaside Christmas
Her quick appraisal told Lark the mannequins’ hair would benefit from a bit of attention. One had a wig of dark waves which she’d brushed back to look as if the wind was blowing it off her face. The other sported a blonde, messy “up-do” from which a few too many tendrils had escaped. A quick spritz of hairspray should fix things.Small tweaks.
That morning, the town had been deathly quiet and the time had passed slowly. Only two customers had paid the shop a visit. The first had bought a vintage eighties jumpsuit comprising of satin trousers in a vibrant shade of electric-blue and a sequinned sleeveless top. The other had picked up a selection of aromatherapy products as a Christmas present, along with a shimmering cream blouse.
The quiet shift meant Lark had been able to add some new clothes to the rails and rearrange the display of vintage shoes. That done, she moved on to finishing her Christmas decorations.
She was stitching a hanging loop of twine onto a star-shaped decoration when her mobile pinged. Setting her needle down, she smiled to see a text from Florrie.
Ready when you are! I’ve reserved us a table in the teashop as well as a slice each of Jazz’s ginger shortbread Fxx
The mere thought of their friend’s homemade shortbread was enough to get Lark’s mouth watering. Jasmine’s baking always went down a storm. She tapped out a quick reply.
I’ll be there in 2 mins xx
FOURTEEN
The old-fashioned bell jangled cheerfully as Lark pushed the bookshop door open, the inimitable smell of books hitting her nostrils.
‘Hiya, Lark.’ She looked over to the counter to see the bookshop’s assistant, Leah, smiling at her. The fresh-faced young woman was dressed in her Happy Hartes Bookshop hoodie, her brunette hair scraped back in a ponytail, festive earrings flashing in her ears.
‘Hi, Leah. How’re you?’ She noted a few customers lingering along the aisles, a couple at the central display where the Christmas tree made of books was set out. The bookshop looked ready for the festive season, with garlands festooned along the top of the bookshelves, trimmed with miniature books and twinkling with fairy lights. She spotted a sign directing customers towards “Santa’s Grotto” at the back of the shop where children could see Father Christmas. Florrie embraced the season wholeheartedly and seemed to add more book-themed decorations every year.
‘Good, thanks.’
Gerty, the resident black Labrador, whose black leather collar had been switched for one in berry-red fabric printed withholly leaves, heaved herself up from her bed by the counter and trotted over to greet Lark, her tail wagging happily.
‘Hello, Gerty, I’m loving that festive collar.’ She gave the Labrador a quick scratch between the ears.
‘It’s been getting lots of compliments,’ Leah said, casting a fond look Gerty’s way. ‘Oh, and Florrie says to tell you she’s waiting for you in the tearoom.’
‘Thanks, Leah. I’ll head up there straight away.’
As she walked across the shop floor, Lark bumped into Jean Davenport whose face broke out into a warm smile. As usual, Jean was looking smart in a hand-knitted cardigan in a flattering shade of lilac that matched her checked skirt, her grey hair trimmed into a neat bob.
‘Hello, lovey, what’s the weather like out there?’ Jean asked, her hands filled with a small selection of books.
‘Still bitterly cold, I’m afraid, Jean.’
‘I thought as much. Let’s hope it warms up a bit for the festive window reveal. We don’t want folks to get frozen to the spot,’ she said, chuckling.
Jean worked part-time at the bookshop as well as helping out Maggie who owned The Micklewick Bear Company. She was also mum to Jack Davenport, the local author who was officiating at the unveiling of the window displays.
‘Well, I’d better dash, lovey, we’ve got a class from the infant school coming in for a story session this afternoon. We’re expecting them to be very excited,’ Jean said happily. It was no secret she adored her time at the bookshop, particularly reading stories to the local school children.
‘Nice to see you, Jean. Hope it goes well.’
Having a teashop within the bookshop had been a dream come true for Florrie, who’d been keen on the idea ever since her old boss had owned the bookshop. But Mr H, who was also Ed’s grandfather, had stubbornly dug his heels in, as he had with allher suggestions; he’d do anything to avoid change. Thankfully, his grandson didn’t share Mr H’s reluctance to try new ventures, and when Ed had spotted the staircase for sale, he knew it would be perfect for the bookshop, with its dark wood handrail and ornate metal balusters, much to Florrie’s delight.
And now it was up and running, it was doing a roaring trade as well as attracting yet more business to the bookshop itself. With Florrie and Ed at the helm, the once flagging fortunes of the Happy Hartes Bookshop had been turned around and now it was thriving.
As she climbed the stairs, she was greeted by the aroma of Jasmine’s homemade festive tiffin and freshly ground coffee. Despite her hearty breakfast, Lark’s stomach growled; cold weather always gave her a raging appetite. Arriving on the first floor, which had previously been the bookshop’s living accommodation, Lark took a left in the newly created open-plan area which was dedicated to vintage and out-of-print books as well as having a separate section for stationery. She made her way towards the front of the shop, floorboards creaking underfoot, as she followed the sound of clinking china and the hiss of the coffee machine.
Arriving in the tearoom, music from the nineteen twenties murmured softly from the vintage-style radio on the old sideboard, both courtesy of Nate’s upcycling shop. Flames danced merrily in the faux wood burner tucked inside the fireplace at the far end of the room. A large Christmas tree twinkled away quietly in a corner, while smaller versions occupied the windowsills, continuing the bookshop’s festive theme. Lark was surprised to find most of the tables occupied considering how quiet the town had been that morning. After a quick sweep of the room, she spotted Florrie sitting at a window table, poring over a book, glasses perched on the end of hernose. The familiar sight brought a smile to Lark’s face.Florrie Appleton engrossed in a book? No surprises there!
‘Now then, little Miss Bookworm, that looks interesting.’ Lark pulled out the chair opposite her friend.
Florrie’s head snapped up. Like Leah, she was wearing her Happy Hartes Bookshop hoodie and festive earrings. ‘Hiya, Lark,’ she said, her startled expression swapped for a smile. She pushed her glasses back up her nose with her finger. ‘I didn’t see you coming in, I was that engrossed in this.’ She held up a dog-eared book, turning the cover to face Lark.
‘A History of Smuggling in and around Micklewick Bay,’ Lark read the title out loud. The slightly faded cover image depicted an old-fashioned sailing ship splicing through a choppy sea, Thorncliffe to the right, and a collection of whisky barrels in one corner and a chest of gold coins in the other. It wasn’t the most imaginative of covers and looked a little dated. ‘Oh, wow! Where did you find that?’
