And that was how our last afternoon as the proprietors of Clove Lore’s Borrow-a-Bookshop played out; a warm, emotional, caffeine-fuelled afternoon. The sunny weather held out all day until clouds rolled in at closing time bringing a lowering grey pall to Clove Lore.
‘There’s one last job to do, Elliot, before we lock up,’ I told him, and he looked at me quizzically while I cleared away the last few spy novels on display by the door. ‘We need to make our mark. But with what, I don’t know. I’ve been racking my brains about our display since I arrived.’
The first of the raindrops hit the windows as I spoke and Elliot joined me by the door. Our little square outside was empty, and Clove Lore utterly still and silent, waiting for the downpour.
‘We have to do something that tells the next proprietors about the things we love?’ asked Elliot.
‘That’s the idea.’
We both looked over the empty display table, when a clattering sound drew our eyes to the door.
‘What was that?’ I started.
‘Something by the bins,’ Elliot said, and we both peered out the shop door.
At first there was no sign of it, except for the litter strewn around and blowing in the rising wind coming in off the Atlantic and whipping Up-along, bringing the slightest hint of September with it. Then, like a magical creature revealing itself to us mortals, a little black snout brushed with white appeared, with whiskers working in the cooling air, as out peeked a gangly cub from behind the great terracotta pot at the centre of the little cobbled square.
‘Look!’ I whispered, knowing that Elliot was already behind me, his head craned over my shoulder, gazing at the tiny thing. ‘A young fox!’
‘Stay still,’ Elliot whispered back, slipping a hand around me, letting it rest against my stomach and I leaned back into his body, eyes fixed on the scene outside, as the mother raked through the rubbish, scraping for food scraps and finding none. The pair skittered across the square together, the spring-born youngster tumbling at his mother’s feet, wanting to play. The vixen sniffed the air and cast her diamond eyes all around, cautious and alert.
‘They’re so beautiful,’ I whispered and Elliot only pressed his flat palm against my stomach softly, stealing my breath for a second at the pressure, and the promise of this evening.
The pair were almost out of sight at the turning onto the steep slope leading down to the sea when the vixen turned her sleek head back towards the shop fixing bright eyes straight at us, framed inside the doorway, staring back at her, agape. Then she was gone, leading her cub safely to their next foraging spot.
‘Wow, that was amazing,’ Elliot whispered into my neck once they were out of sight.
‘That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,’ I said, struggling to voice the words.
‘That was thesecondmost beautiful thing I’ve seen,’ Elliot said, and I heard the smile in his voice. I didn’t move, only letting his hands roam over me and his lips brush at my neck.
‘Foxes!’ I shouted, making Elliot straighten and back away a little.
‘I’m pretty sure they’re gone now, off to find another bin to ransack.’
‘No, let’s make our display about fox books!’
‘I like your thinking,’ he said. ‘We’ve definitely got a copy of Roald Dahl’sFantastic Mr Fox. Hey, we could make it a display for kids?’
So we spent half an hour plucking books from the shelves –The Tale of Mr Tod,The Animals of Farthing Wood,Rosie’s Walk, Aesop’sThe Fox and the Crow– and laid them out on the table, all colourful and inviting.
‘That doesn’t look bad at all,’ I said to Elliot as I walked to the door to turn the sign for the last time, stopping to look out at the rain falling steadily and making the cobbles shine. ‘It was raining on the day you arrived,’ I said, low and quiet, and Elliot joined me at the door, reaching his arms around me once more, just as we had stood looking through the glass watching the foxes earlier.
‘You didn’t like me much then, did you?’ Elliot said, mussing my hair with his jaw and lips before pressing a kiss on the top of my head, making me feel tinier than usual and very, very safe.
‘I wasn’t keen, no,’ I smiled, watching him reach for the key and turn it in the lock. ‘But a person can grow on you.’
I felt him laugh and wrap his arms around my stomach and we watched the rain in silence, smiling contentedly.
A flash of rainbow colour drew my eye to the turning for Down-along, and there, under a golfing umbrella was Mrs Crocombe, frozen in her tracks and grinning broadly at the shop door. I watched her reach into her apron pocket and draw out her betting book, throwing us a cheery wave and bustling away again, presumably to let the entire village know that all bets were back on.
‘She saw us, didn’t she?’ said Elliot.
‘She did,’ I replied, inhaling through gritted teeth and shaking my head sagely. ‘She’s just won herself a tenner.’
‘Good for her,’ he whispered, turning me to face him, and without another word he lifted me, my body wrapping around his instinctively, and I kissed him all the way up the spiral stairs and onto our bed.
Chapter Thirty
