‘What customers?’ said the girl, walking her feet all the way round to the other side of the beanbag so her back was turned on Joy. She huddled delightedly over the pop-upBeauty and the Beast.
Coming up to her sixth birthday, Radia was already what would be described as a ‘free reader’ by her teachers – if she had any teachers, that is. The fact she loved to devour books even though she’d missed her reception year was a source of pride and pain for her mum, who was now observing her child turning pages and getting lost in a solitary world of imagination.
There came no reply when Joy asked, ‘Need anything, Rads?’ out of the usual compulsive sense of inadequacy and guilt that made her feel rotten much of the time. But there was no point fussing right now, Radia was happily absorbed in her book.
Joy skirted around yet more boxes to make her way through a low door at the far end of the shop. It led into a bright café, all painted white, with new lace curtains at the windows, chequered tablecloths and red tomato-shaped squeezy bottles.
‘OK,’ she admitted with a shrug. ‘This is cute.’
She wouldn’t be having anything to do with the café, though, thank goodness. That sort of thing was for the real bookselling-holidaymakers who’d begin arriving again in a couple of weeks, but she still had access to the café’s shiny new kitchen for their own use.
Turning for the shop once more, she made her way towards the door, to a table set out with a display of books – the only unboxed books in the whole place. A handwritten note had been left for her.
Dear Joyce, the village’s first Digital Nomad!
Welcome to Borrow-A-Bookshop. Everything is ready for your stay. The paint is (just) dry so you don’t have to worry about smudges. Good luck installing all the new shop tech and cataloguing the stock! Who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy a bit of bookselling too! Happy (working) holiday.
Love, Magnús and Alex, the last Borrowers. X
Joy had already figured that digital nomads were a new concept in Clove Lore. She hoped she wasn’t going to attract excitement or attention from the local volunteers who she’d heard about from Jude Crawley, the friendly woman who’d sorted out her contract.
She looked again at the note. God, sheseriouslyhoped nobody expected her to actually sell any of these books. It certainly wasn’t a stipulation of the contract or she’d never have pitched for this job in the first place. And yet they were booked in for two weeks. The installation would likely take only nine or ten of those days. Were the locals expecting her to play shopkeeper too? Radia would love that. But the thought of making small talk with a stream of strangers made Joy sweat.
She fanned herself with the note, wondering why none of the books were shelved. Had she paid close enough attention to the contract? Did it mention putting books on bare shelves?
She’d never taken a posting quite like this before, but the English seaside setting had been too appealing to resist and, thinking of her daughter’s love of books and beaches – and feeling guilty at all the dreary office blocks, warehouses and shiny, corporate ‘glass box’ buildings they’d schlepped through recently – she’d hurriedly sent in her tender and been handpicked for the contract.
Joy let herself be distracted from her anxieties by the books on the display table, instantly grasping the relevance of some of them: titles referencing floods. The flood was the reason she was here, after all. The reason she was being paid to stay for two weeks and build the new website, install the EPOS-linked stock system, integrate the security cameras with the shop laptop and the owner’s mobile, do away with the need for easily lost door keys, and all the rest of it.
Some of the books in the display she couldn’t account for quite so easily. Books about mermaid myths, Vikings and a copy ofTreasure Island– she supposed because they were by the sea?
Her eyes fell upon a copy ofThe Borrowerswith its cover showing tiny human-like people peering through a mousehole at a giant world beyond the wainscoting.
There was a notecard on top of the book, which she read aloud with a growing smile. ‘This one is a gift from Borrow-A-Bookshop to our youngest Borrower yet. For Radia Pearl, happy holidays!’
‘A present! For me?’ The girl bounded across the room and without even checking to see what kind of story it was, clutched the book to her chest. ‘I told you this one was going to be different. Like arealholiday!’
‘No, Rads, it’s just work.’
‘And Mum?’ she continued, disregarding the whole ‘work as usual’ thing. ‘We’ll read books and go to the beach?’
‘Of course we will.’
‘And maybe we can stay longer this time?’
‘Just a couple of weeks, then we move on. OK? Same as the others.’
Radia, however, already sensed what her wayfaring mother was too world-weary and restless to grasp: this place was not at all like the other places. This place was special and beautiful and actually a bit magic. A whole summer of adventure and possibilities lay ahead, only they’d have to cram it all into two short weeks. There had already beenonenice surprise: the gift of a book. What other surprises were waiting for them?
Radia’s heart sang as she danced around the shop, swinging her new book and her toy fox in dizzying, giggly circles.
‘Don’t make yourself sick,’ her mum told her, knowing she’d be ignored, which she was.
So, Joy explored further, pushing open the door at the foot of the stairs. Peering inside at the single bed, she told Radia this must be her room, which elicited no response at all. Radia had seen a lot of new bedrooms.
Making for the stairs with her suitcase, she began her climb. Once at the top, Joy set about emptying her meticulously packed belongings on the plump white bed below the window seat set into the deep stone wall.
Through the glass she glimpsed a spot of sparkling blue sea between Clove Lore’s steeply stacked, higgledy-piggledy roofs and chimneys, colourful masts and flags, and the raggedy crowns of windswept palm trees that tumbled over each other all the way down to the harbourside.
