‘It was,’ Jude agreed. ‘But afterwards people were so generous. We had to set up a fundraising page when the international donations started coming in.’
Jowan shelved the last of the poetry books and straightened his back with a stretch. ‘Minty administered the ’ole thing. Every resident and business owner is being gifted their share. Ten thousand each.’
‘Pounds?’ Radia exclaimed as Charley fox peeped his head around the doorframe.
‘Yep, s’a lot, isn’t it?’ Jowan told the fox. ‘And there’s no rules on what to do with it, neither. It’s a gift. I replanted my cottage garden, got the gate and railings replaced, an’ now the place is ready to sell.’
‘He lives up at the Big House now he’s a married man,’ Leonid added in explanation, emerging from the shelves. ‘And technically, Lord of the Manor.’
‘Hah!’ Jowan chuckled.
‘Well, it’s nice that people helped out,’ said Joy.
‘Peoplearenice, on the whole,’ Jude told the room, standing back to admire her book display. ‘Minty’s just sorting the last few residents’ emergency payments now and then the whole thing will be over.’
Joy felt Jude’s words in her gut.People are nice, on the whole.
Arepeople nice? She wasn’t convinced. In her experience there just wasn’t enough gentleness and understanding in the world, and yet there was Izaak emerging from the kitchen with a tray of coffees and what looked like a milkshake for Radia – how had he conjured that up? – and she had a shop full of volunteers crowding around him and lifting mugs, chatting and smiling. Added to that, the bookshelves were well on their way to being filled and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so included in anything.
This was certainly nothing like her other recent jobs. The contrast struck her now and she was left wondering at how lonely her life had become over the last few years, how she could go weeks with nobody to speak to but Radia, how a little of the Clove Lore niceness could have helped them in tricky times lately.
After coffee and big slices of honey cake, the shelvers grew quieter, focusing on finishing their particular areas.
Jowan had shown everyone how to press the spines with their flattened forearm so the books stood flush with the very edge of the shelf. Jude had completed Biography and moved on to the cookbooks. The children’s area really did look like a burst of rainbow colour under the stairs. Izaak and Leonid had disappeared into Sciences and The Natural World.
Radia, insisting she wasn’t sleepy even though it was way past her bedtime, was given the job of stacking the picture postcards of Clove Lore, fresh from the printer in Truro, in the revolving stand by the counter, a task she was taking very seriously. Monty and Joy found themselves in the furthest corner of General Fiction, over by the café door.
The summer twilight cast itself in the softest way across Monty’s dark eyelashes and sun-kissed cheekbones. Joy tried not to look at him a third time after she’d made a double take when he was sorting out the Roberts from the Rogers and Roys.
‘Happy?’ Monty had startled her, throwing out the question as though it were the easiest thing in the world to answer.
‘Am I happy?’ she repeated. ‘Well, sure. It’s been a good night, and look at the shop. It’s almost tidy.’
They cast their eyes around. Joy grew very aware that they were alone here in the shadows with the Roses and Russells.
‘Have you worked in a bookshop before?’ Monty asked.
Joy searched her memory. She’d done retail and recreation plenty of times before. There’d been tech installations on a chain of boba tea shops across the Netherlands, those indie cinema upgrades in the north of England, a series of interactive big screens in sports bars across Birmingham, but no bookshops. ‘This is a first for me. It’s…’ She thought hard. ‘Cosier than we’re used to. It’s nice, actually.’
Monty sniffed a laugh.
‘What?’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing. Clove Loreiscosy and nice.’
‘We’re used to somewhere more corporate or… you know?’
Monty didn’t know.
She tried to explain. ‘Like, have you ever been in a nightclub during the daytime? Or a row of brand-new warehouses before the stock arrives? Or in a skyscraper hotel before the plaster’s on the walls?’
‘Can’t say I have.’
‘Well, it’s all a bit…’ Joy didn’t want to say it. ‘It’s all a bit sad, really.’
‘But you get home to Radia every night?’
‘True, and sometimes she comes with me, when it’s safe, you know? Empty offices, that kind of thing.’
