‘You’re a cat,’ she says to her softly. ‘You’re supposed to enjoy the dark.’
Even in the dim light Tilly can see the look on Georgette’s face, which clearly says she is not that kind of cat.
A few minutes later Blue hangs up and turns back to face them.
‘What did they say?’
‘Well, it’s not great news,’ Blue replies, biting down on her bottom lip. ‘It seems we’re not up to speed with our last few bills. I found some other papers in the desk too. Alfie received a few warning letters, but he’s been prioritizing paying our wages instead of paying the bills. He hasn’t taken a salary himself in months.’
‘Oh, Alfie,’ says Prudence with a sigh. ‘You silly boy. He should know that this job has never been about the money for me. I would happily have taken a salary cut or pause, if I only knew.’
‘So we have no electricity?’ says Tilly, her heart thumping.
‘Yep,’ Blue confirms. ‘I’ve said I’ll send them what they need, but even so there might be a delay in getting us reconnected. Maybe not until Christmas Day.’
‘You don’t have to do that, Blue,’ says Prudence. ‘You know I’d be happy to cover it.’
‘We’ll all chip in,’ says Tilly. ‘And if Alfie has a problem with it, we can take it out of the crowdfunder income. I know ithasn’t raised enough to save the shop, but hopefully what we have managed to raise will help cover the shop’s debts at least.’
‘And what about tomorrow?’ Blue says. ‘We’ve worked so hard to pull it all together.’
Tilly hugs Georgette to her chest, the feeling of her warm fur steadying her slightly. Blue is right. What are they going to do?
‘Well, we’ll just have to follow the advice from one of my literary heroes,’ says Prudence. ‘Anne Shirley fromAnne of Green Gablessaid, “Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it yet.” We’ve still got tomorrow.’
Something inside Tilly shifts. She stands a little taller, feeling Georgette’s little heart beating fast against hers.
‘You’re right, Prudence. Or rather, Anne was right. We’ll figure something out. It’s not over just yet.’
57
When Tilly turns the corner on to the high street on Christmas Eve morning she can’t quite believe what she sees. There is a queue trailing all the way along the road. Groups of people, wrapped up in coats and scarves and hats, nurse takeaway coffee cups and chat as they wait. The line leads her right to the door of Book Lane where Prudence and Blue wait, talking with a group of regular customers at the front of the queue.
‘Isn’t this amazing?’ Prudence says delightedly as she spots Tilly. Like her, she has dressed for a Christmas Eve party, with mistletoe and red berries woven into her hair and a flash of bright red lipstick.
‘I can’t believe how many people are here,’ Tilly replies.
‘And it’s not even opening time yet!’ says Blue, sequins visible beneath her coat. She reaches into her pocket for the shop door key, about to open up.
But before her hand reaches the handle Tilly says, ‘Maybe we should wait for Alfie? He might like to open up one last time.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ says Prudence.
‘What if he doesn’t come?’ adds Blue, biting down on her lip. ‘What if he doesn’t get to see any of this?’
They wait a couple more minutes, but when there’s still no sign of Alfie they agree they can’t put off opening up any longer.
‘How about we get inside and get everything sorted, and hopefully he’ll be here soon?’ Prudence suggests.
‘We’ll just be a couple of minutes,’ Blue adds, turning to the customers waiting outside.
As the three of them step inside, shutting the door behind them, Tilly sends a final message to Alfie.
Tilly:
Happy Christmas Eve, Alfie. I know today will be a really hard day for you. But I’m here to support you, just like you and your shop have supported me this past year. I know your dad would be proud of you. See you soon. It’s nearly opening time and Book Lane can’t open without you. X
The sound of carols drifts out on to the street as the people of Primrose Hill run their final errands. There’s a queue at the butcher’s and the deli, and the local café serves steaming crêpes and hot chocolate; dogs are wrapped up in fleece coats, barking at the smell of hot butter and cinnamon. At the florist’s, people leave clutching armfuls of red roses, amaryllis and sweetly scented pine.
