And through it all, an old red bicycle clatters along the street, carrying with it a rather dishevelled bookseller, green scarf trailing behind him in the cold winter air. He is wearing odd socks, having only pulled himself out of bed three minutes ago.
As he turns the corner, he swerves suddenly to avoid colliding with a group of people huddled on the street corner. He frowns, wondering whether there’s some sort of event being held at one of the cafés or pubs. His frown turns to a look ofsurprise as he spots the members of the Book Lane book club huddled on the pavement.
‘Alfie!’ comes a voice, followed by a cry of, ‘He’s here!’
‘Hi, guys,’ he says, smiling at them somewhat distractedly.
The street is so busy that he gets off his bike to push, weaving his way towards the bookshop. As he does, he spots the familiar faces of customers and locals. Occasionally someone reaches out and pats him on the back, and he has no idea what to do or say other than to keep walking towards the bookshop, bewildered.
He approaches the shop door and stands outside for a second, taking in the sight of his shop. The window has been transformed. The sale signs are gone and instead there is a Christmas tree decorated entirely in red decorations the exact same shade as the shop’s facade. Books tied with ribbon are piled on the ground beneath it, dusted with fake snow, and the window is strung with paper snowflakes and camping lanterns hanging from ribbons.
As he pushes open the door, it’s as if he’s stepping into a grotto, the space lit entirely by fairy lights wrapped around the bookshelves.
‘Thank god you’re here,’ comes a relieved voice from the counter.
Prudence is stood next to Blue, with Georgette in her usual position next to the till, her tail coiled neatly around her. And there in the middle of them all is Tilly, clad in an emerald-green dress, wearing candy cane earrings and smiling nervously at him.
‘We were getting worried there was going to be a stampede if we didn’t open soon.’
‘Or that you weren’t coming,’ adds Tilly. ‘But you’re here.’
Her eyes meet his and his heart gives a little tug. He should feel sad at the thought that she will be leaving soon but mostly he’s just happy to see her.
‘I’m here. And I’m not really sure what’s going on.’
‘Well, we had a slight problem with the electricity,’ says Blue.
‘But Tilly came up with this wonderful solution,’ adds Prudence. ‘And frankly, I think it looks even better this way.’ She gestures at the fairy lights, a mix of plain white and bright colours. ‘The wireless card reader is all charged up, so taking card payments shouldn’t be a problem, and we’ve got an old-fashioned cash tray set up in place of the till.’
‘I can’t believe you did all this.’
‘It was all Tilly’s idea. She’s been helping us all week,’ says Blue. ‘None of this would have happened without her.’
Tilly shifts about on the spot, her eyes darting nervously to his.
‘I’m sorry if you hate it, or if it’s too much. I know you said the shop wasn’t my problem and that you didn’t want help, but I couldn’t just do nothing. I really hoped you might like it once you saw it all … but god, you hate it, don’t you? I’m sorry. I can just go –’
He takes a step forward, clearing his throat. ‘Don’t go.’
She pauses, blinking rapidly.
‘I don’t hate it,’ Alfie continues. ‘I’m actually not sure the shop has ever looked so beautiful. I know what I said, but I think maybe I was wrong. I think actually I can’t get through today without all of your help.’
‘We’re here for you, Alfie,’ says Blue.
‘Yes, we’ve got you, Alf,’ adds Prudence.
Tilly simply nods, her eyes never leaving his.
Alfie swallows hard, taking a breath.
‘Now, will someone please tell me why half of Primrose Hill is lined up on the street outside my shop on Christmas Eve morning?’
The three women and the cat look at him as if he’s a little clueless, and he wonders suddenly if he is – whether, consumedby all his feelings of dread about today, he has perhaps missed something important.
Tilly looks at him and says, ‘They’re here for you, of course. They’ve come to say goodbye and to thank you. I know the shop is closing and we all hate that this is happening. But we couldn’t just let it end without a celebration. Without showing you what you have brought to people. Just because it’s ending, that doesn’t mean what you built wasn’t real, or important, or special.’
‘We hope you don’t mind, but we may have consulted your father’s old notes,’ says Prudence, lifting up the leather-bound book. ‘Just so we could let the customers know about the closure and give them a chance to come and shop here one last time. Tilly has been shouting about it on social media too. She’s made all of this happen really.’
