‘All God’s creatures are beautiful, Malcolm,’ and Jo is shocked by the power of Ruth’s obvious sincerity and her own uneasy embarrassment. She cannot imagine anyone else she knows saying something like this. She is reminded of their first meeting; theNo one believes in God any more.
‘And you really believe that?’ It is Malcolm who voices this. He sounds totally bemused.
Ruth pauses for a moment. ‘I do,’ she says, and then she grins. ‘It rather comes with the job.’ As she reaches for a bandage she adds under her breath, ‘Along with the unholy trinity of blood, poo and vomit.’
Malcolm smiles.
As Ruth carefully secures the dressing in place, Jo watches with fascination. ‘You have definitely done this before,’ she comments.
‘Oh, yes. I’m fully trained in first aid.’
Malcolm, who is no longer having to lean on the counter, makes a movement with both hands as if using a defibrillator. ‘What, even the “Stand clear!”?’ he booms.
Jo smiles and Ruth laughs. ‘Oh, yes. I did it once on a horse.’
Jo makes a choking sound, completely baffled by the image conjured up in her head. ‘But how?’ she exclaims.
‘It wasn’t difficult,’ Ruth tells her.
‘But where did the legs and hooves go? Didn’t they get in the way?’
Both Ruth and Malcolm turn and stare at her. Then their laughter fills the small shop. In between gurgles, Ruth splutters, ‘I said, I did it once on acourse.’
Jo laughs so much she struggles for breath.
When the laughter dies away, something has changed. The shop is silent but it feels full of something. Jo might even call it promise.
‘Tea!’ she declares with decision. As she heads to the small kitchen at the back of the shop, she can hear the sound of Ruth and Malcolm’s voices joined in conversation. She experiences a feeling of relief.
But why, she’s not quite sure.
It is only as Jo is closing up that sherealizes she never turned the door sign around fromClosed. That would explain why the shop had been so quiet that afternoon. She has no regrets, though, as it gave the three of them a few hours to chat and drink tea. The feeling of relief she felt seeing Ruth and Malcolm chatting by the old counter has stayed with her. It’s wrapped itself around her, insulating her from thoughts of James, Lucy and Eric the Viking. Another name slips in too: Finn. No, she had not had to think about any of them.
After a while, the first-aid kit was stored back under the counter, bloodied cloths cleared away, and Malcolm sent on his way. Ruth did not exactly insist on accompanying him home, but just made vague noises about going the same way, even though Jo is pretty certain that Ruth had no idea where he lived. Which in turn makes her wonder, where is it exactly that Ruth is living? Where or who did she run away to?
Alone in the shop, Jo contemplates these two people who have now been thrust into her world. She can’t recall precisely what they talked about as they sipped their tea and ate the lemon and white-chocolate cookies Jo brought down from the flat, along with a couple of stools. Hampstead Heath? The shop? The seasons changing?
Before Malcolm left, Jo handed him back the notebook he had dropped by the shelves. She was on the verge of confessing she had read his notes about William Foyle – who she now knows started the bookshop chain, Foyles – and was going to enquire (once again) what Malcolm’s book is about, when Malcolm quickly turned the conversation. It seems Malcolm is still as reluctant as ever to talk abouthis project. Another thing Jo is equally sure of, is that Reverend Ruth was quite as reticent to answer Malcolm’s mild enquiry about her parish.
However, over tea, Malcolm did open up a bit more about how he got the gash on his head (not a bump, he reassured Reverend Ruth, who made noises about taking him to hospital in case he was concussed). No, just a scratch. He had slipped by the side of the road and had almost gone under a bus. He had been saved by a courier who was cycling past and who had swerved, reached out and saved him. It was the edge of the courier’s bag flying up into Malcolm’s face that had inflicted the wound.
It is only as Jo is pinning the leaflet from the first-aid box (‘In case of emergency’) onto the pinboard that she wonders more about what Malcolm had meant by his last muttered words. ‘And I was very grateful, as I didn’t want to die.’
She studies her noticeboard for some moments – the calendar, the pieces of paper, and now a leaflet that fill about a quarter of the board – and she considers those last words: ‘I didn’t want to die.’
It was the way he said it, much more than the actual words. Malcolm sounded … well … he sounded surprised.
The question she can’t help asking is: was there a time when Malcolmdidwant to die? She thinks back to Reverend Ruth and the slight movement of her head as Malcolm said those words, and she wonders if the Runaway Vicar is thinking about them too.
12
La Biblioteca
Jo is still dwelling on Malcolm’s words, days later, as she gets ready for her night out with Lando and Eric the Viking. She is also conscious that over the past few days she has retreated into what now feels like a self-indulgent, self-pitying splurge of missing James.
Maybe she is just tired of wallowing (and realizes that it had been quite hard work), but her pulse quickens as she reaches for a wrap-round dress in emerald green, and she feels a rising anticipation. Perhaps it is the chance to wear something other than dungarees. And this is a dress that James never liked. She then adds a defiant finishing touch of bright pink lipstick. He didn’t like that either.
The Italian restaurant that Lando and Eric are taking her to is within walking distance, but it is in an area of London she hasn’t explored before. As they make their way there, Jo is reminded of how little of London she has seen.
