Barney rushed forward, the lead pulled out of Bridie’s hand.
Joss looked up and flashed a warm, tired smile. ‘Ah! The stage star.’
Bridie tried not to wince. ‘Formerstage star.’
‘So modest,’ he teased. ‘I’m Joss. I help people with paperwork and minor legal nightmares. Occasionally major ones. Don’t let the chaos worry you – I always know where everything is.’
Behind him were bookshelves filled with stacks of files.
A file slipped off the back of the stack.
‘Well,’ he amended, ‘almost always.’
Barney sniffed his shoes. Joss leaned down to scratch his head. ‘And you brought a puppy. That’s at least three more brownie points than most residents here.’
Bridie laughed despite herself. ‘This is Barney.’
Barney made a beeline for the bookshelves. ‘Barney – no!’ It was too late. His curious nose dislodged a pile of paperwork, the loud thud making him whimper and run to hide behind her legs.
‘Oh, god! I’m so sorry. Barney – you naughty dog!’
Bridie decided he wouldn’t be visiting any other shops, causing havoc, until she’d taught him some manners.
‘Don’t worry,’ Joss flashed another warm smile. ‘Nothing that can’t be fixed. Thinking of which, I’m here if you ever need anything,’ Joss said warmly.
Bridie thought of the envelope in her coat pocket and hoped to goodness she didn’t need any help of a legal nature.
‘Truly. We look after each other in this place.’
Next, Hannah ushered Bridie into the bookshop after Bridie had insisted on taking her boisterous pup home to have a wee in the yard before settling down for another nap in his crate. She’d gently stroked his head and watched his little brown eyes grow sleepy. She’d crept out of the flat, leaving her pup fast asleep, to join Hannah outside the bookshop.
Despite outward appearances – the new releases carefully arranged in the window – inside, it was still the second-hand bookshop she remembered from years earlier, with the rows and rows of bookcases rammed with books, and a bell that chimed cheerfully above the door.
The shop smelled of dust, ink, and nostalgia. She remembered books stacked in wobbly towers, as though each one had simply chosen a place to rest and stayed there, but now there were no books stacked on the floor, just neat bookshelves. She imagined Henry’s daughter had had a hand in removing the clutter and bringing some order to the chaos.
Henry sat behind the counter, polishing his spectacles with a knitted cloth. His daughter, Thea, her dark curls escaping her ponytail, was half-hidden behind a stack of Penguin paperbacks.
‘Henry, Thea,’ Hannah called. ‘Come and meet Bridie.’
Thea perked up immediately. ‘You’re the new girl living above Hannah’s shop!’
‘That’s me,’ Bridie said with a reticent smile, hoping Thea hadn’t had the time to scroll through social media and come across her spectacular fall from grace on the London stage.
Henry stood and extended a warm, ink-stained hand. ‘I’m Henry. This is my daughter, Thea. Welcome to the yard.’
Thea said, ‘If you ever need books, tea, or an escape from reality, this is the place.’
Bridie smiled, glancing at the cosy corner set up just like Hannah’s with an old sofa, easy chairs, a lamp, a rug and the all-important coffee machine.
‘Or if you need the opposite,’ Henry added, ‘go next door to Joss.’
Bridie laughed. ‘Good to know.’ Her smile faded at the thought of that letter she still hadn’t opened.
Thea leaned on the counter. ‘Hannah says you’re taking a sabbatical from the stage.’
Bridie nodded with what she hoped looked like casual enthusiasm rather than panicked deflection. ‘Something like that.’
Thea was several years younger than Bridie. She vaguely recognised her, but Thea would have been too young to remember her. Bridie recalled that soon after she’d left school for the bright lights of London, Thea’s father, who travelled around the country selling rare books while his wife, Thea’s mum, minded the bookshop, had disappeared while on his travels. She’d heard the bookshop had closed, and Thea’s mumhad taken her two young daughters to London to live with her parents, where they had grown up.
