The brunette pats her hand, and says: ‘It’s okay. We’re happy to listen. So there’s no chance Moira will get it up and running again?’
‘No,’ Ginny replies miserably. ‘After the storm damage, she said she just doesn’t care any more. That we should lock the doors and forget all about it.’
Tears start to spill from her eyes, and she gratefully accepts the tissue that she is offered.
‘They’re connected, you see? Without her, there’s no bookshop, and without the bookshop… well, she’s not herself. They go together. So now, this feels like an ending, and that’s made me sad. Seeing Moira so down. This place so neglected… a shadow of its former self…’
‘It’s not that bad,’ the woman from the train says, passing Ginny another tissue and gazing around. ‘And I can totally picture how wonderful it was! I can imagine this fire roaring, and everyone settled in to have a read and a chat, and the views through the windows… goodness, it’s amazing!’
I glance at the windows, which I can barely see anything through. But Ginny nods, and manages a smile.
‘You’re right, my dear. It was amazing. It was the beating heart of the village, or maybe Moira was… I don’t suppose it matters. Like I said, the two always went hand in hand. But then she lost Angus, and Robbie moved away, and she had her fall. Everything changed after that, and now I think she’s given up. On herself and this place. She said it was time to finally admit defeat, and that’s not her, not my Moira – she’s never been one to accept defeat! It’s why I’m behaving like this. This isn’t just about a shop closing, you see…’
Her emotion is so real and raw that I feel like an asshole for being so selfish. For seeing this wreck of a store as nothing more than a disappointment for me.
‘I get it,’ I say, ‘it’s okay. Like you said, you’re saying goodbye, and goodbyes are always hard.’
She gazes up at me, looking surprised. ‘Sensitive soul under all that brawn, I see! Anyway… I have no idea what you two aredoing here, but I can only imagine this isn’t what you expected. You were invited, you say?’
Train lady fills her in, and shows her the card she found in her book. Ginny smiles as she reads it, but there is heartbreak in her eyes.
‘Well. That sounds very like Moira, or at least like the old Moira. I’m sorry this is what you found. But look – why don’t I leave you here for a while? I’ve got to get away to a doctor’s appointment, they’re like gold dust, but you don’t need to rush off. Stay. Have a look around, maybe help yourself to a book or two? I can’t recommend one I’m afraid, that was always her speciality – she always could take one look at a person and know what they should read! But please, stay. Just close the door behind you. You could call in at the pub afterwards!’
We agree, and I hope it won’t be long before that second part. I’ve no idea how this is going to play out, but I never met a situation yet that a pint of Guinness wouldn’t improve.
The woman I’m left with is prowling around the room, peeking under the sheets, picking up random books and smiling as she reads their titles. She runs her fingers over the glass of a vase on the mantelpiece, now full of long-dead flowers, and inspects the old steel cash register that sits forlornly on the counter, draped in rotting spider-webs.
‘I really can imagine it,’ she says wistfully, her eyes shining. ‘Can’t you?’
‘I guess my imagination isn’t as good as yours. I can imagine fixing the leak in the roof, and I can imagine re-laying these damaged floorboards, but beyond that? Not my style.’
She stares at me, a slight quirk to those gorgeous lips of hers, and replies: ‘I think you’re doing yourself a disservice. Try to picture it back in its heyday. Warm, cosy, magical… bookshops are always magical, full of stories, full of places to escape, and this one… I think this one was even more special than most!’
I try to see what she sees, and find that I almost can. If I squint, and lose my sense of smell, and block out the slow dripping sound of rain making its way into the building. Maybe, just maybe, I can see some of that.
She grins at me and points a finger in my direction. ‘You do! You see it, I can tell from your face – you looked all soppy for a minute there!’
‘Soppy? I don’t do soppy.’
Her big hazel eyes are on mine, and I suck in a breath. I get the feeling this woman has some kind of X-ray vision, and it’s not only the bookstore she sees as something more than it is on the surface.
‘If you say so,’ she replies, giving me the full megawatt smile. ‘I’m Kate, by the way. Kate Daniels. It’s nice to meet you properly, Grumpy Man From The Train.’
‘Yeah. That’s actually my full name. Mr Grumpy Man From The Train.’
‘No it’s not. What is it?’
What the heck – we’ve come this far together, and we’ve shared a hell of a ride so far.
‘Brody,’ I tell her. ‘Brody Quinn. It’s nice to meet you, Kate.’
Her eyes sparkle, and she reaches out to shake my hand. I take her fingers in mine, trying hard not to notice how small her hand feels, how soft her skin is.
How much I want to keep hold of her.
FIVE
BRODY
