Joanne is lurking in the doorway, and she snaps: ‘Well? What can you two do for it?’
Moira definitely got all of the warmth allotted to those two siblings, but in some ways Joanne’s matter-of-fact questioning is easier to deal with. Also, she’s assuming we’re here to provide free labour – and I for one am good with that. I’m still on holiday, it’s just a working holiday.
‘Depending on how bad it is, I can patch the roof up,’ Brody says. ‘The damp can be treated. Some of the floorboards are going to need replacing, and the walls will need repairing. I can handle all of that. The rest is cleaning, and… whatever else is needed.’
‘TLC,’ I pipe up. ‘It just needs some TLC.’
‘Away with you, woman,’ Joanne snaps. ‘I have no clue what that is – I’m not a bloody builder am I!’
‘It stands for tender loving care.’
‘Well, I don’t know much about that either – but you’re staying, and you’re willing to work on it? Whether she sells or no sells, something needs to be done. The stubborn old hag hasbeen hiding away, ignoring it all, refusing all help. Enough is enough.’
She lets out a sudden screech, as one of Moira’s fluffy socks flies across the room and hits her on the head. Moira’s aim is dead on.
‘My sister Joanne,’ she announces, ‘has always been clumsy! See how she walked into that sock?’
‘You threw it at me, witch!’
‘Off with you, you big cry-baby! Go curdle some milk in a cow’s stomach, why don’t ye?’
The accent becomes much thicker when they’re talking to each other, I notice, holding my hand over my mouth while I laugh. Joanne glares ferociously, and leaves the room muttering beneath her breath.
‘There’s mail,’ I tell Moira. ‘Most of it was junk, but some looks like it could matter. I brought it with us.’
I pass her the stack, and she glances through it. ‘I hope it’s not anything racy, or copies of my swingers’ club magazines…’
I grimace, hoping she’s joking. She sorts through flyers and bulletins from wholesalers, only pausing when she comes across a handwritten letter, on the kind of thick notepaper that tells you somebody has a hefty stationery budget. She frowns, and sets it to one side.
‘That’s from one of the potential buyers,’ she tells us. ‘A nicer vulture than the others. Hotel fella called James Fraser. Made me a decent offer too. I just… oh, I don’t know, hen, I suppose I was just holding on, hoping for a miracle! Joanne might be right. I’ve gone all glaikit in my dotage!’
‘I’m sure you haven’t,’ I reply. ‘Though to be fair I don’t know what it means.’
‘Stupid. Thoughtless. Empty-headed. I’ve been living in a dream world, haven’t I, while my poor wee shop has been suffering… it’s all been too much!’
She’s definitely crying now, and tears immediately sting the back of my own eyes, appearing in instant sympathy. I push aside an image of that gorgeous, charming little bookshop being turned into a fancy chain hotel, all the character taken away. Brody is by my side, frowning in distress.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I ask, sitting and taking one of her hands in mine. ‘What happened?’
‘Och, a million and one little things, and some not so little things. I lost Angus. Robbie moved. Joanne’s husband, Dougal, passed on. You’d not guess it to look at her, but he was a lot of fun and we all loved him dearly. Running the shop had always been a comfort to me, but even that lost its shine. I turned my back on it. On everything, and now it’s too late…’
Brody looks uncomfortable, and I see him sneakily swipe at his own eyes.
‘Do you want to sell?’ he asks, his voice gruff.
‘No! No, I don’t. I want my bookshop back. But I also want my legs back, and my husband back, and my grandson back, and none of that’s going to happen either. I’m too old and too useless to make it what it was, but I wish it hadn’t ended quite like this. I wish I’d said a proper goodbye – I’d love nothing more than to see it put right, even if it was just for one more glorious summer!’
I glance over at him, see a sweep of emotion flicker across his face. He nods abruptly, as though to himself.
‘Right,’ he announces firmly. ‘Well, here’s what’s going to happen then. Nothing in that bookstore is irredeemable. We’re here now. We have the time, we have the energy, and we’re willing to help. If you want one last summer, then that’s what you’re going to get. Give us a little while, Moira. Trust us. It’ll be good as new.’
That’s exactly what I said earlier, and it earned me a disapproving look. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he makes a ‘what can you do?’ gesture with his hands.
Moira stares at us both, her expression conflicted.
‘How would that work?’ she asks. ‘Not that I’m not grateful…’
‘I don’t know,’ he replies simply. ‘I don’t have all the answers. But in two weeks, I think Kate and I can get it in good condition. And I think you are more than capable of working there for the summer, even if it’s only a few days a week.’
