‘No. I’m not meeting Joanne with my dick out, okay? It might shrivel up and fall off.’
She laughs. ‘Fair enough. I’ll save that thought till later, shall I?’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’
She stays where she is, her glorious hair streaming over her shoulders, gazing up at me in a way that makes me swell even more. Damn, I’m going to miss this when I fly home. Maybe she can come and visit…
As soon as I think that, I feel odd. Like I’ve crossed a line. Luckily I don’t have time to worry about it, because the little bell – now fully restored in Moira’s honour – lets out a peal, and thedoor swings open. I help Kate to her feet, and she blushes as Ginny walks in. She gives us a knowing look, and says: ‘Hard at work, I see?’
Without waiting for a reply, she walks over to the wooden counter, and sets a candle on the surface. She lights it, and a sweet scent fills the air. The smell of the sea, and the lavender Kate filled my bath with what feels like a lifetime ago.
‘I make the best candles in the known universe,’ Ginny says modestly. ‘And Moira always loved the smell of them. Oh my, it’s looking better in here… Is the ramp all ready?’
I nod, and tell her it is. I ordered it online and collected it from a nearby town called Macduff, one that folds up when it’s not being used. Moira ummed and aahed about coming to see what we’ve done in the store until Joanne told her she had to – because if she didn’t get out from under her feet sometime soon, she might give in to temptation and smother her in her sleep. ‘And then where would I stand at the pearly gates?’ she’d asked, during our last visit.
‘You’d stand right by the lift that takes people down to the other place,’ Moira snapped back.
Today, Shirley is fetching them both down in her car, and Moira gets to see the village again for the first time in a year. She’s due to arrive soon, and there’s a last-minute rush to get the place looking even better. After Ginny arrives with the candles, Rosie turns up. She brings a gingerbread loaf, and a big bouquet of flowers already in a vase.
It’s surprising what a difference those homely touches make, as well as Kate’s changes. She’s added cute cushions to all the chairs, the fabric decorated with a green and purple heather design, along with matching drapes. She’s set up a little station for visitors with dogs that comes complete with a bed, toys, and treats, and added strings of pretty fairy lights along the edges of the bookshelves. It’s not finished, but it all looks great.
Despite that, she’s nervous – twisting her hair around her fingers, and rubbing at a non-existent patch of dirt on the mantelpiece.
‘The books are in different places,’ she tells the women. ‘And I know she hates that! But some of them had to be thrown away, and I found new stock upstairs, and… well. We’ve done our best.’
Rosie goes over and gives her a hug, patting her on the back. ‘It’ll be fine. Moira will love it. We’ve all noticed how much happier she is, how much more positive she seems now she has a goal – the fact she’s even coming into the village is a miracle. She’s stayed away for a whole year, and now you’ve persuaded her she might be able to run her shop again. You’ve done that, so be proud, okay?’
By the time the woman herself makes her grand appearance, the place is busy. Several of the locals are inside the store, others are lurking on the waterfront outside, waiting for the guest of honour. Shirley drives up in her big old Subaru jeep, and I head outside to set up the ramp. By the time I’m done, Moira is in her wheelchair on the cobbled street, gazing wistfully out at the sea. Joanne hovers at her side, face like thunder and a protective hand on her sister’s shoulder.
I know Moira was an active woman before her accident, and my heart goes out to her. Nobody can understand how it feels, being at the mercy of your own body, unless you’ve been through it. I still break out into a cold sweat when I remember my fall, crashing to the ground, coming to in the back of an ambo with the paramedics staring down at me. Moira might walk again, with time and work, but right now she’s in limbo, and it’s not a great place to be.
She looks up at the small crowd, nods at the familiar faces, and scrunches her lips up in a grimace. I can tell she’s trying not to cry, that her famous pride is kicking in.
‘Well, if only so many of you ignorant fools ever came here when it was open,’ she announces, ‘I’d have been able to retire to the Caribbean! I know for sure, Jimmy Campbell, that the only book you’ve ever opened is that time you took bets on who could swim around the harbour wall the quickest!’
Jimmy doffs his cap in an old-fashioned gesture of respect, and nods. ‘Aye. I’m not what you’d call a literary man, but I know who my friends are, and it’s good to see you back here, Moira. Now stop being an old cow and crack out a smile, unless you’re worried your face might break?’
She tries to fight it, but can’t resist laughing. Shirley pushes the wheelchair towards the store, and Moira looks at the ramp cynically. ‘Are you sure that’ll hold me? Have you tested it?’
‘We have, I promise!’ Kate replies earnestly.
‘Not you, skinny malinky longlegs! Him. Brody. Jump up and down on that thing, will you?’
I narrow my eyes at her, knowing I’m being played. A chant starts up in the gathering, and within seconds all I can hear is ‘Brody! Brody! Brody!’
I shake my head, walk up the ramp, and jump repeatedly. It vibrates, but holds firm, and I get a round of applause.This place is crazy, I think for the hundredth time.
Finally satisfied, Moira is wheeled inside. We all remain silent as she looks around, Kate’s face frozen in anxiety. Moira’s sharp eyes take in every change, and I have no doubt she is cataloguing them all. Her gaze flickers over one particular book –Seabirds of the Scottish Isles, which I’d been looking at earlier – and her eyes swim with unshed tears.
She notices the flowers, the cake, the candle, the new cushions. She notices everything. And then, as we all seem to collectively hold our breath, she finally allows the tears to fall. Kate lets out an anguished moan, and says: ‘I know it’s not the same! I’m so sorry, we did what we could…’
Moira looks up, horrified. ‘Och no, child – don’t be upset now! I’m crying because I’m happy! Because you’ve shown this place, and me, so much love – all of you!’ She glances around the room, at the emotional faces of her friends. ‘I’m crying because I feel like I’m home.’
That does it. Kate is by her side hugging her, and Rosie is openly sobbing, and even Joanne looks moved. I, along with the other males in the room, struggle to maintain my manly exterior.
‘Right!’ Moira announces after a few more minutes. ‘All of you rabble, have a look around why don’t you? I’m sure there are some marvellous books, some bargains to be had, some stories to be found… then after that, we’ll all meet up in the pub! I’ll be having a large Glenfiddich to celebrate, and Joanne will have a small glass of cyanide to put her in a better mood. Go on now!’
She waves her hands in a commanding gesture, and one by one people drift around the bookstore, browsing and picking books from the shelves. Moira smiles at the scene, looking satisfied at what she sees. ‘That’s better,’ she says quietly. ‘Now all feels well with the world.’
