Moira asks if I can take her through to the other ground floor rooms. She nods in pleasure at what she sees, then asks why there are stacks of bean bags piled up in the corner of the smaller space.
‘Oh,’ Kate explains, her eyes excited, ‘I thought maybe, if you liked the idea, we could make this a special area for children? I could paint the walls brighter colours perhaps, add some rugs. I got the bean bags on offer, because you can’t have too many bean bags in a bookshop – ha, try saying that three times when you’re drunk! – and because kids love bean bags, don’t they? And books. Stories. Magic… well, at least I did when I was little!’
There is a flicker of something there as she speaks – maybe it’s just nerves about suggesting a new idea, maybe it’ssomething more. I don’t know why, but I get a sense of sadness from her.
Moira listens to her speech, a gentle smile on her face as she looks around and nods. ‘I love that idea. Maybe we could get one of the local artists involved, perhaps some murals on the walls? Maybe book-themed? What was your favourite, as a child?’
‘Anything with animals!’ Kate replies enthusiastically. ‘Black Beauty,Charlotte’s Web,The Hundred and One Dalmatians…’
‘And you, Brody?’ Moira asks, turning her piercing gaze to me. ‘Assuming you can read, that is?’
‘Yeah, I can read – I just don’t do as much of it as some! I guess when I was a kid, I loved comic books. Superheroes, that kind of thing. Shannon, though, she was different. When she was young, I’d try and read to her every day. Picture books when she was little, then the Narnia stories, and she couldn’t get enough ofAnne of Green Gables…’
I feel a swoop of emotion, remembering those times. Shannon’s warm, tiny body snuggled up in bed. The look of wonder in her big blue eyes as the adventures unfolded. Her sweet pleading for just one more page before sleepy-time.
‘Och, you big softie,’ Moira says gently. ‘Give me a hug now!’
I lean down and do as I’m told. She’s got a surprisingly fierce grip for a woman of her years, and she pats me on the cheek when she finally lets me go.
We go into the next room, and her eyes pause when she notices the photos of herself and Angus, and their grandson Robbie, now in frames instead of pinned to the cork board.
‘That’s nice, dear,’ Moira says, knowing of course that it was Kate’s handiwork. ‘I wish… I wish they were both here to see this. I let this place go. I let myself go. I’m ashamed of that now. The shop had always been such a comfort to me, a world of books to lose myself in. But after everything else, even this didnae feel like enough. I started closing early, sometimesnever came in at all. Then I had my fall, which was my own fault because I know better than to walk on the cliffs when the weather is bad, and everything just… slipped away from me, you know?’
Kate nods, because of course she does know. Kate’s spirit is building again and it’s a joy to watch, but she still understands how life can tread you down. We’re all very different people from very different places, but we share that bond in common.
‘Anyway. I’m glad to see it getting the love it deserves. Thank you, both of you. You’ve given an old lady a bit of happiness!’
‘You’re not that old!’ Kate says automatically.
‘And I’m not that much of a lady!’ Moira quips straight back. ‘Robbie would have hated to see it a mess, he always loved it here too… we lost his mother to the drugs when he was a wee laddie, he lived with us from being young. It was hard at first, but he grew up into a fine man. I’m so proud of him.’
She talks matter-of-factly about losing her daughter, and I recognise the tone. It’s a way to cope, a way to bury an unimaginable pain.
Moira’s eyes are still on the photo, and I ask a question that’s been bugging me. ‘Why didn’t Robbie come back? When you had your accident?’
‘Well, it’s a long way from Australia to here!’
‘True. But they do have flights.’
‘Aye. I can’t argue with you there. I suppose, Brody, he didn’t come back because he doesn’t know. I’ve been pretending nothing has happened, and I made everyone else promise to do the same. He has his own life out there, and I don’t want him dragged back on account of me.’
Kate looks surprised, and then shakes her head sadly. ‘Moira. That’s not fair.’
She speaks quietly, but there is still some steel behind her words. Moira glances up, taken aback. So am I – Kate is a gentle soul, and that sounded an awful lot like a criticism.
‘I was raised by my grandmother too,’ she adds in explanation. ‘She meant absolutely everything to me. No matter where in the world I was, no matter what else I was doing, if she needed me then I’d have been there. Because that’s what you do for the people you love. You should tell him, and give him the chance to make his own decisions. You don’t have the right to deprive him of that.’
I’m standing beside her, and I let my hand creep into hers, squeezing her fingers. She’s right, and I suspect Moira knows that too.
‘Well, that’s me well and truly told!’ Moira replies, letting out a small laugh. ‘This is what I get for inviting complete strangers to stay – home truths I don’t want to face up to! Now, come on, it’s time for me to get the till working – kerching! And then like I said, we can all go to the pub. And by the way… don’t think I haven’t noticed that hand holding, you two! I’ve noticed, and I love it! If you carry on cheering me up like this, I’ll be changing the name of my wee shop – maybe The Hopeful Hearts Bookshop would work!’
Kate blushes as we make our way to the door. It’s not exactly a secret that we’re kind of together, because there’s no reason for it to be. We’re both single and extremely consenting adults. But it’s still amusing to see her react like that, like a naughty schoolgirl caught out. It’s funny, and it’s cute, and I can’t resist sliding my arm around her shoulders and giving her a kiss.
‘My goodness!’ says Moira, clapping her hands together. ‘Forget the books – I see some real-life magic there!’
‘You wouldn’t really change the name, would you?’ Kate asks.
‘No, because my Angus came up with the name, and it fits, doesn’t it? But Hopeful Hearts fits too… maybe it can be ournickname for it. Because, not to get all soppy on you two, but since you arrived I’ve felt a lot more hopeful. And it looks like you have as well.’
