Three
Greg Bishop turned off the lights in Bishop’s Books and headed towards the front door. He rarely left the shop before seven p.m. even on a Saturday but today had been one of those days, and frankly, he could do with an early night. Or at least, an early night from work.
Not that his Saturdays were different from any other day. He lived alone and had no girlfriend or significant other, and although he had a few good friends, his life of late, had revolved around his bookshop.
Huh! Who was he kidding? His life had always revolved around his bookshop. Wasn’t that the reason his last relationship had ended?
‘You love this bloody bookshop more than you love me!’ Donna had hissed at him five years ago – today, in fact – when she had dumped him.
Christ. Was that five years ago?
‘I don’t,’ he had said, remembering every word each of them had spoken that day. ‘I love you just as much.’ He had thoughtthose words would placate her but they had only seemed to make things worse.
‘You love me, “just as much”!’ she had screamed. ‘Wrong answer, Greg. You should’ve said you love me more. I’m flesh and blood. Not paper, cardboard and print. I have feelings. I have needs. Books don’t.’
‘That’s not entirely true,’ he had said, ‘Not all books are…’ And then even he had realised that he should not continue. Donna didn’t want to hear about the types of leather bindings, or the gold-leaf edging and embossing, or the rarity of some of the paper used in the past. And she certainly didn’t want to hear that all books needed love and care.
‘You were going to give me another lecture on how precious these bloody things are, weren’t you?’
‘Not a lecture, no. Just a little reminder.’
‘Reminder? All I ever hear about is books. I don’t need reminding. Well, I hope they’ll make you happy, Greg, because I’m so over this. I’m so over you. And I never want to see you, or a bloody book again!’
To prove her point, and to add insult to injury as far as Greg was concerned, she had shoved over a free standing bookcase as she had stormed out of the bookshop, and Greg had watched in horror as all the books had thudded to the floor before he could save them.
Donna had broken his heart that day, because he had genuinely loved her.
Although he had to admit that he was as heartbroken by the damage caused to some of those books as he was by being dumped.
Five years ago.
And he hadn’t had a girlfriend since.
That didn’t really bother him.
He had his books and his beloved bookshop.
Sometimes, he missed having someone special in his life, but on those days, he read a book and then everything seemed right with the world once again.
Even on a Saturday night when his friends were at home with their wives, or out on a date with their girlfriends or fiancées.
All in all, Greg was happy with his life – except on days like today. But his low spirit this evening had nothing to do with him being single. Or that he had remembered it was the anniversary of his heartbreak five years before. This was due to a phone call he had just received, that had both shocked and worried him in equal measure.
And had also made him cross. And Greg was rarely cross.
Added to that, he hadn’t driven his car to work today. Instead, he had walked from his cottage in Betancourt Bay down to his bookshop in Folkestone, and he should have known that it would rain, because hardly a day had gone by so far this year when it hadn’t.
The fact that today was the first of June, and the meteorological first day of summer, didn’t mean a thing, as he well knew. Besides, it always rained in summer in the UK.
And this wasn’t just rain; this was rain of biblical proportions. It had been coming down since four p.m., and he didn’t even have an umbrella.
Or a coat.
It had rained for two hours, nonstop, so there was no point in him staying in the bookshop and waiting it out.
Besides, he hadn’t eaten lunch because the shop had been so busy and he hadn’t had time to stop. Several shoppers had come in, some of whom were regulars, and some of whom had probably done so to get out of the torrential rain, but many of them had purchased books. A handful more had asked for his advice on what to read, and he was always happy to give that.
At least his bank account had benefitted from the dreadful weather so he should be thankful for the rain. Except now he had to go home in it, and that meant he would get soaked.
