They had. It hadn’t worried Howard; he said they’d get the message in the end. But now Bonnie had their contact details. It was an easy way of moving on. All she’d have to do is make the call.
‘The offer is considerably more than we paid for it,’ said Bonnie.
‘And what would you do with all the money?’ Margot asked.
Shocked at the question, Bonnie realised she had no idea. ‘I just don’t want to have to deal with it. You know, along with everything else.’
‘You could always just wait and see,’ Faye suggested. ‘You might change your mind about the place. You might want to keep it.’
Bonnie almost agreed that that could happen, but who was she kidding? She was about as likely to keep a bookshop on as Howard would’ve been to keep on an artists’ studio.
‘I’ll make a decision eventually,’ she told them, hopefully putting an end to the subject for now. It was her fault. She shouldn’t have blurted it out. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she had.
These women were so kind they didn’t push her to talk any more and they were soon onto talking about something else.
Faye asked about some of the books she’d noticed on the bottom shelves. ‘Howard has collected some beautiful old paperbacks here, Bonnie.’ She’d found a few Hans Christian Andersen books, Howard’s since he was a boy.
Bonnie urged Faye and Margot to go ahead and flip through ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’, ‘The Snow Queen’, an illustrated collection of twelve fairy tales. They moved on to C.S. Lewis andThe Chronicles of Narnia, a collection, as well as some of the books as individual paperbacks.
‘One of our foster children, Victor, loved those books,’ Bonnie told them.
‘You and Howard fostered?’ Faye asked, still holding open one of the books. ‘Howard never mentioned it.’
‘He was very humble about it; that’s why.’ He had done so much for others. Even by bringing these two to her door, her husband was still looking out for her, although he wouldn’t have planned any of this.
‘We fostered for a while. Victor was the last child we took in. We both got quite attached, especially Howard, and then he went back to his mother. I suppose the mother didn’t want to remember the rocky past and never kept in touch with us.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Margot slotted back the book she was holding. ‘I can imagine you both were really good foster parents.’
Bonnie smiled at the compliment.
Margot moved towards the easel facing away from the room. ‘May I?’ she asked before she went around to take a look.
‘Of course.’ Bonnie had been sitting in front of the easel day after day and it was yesterday when she finally managed to start working on her painting again. Midas had been with her – apparently Faye had so much cleaning she’d be at it all day; Iris had a crazy day at the bookshop, because it was only her there; and Theo was teaching so she stepped in to be the dog-sitter, which she didn’t mind at all. With Midas sitting beside her, at one point resting his chin on her knee while she worked, she’d finally felt the energy and drive to paint, return. She’d made a start on the sky and the street using colours she’d mixed into the desired shades. She was yet to add the details of the pavements with their uneven squares, the cracks, the kerb and the weeds sprouting up between slabs every now and then, or the people on the street to make the scene really come alive.
‘It’s brilliant,’ Margot declared, all three of them standing in front of the easel to see what she’d been working on.
Bonnie’s laughter filled the room. ‘You don’t have to lie. It’s not brilliant but it’s a start.’
Faye nudged Bonnie. ‘And that’s what brilliant.’
Faye was right Bonnie realised. To have started was a major milestone in itself. She tried not to let her voice catch when she said, ‘There’s still a way to go but…’
‘You’ll get there,’ Margot finished for her.
And for the first time she started to believe that yes, perhaps she would.
22
MARGOT
Over the last week Margot and Faye had been popping in regularly to see Bonnie, either separately or together. Faye had gone through more of Howard’s book collection, Bonnie had taught her how to make the syrup sponge, and Margot had dug out the pots in the back garden and those out front and planted daffodil bulbs in a couple and a variety of tulip bulbs in the others. Neither of them had mentioned selling the bookshop to the developers. The locals were on tenterhooks wondering what would happen with the shop but at the same time they held a respect for Bonnie just as they always had for Howard, and Margot got the feeling Bonnie would be left to make her own decision. They just hoped it would be the one that saved Driftwick Bay Books.
This morning Faye was busy at her cleaning job, but Margot couldn’t wait to see Bonnie because she had news.
‘I have an interview,’ she announced the second Bonnie opened the door. It was a grey late September day, the sun had done a bunk, and you could barely see Lulworth Cove for the fog, but it didn’t detract from Margot’s excitement which, mixed with nerves, had her a bit all over the place.
Bonnie took her coat and hung it up while Margot removed her shoes. ‘Tea and a scone for you, and you can tell me all about it.’
