‘Not good,’ Quinn said. ‘He wants the shop.’
‘I know.’ His mother sighed. ‘I’ve told him to leave it.’
‘Is that all you’ve said?’ Quinn’s heart sank at the realisation that she’d known and said nothing.
He couldn’t work out how they’d got to this point. Wasn’t his mother supposed to know he was upset about this? Had she thought he’d be okay with the prospect of losing the one place that gave him something to get up for in the morning? If he held the phone any tighter, it would shatter into a million pieces.
Quinn’s father had once owned a bookshop himself on the same street. It had been a success, endorsed by Richard Booth, and decreed the ‘Hayses of Parliament’. His mother always resented the fact that his dad left behind a career as a pilot, dragging them away from their nice and rather large home in London to Hay-On-Wye to sell second-hand books. His father established himself over the years, gaining a solid reputation, and was adored by the locals who still lived here today. Quinn had been too young to remember London. To him, his life had always been Hay.
And then he’d died. The shop was sold, and that was that.
Not a day went by where Quinn didn’t miss his father. Now he had Harold, a man who made Henry the Eighth look good. Except he didn’t have six wives, and had never been married before, let alone beheaded anyone. So, maybe Henry was worse.
Anyway, Quinn knew his father would have defended him, and this would never have happened had he … well, not died.
‘What can I say?’ his mother asked. ‘Harold doesn’t listen. He does what he thinks is right. He’s said it’s?—’
‘Just business, yeah, I know,’ Quinn said. ‘But this isn’t just business, is it? This is my life. I’m going to lose everything.’
‘He’s not kicking you out of the flat?—’
‘Oh, the flat that I own?’ Quinn forced a laugh. ‘No, he’s not. Just forcing me out of the shop I’ve built and nurtured. Mum, it’s not just a bookshop. It’s a community. A safe place. Without it, Hay loses some of its character. You can’t let him do this.’
His mother sighed, one of defeat. ‘I can only say what I’ve already told him.’
‘You think I should give up, don’t you?’
‘He’s offered you an alternative.’ Quinn could almost hear her choosing her words with careful precision. ‘The shop in the castle. You seemed okay before this. And the job in London, Quinn. Why would you say no?’
Quinn leaned against the stone wall, feeling it dig into his back. An icy breeze made him shiver, but he was thankful to be sheltered from the snow. It seemed if his mother couldn’t return to London, she wanted to live vicariously through her son.
‘The shop in the castle is a box, Mum,’ Quinn said. ‘It would only fit a shelf. Nothing more. It’s a huge downgrade. No author signings. No evenings with those who need someone to speak to. We sell more than just books, Mum. We help people know they’re valued.’
There was a pause.
‘I wish you could keep it,’ his mother said.
‘So, you won’t help me?’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ She said nothing else. ‘Quinn, I’ve missed you. Have I done something wrong?’
‘It’s fine, Mum.’
‘I haven’t seen you in a while.’
‘The shop is right there. For now.’
This was why Quinn never called his mother. These conversations. When the silence stretched between them a little too long, Quinn said goodbye and stared up at the new refurbished castle. The jewel of Hay, adored by the locals and the tourists alike, but the crux of Quinn’s turmoil. When news broke that the castle was being restored to its former glory, Quinn joined the community in celebrating. He celebrated when Harold got the contract, helping him out of a business slump. Another property firm had been absorbing Harold’s work left, right and centre. To get the Hay contract was one big FU to the rival firm.
Never in his life did he expect family to screw him over so badly.
Quinn stood tall, snapping out of the wallowing pit of pity.
If it’s just business, then they won’t mind what I do next.
ChapterSeven
Okay, so he didn’t have a what’s next. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have a Scooby, though he wished he could call on the gang to unmask Harold and reveal his true character. But he knew he needed to do something. Fear held him back from telling everyone in the bookshop that the shop was facing closure, but a small idea formed in his head.
