Page 39 of Winter Nights at the Bay Bookshop

LILY

Settled in the staff room with my first bite of brownie melting in my mouth, I took out my phone and clicked into the Paperback Pixie’s Instagram feed.

They’d been active this morning and I smiled as I scrolled through the photos showing five novels from different genres left in front of the beach huts in North Bay.

The huts were painted in bright colours – red, orange, yellow, sky blue and lime green – and the books propped up against them had covers matching those paint colours.

Three finders had tagged the Pixie into their finds and I messaged Cassie alerting her to the post. She replied immediately.

From Cassie

You’re not going to believe this but the kids and I have been for a walk along North Bay and we saw the person finding the book by the red beach hut.

Special moment! I spoke to her and she was so excited.

The kids weren’t as enthusiastic as me so we’re scoffing ice-cream sundaes now as a treat after my embarrassing giddiness.

Yes, I know, it’s November! I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Bring on Christmas! x

How exciting that Cassie had witnessed someone finding one of the Paperback Pixie’s books.

She’d have been beside herself and I could imagine Hallie and Rocco being completely bewildered by it all.

She’d added several Christmassy emojis to the end of her message.

Tomorrow evening after we closed, Cassie and I would be removing everything autumn-themed and fully converting the shop to Christmas including putting up the tree and creating a festive window display.

We usually did it with Dad, breaking off after a couple of hours for takeaway pizza.

It would take longer with just the two of us but I was looking forward to a catch-up with Cassie on her own, although I knew what the main subject for discussion would be – Lars.

I’d made her promise not to do any matchmaking between us but she’d taken every alone moment to express how exasperated she was with us both for not getting our acts together and how she wished she hadn’t made me that promise.

I clicked onto Facebook next. Cassie had shared a photo of herself and the kids with their sundaes, all with blobs of ice cream on their noses, which lifted me further.

There was a post from our friend Donna announcing that she and her husband Joey were expecting their first baby, with a scan photo attached.

I was delighted for them and responded with love, adding my congratulations to the comments.

I was glad I’d come downstairs as I rarely scrolled through my phone during work hours and asked my team not to look at theirs until they were on a break.

My social media distraction just now had given me the boost I needed and I could return to the shop floor with a smile on my face and a spring in my step.

Popping the final piece of brownie into my mouth, I scrolled a little further and immediately regretted it.

My smile slipped and I gulped down the brownie, my heart pounding as I stared at the couple on the screen.

It had never entered my head to unfriend Wes on Facebook because he never used it.

In the time we’d been together, the only entries on his feed were ones I’d tagged him in and an annual barrage of birthday greetings to which he never reacted.

Celebrating seven months with this incredible man and never been happier , the caption read, accompanied by a series of photos of a stunning blonde cuddled up to my ex.

Seven months? That hurt. A week tomorrow would be the eight-month anniversary of us splitting up.

Wes had stayed in the UK for a week which meant he’d got together with this woman within a fortnight of returning to Dubai.

Which probably meant he’d already known her.

Was maybe even attracted to her when he’d been with me.

Before I knew it, I’d clicked into her profile.

Clodagh Quinn, thirty-two from Limerick in Ireland, working at the same company as Wes.

So that confirmed they had known each other before.

Her feed was full of photos of Wes and her together and it looked like they had an incredible life, always out for meals, at parties and events.

‘Stop scrolling,’ I muttered. I was only torturing myself by seeing how easily Wes had moved on and how happy he was without me.

As I took a final glance at the anniversary post, I realised something.

Wes and I had wanted completely different things from our lifestyles.

The busy life of partying which Wes and Clodagh so clearly loved didn’t appeal to me at all.

If Wes had returned to the UK as planned, I suspected boredom would quickly have set in with our home and with me.

I’d never have imagined that we’d grow so far apart but the many posts on Clodagh’s feed showed how much we had.

A quote from Anne of the Island came to mind, from when Anne and Gilbert finally got together. He still had three years ahead of him at medical school and couldn’t offer her a glamorous lifestyle, to which she’d replied, I don’t want sunbursts or marble halls. I just want you.

I clicked onto Wes’s profile and sighed. ‘I wish you happiness,’ I said, ‘but what makes you happy isn’t what makes me happy because you’re not my Gilbert Blythe.’

I unfriended him and that was it, our connection completely severed. Closure. And it felt so freeing that I wondered why I hadn’t done it before.

As I was leaving the staff room, my phone beeped with a WhatsApp notification from Justin of all people. He never reached out to me first unless he wanted something.

From Justin

Haven’t heard from you in months, kiddo. Have I done something to piss you off?

Wow! He really hadn’t a clue. I wasn’t going to dignify it with a response – or at least not yet anyway.

I needed to think carefully about how I’d word my reply but I couldn’t resist clicking into the message itself so that he knew I’d read it.

I knew how his mind worked and it would rankle him knowing that I’d read it and not replied.

Justin seemed to expect people to drop everything for him but he never reciprocated it.

I switched my phone to silent before leaving the staff room.

I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a stack of messages from him when I looked at it again after closing time.

* * *

I left work late, having called the police after Alec left.

Gavin Haines, who’d recently been promoted to sergeant, was the designated contact for the Castle Street traders and he was in town when I rang so I was told he’d drop in to see me.

I showed him the damaged books and the CCTV footage which had caught everything, including the little boy attacking me, the mother destroying the guidebook and her giving me the charming parting gesture.

Her face had been caught clearly and she was known to Sergeant Haines so he said he’d pay her a visit.

When I arrived back home, I went straight over to the main house to check on Dad.

Mum was dishing up a bubbling lasagne and, over tea, I shared the shocking incident at work.

Dad was full of apologies that he hadn’t been there, but I assured him there was nothing he could have done.

Much as his fatherly instinct was to protect me from the dark side of people, it was impossible to do so.

‘Thankfully, we don’t get that many nasty customers. With any luck, that’s the quota for the year.’

‘Except for the ones who moan about the price of books,’ Mum said.

‘But spend a fiver on a takeaway coffee,’ Dad and I said together, laughing.

It never ceased to amaze me how many people were willing to spend so much on a drink that would last twenty minutes but begrudged paying a little more for a book which would entertain them for hours and could be consumed over and over again.

Sometimes those customers would stare at me as though expecting me to agree with them and offer to sell the book for half price.

‘Are you and Cassie still doing Christmas tomorrow night?’ Dad asked once we’d settled into the lounge after clearing the dishes away.

‘We are. Looking forward to it as always. It won’t be the same without you, of course.’

‘I wish I could help. Why don’t you ask Lars?’

I’d already thought about it and part of me wanted to, but I wasn’t sure about the dynamic of the three of us working together. If something was going to happen between Lars and me, I wanted it to happen naturally and not as a result of some stirring on Cassie’s part.

‘Cassie and I will be fine, although I might need to ask Lars to do Saturdays from next weekend.’

‘Sounds sensible,’ Dad said. ‘Have you got cover for his day off?’

‘Cyndi has a Tuesday morning off college and Flo has a Tuesday afternoon off so it works out well to cover it between them.’

Back in Green Gables, I messaged Lars.

To Lars

Hope you’ve had a great day. You know we spoke about you working Saturdays in December? Today was crazy busy so can you start working Saturdays and take Tuesdays off from now on? Thanks in advance

A reply came back within five minutes.

From Lars

Great day, thanks. Hope you did too. That’s all fine. I’ll see you on Monday but not Tuesday next week. Enjoy the rest of your evening

To Lars

Thank you for doing this. I’m so grateful. You enjoy the rest of your evening too

As I replied, I felt sad at the thought of not seeing him until Monday and then having another day away from him on the Tuesday.

‘Get a grip,’ I muttered to myself.

I spotted four WhatsApp notifications on my phone and I didn’t need two guesses as to who they were from. Sure enough…

From Justin

You’ve read my message. Why haven’t you replied?

Why are you ignoring me? I need to see you. I’m coming to Whitsborough Bay tomorrow. What time do you finish work?

ANSWER YOUR MESSAGES!

I flinched at the use of capitals. How dare he shout at me like that?

From Justin

I’ve looked it up on your website. I’ll be at the shop at 4

Clenching my teeth, I tapped in a reply, all the while asking myself how would Cassie respond? I read my message through and, satisfied that my reply had channelled my best friend’s intolerance for bullshit, I sent it.

To Justin

1.Yes, I am pissed off with you. We had plans to meet on my birthday. You cancelled the day before then never even wished me a happy birthday

2. I am not at your beck and call, especially when you message during shop hours. I will respond to messages when I have a free moment and not the second they arrive

3. Never SHOUT at me. If you do that to me again, you won’t get a response

4. I’m not free tomorrow. I have important plans immediately after work. What’s the urgency?

5. I’m 34 and don’t like being called kiddo. Please stop calling me that. Thank you!

I stared at my phone and saw that Justin had read my message. Oh, to be a fly on the wall! I waited for a couple of minutes to see if he’d reply, but nothing came and I couldn’t be bothered to waste any more time on him. What I really wanted right now was a long soak in the bath with a mug of tea.

The fresh pine scent of the bubble bath made me feel all Christmassy. I placed the mug from my Anne of Green Gables set on a ledge beside the bath and smiled at the quote on it:

Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?

Gratefully sinking beneath the bubbles, I pushed aside the dark moments from the day – the mistakes others had made – and focused only on the positives, of which there were far more.

Tomorrow would be a fresh day and I was so looking forward to the night.

It was always one of my favourites – the moment we transformed Bay Books for Christmas.

Then it would be a new week and I’d see Lars again.

My heart leapt and I realised I was more excited about that than I was about the Christmas makeover.