How to Find Love in a Book Shop(38)

She gave a little nod, sat in her seat, picked up her bow and began to play. The notes were achingly sad, their melancholy sound echoing round the church, sweet and lingering. Sarah could feel them make their way into her heart and break it. She fell on her knees onto the prayer stool in front of her and buried her head in her arms, trying not to sob. She breathed as deeply as she could to calm herself until the last note died away. There was a silence, punctuated only by other members of the congregation sniffing and clearing their throats and wiping away their tears, and then someone began to clap, until the entire church was united in their applause. Sarah gathered herself, sat up, and joined in. She knew how very proud Julius would have been, how much he had loved his daughter, and she wished she could tell Emilia of the way his eyes had shone when he spoke of her.

Emilia felt elated when she finished playing. She had spent the last two weeks rehearsing every night until she was note perfect, but she was still afraid that she would freeze midway through, or her fingers would betray her. But they hadn’t. And then she sat and listened to the quartet play Elgar’s ‘Chanson de Nuit’. Somehow under Marlowe’s direction they made the music not sad but uplifting. Emilia didn’t think her battered little heart could take it, but as the last notes faded away she was still breathing. She was still alive.



Thomasina was making her way out of the churchyard, through the toppled gravestones. She needed to be back at school to teach the last lesson of the day. She felt a hand on her arm. She turned, and saw Jem smiling at her.

‘That was a really great reading,’ he told her. ‘I wish I’d had the nerve. But there aren’t many readings about cheese, and that’s all we had in common.’ He made a lugubrious face, but it was obvious he was joking.

Thomasina laughed.

‘Thank you. I was really nervous.’

‘You didn’t look it.’

‘Really?’ Thomasina was surprised. She’d thought her fear would have been apparent.

‘Not at all. My mum loved those books by the way. Thank you …’

‘I’m really pleased.’

They stood for a moment, the autumn leaves scuttling around their feet.

‘I’ve got to go,’ said Thomasina. ‘I’ve got a class.’

‘Yeah, and I’ve got to get back to the shop.’ He held up a hand. ‘See you.’

He strode off down the path towards the town and Thomasina watched him go, feeling as if she should have said more – but what more could she have said?



After the service, Emilia was putting away her cello in the vestry. She was glad to have something to occupy her. It had all been so perfect, and all she could think of was how much her father would have enjoyed everyone’s contributions. She reminded herself she would have to send everyone a thank you letter.

‘You played beautifully.’

She jumped, and turned.

There was Marlowe, smiling. ‘You see? I told you. Practice makes perfect.’

‘I don’t know about perfect.’

‘It was at least a merit.’

She pretended to pout. ‘I got a distinction when I did it. For Grade 6, I think.’

‘Good. Because there’s something I want to ask you.’

He looked a bit awkward. Emilia felt her cheeks go slightly pink. Was he going to ask her out? Surely not, just after her father’s memorial service? But a little bit of her hoped he might. She could do with a drink, she liked Marlowe, and her father had thought a lot of him. He was interesting and fun and—

‘I wondered if you’d take your father’s place in the quartet.’

‘What?’ This wasn’t what Emilia had been expecting.

‘Poor old Felicity is so limited with what she can do now and I don’t want to put her under pressure. If you join, Delphine can go back to second violin, which will make her happy.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘Which makes my life easier, I can tell you.’

Delphine. Of course. She had been at the service today, demure in a black shift dress. How on earth had she thought Marlowe might be interested in her?

Emilia shook her head. ‘No way am I good enough. Look how long it took me just to get one piece right.’

‘No way would I be asking you if I thought you weren’t up to it. It’s my reputation at stake. I wouldn’t risk it.’

‘I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know how long I’ll be around. I don’t know what I’m doing with the shop.’ She was gabbling excuses.

‘Just join till the end of the year. It’s quiet for us, except for a few carol concerts. And Alice Basildon’s wedding.’ He was looking at her, his brown eyes beseeching behind his glasses. ‘I can give you some lessons. Get you up to speed.’

Emilia could feel herself weakening. Of course she wanted to join the quartet. But it was daunting.

‘I don’t want to let you down.’

‘We’ll just be doing carols, and the usual wedding repertoire. No Prokofiev or anything too fiddly.’

She looked at him. How would she resist that disarming smile? Being in the quartet would be the perfect distraction from the stress of the shop and all the decisions she had to make. And even if she were to close Nightingale Books tomorrow, she would be tying up the loose ends for a few months yet. Most importantly, Julius would be so proud and pleased to think she had taken his place. She remembered his patience as he had taught her to pick out her first notes; shown her how to hold the bow correctly. They had played duets together, and Emilia remembered being transported by the music, the joy of being in sync with someone else. She missed that feeling. The quartet would give that to her.