How to Find Love in a Book Shop(51)

Twelve

On Monday morning, when Bill had safely gone off to work and before she could think twice, Bea stuffed Maud into her pushchair and walked into Peasebrook, marching up the high street until she reached the bridge by Nightingale Books. The sign outside was swinging gently in the autumn breeze. Through the bulging bay window, she could see Emilia talking to a customer.

A sign on the door, written in beautiful copperplate writing, said: Open Monday Till Saturday 10ish until the last customer goes. Bea smiled, pushed open the door with her bum, dragging the pushchair inside, then waited until the shop was empty. The great thing about a book shop was nobody thought it was odd if you lingered for ages. That was what you were supposed to do after all. So she hovered between the cookery and the art section, all the while keeping an eye on the other customers, until the last one drifted out of the door and there was her opportunity.

She walked up to the till before she could change her mind, and laid the book on the counter.

‘I need to bring this back to you.’

Emilia looked up and recognised her.

‘Oh! You bought To the Moon and Back.’ She frowned. ‘I didn’t realise you’d bought a Riley.’

Bea looked down at the floor.

‘I didn’t.’ She paused. ‘I nicked it.’

Emilia looked from the book to Bea and back.

‘Nicked it?’

Bea nodded. She took in a deep breath.

‘I don’t know why. I had a really weird moment. I don’t know what came over me. It’s not even as if I couldn’t afford it. Not really. Not if I’d really wanted it.’ She looked at Emilia, bewildered. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I had to tell you. To stop myself ever doing anything like that again.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’ Emilia managed an uncertain laugh. ‘Except I probably wouldn’t have noticed. You could have got away with it.’

‘But I didn’t want to get away with it. I had to bring it back. To scare myself. I sort of wonder if I might be going mad. It’s such a stupid thing to do.’ She gave Emilia a smile, half rueful, half scared. ‘If you want to have me arrested, then so be it. I deserve it.’

‘Of course I won’t. You brought it back. That’s not the behaviour of a repeat offender.’

‘It’s the behaviour of someone who needs help. Don’t you think?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Thank you for being so understanding.’ Bea thought she might cry. ‘I just don’t feel like myself any more. Shit. I’m sorry. I’m going to cry. No, I’m not.’

She gave a snort and a gulp, a half laugh, half sob, then pulled herself together.

‘Are you OK?’ Emilia was intrigued, but concerned.

Bea gripped the handles of the pushchair. She was struggling to speak.

‘I thought I was. But maybe I’m not. It’s been tough. This whole … motherhood thing. This whole … not having a job thing. This whole moving to the countryside to live the dream.’ She was getting more worked up. ‘This whole … not having anything to do all day thing. Except, you know, mash up carrots and change nappies.’ She looked down at Maud in her pushchair. Maud beamed up at her. ‘Not that I don’t utterly adore Maud. Of course I do.’

‘I can’t imagine what it’s like,’ said Emilia. ‘I suppose one day I’ll find out.’

‘It’s lovely. But it’s …’ Bea took in a gulp of air. ‘I’m not allowed to say it.’

‘Boring?’ offered Emilia.

‘Yes! And of course, it’s the most important job in the world blah blah blah and I should be grateful, because I’ve got friends – more than one – who’ve been trying for ages and had no luck. But—’ She stared at Emilia. She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Oh my God. I didn’t come in here to dump on you. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I don’t really know anyone in this town. And you look … nice. Like you might get it.’

Emilia didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you. I think.’ She put her hands on the book. ‘I’ll put this back on the pile and we won’t say anything more about it.’

‘Who nicks stuff from a book shop? That is just so wrong.’

Emilia pointed a warning finger at her. ‘We’re not saying anything more about it. Remember?’

Bea stood up straight and nodded obediently. ‘Thank you. For being so understanding. How’s it all going, anyway?’

‘I’m panicking a bit, to be honest.’

‘Why? I’d have thought this would be the least stressful job in the world.’ Bea looked around the shop. ‘I’d love to spend every day here.’

‘Yeah, but it’s losing money hand over fist.’

‘What with people nicking stuff and all. That can’t help.’

The two girls laughed.

‘So what did you used to do? Before the little one?’ asked Emilia.

‘I was an art director. For Hearth magazine?’

‘Oh wow. I love Hearth. It’s how I want my life to be.’

‘That’s exactly why they sell so many copies.’

Studying Bea, Emilia thought she looked just like the poster girl for Hearth. Beautiful and on trend with all the latest accessories and the perfect baby. And she must be smart. Hearth was one of the bestselling women’s lifestyle magazines, dictating what any modern woman with even a hint of style should be putting on her wall or on her plate or in her plant pots, leading the zeitgeist in interior design and food and gardening. But clearly something was not right.