How to Find Love in a Book Shop(52)

Bea shrugged her shoulders. ‘Anyway, I’ve brought the book back and I promise I won’t darken your doors again.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Emilia felt drawn to Bea and her self-deprecating honesty. ‘And actually, you might be able to help me.’

‘Help you?’

Emilia grinned. ‘Yes. It could be your punishment. You can give me some advice.’

‘Advice on what?’

‘I need to turn this place round. Make it appeal to a wider customer base. But I haven’t a clue where to start. Oh, and the kicker is – I don’t really have any money to do it. Maybe you could give me some ideas?’

Bea put one hand on her hip. She grinned.

‘And in return you won’t have me banged up?’

‘Something like that.’

Bea looked around her thoughtful. ‘I love it in here. The shop’s got great atmosphere. It’s really warm and welcoming. But it is kind of …’

She screwed up her face.

‘Dickensian? Out of the ark?’ offered Emilia.

‘Not out of the ark. I like that it’s old-fashioned. But you could make more of it. Keep the spirit, but open it up a bit. Lighten it. Create some little sets, maybe – you know, dress it up? And that mezzanine?’ She pointed upwards. ‘That is totally wasted on boring old history and maps. Does anyone ever really go up there?’

Emilia looked up. ‘Sometimes. My father used to. He keeps his special editions locked in a glass case. But you’re right. It’s wasted space, really.’

‘Maud goes to nursery two mornings. What if I come back and measure up. Take some photos. Then draw you out some ideas.’ She frowned. ‘What is your budget, exactly?’

Emilia made a face. ‘Um – I don’t really have one. But I suppose it will be an investment. I can use my credit card.’

Bea put her hands over her ears. ‘Don’t let me hear the word credit card. Don’t worry – I’m used to creating magic out of muck. The great thing is you have lovely architectural features. Like a woman with good bone structure. You can’t go too far wrong.’ She smiled. ‘I know all the tricks. And I’ve got great contacts. I can get you all sorts of things at trade prices. Lighting.’ She looked up at the ceiling. The red velvet lampshades were dusty and she could definitely see cobwebs. ‘And paint.’ She looked at the floor, at the old red carpet, almost worn through in places. ‘And carpets.’

Emilia looked amazed. Bea seemed to have blossomed and flourished right in front of her eyes.

Bea stopped mid flow.

‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.’

‘You’re not! It’s good to have an objective eye. I’ve lived with this shop for so long I don’t notice that it’s a bit old and tired.’

‘We won’t throw away the spirit of the place. That’s vital. The ambience in here is what makes it special. But look – the old fireplace, for example. You should be using that as a feature. It would be wonderful opened up, with a squashy armchair next to it so people could read.’

Emilia stared at the fireplace, which had been bricked up.

‘If you get cold feet, and start thinking what on earth am I doing asking that crazy girl to help me, just say. I won’t be offended. Or surprised.’

‘No. Weirdly, I feel as if this could really work.’

‘Window displays,’ said Bea with a sigh, looking over at the windows on either side of the door. ‘Those windows are just waiting for stories to be told! Can you imagine? Valentine’s Day, filled with love stories? Or ghost stories, at Halloween? As for Christmas …’

Bea clapped her hands in excitement.

Emilia thought Bea was possibly a little bit mad. But she didn’t care. Bea’s enthusiasm had lifted the fug of the past few weeks and given her life. She had felt weighed down since her meeting with Andrea, not sure what to address first. It was exciting to hear someone brimming with enthusiasm. For the first time since her father had died, she felt a glimmer of hope.



She told June about her encounter with Bea later that afternoon.

‘I feel as if things are falling into place. I’ve got a vision of what the shop could be like. I know I mustn’t get carried away because I can’t afford to wave a magic wand and have it how I want it, but at least I don’t feel so overwhelmed.’

‘I think once you start making changes, things will fall into place,’ agreed June. ‘In the meantime, what do you think about this?’

Emilia looked at the press release June handed her.

There were months of them, piled up under the counter. Endless missives from publicists wanting their book to be given pride of place. Julius never read them, because he wanted to make up his own mind about which books to give preference. He had a brilliant instinct for what would sell well, and he hated gimmicks and hype.

Emilia knew, however, that if she was going to increase Nightingale Books’ profit by any significant margin that she had to raise her game. She needed publicity and a raise in profile as much as the authors and publishers of the books she was selling. So why not use them?

Two blue eyes were staring at her from the middle of the blurb. Mick Gillespie. Even a photocopy of him at seventy years old still had it. His expression made you feel as if you were the centre of his universe. Emilia wondered what it was like to be under his gaze in real life.