The Christmas Bookshop(58)

They took their chance to leave; Carmen had, once again, rather outweighed what might be expected of a lunch hour under normal circumstances.

At the door, they parted.

‘I have a lecture,’ said Oke.

‘Ooh, what are you learning today, super-swot?’

He frowned.

‘I’m giving a lecture,’ he clarified.

‘Oh yes, I remember!’ said Carmen. ‘Well! Get you.’

He smiled and, without touching her in any way, turned to leave.

‘Thank you,’ said Carmen finally as they clattered back down the narrow stairway. ‘Thank you for taking me there. I really enjoyed it.’

He grinned.

‘I want to see everything before I go.’

‘Where? Where are you going?’ she said suddenly.

‘I don’t know … It was a term placement but they’ve asked me to stay on for a bit.’

Carmen suddenly found she was interested in the answer.

‘And are you going to?’

He shrugged.

‘Not sure yet.’

‘So you might just be disappearing at Christmas?’

Carmen was surprised to find that she rather minded. It had been nice to meet a friend.

‘I don’t know – when is that?’ he said, but he smiled to show her he was teasing.

Carmen smiled back.

‘Okay,’ she said.

Oke raised his eyebrows. That was not, if he was being honest, which he always was, the response he had hoped for. He liked the passionate dark-haired girl. He liked her a lot. But she had … well. Normally Oke did well with girls. But this one … He remembered the man in the very expensive clothing she’d been with in the Grassmarket. She didn’t look like the kind of woman who was very interested in how much money a man made, but who could tell? He didn’t know Scottish women at all.

‘Thanks again,’ she said, gingerly stepping out onto the slushy pavement.

‘You’re welcome,’ he said, and disappeared into the throng, his distinctive gait making his hair visible in the crowd as she watched him bounce up the hill of the Lawnmarket in the direction of the tidy orderly university, and Carmen scrambled down the icy steps and back into the higgledy-piggledy disordered world of the bookshop.





The following few days remained trying. Sofia had ordered a gingerbread kit for Carmen to do as a family project on her babysitting night. It had not been a success.

Phoebe had licked her bits of the kit together, and eaten all the Smarties decorations as Pippa, who was doing her own carefully, harangued her. Jack had looked at it, said, ‘What’s the point of this?’ which Carmen had found very difficult to give a good reason for, before he added, ‘Can you just do it and tell Mummy I did?’, then Phoebe collapsed in floods of tears when she couldn’t get anything to stick and Carmen, who was not remotely crafty, didn’t do a much better job, and when Sofia came down from her nap, she almost cried because in fact the sections were meant to stack on top of each other and make a perfect replica of their own house and the kit had cost a solid fortune and, apart from Pippa’s layer, it all looked like a dog’s dinner and Sofia ended up staying up till 2 a.m. redoing everything and was teary and exhausted and hormonal which Carmen felt was not her fault and they had both attempted to pull their mother round to their point of view.

On the other hand, it looked sensational.

It had been a chilly morning. And now Carmen, while grateful for the custom – rather sweetly, she’d bumped into Crawford, who had bought three beautiful books on winter birds for his window display, and added a note explaining where to buy them and they’d had lots of queries – was not feeling at her best.

‘Because,’ she was saying, ‘a place where you borrow books is called a library. And in fact twenty metres away across the road is the National Library of Scotland. And in there they have every book ever written! And you can have any one you want!’

The old woman, who was Mrs MacGeoghan, was still looking belligerent.

‘But I want to read this one.’

‘You can,’ said Carmen. ‘But I’m afraid you have to buy it.’

She could hear Mr McCredie rustling about in the back, getting nearer to the shopfront which wasn’t ideal as he would probably let the lady take it if she promised to bring it back, and they weren’t out of the woods yet, money-wise. Sofia had told her if they made a profit and paid a few of their debtors by the new year, it could go up for sale as a going concern. What Carmen would do then, they didn’t discuss. Idra had mentioned restaurant jobs going and her mum had said there were community initiatives happening. She’d find something.

‘But I’m a pensioner,’ the old woman continued.

‘I realise that,’ said Carmen. ‘That’s why I absolutely would suggest a library. They are wonderful, amazing places. But this isn’t one.’

‘Well, that’s just … evil capitalism!’ said the old lady who was, Carmen couldn’t help but notice, wearing the same incredibly expensive brand of wellingtons Blair had bought.

Although the day hadn’t been all bad, she reflected. Before she left the house that morning, amid the usual school hubbub, Phoebe had sidled up to her and pressed something warm into her hand.

‘Uh, thanks?’ Carmen had said, glancing down and realising to her horror that Phoebe had given her a piece of warm cheese.