‘Well,’ said Raphael, ‘as I won with a combination of three printed books, I decided that print was the way to go, and the more modern the better. It took until the late nineteenth century to pay off, though. Admittedly one of my printed books was Shakespeare’s First Folio, but it’s all relative.’
Jemma looked at the cat. ‘Is that where Folio got his name?’
Folio sauntered over to Raphael and gazed at him expectantly. Raphael pulled a packet of cat treats from his pocket and gave him a couple. ‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘although I got Folio slightly before I took on the shop.’
‘So he’s immortal too?’ Jemma gazed at Folio, who narrowed his eyes and gave her a sharp meow.
‘Not immortal,’ said Raphael. ‘Neither of us are. Just – lucky. And certain, um, protections come with the job.’
‘Oh,’ said Jemma. She thought for a moment. ‘Does that apply to all these sorts of jobs?’
‘Not to the same degree,’ said Raphael. ‘But yes.’
‘So if I took the job, permanently,’ Jemma said slowly, ‘I wouldn’t die?’
‘Not unless there was a major major incident,’ said Raphael. ‘You wouldn’t get any older, either.’
Jemma had a sudden vision of Carl in thirty years’ time: maybe grey-haired, maybe balding, and herself looking just the same. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘Indeed,’ said Raphael. ‘It’s a blessing, and a curse. It’s – difficult to form relationships with outsiders, since you know they won’t be around for long. Comparatively speaking.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Jemma. Suddenly she felt more sorry for the ageless, powerful man in front of her than she would ever have thought possible. ‘That doesn’t apply to temporary staff, does it?’
Raphael laughed. ‘No, Jemma, you’re quite safe. Though some people see it as a perk.’
Jemma remembered the Assistant Curator at Sir John Soane’s Museum, and wondered.
‘That’s enough for now,’ Raphael said gently. ‘You’ve taken in a lot of information, and I don’t want to overload you on your first day. Let’s go downstairs and get a drink, and you can help me finish the job description. If we’re doing this thing, we should get on with it. Then you can head over to your shop and check your own assets.’
‘Yes,’ said Jemma, dreamily. ‘Yes, I can. I can check the assets in my shop.’ She smiled. ‘Come on then,’ she said, ‘I could murder a brew.’
They tidied the stockroom, let Folio out, then left. Jemma popped her head into the main shop, where Luke was buried in his book. ‘Sorry about the noise,’ she said.
Luke looked up. ‘What noise?’
‘You know,’ said Jemma. ‘The shouting.’
Luke considered this, then shrugged. ‘Didn’t hear anything.’
Jemma scrutinised as much of him as she could see, but he didn’t appear to be making fun of her. Reflecting that the day couldn’t get much stranger, she walked downstairs to join Raphael. ‘I am an Assistant Keeper,’ she whispered, very quietly, and felt the thrum of thousands of books, listening.
Chapter 7
Jemma returned to her shop armed with new knowledge and a cheese and Parma ham panini. When she reached it, she stepped back and surveyed it critically. Would I want to shop in here?
The answer was a resounding no.
Why, exactly?
The bookshop looks boring, she thought. All that black paintwork. I don’t like the name; all it tells me is that someone with the initials BJF sells old books. I don’t know if they’re interesting, just old. And as there’s only one book in the window and I can’t see what it’s called, there’s no way for me to tell if I’d like it or not.
Well, I can’t do anything about the name of the shop or the paintwork just yet. But I can deal with that display.
She opened the silent door. Maddy, as usual, was alone. ‘Hi, Maddy,’ she called. ‘Busy morning?’ She kept her face neutral as she said it.
Maddy glanced up from an auction catalogue. ‘Nice and quiet, thank you. Just two customers, and we had what they wanted.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Jemma. ‘I’d like to encourage more customers into the shop.’
Maddy opened her mouth to reply, but Jemma held up a hand. ‘Please let me finish. I know you don’t want to broaden the bookshop’s stock and our existing customers don’t either, but I can’t help thinking that if we put affordable books in the window, it might encourage more people in to buy what we already have. With a greater range of customers, we may find that they have different needs.’
Maddy sniffed. ‘The bookshop does make a profit,’ she said.
‘Based on a few customers who have the money to buy our more expensive items,’ said Jemma. ‘If we lost even one or two of those customers we’d feel it, wouldn’t we?’
Maddy said nothing.
‘So what I would like you to do, Maddy,’ said Jemma, ‘is go through our stock and find me eight or nine attractive books priced at less than fifty pounds. Preferably less than twenty-five. How much is that book in the window?’
Maddy told her.
‘Better make that nine,’ said Jemma. ‘It’s not surprising that people don’t come in. Now, have you had your lunch? If you’d like to go out, I can eat mine here.’
‘I haven’t,’ said Maddy. ‘And yes, I think I will go out today.’ She closed the auction catalogue, picked up her hessian shopper, and slipped it inside. She did this without looking at Jemma. ‘Bye,’ she muttered, and made for the door.
Jemma sat in Maddy’s still-warm seat. She was halfway through her panini and a re-read of Appendix 2 of Your Business, Your Way when a cough alerted her to the presence of a customer.
She swallowed her mouthful hurriedly. ‘I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,’ she said. I’m getting a bell put on that door, she thought. I don’t care whether Brian would approve.
The customer, a woman with expensive blonde highlights, wearing something tailored and obviously designer, raised an eyebrow. ‘Is Brian in, please?’
Jemma considered how to answer. ‘He doesn’t work here at present,’ she said.
‘Maddy, then.’
‘She’s on her lunch break,’ said Jemma, ‘so I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with me.’ She stood up and extended a hand. ‘I’m Jemma, the new manager of the shop.’
The woman looked at the hand. ‘Are you,’ she said. ‘In that case, I want an early edition of Darwin’s Origin of Species. First edition and original binding if possible, but I don’t mind so long as it is in excellent condition. It’s a present.’
‘I’ll check our database,’ said Jemma. She moved to the computer and typed in search terms. ‘We have one first edition in reasonable condition, and a fourth edition described as being “as new”. Would you like to see them both?’
The woman studied Jemma as if she were a talking dog. ‘Um, yes please,’ she said.