The new customers were a little less certain of what they wanted, and more inclined to chat. She could see that Maddy found this unnerving, and looked to her for help. Which was fine, because the regular customers made a beeline for Maddy, and to be honest, Jemma preferred it that way.
One morning Jemma took a tour around the bookshop. There were gaps, undeniable gaps.
‘We have a problem,’ she said to Maddy.
Maddy’s eyes opened wide. ‘What sort of problem?’
Jemma grinned. ‘We need more books! It’s a good problem, Maddy. Only I’m not sure how to go about getting more stock.’
Maddy, eyebrows raised, pointed at the little stack of auction catalogues on the counter.
‘We’ve got more than enough of that sort of thing,’ said Jemma. ‘We need entry-level books.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You know what, I’ll ask Raphael.’ She picked up the phone, and dialled.
Luke answered. ‘Hello, Burns Books.’
‘Hi Luke, it’s Jemma. Is Raphael around? Or could you pass on a message?’
‘He’s in,’ said Luke. ‘Hang on a minute, and I’ll transfer the call.’ His voice was replaced by hold music; for some reason it reminded Jemma of skeletons waltzing in a ballroom.
A few seconds later Jemma heard fumbling, and a cautious ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Raphael, it’s Jemma. Can I ask you about stock?’
‘Um, yes, I suppose you may,’ said Raphael. ‘What do you want to know?’
Jemma frowned. ‘Are you all right? You sound a bit – I don’t know, a bit down.’
‘I thought you wanted to talk about stock, not psychoanalyse me,’ Raphael said tersely.
‘OK, well can I come over?’
A pause. ‘I’m not sure it’s a good time.’
‘Why, is the shop busy?’
Silence.
‘I’ll see you in five minutes, then,’ said Jemma, and put the phone down before he could object. Something was clearly not right with Raphael, and while her desire to learn more about the mysteries of acquiring stock was keen, her desire to know exactly what was going on was keener.
***
‘It may have begun with the job description.’ Raphael dropped a lump of sugar in his coffee and stirred it, then looked sadly at the Danish pastry glistening on its white plate. ‘But I can’t be sure.’
They were in Rolando’s. That in itself worried Jemma. She had had several bookshop-related conversations with Raphael, but never in Rolando’s. They had always managed with careful substitutions of words, or even mouthing them when necessary. So as this was an outside-the-bookshop conversation, it must concern a matter more serious than they had ever discussed.
‘What began with the job description?’ Jemma sipped the Americano she had decided she would need, and put her cup down.
‘The dissent,’ said Raphael. ‘I let it be known that I was considering handling recruitment a different way, and apparently people aren’t happy.’
‘Why not?’ said Jemma. ‘I thought it was pretty robust.’
Of course you did, you fool, said her ever-present inner voice. You wrote a lot of it.
‘I’m sure it is,’ said Raphael, ‘but having a job description at all was a bone of contention. And while the job itself hasn’t changed, your idea of making provision for ousted Keepers annoyed several people.’
‘Oh,’ said Jemma. That had been the bit she was proudest of. ‘Your current system is merciless,’ she had told Raphael, her eyes flashing. ‘At any time someone could find themselves out of a job and forced to leave their home, since they’re banished. What happens if they have kids? What are they supposed to do then, move them to a new school? Get themselves a flat in the adjoining region? And what if they’re caring for an elderly relative?’ She paused briefly for breath. ‘It’s an equal opportunities nightmare, Raphael.’
‘I thought you might say that,’ Raphael had remarked, faintly. ‘All right then, tell me what you’d do.’
So Jemma had. To a reasonable extent, it had been included. Banishment would not be complete, but confined to running a similar business or occupying a similar post in the same borough. Moreover, efforts would be made to slot a displaced Keeper into a similar post nearby whenever appropriate. ‘So why didn’t they like that?’ she demanded. ‘Less upheaval, and at least it offers some security.’
‘As it turns out,’ said Raphael, ‘everyone who expressed an opinion said they were perfectly happy with things just the way they are.’
‘Because it’s self-selecting,’ said Jemma. ‘Only the sort of people who are comfortable with those conditions will apply for those jobs.’ In a huff of indignation she looked across at him, and softened immediately. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘What did they say?’
‘Oh, there was grumbling about this being the thin end of the wedge, and that I was likely to get applications from all sorts of people wanting an easy ride.’ He grimaced. ‘That isn’t what bothers me, though. It’s the whispers. Nothing direct, of course, but lots of little messages from colleagues of mine, saying they’ve heard on the grapevine that people are saying I’ve lost my edge. That I’m softening. Even that my recent victory over Brian was a fluke, and technically ought not to have been allowed.’
‘Rubbish,’ said Jemma.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ snapped Raphael. ‘I forgot how experienced you are in these matters.’ Then it was his turn to look guilty. ‘I apologise, Jemma. I wasn’t expecting such a backlash, and it has shaken me rather. Usually when one wins a challenge it enhances one’s reputation and standing, but this time, apparently not.’
‘Why do you think that is?’ asked Jemma. ‘What’s different?’
‘It’s hard to say.’ Raphael sipped his coffee, and thought. ‘It’s been a while since anyone challenged me. Perhaps the fact that Brian dared to do so has made more people consider the possibility. And it has to be said that the books I won with were pretty unconventional.’
‘But isn’t that a strength?’ said Jemma.
‘In some ways,’ said Raphael. ‘But your challenges and the books you chose go on record, so in a sense I showed my hand. Some people, seeing what I chose, may think that’s the best I’ve got. It was, to defeat Brian, but the books have to suit the challenger, and also the circumstances.’
‘So you’re safe, then,’ said Jemma.
‘One is never safe in this job,’ Raphael replied. ‘Someone could walk through the door of the bookshop and challenge me this afternoon, and someone else tomorrow morning, and again the morning after, and I would have to step up every single time.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not as young as I once was.’
‘But if you never get any older—’
‘That doesn’t mean you don’t get tired,’ said Raphael. He looked up as a coffee jug refilled his cup. Giulia put a hand on his shoulder, and muttered something in his ear that made him smile. Then she bustled off.
Jemma shifted in her seat. ‘I don’t like hearing you talk like this,’ she said. ‘It worries me.’