‘So it isn’t a job here,’ said Maddy.
Jemma smiled. ‘No, it isn’t,’ she said. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Oh,’ said Maddy. ‘I see. Would you like a cup of tea? We’re just about finished.’
‘Yes, please, if you don’t mind,’ said Jemma. ‘That would be lovely.’
While Maddy was making tea Jemma took the opportunity to nip upstairs and fetch her laptop cable. Hmmm, she thought as she came back downstairs. Maddy was clearly relieved that the recruitment wasn’t for their shop. Perhaps she’s worried I’ll replace her. Jemma heaved a sigh. She really shouldn’t be. I wouldn’t have the first clue how to run this place.
But you can run a bookshop, said a surprisingly encouraging inner voice. You’ve done it, remember? And Raphael still relies on you.
That’s different, she told it as she opened the door into the bookshop, cable in hand. I run a general bookshop, not a bookshop like this.
But you don’t want it to be a bookshop like this, the little voice insisted. You want it to be different. What about that book you read last night? And your plan?
You be quiet and let me think things over, Jemma told it, as Maddy handed her a mug of tea. The mugs here were all bone china. ‘Thank you, Maddy.’
And anyway, the voice piped up, it should be much easier here, because it doesn’t look as if this bookshop is magical. It just does what it’s told.
‘You could be right,’ said Jemma.
Maddy turned surprised eyes on her. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I, um, I said that I hope Luke has a good night,’ said Jemma. ‘You know, Luke who works at the other bookshop. He’s going speed dating tonight.’
Maddy looked at her feet. ‘Luke’s the – the young man in black, isn’t he?’
‘That’s right,’ said Jemma. She had once, in a moment of managerial enthusiasm, brought Luke and Carl to say hello to Maddy, hoping that they would get along and perhaps be able to work between the bookshops. The experience had been five minutes of embarrassed shuffling and one-word responses which she never wanted to repeat.
‘Oh,’ said Maddy. She took the teabag out of her cup of camomile tea and put it neatly in the bin.
‘I thought you usually left it in,’ said Jemma.
‘What?’ Maddy followed Jemma’s gaze to her mug. ‘Oh. I don’t like it too strong, though.’ She paused. ‘Have you considered new acquisitions?’
‘I can’t say that I have, yet,’ said Jemma. ‘I mean, I feel as if I’ve only been here five minutes.’
‘Oh yes, I understand that,’ said Maddy. ‘But with Brian’s, um, departure, it’s important that people still have a reason to come to the shop. He was known for his select but interesting stock.’
‘I gathered,’ said Jemma. ‘What did he specialise in?’ She noted, in passing, that this was the first time Maddy had referred to the fact that Brian was no longer there.
‘Rare antiquarian books,’ said Maddy. ‘For preference, nineteenth century or earlier, and always non-fiction.’ She giggled. It was rather an odd sound, as if she wasn’t used to doing it. ‘He always said that novels were a pack of lies.’
‘Did he,’ said Jemma. She hadn’t thought it possible, but Brian went down another notch in her estimation.
‘Yes, he said—’ Maddy winced and put a hand to her head. ‘Oh dear,’ she said. ‘I think I have a headache coming on.’
‘Why don’t you sit quietly for a bit,’ said Jemma. ‘Do you need to take something?’ She looked under the back-room sink for the first-aid kit, but of course it wasn’t there. Definitely not a magical shop, the little voice muttered.
‘No, no, I’m sure I’ll be fine in a minute,’ said Maddy. ‘Perhaps it’s dust from the stockroom.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Jemma. ‘It’s absolutely spotless in there.’
‘I think I need peace and quiet,’ said Maddy. She sat down, put her camomile tea on the table, and rested her head in her hands, massaging her temples gently. ‘Would you mind switching off the lights?’
‘Of course,’ said Jemma. ‘I’ll go through and mind the shop.’
She went through and took the sign off the door, then plugged in her laptop and typed in her password. Immediately her action plan filled the screen, in all its multicoloured glory. Jemma scrolled through it, then sipped her tea and put it out of harm’s way. She scrolled left, so that the more ambitious milestones exited stage right. Then she looked at her initial goals.
- Learn more about the stock. She pursed her lips and changed the cell colour to light green. There was still work to be done, but she had a much better idea of what she was dealing with.
- Find out if the shop is magic, and if so, how much. Jemma selected a neon-bright green for this one, and in the notes column, typed: Not at all. It’s a completely normal bookshop.
- Get to know Maddy better and find out what drives her.
Jemma frowned. From what she had seen, Maddy was devoted to the bookshop. She seemed genuinely relieved to learn that Jemma wasn’t planning to recruit new staff for her shop, and she might even have accepted that Brian wasn’t coming back. At least, not for another ten years. It was definitely progress of sorts, so Jemma coloured the cell light green.
The cursor winked in the comments field. Jemma thought for a moment, and typed: Continue to talk to Maddy. Find out what, if anything, she does outside work. Be nice to her.
I’m never not nice to her, she thought indignantly. Then she remembered her little snipe earlier that morning, and felt herself going pink. OK, I’ll try.
The door to the back room opened and Maddy stood there, looking rather pale. ‘I’ve had a rest, and I feel much better,’ she said, walking into the shop.
It can’t be easy for Maddy, Jemma thought. She’s probably worked here for years, and she’s used to having things just so. This must all have been a shock. Be kind, Jemma added in the comments box, then closed the laptop and smiled at her. But Maddy, who almost appeared to be sleepwalking, didn’t smile back.
Chapter 5
Jemma was doing the stocktake in the bookshop, but it was taking a lot longer than when Maddy did it. For one thing, several of the books weren’t where they were supposed to be. Some weren’t even in their protective boxes. And when Maddy checked the thermostat, it was a full two degrees higher than it should have been. ‘The books will spoil,’ she said, fixing Jemma with a stern eye. ‘And that will be your fault. I suggest that you go to bed.’
‘What a good idea,’ said Jemma. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, then.’
‘Oh no, you can’t leave the stockroom,’ said Maddy. ‘You have to mind the books. Here, I’ve made up a bed for you.’ She pointed to a large wooden box with a blanket in it. ‘You’ll be fine in there. You fit perfectly, I’ve checked. So if you’ll just climb in, I’ll put the lid on—’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Jemma, taking a step back.
‘Why’s that?’ asked Maddy, advancing. ‘Don’t you like the way we do things in the shop?’ Her hand shot out and grabbed Jemma’s wrist. ‘Come along, you’ll like it when you get used to it.’ Then somehow Jemma was in the box and trying to get out, but her hands slipped on its smooth sides. Now the lid was closing— ‘Help!’ she yelled, and thrust upwards with all her strength.