‘Oh, right,’ said Jemma. ‘Hope it goes well.’
‘Raphael isn’t in yet,’ said Luke. ‘Carl is setting up.’
Jemma checked her watch. ‘He’s early,’ she said.
‘Yeah, he’s finishing a bit early tonight too,’ said Luke. ‘Something about a project.’
Everyone but me’s got stuff going on, thought Jemma, pushing her hair out of her eyes. But she merely said ‘Uh-huh,’ and headed downstairs.
She heard whistling as she pushed open the oak door. Carl was sweeping the floor. ‘Oh, hi,’ he said, leaning on his broom.
‘Hi,’ said Jemma. ‘Have you got time for a cappuccino?’
He hesitated. ‘Yeah, go on then. The machine’s on.’
Jemma sat at one of the café tables and watched him make her drink. ‘Luke says you’ve got a project on,’ she said, as he sprinkled cocoa powder on top.
His shoulders stiffened a fraction. Then he picked up the cup and brought it over. ‘Here you go,’ he said. Then he took a seat opposite her. ‘I’ve been working on something.’
‘With Rumpus? Is that what yesterday’s meeting was about?’
Carl smiled. ‘Yeah.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘That night we didn’t go out, I had an idea for a play. And I had a go at writing it.’
‘Oh.’ Jemma stared at him. ‘But you don’t—’
‘I know,’ said Carl. ‘It was weird. I got some paper, I thought about the characters, a line came into my head, and I wrote it down. The rest just sort of happened. I wasn’t going to say anything, but then I mentioned to Josie that I’d written a play. She made me tell her about it, then said I should tell everyone. So I did, and last night we did a read-through. And they want to do it.’
‘Do it?’ Jemma echoed. ‘You mean—’
‘Put it on. I mean, it needs work, I know it needs work, but we could workshop it and then maybe ask Raphael. It’s set in a bookshop, you see.’ He grinned. ‘Write what you know, and all that.’
‘Wow,’ said Jemma. ‘That’s great. No, that’s brilliant. It really is. I’m so pleased for you.’ She reached out and squeezed his hand, but the gesture felt inadequate.
‘Thanks,’ said Carl. ‘How did your plan go?’
Jemma drank her cappuccino while she considered her answer. There was so much she wanted to tell him, and she sensed that pouring her heart out would get the poison out of her system. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t dump that negativity on him, not when he was doing such a cool new thing. ‘Early days,’ she said. ‘I’m working on things.’ She took a deep draught of her coffee. ‘Anyway, I’d better leave you to it if you’ve got things to do.’ She got up.
Carl studied her. ‘OK,’ he said, eventually. Then he got up, took her cup, and slotted it into the dishwasher. ‘Maybe see you later?’
Jemma forced a smile. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘See you later.’
She walked slowly back upstairs, undecided whether she would be more miserable in Carl’s company or Luke’s. If ever there was a day not to be around people… ‘I’m just nipping into the stockroom,’ she called to Luke. ‘Let me know when Raphael comes down.’
She switched the light on and wandered along the aisles, looking at the rows of book-filled boxes and seeing nothing. Of course Maddy would have a label maker, she thought sourly. Then she stopped, turned to a shelf, and rested her forehead on the nearest box. What am I going to do? I have no authority in my own shop. My. Own. Shop.
‘Then take it,’ whispered a little voice.
Jemma jumped, and stared at the box as if it had spoken to her. ‘How?’
‘Maddy sees you as an inferior,’ the whisper came, a little louder this time. ‘But if you were Assistant Keeper…’
‘But what if I don’t want to be Assistant Keeper?’ Jemma rubbed her forehead. I’m talking to a box. This is ridiculous.
‘But I’m giving you answers,’ the little voice said. ‘Think about it. It doesn’t have to be for ever.’
Possibilities swam in Jemma’s mind. If she were busy learning Assistant Keeper duties, no one could expect her to make sweeping changes in the bookshop. With that added authority, she would feel more able to give orders to Maddy. And as it was only temporary, then assuming no major disasters occurred, no one could blame her if she didn’t get things exactly right.
A gentle tap at the door. ‘Anyone home?’ called Raphael.
‘Sshh,’ Jemma told the box, then clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I’m in here,’ she said. ‘Have you got new stock in?’
Raphael entered, resplendent in a maroon velvet smoking jacket, teal-coloured trousers, and a pale-grey shirt with a teal silk cravat. ‘Yes, I have,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking, and perhaps you are right.’
‘I’ve been thinking too,’ said Jemma, ‘and I agree. I wouldn’t be suited to the permanent job, but if you like, I could take it on while you recruit somebody. So long as you teach me the basics.’
‘Oh,’ said Raphael. He studied her for perhaps a minute. ‘I hadn’t expected that. You were rather—’
‘I’ve slept on it,’ said Jemma, ‘and I need a challenge.’
‘Well,’ said Raphael, ‘if we’re recruiting in the, er, approved manner, it would help to have somebody holding the fort in the meantime.’
‘Good,’ said Jemma. ‘So that’s settled, then.’ She walked towards Raphael and stuck out a hand. ‘Pleasure to work with you, boss,’ she said, plastering a wide, confident smile on her face. And as Raphael, looking bewildered, shook it, she wished with all her heart that she felt even a tenth as confident beneath.
Chapter 6
‘As luck would have it,’ said Raphael, ‘we are in exactly the right place to begin.’ He swept a hand round the stockroom.
Jemma swallowed. She hadn’t expected her instruction to commence quite so soon. ‘W – where is the thermostat?’ she asked.
Raphael’s hand was arrested mid-gesture. ‘The which?’
‘The thermostat,’ said Jemma. ‘To keep the books at the right temperature.’
Comprehension dawned. ‘Oh,’ said Raphael. ‘You’ve been listening to Maddy, haven’t you?’ He smiled. ‘The shop does that.’
‘Is that why our books aren’t in special boxes?’ said Jemma.
‘Exactly. The stockroom preserves the books for me.’
‘But how does it know?’ asked Jemma.
They heard a meow outside the door. Raphael raised an eyebrow. ‘I suspect Folio wishes to be involved.’ He opened the door and let the cat in. Folio strolled towards the table and chair which Luke used, jumped on the chair, and sat watching them.
‘In answer to your question,’ said Raphael, ‘the shop is enchanted. Various powerful charms protect any book that comes in here. Allow me to demonstrate.’ He reached for the nearest box and took out a book. ‘This is one of my favourites,’ he said. ‘It’s a book of cures, lotions and poultices, compiled by a woman called Sukey Nobbs in the fifteenth century. There is more practical wisdom in this than in many a modern textbook. Jemma, could you go to the far end of that aisle, pull out any box, and take out the first book you find.’