The Bookshop on the Shore

by Jenny Colgan

  Mary looked nervous.

  ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘I will.’

  And for the first time, Mary took her hand and they walked downstairs together.

  It was something to see how quickly Mary’s fears were dispelled. Zoe grinned at Kirsty, who made a fabulous witch. She’d obviously done an excellent marketing campaign – everyone was there, the house a maelstrom of tiny gremlins, superheroes, one robot who kept falling down the stairs and some rather loud vampires as well as two dinosaurs.

  ‘Wow, Mary, your house is awesome,’ one green-painted sprite was saying.

  ‘We miss you at school,’ she heard another one say. ‘It’s boring. Everyone is really well behaved all the time.’

  Zoe smiled and passed on through the throng. To her utter amazement, she saw a vision in a vast French ballgown, brocade at the neck, which stuck out either side, a vast grey wig and a massive beauty spot, with a red line painted across her throat. It took her a few seconds to realise it was Mrs MacGlone as Marie Antoinette, and that she was cheerfully organising the apple-dooking. She waved in a jolly way to Zoe, who headed over.

  ‘This,’ she said, waving about her cup of cider. ‘This is how the house should be.’

  Over in the other corner, children were trying to eat treacle bread off a line in some kind of race, manned by Agnieszka, who waved furiously. She was wearing a large witch’s hat with a green wig on it and was standing next to a burly man in a full skeleton costume, including mask. They were holding hands. Zoe couldn’t tell, but she had a reasonable supposition just who was under that mask, and why a certain boat seemed to have taken on a permanent mooring on a particular side of the loch these days.

  The children all knew exactly what to do. It occurred to Zoe that Halloween was rather different up here. Outside, a small girl dressed as a lizard was loudly singing a Taylor Swift song as the older parents watched appreciatively.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You have to do your party piece,’ said Mrs MacGlone, ‘before you get any sweeties. Didn’t you know that?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Zoe, conscious that the smaller of the two dinosaurs was standing next to her.

  ‘I dinnae hae a party piece,’ it said.

  Zoe glanced down and picked him up.

  ‘You are the party piece,’ she said, ‘and this is your party. So. I say you don’t need one and you’re perfect.’

  ‘Or!’ said the taller dinosaur. ‘You could tell a hilarious joke.’

  They conferred in loud whispers for a little while, then turned to face Zoe again, who tried to look attentive. Patrick nudged Hari.

  ‘WHY,’ announced Hari, then looked to Patrick again.

  ‘Why did the dinosaur . . . ?’

  ‘Why did the dinosaur . . . ?’

  ‘Why did the dinosaur say “moo”?’

  ‘Why did the dinosaur say “moo”?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Zoe. ‘Why did the dinosaur say ‘moo’?’

  The small dinosaur just shrugged.

  ‘Because he was absolutely learning a new language!’ shouted out the tall dinosaur, and they both burst out into fits of laughter even though Zoe was ninety-nine per cent sure that Hari had absolutely no idea what the joke was about. Then they darted off and started telling it in stereo to Mrs MacGlone.

  Idly, Zoe picked up her phone to take some photographs and noticed an email from Jaz.

  Her heart started to beat rather fast as she opened it. When she sent him pictures of Hari and any news, they always used WhatsApp. An email was very unusual.

  Sure enough, she saw what it was. Estate agent listings.

  She went outside to look at them, into the freezing cold and the dark, not wanting anyone seeing what she was looking at.

  ‘This is what’s available,’ Jaz had typed. ‘I spoke to the council but they said because you moved out of your last place by choice it would be a really long wait.’

  Zoe scrolled down. Tiny dank studios on main roads. Large rooms but in shared houses with strangers, who knew where. And all of them, so, so expensive.

  She turned round and gasped. The house, every room lit up, the illumination of its beautiful old walls – how could she ever have thought it was gloomy and strange, instead of wonderful? How could she ever have found this place cold and lonely?

  Well, all right, it was cold. She shivered in her grey tulle dress.

  Suddenly, a dark shape appeared from behind the trees, where it had been directing parking. Ramsay hadn’t got an outfit – it had been a big day – but then he’d suddenly remembered an old phantom mask that was kicking around the house somewhere – there was always something kicking round the house somewhere – and he’d put it on. He rather liked it, he found. People were just happily saying hello because they didn’t recognise him, rather than giving him those awkward looks they did on the rare occasions he wandered into town.

  Everyone was here now and so he was going back to the house, freezing in his black suit when he saw her, silhouetted against the lights of the house. She suited the dress she was wearing, thought Ramsay, not even realising it was a costume until she turned slightly and he saw the wings. Her cheeks were pink in the cold and he smiled; she looked beautiful. Then he realised she was resting her head against the wall, somehow desperately sad, and he started to run.

  Chapter Twenty

  As soon as she saw him, the mask oddly sexy, she decided something. If she had to go, if she had to leave, go back to her small, panicky London life, drag Hari away from this life he’d made with Patrick and Shackleton and even Mary, then hell – she was going to have something. Something for her. Because everything she was doing was for someone else, and worth it, yes, but suddenly she just felt the injustice. Why did she never get what she wanted?

  She made a shushing face at Ramsay, and beckoned him over to the trees, where the light faded.

  Among the forest, away from the lights and noise of the house, it was quiet and freezing, and the stars were ice chips overhead and the trees made their gentle swishing noise in the wind, and an owl hooted, and she didn’t say a single thing, just stopped by a tree, refusing to say a word, to discuss all the difficulties, all the problems.

  Tonight, she wasn’t going to be the au pair, and he wasn’t going to be the boss. She was going to be the girl from the fairy hill. He was going to be the handsome stranger.

  He understood immediately and completely, and ripped the mask off, hurling it to one side.

  She had to reach up so far that in the end he simply picked her up and pressed her against the tree so he could kiss her better, and she didn’t even notice the rush of the bark, the swish of the gently tumbling leaves, the bite of the wind. She was conscious of nothing else when he kissed her, as carefully and intently as in daily life he was clumsy and hesitant. It was a revelation. His mouth; his huge hands in her hair and round her waist; his empowering chest. He was utterly overwhelming; to kiss him was everything, everything she had ever wanted to do.

  She stopped, looked up at him in the moonlight.

  ‘To think I thought you had a wife locked up in the attic.’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ he said. ‘That’s my other wife.’

  He stopped when he saw her face.

  ‘Oh please,’ he said. ‘Let me make a joke about it. Just once.’

  ‘I think,’ said Zoe. ‘You’re better at kissing. We should probably do that again.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Zoe couldn’t have said how long they’d been there. She’d lost all sense of space and time and the world, and Ramsay was hurrying nothing, even though they were both profoundly aware of their growing excitement; the heat rising between them in the dark wood.

  She heard her name from far away and gradually came to, even though she couldn’t bear for them to pull apart.

  ‘ZOE!’

  ‘It must be one of the children,’ she said, realising she was panting, and his mouth was stained with her lipstick. T
he looked at one another, the spell breaking. He pulled back with a deep groan, but put out his hand and caressed her cheek.

  ‘Ohh!’ She gave a sigh.

  ‘ZOEEEEEE!’

  ‘You stay here,’ said Zoe. ‘I can’t . . . We . . . You know.’

  ‘Oh Christ, I know,’ said Ramsay bitterly. She gave him an apologetic look, then darted out of the woods, rubbing her mouth. Her heart was racing. Oh God. Oh God. She wanted him so badly.

  ‘ZOEEEEE . . .’ Surinder pulled up short. ‘What the hell are you doing out here?’

  ‘Um, lanterns,’ said Zoe pointlessly, but Surinder didn’t care. She was clearly quite tipsy.

  ‘Zoe! Nina’s in labour! She’s having her baby!’

  ‘Oh wow,’ said Zoe. ‘That’s amazing!’

  ‘And everyone’s had too much cider. Have you?’

  ‘I have had no cider,’ said Zoe, although she felt completely intoxicated and light-headed.

  ‘Good. Right. Fine. Can you drive me to hospital?’

  ‘What? No! We’re in the middle of a party!’

  ‘Not really,’ said Surinder, and sure enough, the children had had their fill of dooking and sweeties and dancing to the ‘Monster Mash’ and were heading off down the hill.

  ‘They had a great time,’ said Surinder, who was dressed as a sexy vampire nurse, which Zoe couldn’t help think might be a bit confusing at the hospital. ‘Everyone was wondering where you were.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ said Zoe. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘MOVE! BABY COMING!’

  ‘Right, okay,’ said Zoe. ‘Come on. Let me grab a coat at least!’

  ‘No time!’ Surinder pulled her along. Zoe fumbled with her phone and quickly told Ramsay to get back to the house and look after the children. Then they went to the little green car, only to find it was completely hemmed in on all sides by people who hadn’t left yet. Ramsay hadn’t done such a brilliant job of directing the parking.

  ‘I’ll go announce . . .’ said Zoe.

  ‘No!’ said Surinder. ‘We have to go! She needs us! Her mum won’t be able to make it till tomorrow!’

  ‘Lennox will be there.’

  ‘Yeah, treating her like it’s a calving. She needs us!’

  There was only one solution. They jumped into the little blue van.

  * * *

  The drive was surreal, Surinder babbling away, Zoe concentrating on the road ahead, her mind racing as she thought of everything that had gone on.

  The little hospital Zoe felt she was getting to know rather too well was quiet at that time of night. Surinder jumped out of the van and dashed through the door, Zoe following more quietly, wishing against anything she wasn’t dressed as a fairy (and would have wished, had she but realised it, that she didn’t have a head full of twigs), although when she walked through A&E and saw a mummy on crutches and a very drunk young vampire vomiting in a bucket, she figured it wouldn’t be anything the staff hadn’t seen before.

  Surinder burst into the maternity ward she’d already spent much time in, full of drama, ready for excitement, only to find Nina sitting up in her usual bed, head buried in a Ngaio Marsh, Lennox wandering about looking for change for the coffee machine.

  ‘What?!’ she said. ‘Where’s your baby?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Nina sadly.

  ‘False alarm?’ said Surinder.

  ‘No,’ said Nina. ‘I’m in labour. But apparently . . . Well. The midwife came and took a look at me and said, “Gonna be a slow one.”’

  ‘Oh!’ said Surinder. ‘Oooh, I am guessing you do not want to hear that from a midwife.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ said Nina. ‘I have seen a jillion women have their babies in the last eight weeks. And really you want that thing shooting out. Ideally two seconds after the epidural. Because I have now been here for a lot of them.’

  She looked glum and sighed.

  ‘Oh God. Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay.’

  ‘I won’t!’ said Surinder. ‘I’ve heard it’s like being in a car crash.’

  ‘Uh. Thanks.’

  The midwife bundled in.

  ‘There you are! Now, what you should do is get yourself moving. Get yourself around and about.’

  ‘You’ve just spent two months telling me I’m not to move at all! Are you sure this isn’t a terrible idea?’

  ‘Nope. Not any more. Get moving.’

  ‘I’ve forgotten how,’ groaned Nina. ‘Just like how I suspect I may have to wear pyjamas for the rest of my entire life.’

  ‘I thought like that,’ said Zoe, smiling.

  ‘And look at you now – you’re a fairy,’ said Nina, smiling back at her. ‘How are the monsters?’

  ‘Tonight,’ said Zoe thoughtfully, ‘they’re only dressed as monsters.’

  Nina raised her eyebrows, then, with some difficulty and some help, got up off the bed.

  ‘Okay then. Let’s go for a wander. I’m nearly finished my book anyway.’

  ‘That’s okay – we’ve got the van,’ said Surinder.

  Inside, Zoe winced. Oh God. She really didn’t want Nina to see the van. Not how it was; not now.

  But Nina’s face lit up.

  ‘Oh God! Yes please! I miss her so much!’

  She stood up uncertainly, her belly so ridiculously large it looked absolutely absurd and impossible that she could be standing up sat all.

  ‘Would you mind,’ she puffed, as the midwife took the monitor off, ‘taking an arm each?’

  And the three girls marched out into the car park.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  It was freezing outside. Zoe couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘I should have had another contraction by now,’ said Nina gloomily. ‘Seriously. If these were Victorian times, it would take five days and everyone would have to heartily mourn me.’

  ‘Won’t they induce you?’ said Zoe, shivering again at the cold air, which Nina welcomed.

  ‘They want to give him a chance . . . OH!’ said Nina.

  ‘It’s a boy!’ said Surinder. ‘OMG, you liar! You gigantic big fat liar!’

  Nina smiled shyly.

  ‘I just . . . I didn’t . . . I didn’t really want to know. I promise I didn’t. But they had to scan me so much! I got so bored!’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because . . .’ Nina’s voice trailed off. ‘I know. I’m sorry. But . . . it felt like ours. Lennox and me. Something so special that was just for us. Sorry.’

  ‘Yeah whatevs,’ said Surinder. But Zoe, with a great sigh of longing, understood completely. Something between her and Lennox; something so private, so precious.

  They needed to help Nina up the steps. Zoe’s heart was in her mouth. Maybe the fact that Nina was about to undergo a seismic event . . . perhaps that would change it? Maybe she wouldn’t really pay attention?

  ‘WHAT THE HELL?’

  * * *

  ‘But the van,’ Nina was saying. They’d had to get her seated on the steps, but she kept twisting her head round.

  ‘It’s . . . it’s “curated”! Ugh, I hate that word. But it’s . . . it’s books I love, and that I know people will love. There’s a limited amount of space, and I wanted to fill it up with wonderful, wonderful books!’

  She looked like she was about to cry. Zoe felt absolutely horrible.

  ‘I mean . . . who can love a Nessie colouring book?’

  ‘Every five-year-old who came in,’ said Zoe, but her voice sounded weak.

  ‘I mean . . . it’s just . . . it’s like tat! Stupid Scottish tat you can get anywhere!’

  ‘It’s . . . it’s what people wanted!’ said Zoe. ‘I’m not you: I couldn’t automatically spot what people want! You’ve got a magic power for that! I . . . I just . . . I just thought my job was making sure you could make money.’

  Nina shook her head.

  ‘But it won’t! Maybe in the short term, but in the long term . . . you need clients that come back! Who
trust you, who know you’ll find the right book for them!’

  ‘But on the loch, there’s an endless supply of new customers! Who want a memento of their trip, to remember lovely Scotland!’

  ‘By selling them whisky-flavoured crap? Is that what you think of this country . . . aarrgh!’

  Nina doubled over.

  ‘Oh lord,’ said Surinder. ‘Now what have you done?’

  ‘Nothing!’ said Zoe, stung.

  ‘WOAH!’ said Nina, then breathing hard, leant over on the step. ‘Balls!’

  ‘Well, good, surely,’ said Surinder.

  Nina looked at Zoe as she gradually straightened up. Then another contraction seized her.

  ‘Oh God,’ she said.

  ‘Come on,’ said Zoe. ‘Let’s get you back in hospital.’

  Nina shook her head fiercely.

  ‘I can’t move . . . ohhh . . . BUGGER.’

  ‘We’ll get you a wheelchair.’

  Surinder jumped up.

  ‘No . . .’ said Nina as another contraction racked her.

  ‘Well,’ said Surinder. ‘They’re not wrong about giving someone a shock for labour.’

  ‘You stay with her,’ said Zoe. ‘I’ll get help.’

  ‘And Lennox!’ croaked Nina. ‘Ah, bugger bugger BUGGER.’

  Zoe ran into the hospital, returning armed with a midwife, who got Zoe to start the van, then turned the lights on to examine Nina.

  ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘I . . . I . . .’

  Nina screamed.

  ‘This appears to be happening rather more quickly than we anticipated . . .’

  * * *

  After that, it was a blur. Zoe hung back, not feeling as if she was a part of this, and all she remembered were members of staff running back and forth and hearing Lennox’s low coaxing voice, soothing Nina, telling her she was doing brilliantly and Zoe realised he was talking to her – as Surinder had predicted – exactly as he talked to his sheep, and his calm way with animals seemed to communicate itself, even as Nina made all sorts of noises and swore. Zoe went off to stand in the freezing moonlight and stared up at the sky and remembered the night Hari was born, and the fear and the joy and the sheer amount of goo – but even though she knew Nina was in pain, she couldn’t remember the pain, couldn’t bring it back.