Miss Moonshine's Emporium of Happy Endings: A feel-good collection of heartwarming stories

by Helena Fairfax

  One of the ladies frowned. ‘I’m sorry, dear – did you say Book Defacers’ Club?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Oh, what a horrid idea,’ her friend said, shaking her head. ‘To deliberately damage a book! It’s a terrible thing. I used to be a librarian, you know.’ She shot an accusing glare at Callie, who smiled.

  ‘It’s not what you think, I promise. We don’t spoil them. Just the opposite, in fact.’ Callie grabbed a book from a nearby shelf and flicked to a random page. She turned it around to show the women the notes and sketches dancing down the margin in multi-coloured biro. ‘This is the kind of vandalism that helps get folk reading, you see? Three people have taken this book away, read it, made notes and brought it back. Then the next person who checks it out can see what the other people made of it. Like reading with friends.’

  The ex-librarian stared. ‘So it’s like… a reading group?’

  ‘A little. But more irreverent.’ Callie pushed the book, which was called Sex Secrets of the Mitford Sisters, towards the lady. ‘Give it a go, eh? You never know what you might find.’

  She moved through the packed tables, filled with people chatting or reading as they guzzled their tea and cakes, to a young couple. The girl, Eden, was a regular and Callie knew her well.

  ‘You tracked him down, then?’ Callie said.

  Eden flushed. ‘Yes. On Facebook.’

  The lad she was with smiled at Callie. ‘Thanks to this place, it seems. I scribbled my name in the back of that book I borrowed from you. Couldn’t believe it when Eden got in touch out of the blue saying how much she’d enjoyed my comments and asking if I wanted to meet up.’

  ‘And now we’re onto our fifth date.’ Eden beamed at him. ‘Thanks, Callie.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. Thank Algie,’ Callie muttered as she headed to the hatch to deal with the lunchtime queue. She owed that man at least a dozen beers by now. One for all the enjoyment his notes on Budgerigars had given her, and another eleven for inspiring The Book Defacers’ Club, the idea that had given new life to her business. Good old Algie. If only he’d thought to scribble his name in the back of the book they’d shared too.

  She served the first two customers waiting at the hatch, lunchtimers who grabbed their sandwiches and darted off to eat them in the sunshine before they were due back at work. The third, though, was a familiar face.

  ‘Howdy, partner.’ Richard held up his palm for her to high-five.

  ‘What’re you doing in the queue?’ she asked, smiling as she slapped it with her own.

  ‘Undercover bossing you.’

  ‘Yeah. You’re not actually my boss though, are you?’

  ‘All right, undercover partnering you then.’ He glanced through the hatch into the packed café. ‘Looks like it’s going well. Can I come in?’

  ‘You don’t need to ask, you know. It’s half your boat.’

  He shrugged. ‘Seems only polite.’

  He disappeared, materialising at her side a minute later, and Callie noted how happy she was to see him. It felt like a gap was being filled, whenever Richard was up this way and came to help out. A gap Megan had left, yes, but a gap that in her mind had become very much Richard-shaped in the six weeks since his sister had been gone.

  He’d been popping up more and more frequently while he moved his things into Megan’s old house, with Callie helping him out where she could. They usually went out for a drink and a chat when he was in town, to discuss the business and other things. Things like books, films, music. The difference between toads and frogs. Why rough was pronounced rough but through was pronounced through. Anything that popped into their heads, usually. It had certainly made the pain of coping with Megan’s move away more bearable. Without her really noticing, Callie realised that from a pretty inauspicious start, she and Richard Archer had become good friends.

  He leant down to give her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Good to see you, love.’

  ‘You too. Welcome back, Rich.’

  He smiled. ‘You mean welcome home.’

  ‘Oh my God! Is this it? Have you moved in for good?’

  ‘Yup. Notice is up on my old flat. I am now an official resident of Haven Bridge and full-time waitress with his very own frilly pinny.’ He cast a glance around the bustling café. ‘Just in time too, by the look of things. This place is swamped.’

  ‘I know. Ace, isn’t it? Best idea I ever had, the book club thing. It’s really pulling in the crowds – that and the new signage you did for us,’ she added with a grateful nod. ‘The old girl’s the smartest she’s ever looked.’

  ‘These probably help too.’ He wandered over to her crafty shelf and picked up a photo frame decorated with pebbles and coins she’d salvaged from the river. ‘Still can’t believe I’m business partners with a professional Womble.’

  She smiled and took the frame from him, trailing her fingers over the highly polished coins. ‘This is the bit of wombling that got me in so much trouble a few months ago.’

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘Yeah. I saw this old penny that would’ve been just the thing for the photo frame I was working on. Seriously upset some diva-ish painter bloke when I tripped and knocked into him.’

  Rich grimaced. ‘Ever going to stop reminding me about that?’

  ‘No time soon. Sorry.’ She nodded to a bookshelf near the window. ‘Oh, we’ve got some new stock in since you were up last, by the way. There’s always a few who prefer to hang onto the books and don’t bring them back. Not really in the spirit of the thing, but heyho.’

  ‘Let’s take a look then.’ Richard ambled off to examine the shelf as Callie busied herself clearing a recently vacated table. Like her he was a big reader, and always took an interest in the books they had on offer.

  ‘Goodness me!’ a voice from behind her exclaimed.

  Callie turned to see a respectable-looking elderly gent in a tweed waistcoat and spectacles holding her battered copy of Budgerigars Don’t Talk, staring at the cover.

  She frowned. Where had that come from? She could swear she’d left it at home.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir,’ she said, approaching the man. ‘That’s not stock, I’m afraid, it’s my personal copy. I couldn’t part with it.’

  ‘My dear, you don’t understand. This is my book.’ He blinked at it, as if he couldn’t believe he was really holding it. ‘Crikey. It’s a very long time since I last saw Budgerigars Don’t Talk.’

  No. Surely not. Algie… was this him? This old man, with his crystal-glass accent and his round glasses and his beard? It couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  ‘Your book?’ Callie repeated.

  ‘What was that?’ Richard was still by the window, examining the new stock. His head jerked up. ‘Did someone say Budgerigars Don’t Talk?’

  ‘Er, yes,’ Callie said. ‘This gentleman was just –’

  Before she could finish, Richard had darted over and grabbed her urgently by the shoulders. ‘Who did it?’ he demanded. ‘Do you know who did it? Was it Lo Chan Tan?’

  ‘No,’ Callie said, feeling dazed. ‘No, it was Babs. The dead partner’s daughter.’

  ‘Miss Dairy Queen, I knew it! Was she behind the ruby-smuggling ring then?’

  ‘Yeah. She was sleeping with Johnny LaMancha.’

  ‘Heh. Wasn’t everybody?’

  Callie stared at him. ‘I don’t believe this. It was you, wasn’t it? You’re… him!’

  The old man looked puzzled. ‘So do I take it you’ve both read it?’

  ‘Apparently.’ Callie shook her head and turned her attention to him. ‘Sorry, did you say this was your book?’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean it was my copy,’ the man said. ‘That’s at home, one of the last of its kind. I mean it’s my book. I’m the author.’

  ‘You’re Sidney Farrier?’ Richard said.

  ‘Loath as I am to admit it.’ The man smiled, looking down at the tacky cover illustration. ‘It’s the most dreadful tripe, isn’t it? I was raised on Boy
s’ Own stories and Raymond Chandler. In my twenties I had the rather deluded idea I could do better.’

  ‘Well it kept me awake till after midnight.’ Callie shot a sideways smile at Richard. ‘I actually turned down the offer of a drink with rather a nice young man just to finish it.’

  Richard smiled too, his gaze holding hers for a moment.

  ‘You’re one hell of a storyteller, Mr Farrier,’ he said. ‘I’d like to shake your hand, if I may.’

  The old man blushed as Richard grabbed his hand and pumped it vigorously.

  ‘You know, it was rather disheartening when my publisher made the decision to pulp the unsold copies,’ Sidney Farrier said. ‘I couldn’t help being proud of it – “a poor thing but mine own”, if you like. Seeing it again today, hearing how much you two young people enjoyed it… well, it’s really made my year. Thank you.’ He squeezed each of their shoulders in turn. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Um, you’re welcome,’ Callie said. ‘And thank you.’

  ‘Do you know, I’m almost encouraged to start something new,’ he said. ‘Yes. Yes, I really think I might.’

  Beaming, Sidney Farrier handed the copy of Budgerigars back to Richard and nodded goodbye.

  ‘Cal, where did you get this?’ Richard asked when Sidney had gone, holding up the book. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for it.’

  ‘Bric-a-brac shop on the high street. Miss Moonshine’s. She used to buy craft pieces from me for her stock sometimes. Do you know the place?’

  ‘Yes, I know it. I dropped off a couple of boxes of books there for Megan when I was helping her get ready for the big move.’ He slapped his forehead. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? I must’ve accidentally got my book mixed up with the rest. I was right up to the last chapter as well.’

  ‘I bet you’ve been going mad trying to work out who did it.’

  ‘Just a bit.’ He smiled. ‘You know, I’m not sure that wasn’t why I was in such a bad mood the day you knocked into me painting. I finally thought I’d got it all worked out when this crazy girl cannoned into me and I completely lost my train of thought.’

  He opened the book and flicked to the last page.

  ‘“You and your goddam tweety bird”?’ he said, quirking an eyebrow. ‘Really, Babs?’

  Callie smiled. ‘I thought you’d like that.’

  He skimmed down the page and frowned. ‘Who drew this?’

  Rich turned the book around and held it up. The little doodle she’d sketched to end the book, thumbs down Porky Pig with his That’s all folks caption, stared back at her.

  ‘I did,’ Callie said, flushing. ‘This is kind of the book that started it all, you know. The Book Defacers’ Club. I saw your notes and I started adding my own and… I don’t know, it just made it so much more fun, somehow. Sharing it with someone.’

  Richard started flicking through the book, looking at her additions. He was soon smiling, and, occasionally, snorting with laughter.

  ‘You know, you’re funny,’ he said.

  ‘So’re you. What made you think of writing in it?’

  ‘Dunno. I never did before. Farrier’s style just heightened my sense of absurdity, I think.’

  ‘Yeah. I know what you mean,’

  He looked up at her. ‘So did you buy this from the old lady in the shop? Miss Moonshine?’

  ‘Actually she gave it to me. It was part of my fee for some craft pieces. Floral ornaments made of glass river pebbles.’

  ‘Heh. Did she now?’ Richard reached into his pocket and took out something small, round and very familiar. ‘Funny, she gave me something too. In payment for the second box of paperbacks I brought in.’ He held the green and yellow pebble up to examine the pattern. ‘I don’t know why I’ve been carrying it around. Perhaps I thought it might bring me luck.’

  Callie took it from him. ‘The buttercup,’ she whispered.

  ‘I picked it out of the four. Not sure why, there was just something more… charming about it, I suppose. Unique. Never occurred to me it might be one of yours.’ Richard started looking through the book again. ‘Who is Algie, Cal?’

  ‘Well, you are,’ she said with a slight blush. ‘That’s the name I gave him, the phantom doodler. I’ll be honest, I got kind of attached to him.’

  ‘It says here you owe him a beer.’

  She glanced around the busy café, full of folk reading at their tables over hot beverages, or standing while they examined the books and craft pieces for sale.

  ‘I’d say I owe him a fair few,’ she said. ‘All this is thanks to him.’

  Richard took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  ‘Could he claim them tonight?’ he asked softly, his eyes moving over her face. ‘Maybe over dinner? I think he’d like that.’

  Callie flushed, looking down at her fingers pressed in his.

  ‘I think I would too,’ she said.

  Miss Moonshine, arranging Callie’s three remaining pebbles in her window display at the other end of town, smiled to herself.

  That’s all folks…

  Author bio Mary Jayne Baker is a novelist from Bingley, West Yorkshire. Since her debut in 2016, she has published four romantic comedies with two publishers, HarperImpulse and Mirror Books. Her latest, A Bicycle Made for Two – set in Yorkshire against the backdrop of the 2014 Tour de France – was published in April 2018. Find out more about Mary Jayne

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  Thank you so much for reading Miss Moonshine’s Emporium of Happy Endings. We hope you enjoyed our collection of stories. If you did, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review on Amazon or Goodreads. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend, and much appreciated!

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Miss Moonshine's Emporium of Happy Endings is an anthology put together by a group of romantic novelists and short story writers from Yorkshire and Lancashire in the north of England. The group meet regularly in the little town of Hebden Bridge, and this location, lying as it does on the moors near the border between the two counties, led to the group name Authors on the Edge, and to the inspiration behind this collection.

  Much cake was consumed by these authors in the making of this anthology.