Chapters of Life
Tina K Burton
To Paul, with love, A&F
Thank you to my husband Paul, for your support love and patience, and your unwavering belief that I had what it takes.
Chapters of Life Copyright © Tina K Burton 2012
Smashwords Edition © 2012 Tina K Burton
The right of Tina K Burton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Design and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter One
As Jo put the Tarot Cards she’d been using back into their silk lined box, her best friend – who was also her boss - entered the annexe with a cup of tea for her.
‘Another satisfied customer?’ Clare asked putting the drink on the table.
‘Mm,’ Jo said taking a sip of tea, ‘the cards she chose signified emotions and feelings. She’s meant to be getting engaged soon, but likes someone else and isn’t sure what to do about it. She said the cards have helped her make a decision now.’
‘Well done. That’s the third reading this week isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, and I have another one booked for tomorrow,’ Jo said. It still never ceased to amaze her how accurate the Tarot Cards could be, even after eight years of reading them. People often asked her how they worked, but she had no idea really, she just knew they did.
‘Right back to the grindstone,’ Clare said rolling her eyes, ‘some new books have come in which need sorting out.’
‘I’ll be there in two ticks,’ Jo said. She gulped down her tea and watched Clare walk out of the door. We’ve come a long way since our first meeting when I read Clare’s cards for her, she thought with a smile.
Jo had always ‘known’ things. It seemed quite normal when a thought popped into her head and then came true. She’d believed it was something everybody did. It was only as she got older that she realised not everyone had the same ability, it wasn’t ‘normal’. Her grandmother, who recognised her ability, said she was lucky to have such a gift, but Jo wasn’t so sure.
‘They’re not visions as such, the only way I can explain it is, no matter what I’m doing whether it’s washing the dishes, listening to music, or reading a book, a thought suddenly pops into my head, and then later it comes true. It might happen the same day, the next day, or three days later. What’s wrong with me?’ she’d asked.
Her grandmother had laughed. ‘Nothing’s wrong with you darling. My dear mother had the same ability. You’re psychic, just like she was. You may not understand it now, but as you get older you can learn how to use it to help people. In time, you’ll think yourself truly blessed to have such a talent.’
Jo didn’t think so.
There’d been several strange events over the years. Like the time she’d gone for a drive with her parents one wet and windy afternoon. She’d suddenly told her father, ‘Dad you’ve got a slow puncture.’
‘Don’t be silly Jo, there’s nothing wrong with the car,’ he’d said.
But she’d insisted it had a problem and that it was on the left rear tyre. Because she got so agitated, her mother said maybe they should check it out, so her dad found a garage that was still open and asked them to take a look. Sure enough, the left rear tyre had a puncture.
Initially, Jo always blurted out the thoughts that popped into her head. But when they came true, people gave her strange looks, avoided her and whispered about her. Kids at school called her ‘witchy’, and the braver ones picked on her.
Her parents weren’t exactly happy about her ‘premmys’ as Jo called them - short for premonitions – either. They didn’t understand, and were a little afraid of their different daughter. Neither of them were the least bit spiritual or psychic themselves, but they had some - not belief as such - but acceptance, because they just couldn’t explain what Jo did.
She’d never forget the day her mother’s friend had called round for a chat. Jo told Mrs Tomlin she was very sorry her dog Benjy had been killed.
‘But he hasn’t,’ Mrs Tomlin said with a worried look, ‘he’s at home in his basket.’
‘I’m sorry, Jo must have had a dream or something and got a bit confused,’ her mother said, shooting Jo an angry look.
Three days later as Mrs Tomlin opened her front door, Benjy ran out into the road and straight under the wheels of a car, which killed him instantly.
After coming round to tell Jo’s mother what had happened, Mrs Tomlin said she thought it best if they didn’t have anything to do with each other again.
Jo’s mother had been furious. ‘In future, for God’s sake keep your premmys to yourself instead of going around upsetting people! We’re going to end up being victimised,’ she’d said, afraid of any repercussions from people who might think her daughter a freak.
With time, Jo learned to deal with her ability. She only told her family and close friends the things she saw, and kept the rest to herself.
A couple of kids still occasionally called her names, but she’d soon stopped it. She’d cornered one of the nastier bullies and threatened, ‘if you call me names again, I’m going to put a curse on you.’
It worked; the frightened girl had steered well clear of Jo, afraid to even look at her.
The other kids had a kind of respect born out of fear for her after that and left her alone too. Her gift certainly had its advantages at times!
At weekends, and in the school holidays, Jo spent a lot of time with her grandparents. She loved them deeply and enjoyed the stories they told her about their younger days. They lived near a cemetery, and Jo often went for walks there, stopping now and again to read the headstones.
‘I just love the peace and tranquility here, it’s so relaxing, and not the least bit scary,’ she’d said during one warm afternoon’s walk.
‘Of course it’s not scary. It’s the living you need to be afraid of, not the dead,’ her grandmother said.
It seemed a natural choice for Jo to work in the funeral business when she left school, and she loved it. She was caring, sensitive and gentle with the bereaved people who needed to arrange a funeral.
She studied hard and eventually gained her Diploma in Funeral Directing. She was good at her job, and helped people to look on the funeral as a celebration of their loved one’s life, not just the mourning of their death. She explained the many modern choices on offer to them such as a motorbike hearse, or a ‘green’ funeral to those who cared about the ecology of the planet, but they also carried out a traditional service, which the elderly often preferred.
Jo frequently received cards, flowers and chocolates from clients she’d helped, and many a grateful family put an acknowledgement of thanks in the local newspaper.
Her boss thought she was wonderful too.
‘Thanks to you, we’ve become the most successful company in the area. I don’t know what we’d do without you Jo,’ Mr Pearson said.
Because of her premonitions and her interest in all things spiritual, at the age of twenty Jo bought a pack of Tarot Cards. She spent hours studying each card until she’d learnt their meaning, and then she put adverts in the local shop windows offering her services as a Tarot Card Reader, which she did in the evenings and weekends.
Again, it was something she had a real aptitude for, and through word of mouth, she soon built up a regular client list.
Unlike some people who charged extortionate amounts for a reading, Jo felt that if she had a talent, she shouldn’t abuse it; so she just asked people for a small donation - whatever they could afford.
At first, her parents were unhappy with people traipsing in and out of their dining room, although Jo always made appointments for no later than nine in the evening, but they soon got used to it, and only grumbled occasionally.
She still had premonitions, although not as often as she did when she was young.
‘It’s because as an innocent child, your psyche is more attuned to the spiritual world, but when you get older you’re less open minded, so you aren’t as receptive anymore,’ her gran told her.
Jo didn’t know if that was the reason, but she was glad they were lessening.
Strangely, she never had omens concerning herself or her immediate family. She’d know about minor incidents like the puncture on her dad’s car, or her cousin Jane being pregnant before Jane herself even knew, but not about illnesses or accidents.
If anything ominous came to mind, it was always about other people – friends, colleagues or distant relatives – so it came as a huge shock to twenty-three year old Jo when her beloved grandmother suddenly died.
Jo was absolutely distraught.
Her boss had been very kind, and they’d given the old lady a jolly good send-off.
Her death however, left an irreplaceable void in Jo’s life. No one else understood her like her grandmother had.
A year later, her grandfather also died. The family believed he’d probably given up without the love of his life around.
Although again Jo had been grief-stricken, she’d taken some comfort in the fact that her grandparents were now together again.
She carried on working at the Funeral Directors and reading Tarot Cards in her free time, until the day a woman came for a reading. She’d heard from a colleague at work, that Jo was ‘spookily accurate’, and wanted to know if the cards could help her make a decision. Her name was Clare and she changed Jo’s life.
***
Clare Stevens had also been an odd child. Small and serious, with straight brown hair and round glasses, she always had her nose stuck in a book.
Her long-suffering parents, confounded by her lack of enthusiasm for anything except reading, were forever trying to interest Clare in life outside her own little shell.
‘Although it’s commendable that you read so much, there’s a big wide world out there, don’t you want to see it?’ her father asked when she’d turned down yet another day out.
Her parents had a National Trust family membership and almost every weekend they visited a stately home or garden.
‘No thanks,’ Clare replied wrinkling her nose.
‘For heaven’s sake Clare, bring your blooming book with you; you can sit under a tree and read it whilst we have a look around the house. I’m fed up with you festering away in your room all day, it’s not healthy. You’ll come out with us and get some fresh air!’ her mother said in exasperation.
Clare rolled her eyes, sighed loudly and put her book down to help her mother make the sandwiches. Her brother and sister - twins six years younger than her - jumped up and down with the excitement of going on a picnic.
‘Just wait ‘til Mum and Dad drag you round a boring musty old house, you won’t be so excited then,’ she’d mocked.
‘Clare they’re not like you, they enjoy doing family things,’ her mum said.
It was true; she did spend most of her time in her room reading, but so what! Where was the harm in that? At least she wasn’t out roaming the streets, showing off to all the boys like Lisa from over the road; her parents really would have something to moan about then.
It had been the same at school. Because she didn’t join in with the other girls, but preferred to sit and read during her break, they called her a swot, and book nerd. She wasn’t the only one; three of them sat and read together - Clare, Susan and Kelly or ‘Smelly Kelly’ as she was cruelly nicknamed. Just because she was a foster child with hand-me down clothes because her ‘parents’ couldn’t afford much, some of the other girls said she was smelly, but she wasn’t at all. She was a happy, bright and cheerful girl who enjoyed reading. The three of them had formed their own little book club and spent hours discussing their favourites.
Clare wasn’t a particularly academic child. She liked Art, French and English Literature, but had no interest in anything else. She didn’t like Science or Maths and wasn’t into Sport. She couldn’t think of anything worse than getting all sweaty and out of breath, why would anyone want to do that? When they had P.E lessons, she lolled around at the back hoping the teachers wouldn’t spot her, and they never chose her to enter anything at sports day, much to her relief.
Once old enough to stay on her own, her parents gave up trying to persuade her to go on picnics or visit places with them. They took the twins out and left Clare reading in her room. She lay on her bed with her latest book, and lost herself in the plot. It wasn’t long before she was daydreaming that she was the heroine of the story.
So it was of no surprise at all to Clare’s parents that she got a job as a librarian when she left school.
‘For goodness sake,’ her mother said, ‘now you’ll be surrounded by ruddy books all day long as well as reading them at home too.’
‘Yes, great isn’t it!’ Clare said beaming.
Her dad knew things could’ve been a lot worse. She could have ended up pregnant at the age of fifteen, like Lisa across the road had.
‘Leave her alone Jean. At least she’s got a job she enjoys, and she’s never been any trouble has she, we ought to be thankful she hasn’t got involved in drugs or become an alcoholic or something?’
‘Oh thanks Dad!’ Clare said with a laugh.
‘Well your Dad’s right. You’re a good girl Clare, and if it makes you happy working in a library, that’s all that matters I suppose. You and your books!’ her mum said grinning and giving her a hug.
Clare loved her library job. She liked meeting the people who came in to borrow books, and she loved discussing and recommending books to them, and over the years as she worked, a plan formed in her mind.
She’d left home and rented a flat. She could have lived in a big old Victorian house if she wanted to, because an elderly spinster aunt, who’d always been fond of Clare, had left the house to her in her will. Clare’s parents often urged her to either live in it or sell it, but she kept it for a reason. Meanwhile, she let it to a professional couple, and the extra money came in very handy. As well as saving some, she could also afford regular treats and holidays.
Clare lived alone because she hadn’t met Mr Right. She’d been out with a couple of men, but she lacked confidence. She’d gone to an all girls’ school, and hadn’t mixed with boys much, so wasn’t sure how to conduct herself around the opposite sex. She didn’t know what she would talk about either, she felt her job as a librarian had to be on the list of Most Boring Jobs on the Planet, next to ‘toll booth operator’ or ‘watching paint dry’.
On top of this, she was also insecure about her looks. She’d stare at herself in the mirror occasionally and think what an uninspiring face she had. She didn’t realise that with her clear skin and big brown eyes she was actually an attractive woman.
So Clare was pretty matter of fact about her love life. She’d told Kelly, who she still saw regularly, ‘if I meet someone and get married, great, if not, well I’m happy as I am.’
‘But don’t you want kids?’ Kelly asked, wondering how anyone could not want children. She’d like at least three.
‘I’m not very maternal. No desperate yearnings to hold my own baby, not like you, you’re baby mad!’ Clare said.
She secretly thought it must have been something to do with Kelly’s foster home upbringing that made her want to surround herself with children.
Clare was old fashioned enough to want marriage before a child anyway. So she’d long arrived at the conclusion that she’d probably be a childless spinster, just like her aunt.
She had her big ginger cat Angus for company, went out occasionally with a couple of friends and visited her parents at the weekends. She was content with her private life. But her working life was a different matter.
A colleague had been to have her Tarot Cards read. She’d said it was brilliant and hadn’t cost very much, only a donation, so Clare made an appointment to have hers done. She’d become quite interested in fortune telling since reading books on the subject, and felt that she could do with some guidance over the ideas that were germinating in her mind.
She’d been thinking about opening her own bookshop.
She liked her librarian job, but loved the idea of being her own boss even more, and as books were something she was passionate about, she thought she’d be able to make a good job of it.
The notion wouldn’t go away. It had hold and that was it. But she wanted to know whether to take the risk, and that’s where the Tarot cards came in. If she did go ahead, she’d have to do a lot of research because she didn’t know a thing about running a business, so she hoped the cards would show her whether to take the plunge or not.
Chapter Two
When Clare walked into the room for her Tarot reading, Jo liked her immediately. There was something reassuring about the studious looking woman.
She invited her to sit down and launched into her usual routine. She explained about the two sections of the pack, called the Major and Minor Arcana, and what each suit from the Minor Arcana represented. She was about to ask Clare to shuffle the cards, when the thought popped into her head, you’ll go into business with this woman. It surprised Jo because she hadn’t had a premonition for ages.
‘Right Clare, I’d like you to concentrate on the question you want guidance with, and shuffle the cards while you think about it. But please don’t tell me anything, okay?’
‘Okay.’
Jo made a point of this with every client. She didn’t want them to feel they’d influenced her and that she was saying what they wanted to hear. If any doubt arose over what Jo read in the cards, she kept the interpretation book to hand so that clients could read the meaning for themselves. She also gave them a pen and notepad to write down what she told them. Many Tarot Card readers recorded their sessions, but Jo felt it sank in better if you read things rather than listened to them.
Whilst Clare shuffled the cards, Jo wondered what spread to do. She decided to lay the cards out in the ‘Name Spread’.
She placed the cards face up on the table, one by one, and saw that they were mainly from the suit of Pentacles, along with The World card, The Empress, and a couple from the suit of Wands.
Jo did the reading slowly, so that Clare could write it down as she went along.
‘Okay overall, the fact that you have mainly Pentacles shows that you are thinking about a business venture. The cards represent financial matters and business development. This card here,’ she pointed at the Six of Wands, ‘shows good news; you will gain fulfilment of your hopes and dreams. The World card here on the right, means the same thing, that the result of all your effort will be success. If you work hard, you will achieve your goals. It’s a good card, which surrounded by these other cards, makes it even better.’
She stopped to wait for Clare to finish writing, then continued, ‘this last card The Empress, represents a level-headed business woman, again showing success, growth and potential fulfilment. So, I would say whatever it is you’re thinking of doing, go for it. You’re thinking of starting up your own business aren’t you?’
‘Yes! How on earth do you know that?’ Clare asked astounded.
‘It’s all there in the cards.’
‘But I didn’t even hint at anything, wow that’s amazing!’
Jo smiled. Then remembering the premonition, she said, ‘I don’t have any other clients tonight, would you like to stay for a cuppa and tell me all about it?’
‘You bet! I’ve been dying to tell someone.’ Clare liked Jo, she’d felt comfortable with her straight away.
So Jo gathered up the cards, put them back in their box, and switched the kettle on.
Later they sat in the lounge because Jo’s parents were out for the evening, and they switched from tea to a bottle of wine, as Clare outlined her plans for a bookshop.
Jo became enthusiastic about it too and came up with some different ideas. ‘You could have a children’s area with a little table and chairs, and do you know what would be really nice?’ she said.
‘What?’ Clare asked pushing her glasses along her nose.
‘A café. Only a small one, but whenever I go into a bookshop, I’d love to sit with a coffee after browsing through the books.’
‘Hey that’s a nice idea. I reckon between the two of us, we’d run a pretty good business.’ Clare looked a bit taken aback, as if she wasn’t sure why she’d just said that, but then she added, ‘what do you think?’
‘Yeah, maybe we would.’
‘I’m serious Jo, are you interested?’
Jo laughed and shook her head. ‘I haven’t got the money to put into something like that, and I don’t know much about books except that I like reading.’ Jo topped their glasses up.
‘Well that’s a start. You could be my manager so you wouldn’t need to fund it. I’ve got an old house to sell which will give me a fair bit of money, if I need more I could maybe get a business loan,’ Clare said taking a sip of her wine.
‘And how do you propose to go about it, would you buy a property or lease it, what about stock fittings and staff? There’s a lot involved.’
‘I know there’s an awful lot to think about and it’ll take loads of planning. Yes, we’d need to find suitable premises and everything. We’d have to discuss it properly, get legal advice etc.’
‘We’d? But we hardly know each other Clare and I have a good job already, this is crazy!’ Jo said.
Clare frowned, feeling a bit strange and it wasn’t because of the alcohol. ‘I know, but – oh this is going to sound stupid - as soon as we met it felt like I already knew you and had done for ages.’ She took a deep breath and went on, ‘yes it is complete madness and I can’t explain it Jo, it just feels like it’s meant to be; almost as if something’s telling me this is what should happen.’
Jo thought back to the premonition she’d had just before Clare shuffled the cards for her reading. This time it wasn’t quite a premonition, because the outcome would depend on her decision. Her other premmys had all come true up to now, so maybe it was telling her that this is what she should do. Perhaps her life needed a change of direction and it was guiding her in that direction.
Jo did something she’d never done before; she decided to take a risk. ‘Okay then, I’m in. I’ve been working in that Funeral Directors ever since I left school, I could do with a change of scene, yeah let’s do it,’ she said.
‘Seriously?’ Clare asked looking at Jo’s face and Jo nodded.
‘Brilliant!’ Clare said excitedly, ‘and yes you’re going nowhere with your present career, it is a bit of a dead end job isn’t it,’ she giggled.
‘Oh ha bloody ha, as if I haven’t heard that a thousand times already,’ Jo said throwing a cushion at her.
***
Over the weeks and months of planning, the women became good friends. Jo liked Clare’s seriousness and her quiet confidence. It balanced well with her own extrovert nature, like yin and yang, and Jo thought it would make for a good working relationship. Their experience in their present jobs would help in the new venture too. Clare’s bookkeeping would come in handy, as would Jo’s administration and management skills.
Clare already had buyers for her house; her present tenants loved the property and it was close to where they worked, so they were keen to buy it. The mortgage would be cheaper than what they were paying in rent too, so they were happy to get things moving as soon as possible.
That was one hurdle over with, but the girls still had to find suitable premises, sort out fittings, contact book wholesalers and learn tons of other stuff such as employment law, health and safety, stock control, and marketing the business. Next on the agenda was a visit to the bank to enquire about a possible loan if necessary and setting up a business account. They wouldn’t be able to do anything if they didn’t get a bank on side.
Clare had to do the majority of the work as she would be the owner, but Jo helped as much as possible by scouring the papers and estate agents for property and looking in The Bookseller magazine for second hand fixtures and fittings.
Once they’d sorted out most of it, they felt it was safe to tell their families and friends. Jo had begged Clare not to say anything beforehand, believing it would jinx things for them.
‘You and your superstitions,’ Clare had grumbled, but she’d agreed.
Their families were pleased for them, if a little worried that things might not work out.
‘I might have known this was something you’d want to do,’ Clare’s mum said, ‘but I am so proud of you; I hope it works out well my love.’
‘We’ve got some money put away for a rainy day, you can have it to put into the business,’ her dad told her.
‘Aw Dad,’ Clare said with tears in her eyes, ‘thank you so much, but keep your money. I’ll have enough with the sale of the house and I can get a loan if I need more. Take Mum on holiday or something. Besides,’ she added determinedly, ‘I want to do this by myself. It’s my project, and I’ll be responsible for it. That way, if it all goes wrong, I haven’t let anyone down. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long I need to prove to myself that I can do it. You understand don’t you?’
‘Of course I do pet, and like your mum said, we’re very proud of you. But I can help with looking for premises. I’ve got that mate whose son is an estate agent; I’ll have a word and get him to look for any suitable property that’s coming on the market.’
‘Thanks Dad,’ Clare said giving him a hug. Since she’d left home and been living on her own, she got on much better with her parents.
Jo’s mum and dad were concerned that she’d be giving up the good job she’d had for years, just to work in a bookshop. That was if the whole thing came to fruition.
‘Mum, I know you don’t really believe in all that stuff, but you can’t deny the things I’ve predicted, and when Clare walked into our dining room that day, I got a premmy saying I’d go into business with her. I didn’t know what she wanted advice about, but the cards predicted success and achievement in financial and business matters, so please don’t worry.’
Her mother didn’t look convinced, so Jo put her arm around her and said, ‘if it all goes wrong, I can get a job back in the funeral profession again. I have enough qualifications and experience. I’ll be okay, honest.’
‘Well, if you’re going to take a risk, it’s better now while you’re young, and can find something else if it doesn’t work out I suppose,’ her father said.
‘Yeah, it’s worse for Clare. She’s ten years older than me and is taking a bigger risk as she’s ploughing all her money into this venture.’
Her parents didn’t comment, and Jo suspected that they thought Clare was just as foolish, if not more so.
Jo’s boss was upset that she’d be leaving her job too. Over their years of working together he’d become very fond of her, treating her almost like his own daughter.
‘You’ve helped make this business the success it is today, and we’ll be very sorry to lose you Jo,’ old Mr Pearson told her. ‘I don’t think I’ll find anyone as good as you, you’ll be missed, and not just by me. If you ever need to come back, the door’s always open.’
His words brought a lump to Jo’s throat. She’d miss people too. Not just Mr Pearson, but also the various people who popped in for a chat; like the dear old lady whose husband died last year and Jo’s favourite vicar and his pretty wife.
‘I might be with you for a while yet,’ she said trying to cheer him up, ‘we’ve still got to look for a suitable property.’
But as luck would have it, they didn’t have to wait long.
Chapter Three
Through Jo’s contacts, the women discovered that a building had become vacant in the high street of Bewford, a pretty Cotswold market town just a few miles away from where Clare lived in Chipping Norton. Jo lived a bit further away with her parents in Oxford, but had been thinking about moving out for a while, and decided that once they’d got the bookshop, maybe she’d look for a small flat or apartment.
After going to look at the potential building several times with their notepads and tape measures, and on one occasion both their parents, they agreed it would be ideal. It was a large two-storey structure, so they could easily fit in everything they needed. The previous owner had died, and none of his family wanted to take over his antique business, so they’d put the property up for sale. There was still a lot to sort out, but it looked like Clare’s dream was becoming a reality.
***
Numerous phone calls, meetings, headaches, and months later, they both stood on the pavement and watched the sign-writer put the name of their new business above the door.
Jo put her arm around Clare and hugged her. ‘We did it, a couple more weeks and we open to the public.’
‘Are you sure the name is okay?’ Clare asked looking up at it with a frown.
‘I think it’s brilliant,’ Jo said.
They’d been talking about poetry one evening as they shared a pizza and bottle of wine in Clare’s flat, and were amazed when they both said Keats was their favourite poet.
‘I just love his poem ‘Old Meg,’ it was one of the first poems I read in Literature at school,’ Clare said.
‘Meg Merrilies, yeah I like that too. Hey Clare that’s it, I‘ve just found the name of our bookshop!’ Jo shouted, slapping her leg in a theatrical manner.
‘What, ‘Old Meg?’ Clare asked wrinkling her nose.
‘No, Merrilies. What do you think?’
‘Merrilies. Merrilies.’ Clare tried the sound of it out to herself. ‘Merrilies Bookshop. I love it, it’s perfect.’
‘Just right for an upmarket place like Bewford don’t you think? God, we were so lucky to be the first ones to view the property. See it pays to know who’s recently died.’
Clare laughed. ‘Well, if that wasn’t fate, I don’t know what is. I can’t believe we were looking for a property, and the company you worked for handled the funeral of the antique-shop owner in Bewford! It was definitely meant to be.’
‘Yeah it was. The shop should do really well. Bewford gets loads of tourists, even during the winter, and a steady flow of local trade too. With the amount of advertising we’ve done, people should know about us now, I think we’re going to be a great success.’
‘I hope so. Let’s have some more wine, I think we deserve it,’ Clare said.
She gave them both a top-up from the second bottle and clinked her glass against Jo’s with a loud ‘cheers’. The pair of them got shamefully drunk and woke up in the morning with horrendous headaches vowing never to drink that much again.
The day of the official opening came, and Jo and Clare arrived at the shop extra early to put any last minute touches in place. Among the many people attending, were their family and friends, a rep from the wholesaler they’d be using, a couple of local authors whose books were on display; plus people from the local newspaper and radio station. The girls had advertised well and made sure as many people as possible knew about the opening.
Then came the moment Clare had dreamt of for years.
She took the scissors Jo held out to her, and with all her friends, family, and the local media watching she said, ‘I now declare Merrilies well and truly open,’ and cut the big blue ribbon.
She’d said at first that she and Jo should do it together, but Jo knew how much this moment meant to Clare - it was her business after all - and told her friend to make the most of it.
The newspaper’s photographer took photos of Clare cutting the ribbon, then of Clare and Jo together, and then Jo popped the cork on a magnum of champagne and everyone toasted their future success. After which, they all piled into Merrilies to have a look around.
It was a pleasant, well laid out shop.
With Jo’s help, Clare had spent a lot of time and effort getting it exactly how she wanted it. They worked well together. Jo had a lot of creative ideas and a good eye for colour, whereas Clare was practical, logical, and thought of all the necessary things and space issues. Not that space was an issue, it wasn’t. The shop was on two floors and even with every book you could think of lining the shelves, it was still roomy and light.
Whilst Clare was busy talking to people, Jo mingled with the crowd, listening to their comments.
‘Oh look,’ gasped a woman who had wandered into the annexe at the back of the shop, which was the ‘Mind Body & Spirit’ section, ‘they’re going to give Tarot Card readings. I’d love to have that done.’
Jo smiled. That had been her idea, which Clare loved.
They’d put a round table and two chairs in there, from which Jo would give her readings by appointment. She’d charge twenty pounds per reading and half the proceeds would go to Merrilies. Clare was running a business after all.
Clare had made Jo realise that she’d been giving her time and talent away by not charging much. ‘Would you expect an artist to do you a painting for nothing? No, and it’s the same thing Jo, you have a talent and are using up your time, so start charging properly for it.’
However, if it started to interfere too much with her work in Merrilies – if she was getting too many clients for instance, then she’d go back to doing it at home in the evenings or on her days off. She was the manager after all and couldn’t use up too much time with Tarot readings.
To the side of the annexe was a small lockable room containing a safe, which the girls were going to use as their office.
‘This is good,’ another woman said to her husband, ‘it’s about time the children’s section was on the ground floor. Most shops don’t seem to care about women having to struggle upstairs or into a lift with a pushchair.’
That was exactly what Clare had said, so the children’s area was to the left of the shop, tucked under the stairs. They’d put a child sized plastic table and matching chairs there for the kids to sit at and read the books.
Also on this floor was: A-Z of Fiction, A-Z of Non-Fiction, Biographies and Autobiographies, Gardening, Crime, Cookery, Craft and Other Interest, Maps and the Address Books and Diaries sections. By the till, they had a couple of turntable racks with bookmarks on, and a stand with gift vouchers.
‘I like this, people can see our books as they walk in the door,’ said one of the local authors to the other, and he admired the cover of his book, prominently displayed on the New Releases table at the front of the shop.
There was also a sale table where discounted books would be displayed.
Upstairs was the reference section, with two computers for students and anyone else to use, kindly donated by the book wholesaler, also here was History and Military History, Art & Photography, Language, Travel, Business Finance & Law, and the Education section. To finish it all off, in the corner was an area set aside for the small café that Jo had mentioned way back when this was just a dream. At present, it would only serve hot and cold drinks and biscuits, but they hoped to branch out into sandwiches and things later on. The staff room was also upstairs.
Initially, as with any new business, they had a good stream of customers. Obviously, people were curious to know what the new bookshop was like.
‘Oh Jo, do you think they’ll come back after the interest has died down?’ Clare asked biting her bottom lip.
‘Stop worrying, of course they will. We’re what this town’s needed for ages. There’s only that one small bookshop around the corner, other than that, people have had to go out of town for their books. They’ll come back,’ Jo placated her.
‘I hope so. What worries me, is that people buy books in the supermarkets or online nowadays.’
‘But there’s still nothing like browsing in a bookshop. We stock much more than the supermarkets and the advantage over an online store is that people can pick up the books and read the blurb on the back.’
‘That’s true,’ Clare said and she sighed dreamily. ‘There’s nothing like holding a book in your hands; looking at the pretty cover, the feel and the weight of it, the noise as you turn the pages.’
‘You’re weird, has anyone ever told you that?’ Jo asked. Then she said, ‘and, customers can read the first couple of sentences or flick through and read a page to see if they think they’ll like it, you can’t do that online.’
‘Yes, you’re right, as usual,’ Clare said before adding, ‘about the books, not about me being weird.’
‘You reckon! Jo laughed.
They’d employed four people. They were going to try to manage with just two, but it was a big shop, and as well as the tills, there were a lot of other jobs to do, such as dealing with orders and customer enquiries and stocking the shelves with books. Clare had poached one girl, Stella, from the library. She did feel a bit guilty, but the girl was reliable, punctual, and Clare had always got on well with her.
Generally, Clare and Jo didn’t work on the same floor. Clare worked upstairs with two members of staff and Jo downstairs with two members of staff, or vice versa. If Jo went off to do a Tarot Card Reading, Clare came down and sent one of the staff upstairs until Jo finished. With the more popular books downstairs, it was always busier and she wanted either herself or Jo there to deal with any problems.
The staff upstairs also served in the café. Even Jo and Clare took their turn. Right from the very beginning, Jo had said they shouldn’t ask their staff to do anything they weren’t prepared to do themselves. Clare agreed and said happy staff meant permanent staff.
***
They’d been open for almost a year when Jo had an idea.
‘Clare, why don’t we have a reading group? We could put an advert in the local paper and one in the window.’
‘That’s a good suggestion, but where would they hold it?’
‘Well, we have that space over there,’ Jo pointed to the right of the shop, ‘we could probably fit in a table and about five chairs, six at a push. Think about the publicity it could bring us, and it would get people into the shop buying books.’
‘Brilliant! I am so glad I asked you to be my manager,’ Clare said with a grin. ‘But,’ she continued, ‘we’d have to make them want to join, maybe offer a discount or something. What about a fifteen percent discount each on the books they read?’
‘That’s generous, can we afford that much?’ Jo asked.
‘If they are going through books on a regular basis, yes, it would be worth it. Right, you contact the paper, I’ll get Stella to make up an ad for the window,’ Clare said.
She was delighted. Merrilies was already a hugely popular shop; the addition of a reading group would hopefully make it even better.
Chapter Four
Felicity Hughes flicked through a celebrity magazine whilst her mother got ready for their shopping trip to The Designer Village at Bicester.
Felicity wanted a new pair of shoes because Rupert was taking her out on Saturday, and she didn’t have any shoes to go with her recently bought pink dress.
‘Darling, you have hundreds of pairs of shoes in your room upstairs, several of which are pink, won’t a pair of those do?’ her mother had said before going upstairs to change.
‘Mummy, it needs to be the right shade of pink, you know that. And besides, I can’t wear pink shoes and a pink dress; I’ll look like a flamingo. No, I need a new pair of black shoes to co-ordinate with the black lacy shrug I’m going to wear.’
‘Okay, I need a new handbag anyway. Let’s go shopping and then stop for lunch in that Italian restaurant we like. You better make the most of it though; this is your last shopping trip, you’re meant to be looking for a job,’ her mother admonished.
‘Yes, but I don’t know what I want to do yet.’
‘Felicity,’ Eleanor said with a sigh, ‘you’ve just spent three years at university getting your Law Degree, what was the point, if you’re not going to do anything with it? You should have carried on and taken the Bar Vocational Course.’
‘And put up with another year of study? I’m sick of studying! I only went to bloody university because Daddy kept on at me.’
‘Don’t swear Felicity!’
‘But it’s not fair Mummy; If Dom hadn’t gone off and become a doctor—’
‘Your brother’s a Consultant, as you well know,’ Eleanor said.
‘Whatever! If he hadn’t disappeared to that hospital in Devon, and had studied to be a barrister instead, Daddy wouldn’t have pinned all his hopes on me. I only went to Uni to please him.’
‘Dominic didn’t want to study law; he’s more suited in the medical profession. I thought you enjoyed Law School.’
‘I enjoyed it at first and law’s very interesting, but I really hated all the study. Uni’s nothing like people think - all partying and having a good time - it’s bloody hard work, well Law School was anyway. I’ve decided I’m going to do what I want from now on. I can’t live my life for someone else, even if it is Daddy.’
‘And have you told your father this?’ Eleanor asked.
‘I tried the other day, and he started lecturing me about the amount of money he’d spent to get me a good education, and how all he ever wanted was someone to follow in his footsteps blah blah blah. I lost my temper and told him to shut up.’
‘Felicity!’
‘Well, he gets on my nerves; and to moan about the money he’s wasted,’ Felicity made quote marks as she said this, ‘is just tight. I’ll bloody well pay him back if that’s all he’s concerned about. It’s not as if we’re poor, Daddy’s rolling in it. You don’t work; why doesn’t he go on at you to find a job.’
‘That’s different and you know it.’
‘Why is it different? You swan around shopping and spending his money - you haven’t worked since you met him,’ Felicity said.
‘I’m his wife. Besides, I take care of the house and the garden.’
‘Mummy we have a maid and a gardener.’
‘Okay - well - don’t I throw the most splendid dinner parties?’
‘How can you say that? You get the caterers in!’
Eleanor laughed. ‘Felicity, it’s just different with me that’s all. You’re a young girl; you ought to be doing something with your life and fending for yourself. I agree with your father totally. Now are we going shopping or not?’ her mother asked, and that was the end of the subject.
Because Felicity was in a grumpy mood after their conversation, and because Eleanor felt guilty, they made the most of their day out and spent a lot of money. But Edward Hughes was one of the best barristers around. He dealt with many high profile cases, including the occasional celebrity, and he earned a fortune. So, his wife and daughter hitting the shops was nothing to him.
A few days later as Felicity sprawled on the sofa idly watching TV, she picked up the local paper, and as she leafed through, she spotted an advert for ‘Merrilies Reading Group.’
Merrilies is the bookshop that opened up last year in the high street, she thought. Hmm, that sounds interesting. I need something to do, and I’ve always enjoyed reading. It’ll impress my friends when I drop it into the conversation, ‘oh I belong to this reading group you know.’
She grinned delightedly. What a great idea. I’ll pop along and see about joining. It might even get Daddy off my back for a while.
Feeling much happier, she went into the kitchen to make herself a skinny latte´.
***
As Felicity danced round the kitchen whilst waiting for the coffee machine to finish, Michael King was reading the local paper during his lunch-break. He worked in a sandwich factory which distributed the sandwiches to various outlets in the area.
He also saw the reading group advert and thought about joining. As an avid reader, he bought books on a regular basis.
He’d been a frequent weekend visitor to Merrilies since it opened. They had a much better selection than the small bookshop he used to visit, and he liked the bright airy building. He could go upstairs for a coffee and while away a bit of time until he went home to enjoy one of his mum’s delicious dinners.
Michael’s parents had tried for years to have a baby, and had almost given up, when at the age of forty-five his mother discovered to her delight that she was finally pregnant. From the moment he was born, his parents doted on him, and he’d grown into a real mummy’s boy. At the age of twenty-seven, he hadn’t yet had a relationship, and was still living with his parents.
A quiet private man, he didn’t socialise a lot, preferring to stay at home. But on the odd occasions he did go out, he never drank alcohol. He couldn’t see anything enjoyable about spending your hard-earned cash getting so drunk you were ill and couldn’t remember anything the next day. He had no time for that sort of thing, and he thought the people who did were stupid.
What Michael did enjoy however, was playing tabletop battle strategy games like Warhammer. He’d taken over his parents’ dining room, and had a long table laid out with miniatures of trees, buildings and little soldier figures. He had a couple of friends who regularly came to play and they’d spend hours setting up their little fantasy figures and planning battle strategies.
If he didn’t visit Merrilies at the weekend, he’d trawl the model shops for new figures, which he then took home and painstakingly painted, ready to play with once they were dry.
His work colleagues thought him a bit of an oddball. Michael knew this, but wasn’t too bothered. Sometimes he thought it would be nice if they included him in their conversations, but all they ever talked about were their nights out drinking anyway. They didn’t seem to have any other life or hobbies.
Michael considered himself to be rather interesting. He was well read - he had a variety of books, from political stories to criminal psychology - and he had what he thought was a fascinating hobby. But if you’d asked the people he worked with what they thought of him, they’d have said he was rather strange.
***
Graham Anderson paused outside Merrilies to see why the traffic had come to a standstill. He smiled at the little family of ducks crossing the road, mum proudly leading her five little ducklings. When they were safely across, the cars moved off again.
He took a few moments to look around at the quaint shops, the Olde Worlde Tea Room, the little stream where the ducks lived and the square of green with benches where the elderly stopped to rest their legs and catch up on any gossip. It was a pretty place. He’d retired early two years ago, so could now appreciate things like this.
Suddenly having plenty of time on his hands, he’d started taking a daily walk or going for a drive and stopping somewhere pleasant for lunch. He couldn’t get over the loneliness of retirement. He’d gone from being the managing director of a successful company, who’d enjoyed business dinners, trips abroad and met all sorts of interesting people, to nothing. He didn’t expect the solitude to affect him quite so much, which was why he went for a walk every day.
To get out, meet people, see what was going on in the Cotswold town and maybe have a chat with anyone willing to pass the time of day, staved off ultimate boredom.
Graham turned his attention back to the bookshop window, and spotting a notice, went inside.
He approached the till area where a dark haired girl in her late twenties was sorting the bookmarks in a rack. She looked up when he drew near and smiled.
‘Yes sir, can I help you?’ she asked.
‘You certainly can. About this reading group, how do I join?’ Graham asked. He straightened his tie – he still couldn’t get out of the habit of wearing a shirt and tie everyday - and thought what an attractive young woman she was with her green eyes.
‘Oh that’s easy. We’ve had some other enquiries so what I suggested initially was, if you all meet here on Saturday afternoon about two, you can sort out amongst yourselves when it would be best to meet up again. You’ll be sitting at that long table over there. I’m the manager Jo, by the way.
‘Graham, nice to meet you Jo. So I just turn up on Saturday then, do I need to bring anything?’
‘Only a notebook and pen if you think you’ll need it, other than that, no just yourself. Oh, see that lady walking down the stairs? She’s joined too.’
Graham turned to see who Jo meant, and smiled at the woman as she approached. She was about the same age as him, quite plump but in a nice motherly way, with thick white hair and deep-set blue eyes.
‘How do you do, I’m Graham and I’m thinking of joining the reading group.’
‘Oh jolly good, at least I won’t be on my own. I’m Mollie.’
She turned to Jo. ‘I see you only serve drinks and biscuits in the little café upstairs, that’s a shame, I fancied a sandwich and maybe a piece of cake.’
‘Well there’s the tea room across the road if you want cake and stuff. We are going to serve more food, but we need to source a supplier first. So sorry just drinks for the time being,’ Jo said, turning her attention to a customer who needed serving.
Mollie waited for the customer to leave then said, ‘well, I have an idea if you’re up for it, I thought about it on my way downstairs. I love cooking, and used to bake regularly when my husband was alive. I could do some cakes for the café, and biscuits too, so you’d only have to get sandwiches elsewhere. If you think it’s a good idea that is.’
‘I think it’s an excellent idea Mollie. Let me talk it over with Clare and get back to you. Give me your number and I’ll phone you later.
Mollie gave Jo her mobile number.
Graham had been listening to this exchange and now he said, ‘well, if there’s going to be cakes and biscuits made by your fair hands, I’ll definitely join up, see you on Saturday ladies,’ he saluted them both and left the shop.
‘I think he was flirting with you Mollie,’ Jo teased her.
‘Nonsense, he was just being polite. Now, you will phone me about my suggestion won’t you?’
‘Yes, once I’ve spoken to Clare. But if I don’t, because it slips my mind or something, we’ll see you Saturday anyway. Are you sure you don’t mind? It’ll be a lot of baking and we’ll need it brought in on a regular basis.’
‘Heavens no, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise. I’d do the sandwiches as well, but you’ll need them daily, and I can’t promise to get in everyday, but I’m happy to do cakes and biscuits. It’s been a while since I did any home baking, there’s no point just for myself, so it’ll be lovely to have someone to cook for again. Dear Victor used to love a nice fruit cake,’ Mollie said wistfully.
Jo had to turn away and see to another customer, so with a quick wave, Mollie left the shop.
Graham took a slow walk home in the spring sunshine. It was quite a long way to his big house on the other side of Bewford, and he usually drove in, but in this weather, he didn’t mind. He took it easy and stopped whenever he needed to.
His spirits had really lifted. This was the first time in ages that he had something to look forward to. Okay, it was only a small reading group, but it would get him out, and there would be people to talk to. That Mollie looked like a nice lady, and he expected the other members to be interesting too; this was an upmarket area, so they’d hardly be riffraff. Yes, he was definitely looking forward to Saturday.
Chapter Five
It was quarter past four on Friday afternoon, and Clare was just tidying the children’s area when seven-year old Annie Matthews entered the shop with her mother Alice.
‘Hi Alice, hi there Annie,’ Clare said ruffling the little girls hair.
‘Hi Clare. Mum said I can have a new book today,’ she said with a big smile.
Each time Clare saw Annie, she felt her heart contract, and she wasn’t even maternal. Being born eight weeks premature had left Annie with a weak immune system and severe asthma. She had beautiful long blonde hair and huge blue eyes, but looked ethereal with her thin body and pale complexion.
Despite her illness, she was always cheerful, and loved chatting to people in the shop before heading to the children’s area, where she’d choose a book and settle herself in one of the chairs.
Annie visited every day. Her mother had brought her in when Merrilies first opened, and Annie loved the place. She’d asked to go back the next afternoon on her way home from school, and from then on, it became a daily routine.
Clare found out about Annie’s problems when she’d rescued her mother one afternoon. Clare thought Alice looked particularly frazzled, and offered to get her a coffee. Handing it to her, she’d remarked, ‘you look worn out,’ and that was it. Alice had started talking and couldn’t stop.
‘Honestly Clare it’s a twenty four hour job looking after Annie and of course I don’t mind, she’s my daughter, but I’m just so exhausted at times.’ She stopped and took a deep breath.
Clare patted her arm consolingly, and Alice told her all about Annie’s problems.
‘Because of her poorly functioning immune system, Annie can’t risk catching anything from the other children at school; even a cold can have severe implications. So she has to take antibiotics regularly to prevent her getting any serious infections. If the teachers know a child in her class is coming down with something, I keep Annie at home for a few days to prevent her getting it. On top of that, her asthma means she has to be careful not to exert herself too much. Sometimes though, just playing with the other children makes her short of breath. But it’s hard for her to do everything at a snail’s pace, children naturally like to run and dash about.’
‘Aw poor Annie, and poor you, it must be hard work!’ Clare said.
‘Yes. I have to keep the house spotlessly clean and free from dust, so we’ve got wooden flooring instead of carpets, leather sofas, and we use anti allergy bedding. Annie’s one and only teddy bear has to go in the freezer every night. Annie carries her reliever inhaler at all times, to ease symptoms if she gets wheezy or breathless and she uses her preventer inhaler every morning to prevent an attack developing.’
‘Oh my gosh Alice, I don’t know how you cope with it all.’
‘Well apparently Annie’s immune system will improve as she gets older, and she could grow out of the asthma, so life will hopefully get easier in time.’ Alice said and made a face as if she didn’t quite believe it would.
Clare now walked across to the little girl who was engrossed in a book, and said, ‘guess what Annie? Tomorrow we have some new people coming in. Remember I told you ages ago we were starting a reading group? Well, the first meeting is tomorrow afternoon. So when you come in on Monday, I’ll be able to tell you all about them.’