The Bookshop of New Beginnings: Heart-warming, uplifting – a perfect feel good read!. Jen Mouat

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СКАЧАТЬ and the illusion of beauty – sex in a designer bag. And now, here, describing it to Emily, it all seemed utterly pointless.

      ‘Should I be feeling guilty?’ Emily asked. ‘I mean, have you given up a potentially lucrative career as a high-powered advertising executive for me and my bookshop?’

      Kate shuddered. ‘Yes, probably. But thank God for that. Oh, I don’t mean the feeling guilty part, it was entirely my decision to come. But honestly, Em, the job was so freaking boring, so futile. I’d spend my days in meetings wrangling over stuff that seemed so important at the time, surrounded by people who all acted like the world would stop turning if we didn’t get it just so … then I’d come home and wonder what it had all been about. There was no drawing involved, very little creativity. Hand it to corporate types to kill creativity stone dead. But … no, I had to leave anyway. You just gave me the impetus.’

      ‘Well, lingerie’s loss is my gain,’ Emily said. ‘If you start getting withdrawal, there’s a stall at the market sells knickers, I’m sure we could get you a job hawking granny pants.’

      They both laughed. ‘Gee, thanks, Em, it’s good to know you’re in my corner.’

      Emily smiled. ‘You know,’ she said, treading carefully now, ‘I can’t imagine you doing a job that doesn’t involve art. You were so sure, when we graduated, that you wanted to be a designer. And your stuff was good, Kate. Really good. Remember the degree show?’

      Kate nodded, her smile vanishing. The degree show was the pinnacle: everything to show for all the years of hard work, the socialising sacrificed, the long days and longer nights devoted to the studio. Three years of textile design and Kate had been immersed, and nothing else had mattered. ‘It’s … hard,’ she said vaguely.

      ‘I’m sure.’ Emily knew about that. She’d done a job she hated – though what had possessed her to take up teacher training remained a mystery to everyone – and she knew that real passion for one’s work was hard to come by. ‘What are your plans? For after the bookshop.’ Her tone betrayed her anxiety that Kate might drift away once more.

      ‘I have no plans. After the end of the summer, after the bookshop … well, we’ll see.’ Kate tried to keep her tone light, as if her whole future didn’t hinge on that very conundrum. The truth was she hadn’t a clue.

      They emerged from the shade of the forest and crossed the stile over a crumbling dry stone dyke, paused to look down on the farmhouse at the bottom of the slope. This field was empty, the cows having been transferred to one of the upper pastures. Emily glanced at Kate in her clumsy, borrowed boots and suddenly took off at a gleeful sprint, running with childlike enthusiasm and complete lack of grace. ‘Race you to the house,’ she yelled over her shoulder.

      Kate frowned in surprise. Emily running? Challenging her. She took off in pursuit. As they tore down the hill, gathering speed, she reflected that she hadn’t run like this in years. The running machine at the gym really didn’t compare to this feeling of the breeze in her hair, earthy farm smells in her nose and her quarry firmly in her sights. Kate had once prided herself on her athletic ability – which could not exactly be said of Emily – but this wasn’t about skill, it was just running. Kate accelerated, eyes fixed on the bright red of Emily’s T-shirt, a laugh bubbling and escaping from her, stealing precious breath. She was running faster than she had in years and it felt amazing. It felt like childhood: running for running’s sake, for pure joy. She eased past Emily and slowed at the last minute for the gate, collapsing against it, breathing in strangled gasps.

      Emily reached her, bent double over the gate. ‘Ow-ow-ow,’ she complained. ‘That … really … hurt. Can’t breathe.’ She flipped the hair out of her sweaty face and grinned at Kate. ‘I let you win for old times’ sake, but actually I’m pretty athletic these days.’

      ‘Sure you are.’ Recovering first, Kate stood up. She felt the flush of heat on her face and knew she must look a mess, but she really didn’t care.

      Emily retied her ponytail and grabbed Kate’s arm. ‘I can’t wait to see my brother’s face when he sees you.

      They hung on the open gate recovering their breath and waiting for Lena, gazing towards Dan and Abby’s farmhouse, which was surrounded by a scattering of low outbuildings and a tall, silver silo. Two young dogs rushed up the track to meet Lena. They were calmed by a gruff word and the briefest touch of her hand. They whined at Kate when they reached her. Dan’s dogs and Bracken sniffed their greetings to one another.

      ‘Daft kids,’ Lena said with a swift shake of her head when she reached them. Emily and Kate exchanged smiles.

      Abby, heavily pregnant, opened the door. ‘Hi Lena, Em,’ she said, balancing the weight of her stomach with care, caressing her bump. She looked curiously at Kate. ‘Hello there.’

      ‘Abby, this is my friend, Kate,’ Emily said. She found her eyes drawn downwards as always, to the immense bulge of baby, and took a quick, shallow breath; it was almost impossible to look at Abby without a sharp stab of longing.

      They kicked off their wellingtons on the mat and were ushered into the big kitchen, which was the focal point of the house. Lena dropped into a favoured tweed armchair immediately, propping her socked feet on a stool. Emily smiled affectionately; this used to be Lena’s farmhouse, hers and James’s. Before they built Bluebell Bank, before James died and Lena leased it out to a series of unsatisfactory tenants; before she gifted it to Dan when he was twenty-one and directionless, resisting university and all of his mother’s attempts to corral him into academia. Lena could see the way the wind was blowing even then, could see that Dan needed something to get his teeth into, and he wasn’t going to find his future in a library. Emily and Ally, perhaps. But not Dan, not Ferg either.

      ‘Welcome, Kate. Can I get everyone some tea or something?’ Abby seemed open and friendly, her soft, fair hair curling around her chin. Her skin was pale gold, dusted with freckles.

      ‘Brandy,’ Lena declared. Bracken was at her side, his big russet head resting on her knee, gazing up at her adoringly.

      Abby smiled indulgently. ‘Sure. Kate?’

      Before Kate could reply, a voice boomed out behind them. ‘Kate Vincent? Is that really you?’

      Kate spun round to find Dan framed in the doorway; a bigger, broader Dan than she recalled, with muscles and limbs honed from hard labour, and wrinkles creasing the wind-burned skin at the corners of his eyes, and a scruff of beard across his chin. Warm, brown eyes bored into her and for a split second time stood still.

      ‘It’s me.’ Kate was quite breathless with joy and nerves, and Dan crossed the room in three giant strides to scoop her into a hug that lifted her off her feet.

      ‘Well, thank God for that; it’s about time.’ Dan put her down and stared. ‘Jesus, Kate, it’s good to see you.’ His smile was as infectious as ever: a flash of white amongst the dark, untidy beard.

      Kate was embarrassed by the effusive welcome, discomfited by her reaction to him. With his pregnant wife looking on, here she was remembering things she had no right to. ‘It’s good to see you too.’ She tucked her hair behind her ears and glanced from Dan to the flagstone floor and back again, sneaking looks at him and searching his eyes for signs of intimacy, for recognition of the hurt she had wrought. It was there in spades. She looked quickly away again.

      ‘Kate’s come to help with the bookshop,’ Emily said, oblivious, and they all sat around the big table, except for Lena who had taken root in her СКАЧАТЬ