The Little Bookshop of Lonely Hearts: A feel-good funny romance. Annie Darling

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      All three of them wore matching expressions that could be summed up as ‘The end of the world is nigh’, when it wasn’t nigh at all. At least Posy didn’t think it was.

      ‘No one’s selling the shop.’ Posy gripped the counter tight for moral support, felt the scarred, polished wood firm beneath her fingers. ‘Lavinia’s left the shop to me and I’m not going anywhere.’

      Posy paused and waited. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was waiting for; perhaps some heartfelt congratulations, maybe a ‘You go, girl!’ Instead she got silence and three perplexed faces staring back at her. Was there anyone, anywhere, who had even a tiny bit of faith in her? Apart from Lavinia, whose faith in Posy, it seemed, was entirely misguided.

      Posy rubbed her hands together nervously. ‘Not that it’s going to be easy, but Sam and I are up for the challenge. Well, Sam’s kind of up for it, anyway. Although I’m … we’re … going to have … There will be changes but, um, good changes. Er, exciting changes.’

      ‘You’re in charge then? You’re the boss of us?’ It was impossible to know how Verity felt about that – in fact, it was impossible to tell how Verity felt about most things. She was very hard to read, for all that Posy had known her for four years and considered Verity one of her very best friends. Verity was also the assistant manager of Bookends, which meant she stayed in the back office doing the accounts, ordering stock and refusing to interact with anyone coming into the shop to buy a book. She’d been Lavinia’s right-hand woman while Posy had drifted about colonising more space in the shop for her romance novels. Without Verity, Bookends would cease to function within days. Within hours.

      ‘Boss is such a harsh word,’ Posy said soothingly. ‘Nothing will change. Well, some things will need to change, but I’m not going to turn into a despot and shout, “It’s my way or the highway!” whenever we have a disagreement. I’ll still make tea and stock shelves and go out on a chocolate run.’

      ‘So is my job safe?’ It was easy to tell what Nina was thinking because Nina was biting her lip and frowning and generally looking as if Posy was about to issue her with her P45 – not that Posy would have had the first clue how to do such a thing. ‘And Tom can still work part-time – or, to be more accurate, whenever he feels like gracing us with his presence? Or is it last in, first out? Which would mean me, because I’ve only been here two years. Though technically, I’ve worked more hours than Tom.’

      ‘Shut up,’ Tom hissed. ‘Of course, Posy isn’t sacking anyone because Posy’s our friend as well as our new boss. Our sweet, kind, dear friend. And may I say that you’re looking particularly lovely today, Posy.’

      ‘You can but I’m writing you up for sexual harassment,’ Posy said, and she pretended to write something in her notebook, which was a long-standing shop joke and Tom was always the punchline, so he pretended to scowl and Nina went back into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Only Verity remained standing there, hands on hips.

      ‘I’m pleased for you, Posy – it would have been awful if you and Sam had been made homeless – but very soon we won’t be able to afford any members of staff, full-time or part-time,’ she added in a whisper, though Tom was more interested in his panini than their conversation. ‘These changes you mentioned, what are they?’

      As of now, the changes hadn’t made themselves known to Posy. She needed more time to research and ponder and possibly make some lists, maybe a pie chart too. Then, hopefully, she’d have a big idea, a grand scheme for Bookends, that Posy could present to Verity and the rest of the staff with such passion and conviction that they’d be completely on board too. What could be simpler?

      It occurred to Posy, as she tried to avoid looking Verity in the eye, that she wasn’t cut out to be a leader. She wasn’t a follower either, or even a plodder. At least plodders got to their destination eventually. No, Posy was a floater, happy to do her own thing and be swept along with the tide and this was all a bit too much, a bit too soon when she was still reeling from Lavinia’s absence.

      ‘Like I said, good changes,’ Posy murmured vaguely, though she could feel sweat breaking out on her forehead and her upper lip while at the same time her hands were icy cold. She also had a terrible taste in her mouth, like she’d been licking batteries. It was fear. Big, stinky fear. She pulled up the corners of her mouth in a pitiful excuse for a confident smile. ‘Exciting changes. Very, very exciting. I’m going to need your help, I won’t be able to do it without you.’

      Verity nodded. ‘As long as these changes aren’t like the time when you wanted to have the books arranged by colour and not by alphabet,’ she said.

      ‘But it would have looked pretty,’ Posy protested weakly.

      ‘God help us.’ Verity shook her head before scuttling off to the back office.

      Telling her colleagues that they were now her employees had been more of an ordeal than Posy had anticipated and now she realised that she had their futures to worry about too. This wasn’t only about her and Sam. She didn’t want to be the person who was standing between the Bookends staff and unemployment, possibly destitution.

      When she woke up the following morning, Posy felt galvanised into action. At the least, she should probably write a to-do list. Maybe pop to the fancy new Foyles on Charing Cross Road to scope out the competition.

      Neither she nor Sam were morning people. They had a house rule that neither of them spoke at breakfast unless it was absolutely necessary. With her eyes half-closed, Posy made Sam toast and scrambled eggs, which he shovelled into his mouth while finishing his history homework. He should have finished it the night before but Posy didn’t have the energy to tell him off about it, not when she was still halfway down her first cup of tea.

      Sam dumped his plate and mug in the sink and left for school with a grunt that might have been ‘goodbye’, leaving Posy sitting there, drinking her tea and reading The Pursuit of Love, even though she’d lost count of how many times she’d read it. It always reminded her of Lavinia and what her life might have been like before the war.

      Posy cherished this hour when she was still in her pyjamas and befuddled with sleep. It was the one part of the day that was hers and hers alone.

      It was a pity that no one had thought to mention it to the person banging on the shop door, ignoring the sign which spelled out very clearly, in the plainest English, that they didn’t open until ten. They weren’t expecting any deliveries either and anyway the drivers knew to come round the back and ring the bell.

      Posy put down her cup and book and shuffled down the stairs in her slippers. The closer she got, the louder the banging was. Muttering under her breath, she moved through the shop and as she got nearer to the door, she saw who was responsible for breaching her peace.

      ‘Stop making all that noise!’ Posy banged on the glass to get his attention. ‘I’m unlocking the door.’

      ‘My breakfast meeting got cancelled,’ Sebastian informed Posy as he shouldered his way past her. ‘God, Morland, you’re not even dressed yet!’

      Technically, Posy was dressed; in pyjama bottoms adorned with Christmas puddings, an old Minecraft T-shirt of Sam’s, and a threadbare cardigan. ‘It’s not even eight thirty, Sebastian. I wasn’t exactly expecting callers.’

      ‘Is that what you wear to bed?’ He narrowed his eyes, which weren’t puffy with sleep like hers. Posy was sure he could see through her layers to her braless state. She folded her arms. ‘What a thrill-killer.’

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