Day Sixteen (Tuesday)
Edward got up around eight. He made himself decent and wandered down to the kitchen, stopping at the bathroom for a quick wee on the way. He’d got up once in the night, or was it twice? He couldn’t quite recall. It was the fate of men of a certain age like himself. It was an affliction he just learned to deal with. He didn’t empty his bowels. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable with such things with Jill just a room away. He could do that if he needed to when she was out. Not that his bowel movements weren’t normal. They were as normal as could be expected for a man of sixty, who’d indulged in rich food and copious amounts of expensive alcohol, as he had during his working life. It had been the norm then. He’d cut back since retiring and since discovering the irritation of atrial fibrillation, that he suffered from in a manageable form, but rarely mentioned to anyone. A couple of pills a day was usually enough to keep him ticking over and on the straight and narrow. He would of course run out eventually and either look to get his prescription sent from Oxford or pick one up locally. He assumed such things were a possibility. He couldn’t be the first person in the world to find himself on an extended stay away from his regular supply. When Edward walked into the kitchen, Jill was already sitting at the breakfast table, enjoying her breakfast of cereal and toast. She appeared showered and dressed too.
‘You’re up bright and early,’ Edward observed.
‘Beti’s my alarm clock,’ Jill said. ‘She normally comes in about seven and nudges me if I’m not already awake.’
‘It prevents you oversleeping at least,’ Edward commented.
‘It used to be handy before you became the primary dog walker,’ Jill said. ‘Most days, I used to take her for a quick walk before opening the shop. I still do sometimes. I think she still half expects her walk straight after breakfast. More often than not, she’s disappointed ha. It doesn’t really matter, as long as she gets out at some point. She’s not a young dog, so once a day is now enough for her.’
‘I can take her again after work,’ Edward offered.
‘I’m sure she’d be very happy to go with you,’ Jill said. ‘Now, what did you want to do in the shop today? Morning, afternoon, both, or neither?’ Jill asked.
‘Is morning OK?’ Edward responded. ‘I want to pop to the shops this afternoon. There are a couple of things I’d like to pick up. Does that work for you?’
‘Anything you can do works for me,’ Jill said. ‘If you weren’t here, I’d have to do the whole day by myself. Now, what do you want for breakfast? There’s tea, coffee, toast, cereal, and fruit. I think you know where everything is anyway. You can just help yourself.’
‘That’s very kind,’ Edward said. ‘I’ll certainly do that if you don’t mind.
He’d also bought one of two goodies himself, including some rather appetising chocolate brioche buns. He knew Jill wouldn’t eat them, as they contained butter. He was slowly beginning to get the hang of what vegans could and couldn’t have. He hadn’t realised at first that chocolate, most cakes and many biscuits, even some crisps and snacks were out. Jill had to carefully check the ingredients of anything that wasn’t normally on her shopping list before buying it, she explained. Milk powder was contained in numerous products that wouldn’t obviously contain milk. A lot of dark chocolate for example, even salt and vinegar crisps often contained milk, he’d learned, which had caught Edward by surprise. Why on earth was that? It made no sense. Apparently, Jill was OK to eat plain ones. Edward’s education in such things was continuing apace.
That morning, he put normal cow’s milk in his tea, although he felt a pang of guilt in doing so. He thought he saw Jill give him a slight look of disapproval, although he might have imagined it. Perhaps he was just being disapproving of himself. It was Jill’s house after all, so it really should be her rules. Long term, he was intent on weening himself off anyway and learning to resist. In deference to Jill, he would stick to the soya and oat as long he could stomach the taste. As she’d pointed out, he’d never noticed when she’d handed him a cup or mug of tea in the bookshop, after returning Beti from her walk. His mind had been on other things. He’d drunk it down, grateful for anything, and it had tasted quite nice. It had tasted like tea then and not just a tea-like drink.
‘Do you need any help setting up today?’ Jill asked.
‘It’s probably better if I do it myself,’ Edward answered. ‘It’s the best way to learn, and I think I know what I’m doing. I can always shout up if I’ve got a problem.’
‘I’ll be around for most of the morning, although I might pop out before I take over,’ Jill said.
‘Be as long as you like. I’ll be fine,’ Edward assured her. ‘You know what, I might pick up a couple of those vegan sausage baps before I start. I can have them for my lunch or as a snack if I get peckish. I can see when you’re on your own, it isn’t always easy to get out to buy something.’
‘It isn’t,’ Jill agreed. ‘Most of the food shops are at the other end of King Edward’s Road or on Brynmor Road. There’s not much at this end. I normally just pop upstairs and make a sandwich or something simple like beans on toast when I’m on my own. You can do that too if you like.’
‘I probably will once I get more into a routine,’ Edward agreed. ‘What we need is a really good sandwich shop nearby. Perhaps that’s something we could open if the books don’t work out,’ Edward suggested.
Jill didn’t reply immediately. She just laughed at his suggestion instead. Hadn’t she suggested something similar herself? She wasn’t really being serious at the time, though the possibility of combining books with coffee and light food wasn’t entirely ridiculous. It could work and might give her something to ponder in the future.
‘It’s not such a bad idea,’ she said, at last. ‘Another to add to those we already have, I suppose.’
‘Indeed, one way or another we’ll make this a success,’ Edward agreed. ‘Well, I suppose I’d better get on with it. No peace for the wicked,’ he added.
‘It’s still early. You don’t have to open up yet,’ Jill told him.
‘I know, but I want to get down a bit in advance, just to familiarise myself with everything,’ Edward said, rising to his feet, with the thought in his head there was work to be done.
In truth, he wanted to make an early start, so he could get on with going through some of the unsorted books, before any customers came in. He also wanted to make a start on the database he’d created. It was just a simple spreadsheet more accurately. Even if he just began listing some of the authors they had in stock, if not all the titles, it would be something. Edward was already getting frustrated with being asked for books he had no idea if they had or not. If he knew that much, it would make him feel a whole lot better and more efficient than he did at present. For the most part, he felt he was just scratching around in the dark, when asked a question. That didn’t sit comfortably with Edward at all. He wanted to be able to reply with a degree of confidence and certainty.
Edward didn’t spend long getting ready in his room. He just made himself presentable. He spent a few minutes in the bathroom, washing his face and cleaning his teeth. He checked to see he wouldn’t scare any prospective customers off. He didn’t look as pristine as he had in his banking days, but he looked tidy enough. With some days’ growth of stubble on his chin, he looked every inch the fusty, old bookseller. He was exactly that, he supposed. That was his new identity. He genuinely was going incognito or in disguise. Alice wouldn’t recognise him if she saw him now. She’d wonder just who this stranger was. He felt almost like he was undercover, a spy or a mole, waiting to be activated. His time would come. He was just waiting for the call, to spring into action. Except there would be no call. This was his life from now on or least for the foreseeable future.
Edward stood in the shop, master of all he surveyed. He switched the lights and laptop on. He also filled the kettle and put it on to boil. He imagined he’d want a hot drink at some point. Would he use the plant-based milk Jill had left in the small fridge in the back office, or would he go upstairs to the kitchen to get the real stuff? He was undecided. Edward looked at his watch. It was only nine o’clock. He was an hour early. He didn’t have to open until ten. It would give him a chance to check the emails and perhaps even answer some this time. He’d also carry on with the book sorting. Those he did price up and put on the shelves he made a note of on his spreadsheet. Around 9.45am, Edward popped round to the vegan coffee shop just around the corner, to pick up his food supplies before opening up. He also bought his customary, daily latte. It would give him the caffeine hit he needed, to help get him through the morning. He then went back to the bookshop, to open its doors and wait for the first customer of the day.
He wasn’t so much waiting as getting on with things. He wasn’t really expecting a flurry of customers. He began checking the emails. There were only a handful. Once they were done, he continued with the sorting, cataloguing, and pricing. He was gradually getting through it, though there was still much to be undertaken. He could at least tell where he’d been. There was now more room on the floor. He could actually see more of the well-worn carpet, poking up underneath. Perhaps in time, he’d buy Jill a new one. He still hadn’t let on he was a significantly wealthy man. He imagined Jill would just find out for herself in due course. It meant the business would never go bust at least, not whilst he was there. Edward’s first customer of the day was actually a telephone one. It was the first occasion the phone had rung. It was a general enquiry, asking about opening times and whether they stocked much on philosophy and world religion. Not a great deal but some, Edward answered, truthfully. The customer was welcome to come and look at what they had, Edward said. He hoped to have more out on the shelves by then, he explained. He was still in the process of sorting stock. Edward’s first physical customer walked through the doors just after eleven. After browsing for a bit, he turned to Edward to ask a question. He was an older man than Edward, probably seventy or more.
‘What I’m actually looking for is a copy of The Great European Treaties of the Nineteenth Century by Oakes and Mowat,’ he said. ‘It’s not the most fascinating book, but I studied it as a student,’ the man explained.
‘Not that I know of, but you’re welcome to have a look in our history section,’ Edward said, directing the customer towards the appropriate part of the shop.
‘I’ll certainly do that,’ the man replied.
‘I expect you can get a copy on the internet,’ Edward suggested, helpfully.
‘I expect so, but I don’t really bother with that web business. It’s more rewarding to find a copy in a second-hand bookshop yourself, don’t you think?’ the man said, in his elegant, middle-class accent with English overtones, not unlike Edward’s own.
He certainly wasn’t a local by birth at least. He sounded like an academic. Perhaps he’d studied at the university like Edward, who was suddenly struck by a thought. He could source a copy on the internet himself and then sell it on at a profit. Indeed, he could do that with every enquiry. It could be the way forward, to making the bookshop the success he’d promised Jill it would be.
‘I tell you what. If you can you pop back in a week or so, I can probably get you a copy by then,’ Edward suggested.
‘I can do that,’ the man said. ‘Say, same time next week?’
‘That should be fine. The book will be around twenty pounds. Is that OK?’ Edward asked.
‘That will be fine,’ the man said.
Edward got the firm impression money was no great object to this customer. just as it wasn’t to himself. As soon as the man had gone, Edward searched the internet for the book in question. Immediately, various editions came up. Whilst some were priced at more than he’d quoted, around the £25 mark, others were as little as between three and seven pounds. Edward immediately placed an order for the one he’d have chosen if buying for himself. Even with postage, it would leave a very healthy profit. He couldn’t wait to tell Jill what he’d done. As long as the customer was able to return to the shop, it couldn’t really go wrong. Even then, Edward could post it on. Of course, there might be occasion when the requested book simply wasn’t available or was more expensive than Edward expected. He could always do a surreptitious search on the computer first, on the pretext of searching his own database, to get an idea of likely cost and availability. All in all, it seemed a pretty fool-proof plan. It was no wonder he’d been such a successful businessman in his time. When Jill popped down to see how he was getting on, she was duly impressed by his suggestion. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of it herself.
‘You’re not just a pretty face,’ she told him.
‘You may be, but I’m definitely not pretty at all,’ he replied, feeling a little embarrassed suddenly.
‘You are in your own way,’ Jill insisted, doubling down on her intentionally somewhat cryptic statement.
It was out there now, for a moment. Edward blushed. It was the first time they’d got at all personal with each other. Jill was pretty, he realised, just not in the way he was accustomed to. He didn’t consider himself handsome at all, but he held himself well. It came from years of practice. Jill was attractive, however, and had her own style and way of presenting herself, which was appealing, even to an old duffer like him. To save him further embarrassment, Jill swiftly moved the conversation on.
‘You’re doing really well,’ she said. ‘Now, I’ve just got to pop out for a bit. As soon as I get back, I’ll take over if you’re happy for me to.’
‘I’m happy indeed,’ Edward said.
When she’d gone, Edward thought again about what she’d said. Was he really a pretty face? He very much doubted it. She on the other hand was undoubtedly so. Not in the obvious way like Alice. Alice was tall, slender, and always immaculately presented. There was never a hair out of place on her head of shiny, strawberry-blonde hair. It was always kept perfectly washed and brushed. She rarely went anywhere without the application of red lipstick and red, polished nails, flawlessly painted and manicured. Jill, on the other hand, had a natural, understated beauty. She wore little or no make-up and let her medium-length, slightly greying hair fall any way it wished. She favoured functional, comfortable clothes, and what level of attraction she achieved, she did so apparently without making any great effort. Perhaps that was the mark of real beauty, Edward reflected.
Why was he even thinking of Jill in this way, he wondered? He hadn’t before. Now they were living under the same roof, he felt the first indications he was starting to see her in a different way. Was she also seeing him slightly differently too? Nothing definite had been said. They’d spent the last two nights watching television and drinking wine together. That much was the case. Now, for the first time, they’d made small compliments to each other. Was it the first sign of mutual interest? Edward knew he had to remain cautious. He was still a married man, at least for the time being.
Several more customers entered the shop in relatively quick succession before Jill returned. The first two were just browsing and left without buying anything. Despite Edward’s best efforts to strike up conversation, they didn’t seem keen to give Edward any notion of what books they were seeking. He made it plain he was more than happy to endeavour to track anything down for them. They refused to take the bait. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as good at this game as he thought. He still had a lot to learn. The third customer was a woman Edward guessed to be in her mid-forties. She had a somewhat brusque, no-nonsense manner about her. He couldn’t exactly call it unpleasant. It was more business-like, as if the time she had to spend was limited. Edward realised she was also his first female customer. That was something else to work on. They needed to attract more women into the shop, not just old has-beens like himself, with too much time on their hands. She flitted about the shop at high speed, putting books on the counter, or Edward’s desk, whilst barely looking at them and with apparent little consideration as to what she was choosing. As far as Edward could tell, she’d made a wholly random selection. As she chose, she muttered to herself. This one for Sara. This one for Owen…
‘How much for this little lot?’ she asked, when she’d finally finished grabbing a hotchpotch of books from the shelves.
‘Oh, I’ll just have to add them up,’ Edward said, putting on his reading glasses and getting out a calculator.
He checked the inside page of each book and made a quick note of the book title and price to enter later in his ledger. The total price came to £54.95.
‘We’ll call it fifty pounds, for a bulk purchase,’ he told the customer. ‘That’s a discount of £4.95.’
She looked pleased.
‘Can I put it on a card?’ she asked.
‘Of course,’ Edward told her.
‘I don’t have a lot of time for shopping. I have a few birthdays coming up and I have to grab a few things when I can,’ she explained.
‘I’m glad we had something for you,’ Edward said. ‘Let me get you a bag to carry them in. Knowing Swansea, it will be sure to rain if I don’t.
In fact, the weather forecast was for it to remain fine. Edward knew Jill kept some carrier bags in a drawer. He’d seen them earlier when he was looking for something else. He got one out and started carefully placing the books carefully inside. He then handed the bag to the customer.
‘Thank you very much,’ she said.
‘Hope to see you again,’ Edward replied.
He’d be very happy to see any customer who spent fifty pounds return. If only they had more of them. She was welcome back any time she wanted. Jill would be pleased he’d sold so many books in one sale. Edward started to enter the details in the ledger. When he’d finished that, he returned to the seemingly endless task of cataloguing and pricing up the piles of unsorted books. He hadn’t done that many more when Jill walked through the door.
‘Fifty pounds from one customer,’ he announced, proudly.
‘Excellent,’ Jill said, heading straight towards the kettle in the back office. ‘Do you want one?’ she asked.
‘Why not? I can have it with my vegan sausage bap and cake,’ Edward answered. ‘I guess it’s time for Beti’s lunch too.’
She’d spent the time since Jill had gone sitting quietly in her basket. No doubt, like Edward, she was ready to eat. Once the kettle had boiled, Jill handed Edward a mug. In return, he passed her one of his vegan sausage baps. It was a good job he’d got two, he reflected, as he started to munch into his. Beti whined, sensing she’d been forgotten.
‘OK, Beti,’ Jill conceded, putting her tea and bap down and going to get Beti some food, to put in her bowl.
‘I think you’re better at this than me,’ Jill told Edward when she got back. ‘I mean, using your initiative to order customers books and making bulk sales.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far. I really am just a novice,’ Edward said.
‘To be honest, it was John’s business. It was never really mine,’ Jill admitted. ‘I just carried it on when he died. I might have been better off selling it or turning it into something else. It’s just I’ve always quite liked reading and books myself. I thought I could make a go of it, and I’ve just about kept it afloat, I suppose.’
‘You’ve done very well, and we’re going to do even better,’ Edward told her.
When he’d finished his bap and had another sip of tea, Edward generously broke off half his cake and passed it to Jill.
‘I don’t want to eat all your lunch,’ she said, nonetheless still happy to accept the offering.
‘It’s fine. I can always get something else in town. I’ll just have to remember to get more next time,’ he laughed.
After eating, Edward headed off to the shopping centre, with Beti in tow, leaving Jill to mind the shop. He was already starting to think of it as his own. He wondered what would happen to it when he finally went back to Oxford. Would Jill continue with the new procedures he slowly planned to put into place, or would she gradually fall back into old, bad habits? He didn’t know. He guessed it wouldn’t be his problem if he was no longer around to care one way or another. Of course, he would care. He’d always care about Jill and the bookshop now. He’d just be too far away to do anything about it.
‘You can see where I’ve got to with the sorting if you want to carry on,’ Edward said, as he was leaving. ‘No worries if not. I can do some more tomorrow.’
For once, Edward didn’t take the scenic route. He knew where he was going. He had business to attend to. In fact, it wasn’t so much business as pleasure or leisure perhaps was the best way to describe it. He was going to do something that had been on his mind to do for some time, but he hadn’t yet got round to doing. No more delays, no more putting it off, no more procrastination on his part, he decided. He’d go there now without further delay. He’d seen what he wanted on one of his walks to the shopping centre via the Uplands. He recalled passing an art supplies shop, which was exactly what he needed for the purchases he had in mind. He’d head there now post-haste. There were a few things he was anxious to buy. Among them was a sketchbook, paper, some pencils and crayons, even some watercolours and brushes. He also wanted to pick up a notebook.
It would fulfil a long-time ambition of his. Once he was retired, he’d always intended to do a bit of writing and painting. Now was his chance. Even coming out of retirement to help manage the bookshop, he’d have more than enough time on his hands. There were no excuses. In fact, being surrounded by books and culture had finally prompted him to do it. It was time for Edward to join the ranks of writers and artists too. He’d dabbled a bit at university. Now, he was ready to take it to the next stage. He’d started to look the part, dressing down and sprouting the beginnings of a beard. He would finally see if he could actually produce anything creative of worth or merit.
Edward spent more than a hundred pounds in the art shop. He was unconcerned. If he was going to do it, he might just as well do it properly. Besides a hundred pounds to him wasn’t really anything. He’d left that much as a tip in the guesthouse. His next purchase would be a decent camera, although that could wait for another day. On the way back, Edward picked up a few more provisions at the supermarket. He tried to make sure they were things that Jill could eat too, although he was certain he’d got some of them wrong. At least he was trying. He was endeavouring to fit in with her ways. He also bought a couple more bottles of good quality wine. It was the least he could do after all she’d done for him. If she didn’t want any, he’d drink them alone. Jill was still working when Edward returned. It was only just gone four and technically the shop was open until five unless Jill decided to shut early. She often did, especially if it was quiet. Edward left her to it, whilst he furtively took his purchases upstairs.
‘What have you been buying?’ she asked, looking up.
‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ Edward replied, deliberately vaguely.
He wanted to surprise her with a poem he’d written or a drawing or painting he’d done. She’d probably be surprised in a bad way, he feared. He’d have to be careful he didn’t just end up making a complete fool of himself. He wouldn’t show her anything he wasn’t at least adequately satisfied with. In the sanctity of his room, he started to jot down a few ideas and make a few notes that could eventually make poetry in his notebook. He was happy and relaxed, he realised, probably more than he had been in years. He truly had landed on his feet. Somehow, without trying, by chance he’d fallen into a new life. He’d lost one and fortuitously another had come along. Later that evening, he found himself sat down in front of the television, drinking wine with Jill.
‘It’s lovely having you here,’ she told him.
‘It’s lovely being here,’ he replied, the wine making him feel warm inside.
