Fenella looked at her husband, about to reproach him for slandering her aunt but then obviously decided that was probably exactly what had happened.

‘It’s kind of Eleanora really,’ said Laura. ‘She knows I need the money. I wonder if there’ll be many scripts?’

‘There could be a few,’ said Fenella. ‘I gathered from Eleanora that the competition has been very widely advertised.’

At the sound of this word Laura’s eyes widened. ‘Ergh! Advertising! We haven’t thought about it at all!’

Work, even on a Sunday evening, was an excellent displacement activity, she decided, forcing a reluctant Fenella back down to her office for another hour before she headed back to her flat. Dermot Flynn was taking up far too much space in her brain and they had a festival to organise.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Three weeks later, Laura was tipping white wine into a glass at the bookshop for possibly the very last time. It was their farewell party for all their customers. ‘Yes, it is terribly sad the shop is closing,’ she said to the recipient of the wine, a woman whom she couldn’t remember ever seeing in the shop, but who obviously supported it now there was free wine going. ‘But I’m sure you’ll manage.’

‘Of course, I buy all my books from charity shops,’ said the woman taking on a pious expression. ‘I do like to support charity.’

Behind the woman Laura observed Henry’s rueful eyebrow. ‘But not bookshops?’ said Laura.

‘Oh well, they’re businesses, aren’t they?’ The woman looked into her empty glass, willing Laura to magic some more wine into it as a reward for her virtue.

Laura held the bottle firmly upright. ‘Yes, and they have to make money, like any other business. And how would the authors make money if no one bought their books new?’

The woman frowned. Taking pity on her, Laura tipped a small amount of wine into her glass.

‘I never thought of that,’ said the woman, and moved away.

‘Laura, dear!’ A much-loved customer, stalwart of the reading group, came up. ‘What are we going to do without you all?’

It was customers like this woman who made bookselling such a joy, Laura felt, and hoped she wasn’t going to get emotional. Now the time had finally come she felt as if she was losing a friend. It was the end of an era for her. She’d cut her literary teeth here; she felt more at home here than anywhere else; this was the place where she could really be herself. ‘Oh, Fiona! Don’t say that! It’s sad enough as it is. You will keep the reading group going, won’t you?’

‘Of course. It won’t be the same without you, though. You’ve read so much.’ She sighed. ‘But we’ll manage.’ She paused. ‘And what about you? Have you got another job?’