There’s a tapping sound above and she glances up to see birds on the roof. Clouds scoot past and she has a sense of time hurtling by at great speed. Dizzily she steadies herself, looks down, touches the daubs of paint on the floorboards, their colours muted by the years. The artist worked here, she realises.

Her gaze falls again on the boxes of books and she remembers the bookshop she spotted. What was it called? Crystal’s Books. Is it worth checking out? Marina stands and as she does, a bird lifts from the roof and wheels through the sky.

Crystal’s Books is bright and modern. It’s a narrow space, seeming larger thanks to a combination of mirrors, lamps and light-coloured walls. Incense burns. The pale wood shelves are packed neatly. There are nods to the past: a display of old-fashioned signs and a line of black and white photos on one wall. A grandfather clock stands silently at the far end. Through a low doorway she can see stairs up to a second floor. A slim woman in jeans, with curly red hair, stands at the top of a stepladder, slotting books into spaces.

‘Two ticks,’ she calls when she spots Marina.

‘No hurry.’ Marina is a little disappointed. She would have liked to have been greeted by a Dickens character: a hunched old man who might or might not be Thomas Littleton. She wanders to the far end of the shop to a shelf labelled Myths and Legends.

‘Looking for anything in particular?’ asks the woman, climbing down from the ladder.

‘Not especially.’

‘Shout if you need me.’ She brushes down her jeans. In her fifties, perhaps, she wears a russet shirt that sets off the flames of her hair.

Marina picks out a book on burial grounds and stone circles which is perfect for Ruth. She browses the rest of the shop contemplating a gift for David and settles on a biography of Jacqueline du Pré.

At the counter, the woman is reading what appears to be a manuscript.

‘It’s a sideline,’ she says when she sees Marina looking. ‘I teach creative writing.’ She gestures to the floor above. ‘We give lessons in the upstairs room, literacy classes too.’

‘You sound busy.’

‘Not enough money in books alone, unfortunately. Mind you, the literacy is a community project. We’re always looking for volunteers if you’re interested. Free tea and biscuits.’

Marina smiles at her warmth.

‘I’m Crystal by the way, in case you haven’t guessed.’

‘Marina.’ No need to hide her name here.

Crystal rings up the books on the till, pausing to examine the cover of the one Marina picked out for Ruth. ‘This looks interesting.’

‘It’s for my mother.’

‘Lucky her. There’s more like this. I can search them out if you want. Are you local?’

‘Yes.’

‘Wonderful. New to the area?’