Contents (57)
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by Sharon Gosling
She made her way back to her tent that night via the hot shelf at the Co-op and went to bed a sausage roll to the good.
Four
‘Oh dear,’ Sylvie drawled, when she called to see how Toby was getting on a few days later. ‘You’ve put this poor woman on a pedestal already.’
She was talking about Rachel, although Toby didn’t really understand how his ex-wife had managed to get him onto the topic of the manager of the Lighthouse Bookshop. There must have been something in his voice as he described her, he supposed, that had suggested a subject worth pursuing.
‘I have not.’
‘You’ve been waxing lyrical about her the entire time we’ve been talking,’ Sylvie pointed out.
‘You told me to tell you everything!’
‘I did, which apparently equates to you talking about this Rachel woman. A lot.’
‘It’s the bookshop, that’s all,’ Toby said. ‘She’s always there, and I’ve been going in regularly to work. There’s something a bit otherworldly about the place. Sometimes I feel like I’ve walked into a production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. There’s a kid who goes there every day that I swear is part pixie.’
‘That’s middle England for you, darling. It’s just you coming down from years in other places, that’s all. You’ll be as jaded as the rest of us in a jiffy.’
‘I’m in Scotland, Sylvie.’
‘I don’t care where you are as long as you’re not going to get shot again. How are the night terrors?’
‘Let’s talk about something else.’
‘That good, eh? All right then, what about the book?’
‘It’s… coming.’
‘You’ve been there almost two weeks already,’ Sylvie sighed. Then after a pause, she said, ‘Wait a minute. Where in Scotland are you?’
‘Newton Dunbar. It’s in Aberdeenshire,’ Toby told her.
‘On the coast?’
‘No,’ Toby said, using years of experience to suppress his irritation at her customary lack of attention. ‘I told you, we’re miles from the sea, that’s why the lighthouse is such an oddity.’
‘Oh yes, sorry,’ she said, but in the distracted tone of voice that told him she was probably doing three things at once in addition to speaking to him. This was not a new phenomenon in their relationship. ‘Ah-ha! I thought so! Well, now you’ve got to ask this woman out, because you can take her to the Crovie Inn and tell me all about it.’
‘The what?’
‘The Crovie Inn, from the TV show,’ Sylvie said, and then, ‘Oh, I keep forgetting you’ve been on the other side of the planet for God knows how long. Look it up. It’s not that far from you. It’ll be perfect.’
‘I’m not going to ask her out, Sylvie,’ Toby said. ‘I came here to work. And besides, I really need to sort my head out first before I even think about dating, don’t you think? She’s an interesting woman, that’s all. They’re all interesting people.’
‘Fine,’ said his ex-wife. ‘In that case, do get on with the book. It’ll be perfect for next year’s Christmas market. People went mad for the doctor professional confessionals. We pitch it right and they’ll eat yours up too. And hey – if you’re still limping when the book tour comes around, so much the better, eh?’