‘Sam?’
‘Emma,’ he said, his natural ease seeming to drain away from him in an instant.
‘I don’t want to waste time so I’m just going to ask you straight,’ she began. Sam was used to that with Emma. Whenever she had something on her mind, she wouldn’t bother with any sort of preamble – she’d just come straight to the point. ‘I can’t find that book you gave me.’
‘Which book?’ Sam asked. He’d given her a lot of books during their marriage. None had really been appreciated, he feared.
‘That expensive one. The one you said was a collector’s piece.’
Sam sighed to himself. She couldn’t even remember the name of it, could she? He thought of the beautiful gilt-embossed anthology of love poems he’d given her. It was a first edition from the 1850s and was a glory to behold. Indeed, he’d never seen a more handsome book in all his years as an antiquarian.
‘The poetry anthology?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s the one. Have you got it?’
‘No, of course not,’ Sam said. ‘Why would I have it?’
‘Don’t lie to me,’ Emma said. ‘I know you have it.’
‘Emma, why would I take that from you? It was a gift to you.’
‘You’re lying, Sam. I know you are. That was a valuable book.’
‘Yes it was, but that doesn’t mean I took it back from you,’ he said, doing his best to remain calm which was never an easy thing around Emma. ‘Look, I can’t talk now. I’m in the shop.’
‘Yes, and you’ve probably just sold that book, haven’t you?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ Sam said. ‘How could you honestly think that? You’ve probably just mislaid it.’
‘I don’t just mislay things,’ she shouted down the phone.
No, Sam thought, apart from your scruples about sleeping with other men whilst you’re married. But he didn’t say anything.
‘I’m sorry I can’t help you with this,’ he said.
‘Sam – don’t make me send Aidan over,’ Emma said, her voice a cold warning.
‘What’s Aidan got to do with this?’ Sam asked, thinking of Emma’s loose cannon of a brother, Aidan Jones. He was short and stocky with arms built more like legs after spending way too much time in the gym. Sam had never warmed to him particularly after he’d got into a fight on Sam’s stag night and had been arrested. He was, to quote his brother, Josh, “A foul-mouthed philistine” and Sam didn’t relish the idea of his ex-wife using Aidan as some sort of go-between.
‘If you don’t give me back that book, I’ll send Aidan over to get it,’ she said, hanging up before Sam could say anything else.
He replaced the receiver and took a deep breath, wondering what on earth had just happened.
‘Grandpa?’ he said, walking through to the back room.
Grandpa Joe looked up from his Tintin book. ‘You okay?’
‘That was Emma on the phone.’
‘Thought it might be,’ Grandpa Joe said. ‘Your voice goes all tight and unnatural whenever you talk to her.’
‘Does it?’
‘Sure does.’
Sam ran a hand through his hair. ‘She thinks I’ve stolen a book I gave her.’
‘What book?’
‘The nineteenth-century poetry anthology.’
‘Ah, yes – nice book that,’ Grandpa Joe said. ‘Well, did you?’
‘Grandpa!’ Sam said in exasperation. ‘Of course I didn’t steal it!’
‘Just making sure,’ he said with a wink.
‘I thought she was out of my life for good now,’ he said, ‘but she keeps popping up to unsettle me.’
‘I never warmed to that woman,’ Grandpa Joe said, his white eyebrows hovering menacingly low.
‘Grandpa, you fell for her just as hard as I did.’
‘How can you say that?’
‘Because you were all over her when I first brought her home.’
‘Ah,’ Grandpa Joe said, ‘I was as hoodwinked as you in those early days.’
Sam shook his head. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘would you mind manning the till for me for a bit? I’m going to pop across the road.’
Grandpa Joe put his copy of Tintin aside and stood up. ‘Going to get some sisterly advice?’
‘Something like that,’ Sam said.
A minute later and Sam had left one Nightingale bookshop for another.
‘Hey!’ Bryony said as her brother walked through the door. She was wearing a flowing floral dress in lavender and lime and a pair of enormous silver hoop earrings.
‘Polly! Sam’s here,’ she called through to the storeroom.
Polly, who was helping Bryony out until she had to go and collect Archie from school, emerged from the storeroom.
‘You need me?’ she asked.
‘No, no,’ he said.
‘You okay?’ Polly asked as she surveyed her brother.
‘Emma just rang,’ he said.
‘What did she want?’ Bryony said, her dark eyes narrowed.
‘She thinks I’ve stolen a book I once gave her.’
‘What?’ Polly asked. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘I am not kidding,’ Sam said.
‘Well, did you?’ Bryony said.
Sam glared at her. ‘I hope you’re joking.’
‘I know you and books,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t want to see a good book go to waste, and weren’t you always saying that she never appreciated books like us?’
‘Nobody appreciates books like us,’ Polly said.
‘She’s threatened to send Aidan round,’ Sam confided.
‘Oh, blimey,’ Bryony said. ‘That Neanderthal.’
‘I thought I’d better warn you,’ Sam said, remembering what had happened at his wedding. They’d hired a glorious marquee which had been set up in the garden at Campion House for his and Emma’s wedding reception. Of course, Aidan had been there, tanking up on as much champagne as he could get his hands on and then grabbing Bryony’s bottom on the dance floor which had resulted in a slapped face, much to the amusement of the guests.
‘I don’t want to see that brother-in-law of yours ever again,’ Bryony told Sam now.
‘Ex brother-in-law,’ Sam said. ‘I don’t exactly relish the idea of seeing him either.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Polly asked, concern in her voice.
‘I don’t think there’s much I can do,’ Sam said. ‘Anyway, she was probably bluffing.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Bryony said. ‘Honestly, Sam, ‘I don’t know why you put up with her nonsense. She’s just trying it on with you. She’s probably hoping you’ll write her out a cheque or something to keep the peace. Tell us what you saw in her again.’
‘Don’t be so heartless, Bry,’ Polly said.
‘But she’s been nothing but trouble from day one.’
‘That’s not true,’ Sam said. ‘I remember you two gossiping in the kitchen together every Sunday.’
Bryony looked sheepish. ‘Well, that was just in support of my dopey brother,’ she said.
‘So, how’s your love life then?’ he asked. ‘Seeing as you’re so quick to judge everybody else’s.’
‘Oh, no!’ Polly said. ‘Don’t talk about Bryony’s love life – please!’
‘Why?’ Sam asked. ‘What have I missed?’
‘Nothing,’ Bryony said. ‘Absolutely nothing and that’s the point!’
‘No,’ Polly said. ‘There has been some progress.’
Bryony stared at her older sister, obviously nonplussed.
‘Colin!’ Polly cried.
‘Oh!’ Bryony said. ‘Well, that’s not really news, is it?’
‘What isn’t news?’ Sam asked.
‘Colin asked me out again,’ Bryony said.
‘Colin from Well Bread next door?’
‘Of course that Colin,’ Polly said in exasperation.
‘Well, he’s a good guy,’ he told her, thinking of the young man who’d opened up the bakery in Castle Clare fi
ve years ago and had really made a name for himself. People came from all over the county for his delicious cob loaves and pastries.
Bryony slumped down onto a yellow beanbag in the children’s corner of the shop.
‘I’m seriously thinking of dating him,’ she said, her elbows resting on her knees and her head in her hands.
‘Shouldn’t you sound more excited by the prospect of dating someone?’ Sam asked, looking at the funny sight of his sister so close to the floor. Her dark hair was cascading wildly over her shoulders and was in stark contrast to Polly’s which was neatly pinned back in a bun. Sam smiled at the pair of them as he knelt down to Bryony’s level. How very different they were, he thought, and how very much he loved them both.
‘There are only so many cream cakes and flapjacks a girl can accept before agreeing to a date,’ Bryony said.
‘He’s worn you down with an onslaught of sugar,’ Polly said. ‘That’s plain cheating. No woman can survive wooing by sugar.’
‘Honestly, it’s going to do my waistline no good at all,’ Bryony said.
‘Maybe your first date should be a very long walk,’ Sam suggested, receiving a play punch from Bryony which nearly toppled him over.
‘Why is there such a shortage of decent men in Suffolk?’ she asked.
Sam shrugged. ‘Maybe you should become like me and dedicate your life to the printed word.’
‘Maybe,’ she said.
‘Nah. Don’t do that, Bry. You’ll find your perfect match,’ Sam said.
‘How can you be so sure?’ she asked. ‘I mean, it didn’t exactly work out for you, did it?’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘But it’s easier to remain optimistic for other people.’
‘But you’ve not seriously given up on meeting someone, have you, Sam?’ Polly asked.
‘I seriously have,’ he told her, standing back up to full height. ‘I am through with all that. The only romance I want is the sort that is safely tucked between two covers and a spine.’
‘But what about that Callie woman? She was lovely.’
‘You’ve met her?’ Bryony asked Polly.
‘She came into the shop the other day,’ Polly said.
‘Am I the only Nightingale not to have met Callie Logan?’
Polly laughed. ‘You’ll get your chance, I’m sure.’
‘So, are you seeing her?’ Bryony asked, gazing up at Sam from her beanbag.
‘Only in a professional manner,’ he replied.
Bryony rolled her eyes. ‘Well, that’s boring!’
‘She was very pretty,’ Polly said.
‘What’s she like?’ Bryony asked her sister.
Polly looked thoughtful. ‘She looked cautious, I thought.’
‘Of what?’ Bryony asked.
‘Of everything,’ Polly said.
‘What do we know about her?’ Bryony said, turning her gaze towards her brother again.
‘We know that she minds her own business unlike some people,’ Sam said, a stern expression on his face.
Bryony stuck her tongue out at him. ‘I’m going to Google her.’
‘Please don’t,’ Sam said, making to leave the shop.
‘I’m going to Google her as soon as you leave the shop and I shall print out and highlight anything interesting for you.’
‘I’m not interested,’ Sam said, the bell tinkling above his head as he opened the door.
‘The antiquarian doth protest too much!’ Bryony said, laughing.
Sam ignored her and returned to the sanctuary of his own bookshop.
It was just ten minutes before closing time when the trouble began. Sam recognised the white van immediately. It pulled up next to the kerb outside Sam’s shop, blocking the light and causing a woman with a buggy to swerve in alarm.
‘Oh, no,’ Sam said, watching as the short stocky figure of Aidan Jones got out, scratching his groin before reaching into the van and bringing out a large cardboard box.
Sam frowned as his ex-brother-in-law pushed the shop door open so hard that Sam genuinely thought that it would come off his hinges. Aidan had always reminded Sam of Popeye, only without any of the cartoon character’s endearing qualities.
‘Sammy!’ Aidan bellowed across the shop, startling an elderly lady who’d been happily thumbing her way through a Jilly Cooper paperback.
‘What do you want, Aidan?’ Sam asked, watching as the elderly lady decided to leave the shop without the pre-loved copy of Riders.
‘I think you know what I want,’ Aidan said with a sniff.
‘Look, I don’t want any trouble,’ Sam said.
‘You’ll not get any trouble outta me,’ Aidan said, running his hand over his nail-brush short hair. ‘That’s not what I’ve come ‘ere for. I’ve come for that book, only I don’t know what I’m lookin’ for, see, and Emma doesn’t seem to know what it is neither so I’m takin’ all the old books in your personal collection.’
‘What do you mean, you’re taking all of them?’
‘I’m to take any old book, sis said.’
Before Sam could say anything, Aidan had walked into the back room and was legging it up the stairs. For someone so short, he couldn’t half move fast, Sam thought.
‘Now, just you wait a minute– ‘ Sam said, sprinting up the stairs behind him. ‘You can’t barge in to my home like this.’
‘Gonna stop me, are you?’
‘What’s going on?’ Grandpa Joe shouted from his home on the sofa in the back room of the bookshop.
‘Just stay there, Grandpa,’ Sam called down below before following Aidan into the tiny flat above the shop.
‘Wow!’ Aidan said as he eyed up the sparse furnishings. ‘You got this nice an’ cosy, ain’t you?’
‘Please leave now,’ Sam said, ignoring his sarcasm and trying to remain calm.
‘I ain’t leaving until I’ve got what I came for.’
‘You have no right to be here.’
‘No?’ he said, a sly grin on his face as he threw the cardboard box down beside a bookcase. ‘Emma thinks I’ve got a right to be here.’
‘Well, she’s mistaken.’
‘We’ll see about that, won’t we?’ Aidan said as he began picking random hardbacks from the bookcase in front of him.
‘Do not touch those books!’ Sam shouted, striding forward and reaching out to touch Aidan’s left shoulder.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I was you,’ Aidan said and Sam couldn’t help noticing a touch of mischievousness in his voice as if he was, perhaps, baiting him.
‘What’s going on in here?’ an angry voice came from the landing and Sam turned to see Grandpa Joe entering the room.
‘Just wait downstairs please, Grandpa.’
‘What the hell is he doing?’ Grandpa cried.
In the brief moment that Sam had turned away from Aidan, he’d managed to half fill the cardboard box with old hardback books.
‘Put those back,’ Sam said.
‘What’s going on?’ Grandpa Joe said. ‘Why’s he got those books?’
‘Grandpa – go downstairs.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he said. ‘You just put those books back right now.’
‘Get out of my way, old man.’
‘Grandpa!’ Sam shouted but, as fast as he moved forward, Aidan was faster, pushing into the old man with the heavy box of books, causing him to topple and crash into the chair behind him, falling to the floor.
Sam’s eyes widened in horror at the callous act and he felt a great rage building inside him, but he didn’t have time to take action because Aidan had predicted what would happen next and had dropped the box of books before shooting his right fist into Sam’s belly. The move completely winded him and he could only glare up in surprise at Aidan.
‘What? You thought I’d be so low as to punch a guy in the face when he wears glasses?’
Aidan grabbed the box and raced down the stairs.
‘Grandpa? Are you all right?’ Sam was instantly beside his grandpa wh
o was still on the floor.
‘Did he get away?’
‘Just sit still for a minute,’ Sam said.
‘Let me at him!’
‘Grandpa – sit still!’
Grandpa Joe let out a weary sigh.
‘Sam?’ a voice cried from downstairs and Sam heard the sound of at least two pairs of feet on the uncarpeted staircase. It was Polly and Bryony.
‘We’re in here,’ Sam called and the two sisters ran into the room.
‘Are you okay?’ Polly crouched down next to her grandfather. ‘We saw the van outside the shop and guessed there’d be trouble.’
‘That jerk, Aidan, knocked Grandpa over,’ Sam said, ‘and ran off with a load of my books.’
‘He winded you!’ Grandpa Joe said.
‘I’m calling the police,’ Bryony said.
‘Don’t!’ Sam said.
‘Sam!’ she cried. ‘You’ve just been assaulted and robbed!’
‘And that’s enough. We don’t need the police here too and tongues wagging in town for the next three months.’
‘Oh, my goodness – you’re bleeding,’ Polly said, noticing a thin line of blood on Grandpa Joe’s lip.
‘I think I bit my lip as I fell,’ he said.
‘Let me get that fixed up,’ Polly said, heading for Sam’s tiny bathroom.
‘What the hell did Aidan think he was doing?’ Bryony said.
‘He doesn’t think,’ Grandpa Joe said. ‘He isn’t capable.’
‘I should have belted him,’ Sam said.
‘If you’d have so much as laid a finger on him, he would have killed you,’ Polly said as she emerged from the bathroom with some damp cotton wool and a bottle of TCP. Sam knew she was probably right. Aidan was always getting into fights and he enjoyed every single one of them.
‘What did he take?’ Bryony asked.
‘I don’t think that matters right now,’ Polly said, as she dabbed Grandpa Joe’s lip with TCP.
‘Ouch!’ he cried. ‘It matters to me what he took because it’s Nightingale property.’
‘Yes, a Neanderthal like Aidan Jones shouldn’t be allowed to handle any sort of books let alone Nightingale books,’ Bryony said.
‘Were they expensive books?’ Polly asked.
‘Very likely,’ Sam said. ‘He wiped out most of the hardbacks from this case.’
‘And what was there?’ Bryony asked.
The Book Lovers Page 12