The Vintage Bookshop of Memories

by Elizabeth Holland

  Elizabeth Holland

  Elizabeth Holland is a keen writer of romance novels. She enjoys the escapism of picking up a book and transporting yourself into a new world. With her mind bursting with lots of different stories Elizabeth is exploring the world of self-publishing her novels.

  The Vintage Bookshop of Memories

  Elizabeth Holland

  Copyright © 2020 Elizabeth Holland

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by: Dawn Cox Photography

  Chapter One

  Prue smoothed the creases out of her charcoal pencil skirt as she stood up from the church pew. She looked around the small room to see the handful of people that had gathered, all wiping tears from their eyes. It was a bright but cold Wednesday in April and the cemetery was the last place Prue wanted to be. As she glanced around at the mourners Prue wondered how many of them had really known her grandmother. The entire village knew the name Elizabeth Clemonte and yet so few had known the real woman behind the name.

  ‘Prudence, how lovely to see you.’ Prue was pulled from her thoughts by the voice of an elderly man. She looked up to see the vicar smiling down at her, he had known Prue her entire life and had even been the one to baptise her. Everyone knew everyone in the little village that she had once called home, they especially knew you if you lived in the big house on the hill. Otherwise known as ‘Clemonte Manor’. The village, Ivy Hatch, was nestled amongst the rolling hills of Somerset and was mostly unknown. Each summer a handful of tourists would stumble upon the sleepy village but other than that the only visitors were from local towns or villages.

  Prue politely returned the vicar’s smile and engaged in some small talk, all the while she just wanted to get out of the stuffy church. Although Prue had been too young to remember her own mother’s funeral she had grown up to be somewhat afraid of God’s house. The little church was a reminder that she had grown up without a mother by her side. It was only the church that made her feel that way though, the graveyard surrounding it only evoked feeling of peace and contentment. Prue had many fond memories of visiting the graveyard with her grandmother over the years. They would come to tell her mother about their week, that hour spent in the graveyard was the closest Prue ever felt to her grandmother.

  Once outside in the cemetery Prue felt her shoulders relax. The few attendees of the funeral service were milling around outside, unsure what to do next. Following her grandmother’s wishes Prue had not arranged a wake, both her and her grandmother knew that the majority of the village would come along just to satisfy their curiosity and to see the inside of the Clemonte manor. Prue cast her gaze up to the hill above the village to where her home lay. At least it was once her home, before she went to university, and now it would become her home again.

  Only a week ago Prue had received a call from her grandmother’s doctor telling her to come quickly. She had packed up all of belongings and left her house share in Brighton to return to the little village she had once called her home. Prue always knew this day would come, she had just hoped it would be a long way in the future. Despite her grandmother’s lack of maternal instinct, she had been the only family member Prue had left. So now at the age of twenty-four Prue was Lady of the Manor with an entire village watching her to see what her next move would be. She knew the residents of Ivy Hatch saw her as an entitled snob, however in reality she was far from it. That’s why Prue had loved living in Brighton, nobody had batted an eyelid at how different she was. Her love for 1940s fashion always made her stand out from the crowd. Today her glossy black hair was in pin curls, one side swept back to show off her petite features. She had dressed for her grandmother’s funeral in her favourite pencil skirt and matching jacket with a crisp white shirt underneath. Perhaps she had gone a step too far with her lace gloves, black parasol and a black fascinator, complete with a birdcage veil. It was a little over the top but she knew her grandmother would have appreciated her dressing properly for the occasion. Despite their differences Prue’s fashion sense was something that she had inherited from her grandmother who had insisted on dressing up for every occasion.

  Prue was acutely aware of the villagers watching her from afar, all whispering about how indifferent she thought she was. If only they could have seen what her life had been like in Brighton, living in a house share with eight other people and spending her days working at the local auction house as a valuer. She had worked hard to forge a career for herself but here she was back at the manor. Her grandmother’s dying wish had been for her to move home, on her deathbed she had reminded Prue the importance of keeping their family name alive. There was also the responsibility of owning the majority of the village.

  Relief washed over Prue as she spotted the black hearse pull up ready to take her home. As her heels clicked on the path below her she held her head up high, thanked the vicar and made her way over to the car. She knew that every pair of eyes were on her, ready for her to mess up in some way. You see the villagers had never liked the Clemontes, they were a reminder of a class system that everyone but Prue’s grandmother wanted to forget. However, there were still the odd few who worshipped the system and believed that the Clemontes should be treated differently, Prue didn’t much like those people. Even as a child Prue had wondered why everyone couldn’t be treated as equals. It was a delicate line to tread and Prue would need to strike a balance between respecting the old fashioned ways and yet also bringing the village into the present.

  For now though all Prue wanted to do was go home and cry, and so she stepped into the hearse ready to go back to the manor. It may have been too big for just her but at least it somewhat felt like home, after all it was all she had ever known. Prue looked out of the window as they passed the back of the cemetery, even from the road she could see the Clemonte family mausoleum. She lifted her hand and gave a small wave towards her mother’s resting place. Oh, she would give almost anything to still have her mother by her side telling her what to do next.

  The hearse drew up to the manor and Prue thanked the driver before getting out and walking up the few steps to the front door. With an ominous creak Prue pushed open the heavy door and walked into the sparse hallway. Despite her grandmother’s lack of maternal instinct she had still been family. She may not have hugged Prue but she always made sure there were staff available to give Prue everything she needed. A single tear fell from Prue’s eye as she glanced up at a family portrait, the only one of her grandmother, her mother and her. Prue was only a baby in this picture but she wanted to believe that she still remembered that day. A day when she was surrounded by family.

  As another tear fell from her eye Prue locked the door behind her and headed up to her bedroom, she had a long day ahead of her tomorrow. Prue had been summoned by her grandmother’s solicitor. Over the phone he had told Prue that she was the sole heir to the Clemonte estate, however he wanted to see her face-to-face to discuss some of the finer details. With this in mind Prue changed out of her funeral attire and into her emerald green silk pyjamas and climbed into her bed. The room was styled to suit Prue’s eclectic taste, it was as if you had stepped back in time into the art deco period. It was Prue’s solace in a house that seemed so cold and distant. As Prue’s head hit the pillow more tears fell from her eyes, her life had been completely turned upside down and her
e she was, back in a village where everyone despised her for no fault of her own. Life wasn’t going to be easy over the next few months.

  Chapter Two

  The following morning Prue woke before sunrise. She pulled on her teddy bear coat, made a cup of coffee and went to stand outside on the back terrace. From the manor’s spot on the hill she could see down into the village. A few of the little cottages had lights on and smoke billowing from their chimneys. They looked homely and inviting, unlike the cold pile of bricks behind her. Despite her grandmother’s attempts to modernise the interior it was still an old property and therefore was often cold and damp. Its sheer size was starting to dawn on Prue now she was the only one living there. She craved the comfort of carpeted floors and deep comfy sofas to sink in to and watch television. The manor’s saving grace was its library, a room filled from floor to ceiling with books. Even from a young age Prue had been in her element in that room. There were endless worlds for her to fall into and all she had to do was pick a book and lose herself in the moment. To say Prue was a keen reader would be an understatement, whenever she had a spare moment she could always be found with her head in a book.

  Prue stood outside wrapped in her oversized coat, sipping her coffee as she watched the sunrise in the distance. Despite it being April the mornings were still so cold Prue could see her breath linger in the air. She looked out towards the fields where she could see farmers tending to their animals. It was nice to be back at home in the countryside. Today was her final day in limbo, once she had spoken to her grandmother’s solicitor she could then go about rebuilding her life here. Selling the manor was not an option, it had been in the family for too many years, her grandmother had ensured she knew this from a very young age. Prue respected this, after all the manor was her only link to her mother. The manor held endless valuable memories that could never be replaced, for that reason alone it would always be home. However, Prue was determined to make the manor feel a little cosier and homely. She would also find a job at one of the local auction houses. She could probably live off of the income that the estate generated but Prue knew she had to keep working to stay sane. She did not want to risk turning into her grandmother. With a sigh Prue turned and went back inside the house, she had a meeting to get ready for.

  What did one wear to a will reading? Were you suppose to dress as though you were going to a funeral? Prue resisted the urge to pick up her phone and text her ex-housemate, after all it was only 8am, she would still be asleep. Instead she settled on a pair of brown tweed waist high flared trousers with a silk cream blouse. She was well aware that her fashion sense was somewhat eccentric but who could blame her growing up in an 18th century manor house with a grandmother who believed she still ruled the village? Prue was never destined to be normal.

  After running a brush through her hair Prue was happy to see that her curls had survived the night. She applied a small amount of make-up and grabbed her handbag ready for her 9am meeting. As she went outside towards the garages Prue let out a squeal of delight. Coming home to the manor meant that she could drive her own car again. Despite not being the most loving of grandmothers Elizabeth Clemonte had understood her granddaughter very well and so for her eighteenth birthday she had bought her a vintage car. Not just any vintage car though - a vintage Bentley. Prue had been terrified to drive it but now she was back home it was her only mode of transport so for the time being she was going to drive her vintage car and love every second of it.

  Prue found the drive to the solicitor’s office to be somewhat calming, once this was over she could focus on organising her life. It was only a short drive of ten miles and the day was beautiful. The sun was high in the sky with not a cloud in sight and despite the cold breeze Prue opened the window slightly and revelled in the fresh air that filled the car. It was a beautiful day and her soul was happy to be home. There was a part of Prue that felt incredibly guilty for feeling so happy about life since it was only yesterday that she buried her grandmother. She couldn’t help it though, somewhere deep inside of her she felt as though she was about to embark on the next chapter of her life. She had a whole new adventure stretching out in front of her and she couldn’t wait to throw herself into it. That was the kind of girl she was, anything that came her way she embraced it. It would frustrate her grandmother sometimes and Prue was sure this was a trait that she must have inherited from her father. She would never know now though, with her grandmother dead there was nobody left on earth that could point Prue in the direction of her father. Her mother’s indiscretion would forever be a secret with only Prue to show for it.

  As Prue pulled up outside the solicitor’s office she felt as though she were teetering on the edge of something but what that something was, she didn’t know. All she knew was that the solicitor wanted to see her to discuss the estate. With her head held high and her shoulders back she pushed open the door to the office, oozing a confidence that she definitely wasn’t feeling. The receptionist smiled at her and told her to take a seat, Mr Adley would be out to see her soon. Prue wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t needed to introduce herself, the Clemontes were known very well around here. Within a few seconds of taking her seat Mr Adley appeared and ushered her into his office.

  ‘Thank you for coming in to see me Miss Clemonte.’ Mr Adley pulled out a seat for her and gestured for her to sit in it. Having lived in Brighton for the past few years Prue had forgotten what it was like to come home and be treated as if she were royalty.

  ‘Please Mr Adley, call me Prue.’ She smiled kindly up at the man as she took her seat. He looked to be in his late fifties with a smattering of grey hair on his head. Despite his tired expression his eyes looked warm and friendly.

  ‘If you don’t mind Miss Clemonte I think it is best if we keep things professional.’

  Prue was suitably chastised. She knew her grandmother would have been glaring at her if she had been in the room with her, they were always the Clemontes to the village.

  The silence in the room was somewhat awkward as Mr Adley sorted through his paperwork and Prue busied herself looking around the small office. It was dark with piles of paperwork covering every surface. How Mr Adley could find anything amongst this mess Prue didn’t know, she wanted to start sorting through it all whilst he gathered the right paperwork.

  ‘Ahh, here we are. Mrs Elizabeth Clemonte’s will.’

  Prue had to try really hard to concentrate as Mr Adley read out the name of every building and piece of land that the Clemontes owned in the area. A heavy feeling settled at the bottom of Prue’s stomach as she realised that she was now heir to all of this, it was her responsibility to ensure that the farms were run properly, people’s jobs were safe and their homes were well kept.

  ‘Miss Clemonte as you may be aware I oversee all of the legalities of the Clemonte estate and I correspond with your estate manager. Providing you agree I am happy for this to continue, the only thing you would be required to do is attend the annual meeting.’ Prue breathed a sigh of relief, she was more than happy to allow things to continue this way.

  ‘As you know the manor has been left to you, your grandmother has not left any restrictions on that, other than the fact that you’re unable to sell it.’ That was fine, Prue had been expecting that. Despite everything she would never wish to sell her home.

  ‘There is one more matter Miss Clemonte. I’m not sure whether you’re aware of the business venture your grandmother owns in town? I believe she inherited it from your mother upon her death.’

  Prue leant forward slightly in her chair, she was not aware of any business that her grandmother had inherited from her mother. Come to think of it she was not aware that her mother had ever owned a business in town. Why would her grandmother have kept this from her?

  ‘Your mother, Dorothy Clemonte, owned a bookshop in the heart of the town. I believe there was some controversy around it at the time, the villagers were unhappy at the idea of your mother playing shop. She loved that little place though. Af
ter her death your grandmother boarded it up and as far as I’m aware nobody has stepped foot inside since.’

  Prue was finding it hard to catch her breath. Her mother had owned a little bookshop in the village and yet she had never known anything about it. The idea that there was a place that had such a connection with her mother filled Prue with excitement. Her mother had been taken from them too soon. She had been born with a heart defect and over the years she had become weaker and weaker until one day she went into hospital and never came home. At least that was how Prue remembered it, being so young had shielded her from the true trauma of those life-changing days.

  Mr Adley gave Prue directions to the shop and handed her a key. It wasn’t a new key, it was an old fashioned skeleton key. It was just the key that Prue would have chosen for her own shop. She thanked Mr Adley as quickly as possible and left the office, feeling as though she was in a dream. There was only one place she wanted to be right now and that was the mysterious bookshop.

  Chapter Three

  As Prue stepped outside of the office a sickening feeling came over her. What should she do next? She had expected to walk out of the office with her life on track and ready to start job hunting. Instead, here she was feeling confused and excited. She could go straight to the bookshop, however she felt as though she had to prepare herself for that. After a lifetime of believing she would never learn anything more about her mother she had just been presented with a treasure trove of memories. This bookshop would be her mother’s vision, an insight into her thoughts and imagination. Prue had to reign her thoughts in, she had to stop herself from getting carried away. For all she knew her grandmother may have had the place gutted and it could just be a shell. She doubted it though. Despite her grandmother’s harshness she had adored her only daughter and had done everything she could to keep her memory alive. Prue was aware of something happening that split the mother-daughter bond that the pair had shared, she had always suspected it had something to do with her but she had never sought any answers.