Instead of going straight to the shop Prue decided to park up in the village and pop into the cafe for a drink, before delving into her mother’s past. There was only one cafe in town, The Honey Pot, and so Prue headed straight there. She remembered the cafe from her childhood, however back then it was known as The Tea Rooms and the lovely lady that ran it always gave Prue an extra large slice of cake. It was now table service and so Prue pushed the door open and seated herself at one of the tables by the window so she could watch as the villagers passed by.
‘Miss Clemonte, what can I get you?’ A flustered waitress came running over, coming to an abrupt halt next to the table and doing something between a curtsey and a bow. Prue had to stop herself from laughing at the young girl.
‘Please, call me Prue. Could I have a cappuccino and a tea cake please?’ Prue smiled up at the girl as she frantically wrote the order down on her notepad.
‘Of course Miss Cle… Sorry I mean Prue. I’ll bring it over as soon as it’s ready.’ With a final smile the girl returned to the counter to put the order in. Prue smiled and returned her gaze to the village outside, there was something so relaxing about people watching. She could feel the eyes of everyone in the cafe staring at her, wondering what her next move would be. Prue suddenly found herself feeling homesick for Brighton. Despite having grown up in the village she had spent the last few years living in Brighton and she had loved every moment of it. Prue had particularly enjoyed blending into the crowds of people with nobody knowing who she or her family were.
In just a few minutes Prue’s order was brought over by the same waitress. Feeling a little embarrassed Prue thanked her and tucked into her late breakfast, her order had definitely skipped the queue. As she bit into her teacake Prue realised why she was receiving such a special service, she now owned the premises. Prue’s realisation was cut short as the door to the cafe opened and the little bell above it rung out. In walked a man, who looked to be in his late fifties. He looked as though he would have been quite good looking in his prime, although now his dark locks were greying and his piercing blue eyes were sunken and framed by years of lines. His gaze fell upon her and he began to make his way over to her table, a menacing look on his face.
‘Has the lady of the manor deemed herself good enough to sit with us commoners?’ He spat at her, he was now stood next to her table towering above her.
‘Excuse me?’ Prue spluttered, she had known that the villagers didn’t particularly like her but she hadn’t expected this reaction. The older woman, who had been stood behind the counter, came scurrying over.
‘Arnold, not here.’ She hissed at him, trying to pull at his arm to drag him away from Prue.
‘Wait. This is ridiculous. I live here too so I’d rather clear the air than have to avoid you all whenever I need to pop into town for anything.’ Prue’s voice sounded a lot braver than she was actually feeling. She remember what her grandmother had always taught her and sat up straight with her head held high and her shoulders back. Fake confidence was just as effective as real confidence.
‘Oh how good of you to grace us with your presence in the village.’ The menacing tone of the man’s voice had not dampened.
‘I’m not gracing you with my presence, I’m simply living here too.’ Prue was beginning to get annoyed, how dare this man speak to her like this? He didn’t even know her.
‘Arnold, I think it might be best if you leave.’ The woman sounded stern, she walked over towards the door and opened it for him. With a final glare at Prue he turned on his heel and marched out of the cafe, leaving behind him a silence as everyone waited to see what Prue would do next.
‘Does anyone want to tell me what that was about?’ Prue addressed her question to the whole cafe, she hoped that someone might be able to explain to her what she had already done wrong. After all, she’d been away from the village for years.
‘I’m Wendy, I run The Honey Pot cafe and I suppose I’m also one of your tenants.’ The woman moved from the door and sat down opposite Prue, putting her hand out for Prue to shake.
‘Prue Clemonte, nice to meet you Wendy.’ Prue smiled at her and took a sip of her coffee, feeling her body begin to relax again.
‘It’s not you Prue that everyone has a problem with. It’s the Clemontes.’
‘But I am a Clemonte?’ Prue responded, she was beginning to feel more and more confused.
‘The thing is dear,’ one of the elderly men from a neighbouring table pulled his chair over to them and sat down, ‘you’ve been gone for quite a while.’
‘I’ve been living and working in Brighton.’ Prue explained, although why she had to justify her life choices to these complete strangers she did not know.
‘That’s fine dear, the problem is people are worried about their livelihoods. Your grandmother, god rest her soul, was a harsh woman but a brilliant landlady. We knew that our futures were safe and we wouldn’t wake up one day to find the land our businesses are on had been sold to the highest bidder.’ The man finished his explanation and Prue had to admit that she could see his point. The villagers didn’t know her and she had been gone for years, they were within their rights to feel worried that she might sell their businesses from under their feet. However, shouting at her in a busy cafe was not the right way to introduce yourself to your new landlady.
‘Please believe me when I say this. I have no intention of selling any land or properties. This morning I met with Mr Adley and we have agreed that he will continue to oversee the Clemonte estate. All that has changed is that it is now my name on the deeds rather than my grandmother’s. I intend to keep everything the same.’ As Prue finished her little announcement she could hear a sigh of relief from everyone in the cafe. She suddenly felt herself feeling a little sick, she was now responsible for all the people’s livelihoods. Any future decisions she made impacted on an entire village.
‘Wendy could I have my bill please?’ Prue wanted to leave, the walls felt as though they were closing in on her and every set of eyes were watching her every move. She wished she had gone straight to the bookshop, then all of this might have been avoided.
‘It’s on the house, call it a welcome home present.’ Wendy smiled at her.
Prue stood up and grabbed her handbag, as she turned around to look at the rest of the cafe, all heads suddenly turned as if they hadn’t been watching her.
‘I’m sure you all heard that but just incase you didn’t, I don’t intend for anything to change. Mr Adley will remain in charge of the estate.’ Prue could feel her fake confidence crumbling as she addressed the whole room, she got her words out as quickly as possible before turning on her heel and walking towards the door.
‘Oh and Wendy, I don’t intend to take advantage of you or your business and so I shall deduct the cost of my breakfast from next month’s rent.’ With a final glance back at everyone’s shocked faces Prue walked back out of the cafe and into the fresh air. She had a new life to adjust to, a business to uncover and a whole village to win over. Prue Clemonte would certainly be busy for the next few months. She was beginning to wish she hadn’t turned the page to begin this new chapter of her life.
Chapter Four
Prue took a deep breath and did her best to forget about the events inside the cafe. With trembling hands she took the skeleton key out of her handbag and followed the directions that Mr Adley had given her to her mother’s old bookshop. She followed the main path through the village and took a left just before the church. This church was much bigger than the one at the cemetery and it was home to the weekly service. Prue’s grandmother had insisted that they attended the service each Sunday and so they would dress in their best clothes and take their seats at the front of the church. Everyone’s eyes were always on them rather than the vicar. As a child Prue had enjoyed the attention, however as she grew older she came to hate the weekly ritual until eventually she put her foot down and refused to go. Her grandmother had been upset but she had understood that Prue didn’t want to be
involved in the charade anymore. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.
The left hand turn had taken her onto a cobbled street with houses either side, all of which boasted window boxes filled with flowers just waiting for a spell of warm weather to bloom. The third door on the left was boarded up with just the doorknob and key hole on show. This was it, this was her mother’s old bookshop. Prue took a step back to admire the old building. Next to the boarded up doorway there was a window, which was also boarded up. The building itself was made from chunky stones that had been whitewashed. It needed a good clean but there was something awfully quaint about the little place. Prue took a deep breath to steady herself and with trembling hands she unlocked the door and pushed it open, ready to immerse herself in history.
A gasp escaped Prue as she stepped inside the shop. The smell of mustiness hit her senses as she blinked to adjust to the dim lighting. It was beautiful, a hidden treasure trove of books. If Prue could have designed her dream shop, this would be it. She stepped into the shop, leaving the door open slightly to allow some light in. A switch was to the left of the door but as she flicked it nothing happened. She would have to make do with the little natural light that the door was letting in. Books lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling. On the back wall stood a balcony, overlooking the entire shop with an old-fashioned ladder leading to it. Prue tiptoed around the room, running her fingers along the spines of all the books, they were thick with dust but they’d be fine after a good clean. There had to be thousands of books in here. She had always known her mother was a keen reader but she hadn’t known the true extent of her mother’s love for books. To the right of the shop was a counter in the same dark wood as the bookshelves, perched on the top was an old fashioned till. It was beautiful. Prue had come across a few of these during her time working in auction houses but never had she found one in such pristine condition, at least it would be pristine if it wasn’t covered in a layer of dust.
The shop would need a good clean and each individual book would need dusting but there was something magical about it. So many stories to be told, all locked away and forgotten about. Prue wandered over towards the back of the shop where an old leather chair was placed, it would be lovely after a good clean and polish. On the shelves next to the chair were leather bound fairytales. Prue ran her fingers across the spines, moving the dust so that she could see the title of each one. As her hands fell upon Cinderella, she pulled it out and blew the dust off of the cover before opening it up to read the first page. As she opened the book a piece of paper fell out and fell to the ground. Prue knelt down and picked it up, feeling a shiver run down her spine as she recognised the handwriting. It was her mother’s. She moved closer to the entrance of the shop so that she could read the words properly.
Good choice, Cinderella was always my favourite fairytale. If you like this and are looking for another fairytale why not try, Sleeping Beauty?
P.S What are the names of the mice?
Lots of love,
Dorothy
Prue could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she read and re-read her mother’s few words. They were short and not in any way aimed at her but still it was nice to be reminded of her mother’s presence. As Prue glanced around at the towering shelves of books she wondered whether her mother had placed a note inside each one. With trembling hands Prue reached out to the shelf closest to her, it housed non-fiction books. She chose the book on Egyptian history. With a deep breath Prue opened the cover and out flew a little slip of paper with her mother’s handwriting. This time her mother had suggested the reader progress to a fiction book based in ancient Egypt. As Prue slotted the book back into its place on the shelf she looked round at the shop in awe, had her mother really read all of these books and placed a slip of paper in each one to recommend another? It was a small but personal touch and Prue knew that if she had purchased a book and found a similar slip inside she would have been itching to return to buy another.
Feeling overwhelmed Prue stepped back outside onto the cobbled path to catch her breath. The smell of fresh air was welcome after she had inhaled so much dust. Her mind was at war with itself, part of her wanted to take on the shop and run it as her own but the other half of her reminded her that her speciality was in antiques, not books. She could learn though, couldn’t she? After all, she hadn’t been born with the knowledge to value items, she had spent many years learning from others and teaching herself. Unsure what to do Prue took the key from her pocket and locked the door. She couldn’t make a decision whilst being so close to the shop, her heart would win every time. There was something magical about the place, as though her mother’s spirit was living on inside. To make a sensible decision she needed to put some distance between herself and the building. In the meantime though it wouldn’t hurt to get an electrician in to sort the lights out. Whether she decided to keep it as a shop or not she would have to sort it out at some point and some lighting would be helpful.
Chapter Five
The following day Prue woke to the sound of her alarm. She rose confused and groggy after having had a few too many gin fizzes last night, whilst trying to decide what to do with the shop. Prue had called a local electrician after leaving the shop and he had agreed to pop in today to have a look at the electrics. That was why Prue was up so early. She was to meet the electrician outside the shop at 8am but before that she needed to stock up on cleaning products. Prue’s heart wanted to keep the shop and to run it but her head was all too aware of the problems that would cause. She was clearly disliked amongst the locals and so it was unlikely the shop would thrive. After her fourth gin fizz Prue had decided she may as well clean and tidy the shop, after all it could hardly be rented out in its current state. So with that in mind Prue had set her alarm for 6am and had celebrated making a decision with a few more cocktails.
With a pounding head Prue glanced at herself in the mirror, she definitely was looking a little worse for wear. After her numerous cocktails she had fallen into bed around midnight, still in her clothes and make-up. Looking in the mirror now Prue had many regrets. After a quick shower and a coffee she abandoned her usual attire and instead opted to put her hair up, compete with a headscarf, and grabbed some navy high waisted trousers and a matching cropped jumper. This was as put together as she was going to get at this time in the morning. With a glance at her car keys Prue decided to walk into the village. She had to get herself a practical car, it was a little gaudy to drive everywhere in a vintage Bentley.
With the key to the shop safely stowed in her trouser pocket Prue began the walk into the village, the walk home would be unpleasant but at least the walk there was all downhill. The birds were singing from the safety of the branches above her, meanwhile Prue could see a few farmers out in the surrounding fields feeding their livestock. As much as she had loved the vivid life in Brighton she had missed the stillness and laidback way of life in the village. Somehow she had to win over the people if she wanted to stay here. She just wished someone would tell her how she could do that.
After a quick trip to the village shop Prue stocked up on cleaning products and made her way to the bookshop. Despite the early morning there had still been lots of villagers in there buying their daily paper, all of whom were talking about her behind her back. Prue had held her head high and hid the unshed tears in her eyes, this was her home too. She wanted to make this work so that she could happily live side-by-side with everyone.
Prue’s pace picked up as she got closer and closer to the bookshop, she was yearning for the solace of those towering book shelves and the musty smell of old books. The bookshop would be her sanctuary for the time being, a place where she could shut herself away and think about what she was going to do with her life. As she opened the door to the bookshop a feeling of calmness washed over her, there really was something about this little place that made her feel connected with her mother and her heritage. In that moment she made the decision, she was going to make a success of the little bookshop
. She felt confident and determined to make this a success.
As Prue lined up the cleaning products on the counter there was a knock on the open door. She turned to see an older man stood there with a toolbox, it was Walter the local electrician. He had worked for her grandmother a handful of times and so Prue trusted him to look at the shop’s electrics.
‘Thank you for coming here Walter.’ Prue smiled at him and made her way to the door to shake his hand.
‘Your grandmother would not be happy.’ He grunted as he let go of her hand and looked around at the gloomy shop.
‘Why not?’ Prue was intrigued, she felt nothing but happiness from this little shop, why would her grandmother be unhappy?
‘This was your mother’s, this shop. Nothing good ever came from it.’ Before explaining any further Walter placed his toolbox on the floor and began to root around in it for the correct tools. His body language clearly stated that the conversation was over and as much as Prue wanted to ask more questions she didn’t want to risk being electrocuted when she turned the lights on.
They both worked in silence, Walter fixed the fuse box whilst Prue dusted and cleaned every surface she could. Her mind was buzzing with Walter’s words, what had he meant when he had said that nothing good had ever come from this bookshop?
‘All done!’ Walter announced and with a flick of a switch the huge brass chandelier above lit up casting light throughout the room. Prue looked around in awe as she took in the vibrant colours of all the books on the shelves. It was beautiful. With the flick of another switch wall lights in the shape of old fashioned torches lit up. It was as though you had just stepped foot into an 18th century library. Prue felt a fizz of excitement as she stood on the balcony looking down at her new venture.
The Vintage Bookshop of Memories Page 2