Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

‘ A nd you're not fibbing to me? You met up with our town's newbie, Scott, yesterday to begin the mentorship program?' Gregory hopped from foot to foot.

‘I did.' Bea nodded as she turned back to the customer she was serving. As much as he said all the right things and promoted putting the customer first, he was quite happy to stand loitering around her counter, interrogating her as she tried to serve. ‘Thank you and enjoy reading. I know I loved that one.'

‘Thanks, Bea. I'm sure I will. I always enjoy your recommendations.' Rachel Fairweather, who ran the equestrian centre just out of town, smiled warmly before darting her eyes towards Gregory, who was now fiddling with the small carousel of bookmarks Bea kept on the counter. Rachel lowered her voice. ‘Good luck with this one. He's been prowling around the stables, trying to convince me to come along to one of his infamous town retail meetings. I keep having to remind him I'm outside the town, therefore out of his jurisdiction.'

Bea smiled as Rachel turned and left, presumably before Gregory turned his attention to her. Blowing a strand of hair from her face, Bea turned back to Gregory, who was now picking up random bookmarks, reading quotes from the backs and putting them back in the wrong places. ‘You don't need to worry. We've got it all under control. Scott is working his way through the workbook quite nicely, thank you.'

This caught his attention, and he snapped his neck up in her direction, a bookmark featuring a bright pink flying pig in his hand. ‘Not too quickly, I hope. I would have thought your first meeting would have just been familiarising yourselves with one another.'

‘I…' Bea felt her cheeks flush as she thought back to the time she'd watched him pore over the workbook. Yep, she'd familiarised herself with him, that was for sure. ‘I just meant we begun the first question, discussed it.'

‘Right.' Frowning, he patted his pockets and pulled out a small diary, flicking through the pages until giving up and stroking his beard, deep in thought. ‘It must be in last year's diary. I usually have an itinerary of mentorship meetings. You might remember from when Fleur mentored you? There's a strict protocol to follow.'

‘It's fine. We know what we're doing.' Bea glanced at the wall clock hanging above the shelves of the Crime and Thriller section. She'd not slept well last night. After opening her sister's divorce-iversary gift to discover a pack of motivational quote cards, she'd begun wondering if her sister thought she was stuck in a rut, or worse, still pining after Adam. She shook her head. She knew it was likely neither of those. She usually loved little thoughtful gifts like that, and her sister knew that, but still, maybe the date hadn't gone as unnoticed as she'd hoped.

Sighing heavily, the aroma of prawn cocktail crisps escaping his mouth, Gregory crossed his arms and looked around the bookshop. ‘Look at what you've achieved here. In the short time since you opened the shop, some thirteen months and three weeks ago, you've created a busy, cosy place for the book lovers of Nettleford and beyond to escape to.'

He was complimenting her? That had been a compliment, hadn't it? And a good one at that. ‘Thank you.'

He turned back to her, wagging his finger in her direction. ‘That's down to the mentorship program. Without Fleur's more experienced hand guiding you, you would have floundered. I've seen it time and time again through my years in Nettleford.'

Bea opened her mouth, quickly closing it again as she realised she just couldn't think of a reasonable response. Maybe it hadn't been so much of a compliment towards her, he'd just been complimenting himself and his daft program. Fleur had taught her a lot. She wasn't going to take that away from her. Yes, she'd taught her when to get the reduced bargains at the grocery store, which local wine was the best to drink during an evening out at the pub, and last winter, she'd shown her the best sledging course in the town – the college fields. Yes, she'd taught her a lot, but the mentor program? Fleur had simply lent her workbook to her for copying. Huh, no, that wasn't true. Fleur had somehow mislaid hers and had borrowed Sadie's to lend her alongside her copy of the memory stick. This, though, the bookshop, her bookshop. That was a success because she, Bea, had made it a success. Her regulars who ventured in every week or so to add to their To Be Read piles and the tourists who happened upon the shop whilst sightseeing and entered to spend a relaxing hour or so perusing her collections or resting at the table reading their purchases – that was down to her and the research and work she put into her business, not his daft program.

‘Growing up, I saw many fledgling shop owners rushing into decisions that should never have been made lightly and observed their businesses come crashing down around them, causing a lot of heartache. That's the reason I dedicate my spare time to you all, to our cause, because I want the best for each and every one of my shopkeepers, for Nettleford. The town retail meetings and the mentorship… that's the accumulation of generations of information, passed down to me by my father, my grandfather before him, my…'

Bea let out a small sigh, hoping it wasn't audible. If she didn't somehow stop him now, his monologue could continue for hours. She'd seen it before. Poor Sadie, who ran Nettleford's sweet shop, was, for some reason or other, often on the receiving end of one of his monologues. ‘Gregory, I'm taking my role as mentor seriously. I really am. I want the best for Nettleford and the customers who visit us too.'

‘Umm…' Pausing, Gregory looked at her, his eyes searching hers, seemingly trying to decipher if she was telling him the truth.

‘I do. And for Scott.' There it was again, the warm feeling in her cheeks. Saying his name was enough to make her self-conscious, to question if the self-elected busybody of the town could read her mind.

Shifting position, Gregory's stance was strong. ‘I'm only saying this because I care. I care about you all…'

Bea jerked her head up towards the door as the bell above tinkled wildly and Lindsey, her husband Rob and the two children rushed through the door, large holdalls with the zips bulging and bin bags in their hands. Even the two small children had backpacks on, the arms of soft toys sticking out of the open zips. ‘Lindsey? Rob? What on earth?'

‘Oh Bea. The house. It's flooded. I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go. We would have gone to Mum and Dad's but what with school and nursery it's just too far away.' Lindsey pushed her hair from her face, revealing tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

‘Lindsey, it's okay. Come on in. Come on, all of you.' Rushing around the counter, the conversation with Gregory forgotten, Bea hurried over to her sister, taking her bags and ushering them all inside. ‘Flooded though? How? It's not even been raining.'

‘I know. It was…' Dropping the holdall and bin bags she was holding to the floor, Lindsey glanced across at Rob.

‘It was me.' Holding his hands up, palms forward, a sheepish expression fixed on his face, Rob muttered. ‘I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I was saving money.'

Frowning, Bea shook her head. She was still none the wiser as to how her family had ended up with a flooded house. But from Rob's answer, she assumed it had something to do with his infamous DIY attempts. ‘We'll get it all sorted. I'm sure we will. Now though, come on in and I'll put the kettle on.'

‘Thank you, Bea. Thank you.' Lindsey gripped Bea's hands.

‘Hey, that's what family is for.' Bea smiled as she looked towards her niece and nephew. ‘Why don't you two go upstairs and pop the TV on?'

‘Yes, yes. That's a good idea. Off you go Peony and Isaac.' Letting go of Bea's hands, Lindsey ran her fingers through her hair before massaging her temples as she watched her children race to the door to the side of the counter which led up to the flat above. ‘No running on the stairs, remember. The last thing we need now is you falling and someone ending up with a broken leg.'

‘We won't, Mum.' Isaac called over his shoulder, before bustling with his sister to be the first to pull the door open.

Bending, Bea picked up the holdall and bags her sister had dropped before straightening her back as she spotted Gregory retreating to the door.

‘We can continue our conversation another time.' He stage-whispered loudly as he pointed towards Lindsey, Rob and their mound of belongings.

Bea nodded, feeling a little guilty as relief flooded through her body. Whatever had happened to bring Lindsey, Rob and the children to her bookshop had saved her from answering any more awkward questions from Gregory. Or receiving any more back-handed compliments. ‘Thanks, Gregory.'