The Little Bookshop at Herring Cove

‘Indeed. Your parents would be proud of you, young lady. Keeping this place alive in the face of all sorts of adversity.’ Mr Johnson waved his package in the air as he tipped his tweed cap, the lines around his eyes deepening along with his smile. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing this place jazzed up, Sophie. I’ll see you again once I’m finished with this.’

‘Perhaps sooner? I’m planning a night market for this Friday. Will you come?’

‘Of course. I’ll pass the word around. Let’s make it a night to remember before our beautiful village is tarnished by a tacky resort.’

With a wave goodbye he left, leaving Sophie alone with the tightness in her chest. She slumped down onto the counter and buried her head in her arms.

Would her parents be proud of her? The survival of All Booked Up was on a knife’s edge, and the blame could be laid squarely at her own feet for trusting another to love and care for the place in the same way she did. To love and care for her.

Except he hadn’t. Phillip had pretended to have a vested interest. To want to pour money into the place, to expand its offerings, to revamp the look, to go online. Instead he’d emptied thousands of hard-earned pounds from their joint bank account. Stealing not only money, but any chance of doing All Booked Up the justice Sophie believed it deserved.

Her parents had put their all into that shop. They’d died fighting for its survival. Arguing in the car over how best to keep it going. Their words causing her young self, who’d never heard them fight, to cry and plead for them to stop. Until they did stop. For good.

She knew the accident wasn’t her fault, but she carried the guilt of surviving, of being part of what contributed to the accident. Because of that she’d long ago promised herself to never let their legacy go. To hold it tight, as she wished she could hold them tight once more.

The door chimes tinkled, followed by the pitter-patter of small feet racing off to the children’s area Sophie’s mother had created. Filled with picture books and toys, it was a great way to keep the little ones occupied while their parents browsed in peace.

Sophie lifted her head to see Natalie walking towards her, her forehead corrugated with concern.

‘What’s up, Soph? You look rotten.’

Sophie propped her elbows on the counter and placed her chin in her hands. ‘Just what every girl wants to hear. I look a mess. Wonderful.’ She winked to let Natalie know she wasn’t insulted. ‘Just a headache that won’t budge.’