The Bookshop on the Corner (15 page)

“Yes,” said Surinder. “Look at that table and chair. That is
just so cute. It's a cutesy name. But I think it's all right. I think it'll be okay.”

She picked up the paint and a brush, and Nina's face broke into a huge grin.

“Mind you, it does look like you could just sit there all day. What if someone just sits there all day?”

“Then they obviously need to,” said Nina. “But we won't be staying anywhere all day. We'll be like the lands above the Magic Faraway Tree, arriving and leaving without notice.”

Surinder smiled. “Well, just don't crash it,” she said, rolling up her sleeves. “Again.”

“Hmm,” said Nina, who was a little worried she'd overdone the fairy lights. “Right now, I'm most worried about blowing a fuse.”

She fetched a couple of beers, then stood back and watched as Surinder first chalked a rough outline then, with clear, precise strokes, and a lovely handwriting, wrote “The Little Shop of Happy-Ever-After” on the side. Nina thought she'd never been so happy.

Finally Surinder pronounced herself satisfied. They both stood back, and Nina, rather self-consciously, clinked her beer against Surinder's.

“We should have had a ribbon,” Surinder pointed out. “To cut.”

Nina gazed at the little shop. It was beautiful, far bigger inside than it seemed, with the tidy rows of books, the bean bags, and even a little set of library steps that Nina had liberated when the new head of development had asked what use they could possibly be in the new media center.

They threw the back doors open wide, counted to three, and turned the ignition.

The fairy lights and the big bronze letters lit up as if it was Christmas, the banner flapping in the wind.

“HOORAY!” said Surinder, and clapped despite herself. Nina stared, amazed. It was as if her dream had come to life and was standing in front of her, with the fields behind them, the meadow butterflies flittering among the daisies and an owl hooting somewhere in the distance. She could barely believe it and couldn't stop smiling.

“Let's go sell some books!” she said. “Where shall we start?”

At that exact moment, a Land Rover turned in at the gate, honking loudly. Nina glanced at her watch. It was nearly 6
P.M.
Still bright daylight, of course. She turned around. Normally people didn't honk their horns on the farm; it made the chickens crazy. Shading her eyes, she saw a bunch of young men, mostly ruddy and cheery looking.

“LENNOX!” one of them was shouting. They looked surprised to see Nina and Surinder there as they drove in and came to a halt. Nina was shocked to see they were all wearing kilts.

“Whoa!” said Surinder. “Look at you.”

“Look at you,” said one man instantly, in that local musical brogue. “We're the ones looking stylish. You're all covered in paint.”

“What's this?” said another. “It looks cool.”

“It's our book bus,” said Surinder instantly. The young guy jumped down.

“What've you got, like?”

The others laughed and made catcalls.

“Aye, have you got any Noddy for him?”

“Shut up. At least I can read. All you can do is look at pictures of nudie ladies on the Internet, you big fanny.”

“Quite,” said Nina. “Um, do you want to come in?”

There was more catcalling behind them, but the young man jumped up happily and started to browse the shelves, and eventually curiosity drew the others forward to have a look, too.

“It's nice,” said the one who'd been rude before, shuffling his feet.

Nina was embarrassed to ask them if they were going somewhere special, in case they always dressed like that. Some of them were in black tie from the waist up, though, so surely they were. The kilts looked lovely all together. She knew that the tartans indicated families and clans; she liked the older, worsted ones in faded reds and greens, although the rich purples and blacks were also stylish, together with cream socks on well-shaped calves. All the men had a solid, healthy look about them, and as they spoke more, it was obvious that they were farmers.

“Knock up Lennox, for God's sake. What's he doing?”

“He was up all night lambing,” said Nina in his defense. They all burst out laughing.

“Och, aye, as opposed to the full night's slumber the rest of us get this time of year,” said one.

“Where are you all going?” asked Surinder.

“Young Farmers' dance,” said another, who had bright red hair and green eyes. “Are youse no' coming to that? I thought that's why you were here. They're always short of lasses.”

“The Young Farmers' what?” said Surinder. “What is this, 1932?”

Nina was distracted for a second; coming out of the house, looking slightly embarrassed to be all dolled up, was Lennox, to a chorus of good-natured approval and some hoots.

He was wearing a pale green tweed jacket, over a plain cream shirt. His kilt was pale green too, with a fine red line, and he had matching flashes in his socks, and stout brogues. His hair had
been flattened, none too successfully as it happened, as errant curls were already popping back up here and there.

“Hurry up, man!”

Nina felt a little put out that Lennox hadn't mentioned the dance to her. No, he was right, she thought. It was nothing to do with her. He was her landlord, she was his tenant. The last thing he was going to do was start asking her to dances. This was somebody else's social life after all. She was new here. She'd have to find her own.

“Did you no' invite the lasses?” came a voice.

“I didn't realize there were two lasses,” said Lennox, moving to shake Surinder's hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ooh!” said Surinder, casting a look at Nina. She was obviously quite impressed. “I've never met anyone in a kilt before. Nice to meet you, too. Uh, sir.”

Nina stifled a giggle and Surinder gave her a dirty look.

Lennox raised his eyebrows. Then he spotted the van, where Nina lingered shyly.

“Wow,” he said, standing back to inspect it. “Look at that.” He appeared genuinely impressed.

The young man who'd been inside came out triumphantly waving three books on the Second World War.

“Look at these! I'm taking them.”

“He'd always rather read than dance with a girl,” said one of the lads.

“Not sure I blame him, some of the lasses coming,” said one, instantly hushed by his fellows. “Oh. They're all lovely and charming is what I mean,” he said, coloring thickly.

Nina happily took the money for the books—splendid brand-new hardbacks too, glossy and fresh. She thought he would enjoy them.

“Right then,” said the red-headed fellow, whose name was Hamish. “We'd better get a move on. You know what a crush it gets. Youse up for it?” He nodded at Nina and Surinder. Nina instinctively glanced at Lennox.

“You . . . you could come if you liked,” he said, as if it didn't bother him one way or the other. “There's never enough girls at these things.”

“You should come to Birmingham,” said Surinder. “It's crawling with girls. Far too many.”

There was an awkward silence. They all stood around the courtyard nervously.

“Yes, of course we're coming,” said Surinder eventually.

“Really?” said Nina, nervous. The idea of a big noisy dance where she didn't know anyone made her profoundly uncomfortable. She would be much happier kicking back with a beer and Surinder, then spending the night reading a Regency romance, if that was all right with everyone.

“Come on, Nina, you big nerd!” said Surinder. “I've not come all this way to sit in and watch you read all evening.”

Hamish glanced at his watch. “Can youse be ready quickly?”

“Two hours, three tops,” said Surinder. “Oh, I'm KIDDING.”

“Woo hoo!” said Surinder. “What would you do without me?” They were putting lipstick on side by side in the bathroom.

“I don't know,” said Nina. “Keep my dignity?”

Surinder ignored her. “I wonder how sex-starved they really are?”

“Surinder!”

“Come on! It's just men up here. All those lovely hunky farm
boys . . . I mean, it's nuts. I don't think I've seen another woman since I got here. Certainly no one as hot as us.”

“Surinder, please . . . I've just moved here.”

“Yes, but
I'm
on my vacation. I wonder if they serve piña coladas.”

“I very much doubt it.”

The one thing Nina had never thought to pack was a party dress. It had come very low down on the list of things she'd expected to need.

Instead she found a pretty floral dress. It wasn't in the least dressy and she didn't have any jewelery. But she did find, somewhat to her surprise, that her legs were brown from being out and about in the sun, so the dress would do.

She curled her hair back off her face in a slightly Second World War style, added bright red lipstick at Surinder's suggestion, and figured she would just have to manage as best she could.

Surinder, on the other hand, was always prepared for every eventuality, and slipped on a diamanté top as if she'd expected to go to a major social event all along.

The boys were very complimentary as they emerged twenty minutes later, and squashed up on the shelf seating of the Land Rover.

Lennox said very little, and Nina suspected he slightly regretted asking them. Well, that was tough luck. The sun was still high in the sky, the fields golden, the wind fresh rather than biting, and everything seemed well with the world. She turned her head for one last look at the Little Shop of Happy-Ever-After, and couldn't help smiling in satisfaction.

“You're proud of that, aren't you?” he said, seeing her glance at it.

“Well, don't sound so surprised.”

“No, no,” he said, then lapsed into silence again.

They twisted through country lanes, occasionally cresting amazing hills, lit up all the way to the sea, a patchwork of light and shade that stretched for miles and miles. Great armies of wind farms marched across the hills like sentinels.

“I can't believe you didn't remind me to bring a jacket,” said Surinder. “It's not like it's not signposted by the MILES OF WIND TURBINES.”

“You're right,” said Nina, almost smugly. “It's so much worse than miles and miles of identical row houses and discount outlets.”

They heard the dance before they saw it. Down a steep little mud track, tractors were parked in rows, along with dirt-spattered Land Rovers, in front of a huge barn decorated with flowers. People were spilling out from it, sitting around on hay bales; young men, all in kilts of course, were drinking pints and letting off steam.

“Once a quarter,” said Hamish, his green eyes twinkling, “it's where you're meant to meet your wife.”

“Seriously?” said Surinder, leaning forward.

“Of course, it's not like that anymore, not a cattle market at all.”

“So nobody meets their partners there these days?”

There was some nervous shuffling around the Land Rover.

“Aye, yeah, well. Most folk, like.”

“I think I'm going to like 1932,” said Surinder cheerfully.