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“That’s the hard work,” Maggie said, collapsing into the chair next to the unlit fireplace. “But we’ve made progress for the morning. We should have a little break and a cup of tea.”

Ellie was glad to stop and drink tea; she hadn’t got around to the free pot Oliver had given her earlier. She hoped he wasn’t taking her ditching his produce personally. Looking at her grandmother, Ellie noticed how shattered she appeared. Maggie’s eyes were closed, her body limp as she sank into the cracked leather armchair.

“Where did that chair come from again?” Ellie asked.

Maggie smiled fondly, her eyes still closed. “I found it in the pond outside. Got a couple of lads who were coming out of The Duck to fish it out.” She rubbed the worn leather arms. “Like it fell from the sky, just for me.”

Before Maggie opened her eyes, her leathery fingertips found Ellie’s shoulder. “Thank you for being here to help, Ellie.”

Ellie felt a warmth spread through her chest, reaching up to touch her gran’s hand. She hadn’t realised she’d missed those leathery fingers.

“You know I’m glad to be here, Gran.”

Maggie’s grip tightened on Ellie’s shoulder. “I know I don’t need to say this because it must be patently obvious to you by now, but I think I was starting to struggle to keep up with everything a shop like this demands,” she admitted, exhaling as her eyes opened. “Fewer people started coming in, so I began opening for fewer hours, fewer days. I thought fewer days here would make it easier, but I fell out of routines I’d been spiralling around for years, and I just... I stopped being able to see how much I was barely keeping my head above water. I think I’ve been living in a delusion, and I didn’t see it until today.” Shaking her head, she took in the shop. “I couldn’t have done all of this. I wouldn’t have known where to start, and I’d have got so distracted looking at all the books, and today you just…” She thrust her hand forward. “You cut through it all. You impressed me.”

“I just pretended I was on Crunch Time back at the studio,” Ellie said. “When you have nothing but deadlines and desperation, you push through and do what needs to be done. I suppose it’s given me the ability to switch on that focus when I need it.”

“Well, it worked! It’s miraculous.”

It had, but guilt had been gnawing away at Ellie all morning. “I should have been here to help sooner.”

“You’re not responsible for me, Ellie.”

“But you’re my family.”

“You’re an individual too, dear. You needed to go and find yourself. I’m your senior here, and don’t you forget it.” Her eyes finally fluttered open. “You are fresh into the summer of your life. This is your prime. I loved my summer, I did. Teaching history for as many years as I did was wonderful, but I think I’ve loved the autumn the most.” She patted the chair arm again, looking around, sniffing as though holding back a tear she hadn’t expected; it seemed to balance on her lower lashes. “When my sister died and I retired early to run this place, I didn’t realise I was going to have some of the happiest times of my life. I think I always wanted to end up here somehow, back at the old family bookshop. You know it was my mother’s?” She had that faraway look she had when she told this story, which Ellie had heard one hundred times and would listen to one hundred times more. “Lindsay Bond. She opened this shop in a year that makes sense with Maggie being 74, but my sister was older. She loved books, but I LOVED books, but I don’t need to tell you that.” She laughed, but her brows fell over her eyes as her faraway gaze focused back on the shop in front of her. “I was having so much fun, I didn’t want to admit winter was here for me. I think it’s time I… I…”

“Oh, Granny.”

She smiled, still holding back that tear. “Do I have to say it? Thing that rhymes with ‘smell the mop.’”

Ellie closed her eyes, nodding, admiring her gran’s ability to still lighten her life even in the darkness.

“If you want to… smell the mop,” Ellie whispered, finding a croak in her throat, “I can help. To make it easier for you, I mean. I’ve never done it, but I could. For you, and this place, and…”

“I don’t think I could,” she said, as though to herself. She shook her head, bringing herself back. “Hark at me, all doom and gloom. We should be celebrating how much we’ve done today.” She laughed, but the sound was uneasy as it echoed around the dishevelled shop. “And we should be catching up. I still don’t feel like I really know what you got up to living your other life in Cardiff. We were always telephoning each other and writing letters, but… it always seemed like you were working. No boyfriends?”

Ellie shook her head. “No. Dates, but... I was always working. My project supervisor would say I was married to the job, and I took that as a compliment.” She paused, a dry smile tugging at her lips. “Nobody seemed able to get my attention in that way. Long hours, long days, and I’d always stay and do extra as often as possible. I just… loved the work. It tickled something in me. Growing up being so quiet, I didn’t realise it at the time but I was always observing, and I realised I was good at it, and to combine that with my love of history was just…” Sighing, she didn’t need to say ‘too good to be true.’ “Half of the people I worked with called me The Scancyclopedia.” She laughed, the name as stupid to her ears as the first time someone said it to her. “Some people called me The Scanner and others The Encyclopaedia and it merged somewhere. I loved that job, and in the end, it didn’t love me back.”

“You will be at peace with that,” Maggie stated, sounding so sure. “One day, but that day doesn’t have to be now. It’s okay to grieve when things are lost. You could find another job like it.”

“I tried, I…” Ellie didn’t want to say ‘wasn’t good enough’ because the truth was, she didn’t know what was wrong with her CV that didn’t have people biting. She had alerts turned on and had applied for dozens of positions before leaving Happy Bean and her phone hadn’t pinged once. She inhaled deeply, feeling tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Peace. I like the sound of that. I’ll get there,” she added, more to herself than to Maggie. “I’d never have got there if you didn’t push me to go to uni, if you hadn’t got me so interested in history in the first place.”

Maggie wafted her hand as though she hadn’t done anything special, but Ellie meant every word. They shared a smile, a moment of understanding passing between them.

After a moment, Maggie rose and finally retrieved the manuscript third she had been keeping safe somewhere in her office. Maggie hadn’t hidden the place from her, but Ellie hadn’t asked, either. If the hiding place was that good that two burglars and the police hadn’t found it, Granny Maggie deserved to keep it to herself.

“I’m afraid it’s the middle third,” she explained, selecting a scene. “I’d say you’d be missing context, but it was clear what Edmund wanted to say with this last book.” She scanned the scene before handing it over as Ellie took the chair this time. “I think this one best demonstrates Edmund’s themes.”

Ellie accepted the photocopy, her fingers tracing the edges of the paper. It was a simple typed word document, double spaced with wide margins. There were flecks and specks all over the page that didn’t brush away. Maybe they were from the photocopies.

“I feel strange reading this,” Ellie admitted. “I was never supposed to, but... how can I not?”

“I went through the same thing, but Ellie… just read it. It’s not Shakespeare, believe me.”

Taking a deep breath, Ellie turned the page over and began to read:

---

The wind howled, whipping Tommy’s hair into a frenzy as he faced his brother on the slippery roof tiles. Lightning crackled across the sky, illuminating Jimmy’s contorted face.

“You were always his golden boy, weren’t you?” Jimmy snarled, lunging for the ruby necklace clutched in Tommy’s white-knuckled grip. “Father’s perfect little prince!”

Tommy danced backward, nearly losing his footing. “Me? You’re delusional! He couldn’t stand the sight of me. It was always ‘Jimmy this’ and ‘Jimmy that’!”

“Oh, please!” Jimmy’s laugh was bitter and sharp. “At least I didn’t embezzle from the family business!”

“No, you just slept with half the board members’ wives!” Tommy shot back. “Real classy, Jimmy. And what about your ‘art’? How are those sculptures selling these days?”

“Shut up, Tommy!”

Lightning flashed again, closer this time. The boom of thunder that followed made both men flinch.

“Give me the necklace, Tommy,” Jimmy growled. “It’s mine by right.”

“Like hell it is! I’m the eldest!”

“Where have you been, Tommy? Because I was here, day after day, while he got worse and worse and⁠—”

Are sens

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