9
Winter turns to spring, and delicate white snowdrops are replaced by bright yellow daffodils bursting into life all over Cambridge.
As the cheery flowers cascade down over the sprawling lawns from the colleges towards the river, Easter comes and goes, and a new term begins at the university.
Students take their final exams and even more tourists pour into the city’s streets as spring now turns into summer.
It’s one of the busiest times of the year for the city, and, in Clockmaker Court where nothing much ever changes, Adam is getting ready to open his new shop, almost three months since he first came up with the idea.
Even though I told him how hard it was to make a success of a little business like this, Adam was insistent.
‘I want to do this, Eve,’ he told me when we finished clearing his grandfather’s house at the end of our very tiring weekend.
‘I’ve decided. I want to honour not only my grandfather by doing something worthwhile with his estate, but my mother too.
Being around books with my mother is one of my happiest childhood memories and when you don’t have any close family any more, you suddenly realise that those memories are precious and you want to hold on to them. ’
I knew exactly how he felt.
So from that moment on, I did everything I could to help him make his dream a reality.
Which wasn’t all that much to begin with – I was of little use when it came to dealing with solicitors, surveyors and estate agents – but now he was actually about to move in, I hoped I could be of some help in successfully getting his shop open to the public.
We discovered quite quickly that it was the whole building that was up for sale, not just the shop, so it wasn’t quite as easy as simply renting the shop premises.
But, to his credit, Adam only saw this as a bonus, as it meant he would also acquire the little flat over the shop in which to live.
He managed to find a buyer for Past Times House pretty quickly, so once the sale went through, he was able to complete his purchase of both the shop and the flat without too many hold-ups.
Over the last few months, Adam has mostly been in London sorting out his life there and I’ve been getting on with things in Cambridge.
But on the occasions Adam was in Cambridge overseeing the sale of Past Times House or the purchase of his new building, we would sometimes have a coffee or even lunch together, either at my shop or, now that the weather was getting better, in the little garden in the centre of Clockmaker Court.
Today is a warm sunny day at the end of May, and my fellow shopkeepers and I are hoping the spring bank holiday weekend will bring lots of visitors to Cambridge and therefore increase sales for all our businesses.
Adam has chosen this weekend to move into his new shop, now the painters, electricians and carpenters he hired to give the shop a facelift have completed their work.
Last night, after we all closed up, a few of us in the court helped him transfer the many boxes of books that he’d acquired from his grandfather – along with others he bought both at auction and online – from storage into his shop, and, today, while we all trade as normal, Adam is attempting to fill the shelves.
‘How’s it going?’ I ask at lunchtime on Saturday, sticking my head around the open doorway.
Adam’s head pops up from the fortress of boxes that surround him.
‘Slowly.’ He grimaces. ‘You were right when you said having a shop was hard work, and I haven’t even opened yet.’
While I would have been anxious about how long contracts were taking to come through or how much time the builders were taking to do their work, Adam let it all wash easily over his head and hasn’t shown the least bit of stress.
In that time, I’ve seen how much he cares about this new project, and how much effort and care he’s put into both renovating the shop and choosing the books that went into it.
My opinion of him has only grown as each stage of his project has come to fruition.
Even now, with a mountain of work in front of him to get his shop ready to open, he is still relaxed and chilled, and his grimace quickly changes into his usual grin.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you!’ I say good-naturedly.
‘I would never dare!’
‘I’m just going to grab some lunch – do you want anything?’ I ask.
‘Ooh, yes, please – anything will do. I’m easy.’
‘I know. I’ll just go to M and S, then, shall I?’
‘You know what I really fancy …’ Adam says, his eyes lighting up.
‘Don’t tell me!’ I know exactly what he is going to say. ‘A Chelsea bun from Fitzbillies?’
‘You know me too well, Eve!’
‘Would you like a coffee to go with it?’
‘My usual, please.’
‘All right, just don’t tell Harriet and Rocky we’re buying lunch from one of their rivals, OK? I’ll be back in a bit.’
‘Do you want me to watch your shop?’ Adam asks, knowing we never close our shops in Clockmaker Court during a weekend in the summer unless we absolutely have to.
‘No need, Barney is in with me today.’
‘Of course. I’ll go back to my children’s books, then. I’m currently knee-deep in some vintage Enid Blyton. Give me a shout when you’re back – lunch alfresco?’
I nod. ‘Of course. See you in a bit.’
I head out of the relative quiet of Clockmaker Court into what feels like another world – the hustle and bustle of King’s Parade on a Saturday lunchtime.
Today, it’s full of tourists enjoying the dry, warm bank holiday weather.
I queue up at Fitzbillies – a popular Cambridge bakery – and buy two of its famous Chelsea buns and two coffees to go with it.
Since he’s been spending more time in Cambridge, Adam has become quite addicted to the bakery, and in particular their Chelsea buns.
Just as I’m leaving, I recognise a familiar figure also heading in the direction of the shop.
I pause on the pavement outside to greet him as he comes slowly and carefully along the pavement.
‘Ben!’ I say, delighted to see him again. ‘How are you?’
Ben was struck down with a particularly bad virus the same weekend Adam and I cleared out Past Times House.
We were all really worried about him, so Orla went to look after him, and while she was away, we all did our best to look after her shop.
We offered to open Ben’s shop for him too, but Ben declined, telling us we didn’t need to worry ourselves, everything was in hand, and he’d return when the time was right.
‘I’m very well now, thank you, young Eve,’ Ben says, pausing to rest. He leans heavily on his stick with both hands. ‘Much improved, as you can see. Orla did a fine job in taking care of me when I was at my worst. And you all took care of her too. Just as it should be.’
‘That’s wonderful news,’ I tell him. ‘Will you be able to return to your shop soon, do you think?’
‘I do hope so. I thought I’d let the rush of the bank holiday crowds die down first. I’ll be back as usual next week, though, to see how you’re all doing.’
Most shop owners would be super keen to open on a bank holiday weekend in a tourist city like Cambridge, but Ben never did anything that was expected of him.
‘Good, I’m pleased to hear it.’
‘I hear that your friend Adam has taken on the bookshop next door to you.’ Ben raises his bushy white eyebrows at me. ‘You must be pleased.’
‘Yes, it’s good someone has taken it on. We don’t want another empty shop in Clockmaker Court, do we?’
‘No, indeed not. How is he getting on setting up the shop? Has he made many changes to the interior?’
‘Er, no, I don’t think so. I mean, he’s had people in to spruce the place up a bit. But I think it’s pretty much the same. He can’t do too much, can he – all the buildings in Clockmaker Court are listed and you know what a pain that can be when we want to do anything.’
‘Change isn’t always good, my young friend. Sometimes keeping things the way they are can be very beneficial in the long run.’
‘That’s true when it comes to places like Clockmaker Court. Most of our business comes from tourists keen for an Instagram snap or two in front of the old buildings.’
‘Instagram?’ Ben asks, his forehead furrowing.
‘Don’t worry, Ben,’ I say, smiling at him.
‘It’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s a social media site on the internet where people share their photos.
Actually, that reminds me, Adam and I would like to have a little chat with you sometime now you’re well again.
We’ve been meaning to ask you about this for ages, but then you got ill and we didn’t want to bother you about it. ’
‘Bother me about what?’ Ben tips his head quizzically to one side.
‘We found some photos when we cleared out Adam’s grandfather’s house and we wondered if you could shed any light on them.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Ben wobbles a little on his stick.
I put my hand out to steady him. ‘Don’t worry about it now. We’ll pop over when you’re back in your shop. It’s nothing that can’t keep.’
‘You’d both be more than welcome, my dear.’ Ben’s dark eyes glance into the shop behind me.
‘Chelsea buns?’ I ask knowingly.
‘Why, yes, they’re my favourite. Just don’t tell Harriet and Rocky, though, will you?
’ He winks and turns to look in the shop window.
‘When they first opened, it was their sponge cake they were famous for, not their buns – they came much later. But I do have fond memories of joining queues outside here after the war hoping to get one of their juicy buns; I was just a boy then, of course.’
‘Of course.’ I smile at him. ‘Fitzbillies is a Cambridge institution, that’s for sure.’
‘It certainly is. Now I mustn’t keep you any longer.’ He looks at the two cups of coffee I’m holding. ‘Lunch date, is it?’ he asks, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
‘Hardly, this is for Adam. He asked especially for a Chelsea bun for lunch.’
‘Did he?’ Ben nods knowingly. ‘That makes sense. His grandfather used to love them too.’