Prologue #3
‘What you’ve written so far is so special, Granny M,’ Robbie says, noticing her silence, the tears she’s trying to control.
‘I can hear your voice, and his voice, and… they’re wonderful.
You’re right, I did think this was a weird idea when you first told me about it, and, well, it’s still a weird idea…
but if I was a random stranger and I found one of these cards in a book, I’d love it. ’
‘Enough to take a chance and come and visit the Bookshop at the Edge of the World?’
‘Definitely. But then again, I am the kind of person who tries to saddle up a Highland cow, aren’t I? Now, about that last card… I notice you’ve been having a few wee blubs.’
She looks ready to argue, despite the evidence on her moist cheeks.
‘No, don’t deny it – I’ve been having a few blubs myself.
We’re allowed. So I suppose I’d just ask this: what could someone possibly say to you when you feel like that to make you feel better?
What would you want to hear? What would help you? ’
‘Apart from a rascal of a grandson drinking all my good whisky, you mean?’
‘Yes. Apart from that.’
He smiles, but stays silent, letting her think.
She looks around at the shop, at the crowded shelves, the thousands of books.
Books that are crammed with stories and magic and memories.
Books that contain knowledge and wisdom and power.
Books that are filled with sadness and joy and laughter and tears, with sunsets and sunrises and silly rhymes about owls and pussycats and pea-green boats.
She sighs, letting the scent of the lavender candle fill her nostrils, letting the whisky work its charm, letting the comfort she always finds in this place of wonder and solace wrap around her like a cosy blanket.
‘I know what to write,’ she says finally. She picks up her pen, and begins, as she always does, with the envelope – To the right person, at the right time.
The words come. The magic sparkles. She finishes, rereads her message. Honest, raw, maybe too much for some – but not, she thinks, for the right person. It’s done. This part of the task is finally complete, and tomorrow, a new one begins. A second chance, just like she said on the card.
‘Now, we still need to find a home for this last one,’ she says, standing up and stretching her sore back. She already has one in mind. ‘I’m feeling like a bit of the Bard wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘Oh aye? Who’s he when he’s at home?’
She makes an exasperated sound and gives him a soft scuff of his floppy hair.
‘Don’t be playing the fool, Robbie. You were raised in a place of culture, even if neither of us went to a fancy university.
Now, make yourself useful, and reach up to that top shelf over there – the one I’m looking for is seventh on the right, next to that Val McDermid box set…
actually, pass me that down too, they’re always worth another read. ’
Robbie does as he’s told, shaking his head in amazement. ‘How do you do that, Granny? How do you know where everything is all the time?’
‘It’s a gift, lad. The same way you don’t know where anything is all the time.’
He stays silent – just this morning he lost the car keys, the remote controls to the TV and one of his shoes.
He passes her the books, and she flicks through the big hardback – The Real World of Macbeth.
Beautiful pictures, stories, histories, folk tales, all bringing the Scottish play alive.
Perfect. She tucks the invitation inside its pages, and closes her eyes – sending up a little prayer to the universe that it finds its way to the one who needs it.
That it gives someone the second chance they need.
‘Is it done?’ Robbie asks, his voice serious for once.
She opens her eyes and nods. ‘I think it is, my love. It’s done, and I think he’d be happy, don’t you?’
‘He would, aye. Time to head home?’
They clear up, blow out the candles, and get ready to leave.
Moira grabs Jimmy Campbell’s coat from the rail as she passes.
She pulls the door closed behind her, trots down the three steps, and joins Robbie on the street.
It’s early evening now, and the tentative spring sunshine is fading, hanging hesitantly over the sea as though it’s not sure whether to stay or go.
The light ripples over the rolling waves, and in the distance, they can make out a playful pod of dolphins leaping in the water.
Birds fly around the little rocky islands that dot the horizon, streaks of white against the blue, and the air is fresh and pure with salt and seaweed.
A shower begins, a gentle sprinkle of rain that feels clean and bright.
Moira laughs, and lifts her face up to the heavens. She feels the raindrops settle into the creases and crevices of her skin, smiles as they land on the tip of her nose, knows her curly silver hair will frizz. She doesn’t care. She’s always loved the rain.
She turns back to take another look at the Bookshop at the Edge of the World.
It’s a tall building, painted lilac, tucked into a long row of similar places – pretty in pastels, well cared for, windows shining with the warmth of the lights on inside.
She knows every person who lives in this village, every soul that calls it home.
Their histories, their lives, their pains and their joys.
With a rush of emotion, she takes hold of Robbie’s hand, just like she used to when he was a bairn.
He looks slightly surprised, but squeezes her fingers in return.
‘Your granddad was right,’ she says, letting her tears fall for once. She’s almost eighty, she’s earned the right to them. And besides – they’re not entirely tears of sadness. There’s hope mixed in too, along with a whole lot of gratitude.
‘About what?’ Robbie asks.
‘About most things. But mainly this – we’ve been so lucky. So blessed. I hope this works, Robbie… I hope these messages do find the right people at the right time. I hope more than anything right now that we get to share these blessings…’
He smiles, looking over her shoulder and out to sea. He points off towards the coastline that curves into the distance, green-coated tumbles of red rock cliffsides. ‘I think we will, Granny M. Look.’
She follows his gaze, and the sight takes her breath away. The most perfect of rainbows has appeared, stretching over the horizon, a glimmering arch of joyous colour.
Yes, she thinks. This will work.