Chapter 2
A crisp, fresh morning in the Cotswolds and Isla was pleased to be on home territory.
There was a lightness in her step as she headed down the hill, along the familiar pavements of Bramlingham High Street, which was only a twenty-minute drive from the village of Upper Leaping.
A beautiful market town in the heart of the Cotswolds, Bramlingham was set against the backdrop of ancient buildings housing an array of welcoming shops and cafés, providing a magnet for locals and tourists alike.
Isla felt only the slightest pang of guilt at telling her parents the white lie about meeting a friend, but she had to buy herself some time, still trying to decompress from her life in London.
Besides, it gave her the perfect excuse to spend the day mooching and browsing.
She hadn’t made a start on her Christmas shopping yet, so it would be a good opportunity to gather some ideas, leaving her mum behind to entertain her book-club friends.
No doubt Diana had plenty of other social occasions lined up at Mulberry Close over the Christmas period that Isla simply wouldn’t be able to avoid.
She took a deep breath. The air was much cleaner here, and prickled at her cheeks, invigorating her whole being.
After a day in London, she would return from work to find that the dirt and grime of the city air had embedded itself beneath her nails and under her skin.
She would wipe away the remains of her make-up, examining the cotton-wool pads with disgust, seeing the sooty blackness, and discarding them with distaste in the bin.
There were definite benefits to returning to the country and she was going to embrace each and every one of them, conveniently forgetting the fact that, six years earlier, she hadn’t been able to get away fast enough.
Straight out of university, she was eager to start her career and there was only one thing she had ever wanted to do and that was to work in publishing.
Her love of books had started early, when she was still a toddler, her parents often reminding her that she was always to be found with a board book clutched between her little fingers and would plonk herself down on the floor to turn the pages avidly.
That was still her happy place today. Whenever she wanted to escape, she would pick up a book, find a quiet corner and delve into the peaceful sanctuary of another world.
Fortunately, armed with a degree in English Literature and some relevant work experience, she’d been able to secure an administrative position, against some fierce competition, with one of the big publishing firms. The salary had been low and the hours long, but none of that mattered because she was doing what she’d always wanted to do.
Finding a grotty flat in South London, along with five strangers – it was the only place she could afford and even then, her dad still had to sub her each month so that she could pay her rent and bills – had all been part of her grand plan.
Over the following years, she’d worked hard to prove herself, learning as much as she could about the industry, volunteering for everything going, and making close alliances, and friendships with her colleagues.
It had served her well, as she had quickly risen through the ranks, taking on a variety of roles, until she reached the heady heights of publishing director for their new digital romance imprint.
She’d even been able to move north of the river, into a much nicer flat with one of her friends, Cherry, and another girl, Briony, who made a lovely third flatmate.
Everyone had been so proud: her parents, her friends, her brother Jake and of course, the family’s friends and neighbours in Upper Leaping, because Diana wasn’t one to hold back if there was any good news to share. Now, Isla couldn’t bear the thought of their collective disappointment.
Somehow, she managed to put those thoughts out of her head as she moseyed around the shops.
There was certainly enough to keep her distracted.
The window displays celebrated the season with tasteful decorations, in keeping with the historic nature of the area and the always magnificent Christmas tree stood resplendent in the middle of the market square.
There were no gaudy plastic snowmen or flashing Santas here.
In the large outdoor-wear store that sold jackets, wellies, hats and gloves, she was charmed by the woodland animals that had arrived for the season.
Foxes, badgers, squirrels and hares, adorned with local foliage, were positioned strategically around the shop, looking as though they had just emerged from the undergrowth.
‘Look, Daddy, there’s a little deer. He’s got snow on his nose!’
Hearing the small children’s cries of delight as they spotted yet another creature put a big smile on Isla’s face.
She gathered some ideas too on what to buy for her parents: a cashmere neck warmer for her mum, which would be ideal for her dog walks, and a new pair of leather mules for her dad, as she’d noticed his old ones were well-worn and had obviously seen better days.
There was still plenty of time until Christmas and she would be back in town on several occasions before then so she would pick them up later.
She also wanted to buy lots of books. It was her favourite thing to buy, and everyone on her Christmas list would always receive a book or two, along with their main present, even those people who protested they never read.
She loved the way books looked when they were wrapped and nestled beneath the tree.
Pleasingly shaped and solid, not hiding their identity, but gently guarding the promise of what was contained beneath the pretty paper and within the pages.
She could lose hours mooching around a bookshop, and frequently did, putting extra special care and attention into choosing exactly the right gift.
Not necessarily anything on the bestseller list or something piled high on the tables at the front of the bookstore, but something special, individual, that would be pertinent to the recipient at that moment in their life.
Luckily, she knew the perfect place to do some book browsing.
First though, she needed sustenance. She discovered a café at the top of the hill, a new addition to the high street since she was last there, with a welcoming frontage which beckoned her inside where she found comfy sofas, striking pendant lighting and cheerful baristas.
Ordering a mushroom and goat’s cheese panini, along with a gingerbread latte, she sat on one of the tall stools by the window, happy to watch the world go by, relishing the anonymity but enjoying the buzz around her.
Taking her time because she was in no hurry to be anywhere, it was about an hour later before she was ready to head out again, crossing the road to walk down the other side of the street.
She stopped in her tracks when she came across another new arrival on the high street.
It unsettled her to think that the place she loved so much, that she knew so well, was slowly, imperceptibly changing in her absence.
Thankfully, Bramlingham was in a conservation area so businesses were restricted in the changes they could make to the exteriors of the buildings so as to retain the beauty of the stone-built and half-timbered properties from down the ages.
‘Excuse me, lovey!’ A middle-aged lady with a shopping trolley barrelled her way past Isla to get into the shop and Isla was curious, peering through the window to see how busy it was inside.
A new bookshop. A discounted bookshop by the looks of things.
And it was obviously proving to be very popular indeed.
Isla wandered inside, her head turning this way and that to take in the rows of shelves stacked to the ceiling filled with a host of familiar titles.
Bright lights shone on recent crime and thriller books, cosy romances, sagas, fantasy and historical stories, their shiny covers adorned with loud stickers.
Alongside the books on central display tables were puzzles and toys, and random bits of stationery, but the tables were packed so tightly together that it was difficult to navigate a way through to the back of the shop without bumping into other people.
Isla frowned, feeling overwhelmed by the busyness, eventually reaching the end of the shop before realising there was no place else to go.
Feeling claustrophobic, she turned around, to head out again.
There were no quiet nooks or crannies where you could take a book and sit for twenty minutes.
Instead, their sales model seemed to be, grab a basket and fill it as high as possible with as many cheap books as you can fit in.
‘Can I help you? You seem a bit lost. Was there something in particular you were looking for?’ A young man in a bright-orange polo shirt appeared in front of her with an eager expression on his face.
She didn’t know what possessed her. A sense of mischief, perhaps. It wasn’t the young man’s fault.
‘Yes, I was looking for I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith. It’s one of my favourite books. I was hoping to buy a copy for a friend.’
‘Oh.’ He appeared crestfallen as he looked around haplessly. ‘David Smith, you say. Is that a thriller?’
‘No, Dodie Smith. It’s a coming-of-age story, from the 1940s. A bit of a classic.’
‘Right…’ His mouth formed into a grimace.
‘No, I’ve not seen that one before. We only get a certain selection of books come in and when they’re gone, they’re gone!
You need to be quick.’ He injected some enthusiasm into his voice.
‘Check out our shelves. Lots of our books are on the buy-one-get-one-free deal. You might find something you like. They make great stocking fillers.’
‘Thank you.’ She agreed with him wholeheartedly on that particular point.
She was heading for the front door when he called out, ‘You might want to try Finch’s.
For that book you’re looking for. It’s an old-fashioned sort of place.
They have specialist books in there. Down the hill and past the post office.
There’s a small alleyway on the left. Peacock Mews.
Follow the cobbled path and the bookshop is in the far corner. ’
‘Thank you,’ she said again, this time with a wide smile, gratified that the young man knew about Finch’s, at least, and had even recommended it.
Not that there had been any need to do so on her behalf.
She had been intending to visit there next anyway.
After all, no trip to Bramlingham was complete without a visit to her favourite bookshop.