The Romance Library

1. Jess

1

Jess

‘ W ow!’ My eyes bulged as I scanned Mrs Davis’s cramped living room. ‘How many books do you have?’

There were floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcases across all four walls and stacks of books crammed onto every inch of the dated brown carpet.

At a guess, I’d say there were at least a thousand novels. Maybe more. I used to think my Tbr was out of control, but this was on another level.

When Mrs Davis’s green eyes narrowed and her wrinkled lips pursed, I realised I’d just broken the number one rule and that my first day working here was about to become my last.

Shit.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t already been told that I needed to be careful.

‘Mrs Davis can be a little… prickly,’ Marion from the employment agency had warned me. ‘She doesn’t like questions. Or people. ’

‘Not much I can do about being human!’ I’d laughed. Marion didn’t.

‘She doesn’t like going out,’ Marion added. ‘Or talking. Hence the no questions rule. You’re the fifth worker we’ve sent in five weeks. No one’s ever lasted more than one shift. Just go there, do whatever she asks and leave. Don’t engage. And whatever you do, do not comment on her stuff!’

Great .

I’d only been here fifteen minutes and I’d successfully done all three things Marion had specifically told me not to.

But in my defence, it was a valid question.

When I’d arrived, I almost tripped over the stacks of romance novels in the hallway. And navigating my way to the wooden stool directly opposite where Mrs Davis was sat in an armchair with her nose buried in a hardback was like battling through a maze.

There were books everywhere .

But the bottom line was, I’d broken the rules, so now I’d be the sixth worker she’d had in six weeks. Which was a shame, because I really needed this job.

And I genuinely wanted to know how many books she had.

‘What did you say?’ Mrs Davis pushed her reading glasses back from the tip of her nose and I swallowed hard.

‘I… er, doesn’t matter,’ I replied. ‘Forget I said anything.’

From the way Mrs Davis was glaring at me like I’d just sprouted five heads, she had no intention of letting me off the hook that easily.

Even if Marion hadn’t told me about Mrs Davis, I could tell from the minute I saw her that she wasn’t an average eighty-six-year-old.

Mrs Davis was clearly a smart woman who didn’t take any prisoners. She was glamorous too. Her blusher and red lipstick were immaculate, suiting her porcelain skin perfectly, and her white hair was professionally cut into a short bob. Whereas my brown skin was completely make-up-free and a hairdresser hadn’t touched my dark brown curly hair in almost two years.

When I was at home, I usually wore leggings and an old T-shirt. But Mrs Davis was wearing a navy-blue dress that was smarter than every item of clothing I owned. Especially the stonewashed jeans and pink jumper I had on now, which, like most of my wardrobe, came from the charity shop. I doubted Mrs Davis had ever worn second-hand clothes.

‘You’ve interrupted my reading,’ she snapped, ‘so if you have something to say, spit it out!’

Looked like I didn’t have a choice.

‘You have a lot of books.’ Doh. Talk about stating the obvious. ‘I’ve never seen so many in one house, so I asked how many you had. I wouldn’t expect you to know the exact number. I was just curious, that’s all.’

My hand shook as I reached for the floral china teapot. I poured the tea I’d offered to make when I’d arrived into the matching teacup, hoping that the warm liquid would help steady my nerves.

‘At the last count’—Mrs Davis paused and I took a large gulp, bracing myself for her response—‘seventeen thousand, nine hundred and eighty-three.’

I sprayed a mouthful of tea straight in Mrs Davis’s face .

‘Oh my God!’ I leapt to my feet, grabbed a serviette and started rubbing it over her mouth, smearing her red lipstick across her cheeks in the process. ‘Shit! I mean, crap! I’m so sorry!’

Yep. This was definitely going to be the shortest job I’d ever had. And given my track record, that was saying something.

Forget lasting one shift. I wasn’t even going to last an hour.

As my heart thundered in my chest, Mrs Davis calmly pulled a crisp white handkerchief from her dress pocket and dabbed it over her damp face.

‘I really am so sorry! I didn’t mean to spray you, but I thought you said you had almost eighteen thousand books and I was shocked. I must’ve misheard.’

Mrs Davis probably meant that she had close to eighteen hundred , not thousand. Even that was a lot. But like I’d said earlier, this room and the hallway were full of books, so around two thousand was feasible.

‘No.’ Mrs Davis fixed her steely gaze on me. I should just get my coat and leave now. Save her the trouble of firing me on the spot. ‘You did not mishear. I have almost eighteen thousand paperbacks and hardbacks combined. And thousands more on my Kindle.’

Bloody hell.

‘That’s amazing!’ My eyes bulged. ‘I thought the two hundred books I used to have were a lot. I can’t imagine having over twenty thousand !’

‘You like reading?’

I sat up straighter. Instead of firing me, she’d asked a question. This was good. Maybe I’d make it to an hour after all and earn enough to cover my petrol .

‘Yeah.’ I sighed. ‘I used to read all the time.’

‘ Used to ?’

‘Long story.’

I didn’t want to talk about that now. It was still too difficult.

‘Come with me.’

After resting the hardback on the table beside her, Mrs Davis got up, then weaved effortlessly through the book stacks on the floor as I trailed cautiously behind her.

At the end of the hallway, she stopped at a door I assumed led to a basement. For a split second, I wondered whether she planned to lock me down there as punishment for spraying her face with tea. But then I reminded myself to trust my gut. If I’d done that when I’d first had doubts about my ex, I wouldn’t be working so hard now trying to make ends meet.

Anyway, I’d promised Marion I’d call when my shift was over, so if she didn’t hear from me, hopefully she’d send out a search party.

Mrs Davis flicked a light switch, gripped the banister and slowly made her way down the wooden steps. I took a deep breath and followed her lead. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, my jaw hit the floor.

OMG.

There were rows upon rows of bookcases. Tall ones, short ones, wide ones, slim ones. All filled with beautiful books. Unlike the shelves upstairs, they were all beautifully arranged by colour.

And in the corner there was even a rolling ladder!

I felt like Belle when she walked into the library in the Beast’s castle. This was every bookworm’s wet dream.

‘Bloody hell!’ I shouted. ‘You’ve got your own personal home library!’ My eyes widened as I took in all of the books neatly arranged on the shelves. ‘And you’ve got all my favourites! Lucy Score, Meghan Quinn, Christina Lauren, Kennedy Ryan, D. D. Desire, Sophie Kinsella, Kristen Bailey, Emily Henry, Sarah Adams, Abby Jimenez, Elsie Silver…’ I ran my hands across the spines excitedly.

She also had books from indie authors I loved, and loads of classics too.

‘I read at least two romance novels a day,’ Mrs Davis said like it was no big deal.

‘My friend Sarah would literally die if she saw your collection! Have you read all of these?’

‘Most of them. But I have more books than I could read in my lifetime. Especially at my age. And now I want them to go to a good home. I assume you came here by car?’

For a second I hoped she was going to suggest I take some home. Then I remembered we’d only just met. And given that I’d spat in her face five minutes ago, she wasn’t going to reward me with a load of free books. Obviously she wanted me to drop them somewhere.

‘Do you want me to take some to the charity shop?’ It’d probably take thousands of trips and my car wasn’t really up to the job, but I wanted to at least try to help.

Charities could raise a lot of money from books like this, not to mention all the joy these novels would bring to so many readers.

‘Not exactly. Let’s go on a little trip.’

My shoulders loosened. The fact that she wanted to leave the house with me was another positive sign.

We returned upstairs and Mrs Davis reached for an elegant navy-blue jacket that matched her dress. As she slid her arms through the sleeves, she winced.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’ She hobbled towards the door. She seemed fine earlier, but maybe going up the stairs had tired her out. I looped my arm in hers. ‘You’re very kind,’ she said as we stepped outside.

‘I should warn you,’ I said, lowering my voice, ‘my car is a little… temperamental . Do we have far to go?’

‘It’s about a forty-five-minute drive.’

Fingers crossed we’d make it that far.

‘Excuse the mess.’ I opened the passenger door and gathered up the sheets of paper with directions to Mrs Davis’s house that were strewn across the seat.

I’d begged the receptionist at my third job to print them off at seven this morning before I left. Google Maps was one of the many things I missed about having a smartphone.

After I helped her into the car, we set off. Mrs Davis gave me directions all the way, and when we’d driven almost an hour, she announced that we’d finally arrived.

‘We’re going to that building’—she pointed across the road—‘so best to find a parking space now.’

‘Okay.’ I nodded.

The road was busy, but after scanning both sides, I spotted the perfect space about a hundred metres away. I checked my mirrors, wincing when I saw the one on the passenger side was dangerously close to falling off, indicated, then drove towards it.

But just as I was about to pull into the spot, a powerful car engine roared behind me. It was so loud I almost jumped out of my skin. And before I had a chance to blink, the shiny black Ferrari sped past us and straight into the parking space.

What the hell?

I slammed on my brakes, causing Mrs Davis to jerk forward.

‘Sorry!’ I unbuckled my seat belt. ‘Back in a sec.’

I was parked in the middle of the road, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let this dickhead get away with stealing our space.

Just because he had a flashy sports car didn’t mean he owned the street.

‘Excuse me!’ I banged on the window. The door opened, and as the driver stepped out, I swallowed hard.

Mr Parking Space Stealer was around six foot three and dressed in a sharp pinstriped suit which looked like it had been sewn onto his skin. He had dark hair, piercing blue come-to-bed eyes, and those lips…

Wait. Why was I looking at his lips?

I mentally slapped myself and came back to my senses.

‘You just stole my parking space!’ I snapped.

‘Forgive me.’ His eyes dropped to the ground, then his head shifted from left to right like he was looking for something. ‘I must’ve missed the sign which said it’d been reserved just for you.’ He lifted his gaze, his posh, velvety voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Oh, that’s right: that’s because there isn’t one, because this is a public street. Where parking is available on a first come, first-served basis. And as you can see, I got here first.’

‘Don’t try and be clever!’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘You saw me indicating! You knew I was going to take the space and you deliberately jumped in front of me! ’

‘You were driving so slow I thought you were lost. And I’m in a hurry.’

‘So am I!’ Anger bubbled in my stomach.

‘You snooze, you lose, sweetheart.’

‘Don’t call me sweetheart!’

Ignoring me, he turned away, then leant back in the car. His suit jacket rode up, giving me a prime view of his toned arse, which I immediately chastised myself for looking at.

He pulled out a slim black leather briefcase, then closed the door.

‘Anyway, you should be thanking me.’

‘What?’ I frowned. ‘Why the hell would I want to thank you ?’

‘Now next time you see a parking space, you’ll remember not to dilly-dally and be quicker off the mark. You’re welcome.’

The corner of his mouth twitched as he locked the car, then strode off.

My jaw dropped.

The audacity.

How could he be so brazen? Whatever happened to road etiquette? This was Britain: a country famous for its queuing system. He knew I was first in line for that space and he just jumped in front of me anyway.

And who the hell used the word dilly-dally anymore?

I went back to my car, steam pouring from my ears.

‘We’ll need to find another space,’ I huffed.

‘He was rather handsome.’ Mrs Davis grinned.

‘He was a cocky arsehole,’ I replied, trying to ignore the fact that with his square jaw, muscular frame, dark hair and hypnotic blue eyes, he could pass as Henry Cavill’s identical twin.

‘Sometimes they’re the most fascinating ones…’

I pushed her comment out of my head. I’d put up with enough of his type to know she was wrong.

Twenty-minutes later, we found a parking space and Mrs Davis led me down to the large, striking two-storey red-brick building. The car park was empty and the imposing iron gates were chained up.

‘What is this place?’

‘Nothing, at the moment. But it’s what it will become that’s important.’ She paused. ‘This is where my library will be.’

‘Your library ?’ I frowned.

‘Yes. This is where I want my books to go. I want to create a romance library. A place where readers will come together and find love between the pages. And hopefully between the walls too.’ A large smile spread across her face and her eyes instantly brightened.

‘That sounds like a great idea!’

I might not believe in love anymore, but I still remembered the joy that reading romance used to give me. And creating a library dedicated to the genre was genius. If you asked me, romance novels didn’t get the credit they deserved.

‘Thank you. And it needs to be right here, in this building. It’s one of the best locations in town. I’ve been waiting years for it to come on the market and now it finally has. Look at the views.’

I turned around and in the distance I spotted a beach with golden sand and sparkling blue sea. She was right about the views. They were pretty impressive .

‘I’m sure you’ll make it happen, and when you do, send me an invite. I’ll be your first member. I’d love to get back into reading again.’

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Reading used to be my passion. Until it was ripped away from me.

‘Reading is like a holiday for the mind,’ Mrs Davis beamed. ‘Books allow you to experience a million different adventures without leaving home. I couldn’t imagine a life without them.’

I used to feel the same. But sometimes life wasn’t that simple.

Mrs Davis walked me around the exterior.

‘This town is called Sunshine Bay and this’—she gestured to the old building—‘used to be a school called Seaview High.’

‘Was it American?’ I frowned, thinking it wasn’t very common for British secondary schools to have ‘high’ in their name.

‘No. I’m not entirely sure, but I believe the creator had links to the US, so decided to call it Seaview High Secondary School. I wish I could take you inside, but it looks like the owner isn’t here today. Let’s go to the beach.’

Once we’d crossed the road, Mrs Davis led me across the sand, then stopped a few metres away from the sea, closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh, salty air.

Although it was almost the end of April, the weather was surprisingly warm.

Sailboats glided across the water near the horizon, and the sound of seagulls squawking echoed around us.

I stood beside her, watching the waves gently lapping against the shore. If I wasn’t working, I would’ve loved to whip off my trainers and dip my feet in the sea. It’d been ages since I’d been to the beach.

When Mrs Davis was done, we sat down on one of the wooden benches nearby.

‘Do you have a boyfriend or husband?’ Mrs Davis asked.

Whoa . My head whipped around to face her. I wasn’t expecting Mrs Davis to ask me a question, and definitely not something so personal.

‘No.’ I shook my head, hoping that’d be the end of the conversation. If love was what she wanted to chat about, I’d prefer we sat in silence.

‘That’s a shame.’

‘Not really. Real-life boyfriends aren’t as good as fictional ones.’ As memories of my ex flooded my brain, a sharp pain ripped through my chest. I looked at my watch, then stood up. ‘I’m really sorry, but I have to go.’

I was only booked for a four-hour shift, and by the time I’d driven Mrs Davis back, it’d be at least an hour later than my contracted hours. I wouldn’t get paid for it, but it wasn’t about the money. Even though thinking about books and my ex had stirred up some difficult memories and Mrs Davis wasn’t exactly chatty, I’d still enjoyed it.

‘Of course.’ She nodded. ‘Sorry to have kept you.’

‘No, no. It’s not that. I wish I could stay. This place is beautiful. It’s just that I have another job to go to.’

Sunshine Bay was along England’s south-east coast, not far from Margate, and I had to get to my bar shift in south London, which was probably at least seventy miles away. I couldn’t afford to be late. Especially if Mrs Davis didn’t call me back to work again.

‘How many jobs do you have? ’

‘Three,’ I said as we headed to the car. ‘I do this job: y’know, being a home support worker who visits older people to help out with things at home. Plus I clean an office in the morning, then work in a bar at night.’

‘What do you do in your spare time?’

‘I don’t have any.’ I put on my seat belt, then once Mrs Davis was strapped in, I set off.

‘What are your hopes and dreams?’

Jeez . For someone who didn’t like questions, she was asking me a lot of them. This was starting to feel like a job interview instead of a conversation.

I could feel Mrs Davis’s eyes burning into me. She was expecting a reply. I paused, not knowing how to answer.

‘Earning a decent salary would be enough for me right now.’

‘That’s very sad,’ she said.

‘It is what it is.’ I shrugged.

One day I hoped I could just have one job instead of running from place to place and worrying about how I was going to make ends meet. But that was life, right? It was what everyone did: work, eat, sleep, repeat.

Work was a means to an end. It was what people did to survive, not for enjoyment. Dreams weren’t for people like me.

‘But what about love ?’ she asked.

‘What about it?’ I replied flatly. I was glad that she was a fan of love, but it wasn’t for me.

Thankfully Mrs Davis took the hint and for the rest of the journey we didn’t speak.

As I helped her back into the house, something tugged in my chest. Although I knew she loved her books and preferred them to people, the fact that she’d be left here alone for another week made me feel bad. If I didn’t have to work, I would’ve stayed and kept her company.

‘Thank you.’ She smiled.

‘You’re welcome,’ I said, thinking I’d only driven her to see a building. Usually when I provided home support, it was more involved, like giving them a bath, cleaning up the house, doing the shopping and stuff like that.

‘Don’t give up on love.’ She looked me deep in the eyes. ‘Someone just as wonderful as a book boyfriend is out there. When the time is right, you’ll find each other.’

An involuntary laugh flew from my mouth.

‘Sorry.’ I winced, hoping I didn’t sound rude. ‘It’s just that… never mind.’

She’d read so many books that she believed in the fantasy of true love. But I’d seen the destruction that so-called ‘love’ could cause. And I wasn’t in any hurry to repeat the experience.

‘Until then, find love between the pages of a good book.’

‘Goodbye, Mrs Davis,’ I said, thinking it was best not to respond to her comment. Working three jobs didn’t leave much time or energy for reading. ‘Hopefully I’ll see you next week?’

‘Goodbye, Jessica,’ she said without confirming.

Fingers crossed I’d salvaged the situation enough for her to ask me back. Time would tell.

As I bent down to stock the drinks at the bottom of the bar, I blew out a breath. It’d been a busy week and after only getting five hours sleep, I was exhausted. But I had to keep going. The bills wouldn’t pay themselves.

I heard the bar stool scrape across the floor as a customer sat down.

‘I’ll be with you in a sec,’ I called out.

‘Oh good, you’re already on your knees.’ A sweaty man’s head appeared over the top of the bar. ‘That’s exactly how I like my women.’ He licked his lips and grinned suggestively.

My jaw dropped and my body shuddered with disgust. I quickly stood up and rushed out the back.

I wished I could say comments like that were rare at this crappy bar, but there wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t get at least one inappropriate comment or some arsehole trying to cop a feel.

I also wished I could knee that sexist wanker in the balls or report him to my boss, but he was no better. And if I complained, I’d be out of a job. I hated working here. But I had no choice.

Even with this extra shift, it was still going to be a struggle to pay the rent this month. I really hoped Marion would get back to me soon about whether I was working at Mrs Davis’s house tomorrow or not.

‘Mick!’ I called out to my boss. ‘I have to use the loo and there’s a customer out front.’

Without even waiting for him to reply, I dived into the toilet. Just as I closed the door, my phone started ringing. Speak of the devil.

‘Hi, Marion!’ I said cheerily. ‘I was just thinking about you!’

‘So… about Mrs Davis…’ Her voice was solemn.

‘Let me guess, I’m not working tomorrow? ’

‘No.’

My heart sank. I really needed that money. Although she wasn’t the warmest woman in the world, I liked Mrs Davis, and I’d much prefer working with her than in this sleazy bar. She seemed interesting and I bet she had a lot of cool stories to tell.

There was so much I wanted to ask about her. I wanted to know about her romance library plans. I wanted to hear more about why she had so many books and I wasn’t gonna lie. As unprofessional as it sounded, maybe in time I’d be able to start reading again and I was kind of hoping that if I did, she might lend me some of her novels too. I really missed reading and it would be a good way to pass the time when the bar was quiet.

‘Look, I know I shouldn’t have spat at her…’

‘You spat at a client?’

‘Yes. No . Not intentionally. It was an accident, but I can fix it. If you let me call her, maybe I can convince her to give me another chance. I mean, she even smiled a couple of times. And she asked me questions. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t at least like me a little bit. I promise I won’t mess up again. Just let me speak to her.’

‘That won’t be possible.’

‘I know it’s not protocol to call clients directly, but…’

‘It’s not because of protocol. You can’t speak to Mrs Davis because…’ Marion paused. ‘Because she’s dead.’

‘What?’ My stomach plummeted. ‘Oh my God! How? I only saw her last week and she seemed fine!’ She was a little tired towards the end of the trip, but I thought that was just because she wasn’t used to going out. ‘That’s really sad and so… shocking. ’

‘Yeah,’ Marion sighed. ‘And that’s not the only shocking thing.’

‘No? What could be more shocking than that?’ I frowned.

‘Her solicitor called. He needs you to come to a meeting.’

‘Why?’ My face crumpled.

‘Because Mrs Davis left you something in her will.’