Sophie Hart - The Naughty Girls Book Club

Hurriedly, Estelle snatched up the cakes and dashed outside, the bell clanging behind her.

‘I brought you these,’ Estelle blurted out as she crossed the street, proffering the box, which Mary took gratefully.

‘Thank you, Estelle,’ she said, her voice wobbling dangerously. ‘It’s very kind of you.’

‘It certainly is,’ echoed Alan, as he took the box from his wife and peeped inside.

‘I’m just so sorry to see you go,’ Estelle told them helplessly, wishing there was something more she could do. Mary and Alan had run Bainbridge Books for over thirty years, but they simply couldn’t afford to keep it open any longer. They were moving down to Devon to be closer to their grandchildren, and though Estelle knew they’d been planning their retirement for a while, they certainly hadn’t wanted to leave like this – unable to sell their business, and forced to close due to lack of custom. It was a chilling reminder of what could happen to her if things didn’t pick up.

‘Well, we all have to move on,’ Alan replied stoically. ‘Times change.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ Estelle swallowed, feeling overcome with emotion. She’d loved the atmosphere in the cosy little bookshop, and had whiled away many a happy hour with the friendly owners, chatting about books over a cup of tea and a generous slice of battenberg.

Mary was shaking her head sadly. ‘Oh, we’ve had some wonderful times in there,’ she sniffed, staring through the window at the now-abandoned shop, with its bare walls and rows of empty bookshelves. ‘You know what I’ll miss the most?’ she confided, her eyes glistening with tears behind her oversized glasses. ‘Talking to all of our customers every day. Everyone thinks that reading is such a solitary occupation, but it doesn’t have to be,’ she insisted.

Estelle nodded in agreement as Mary continued speaking, warming to her theme. ‘All the best books should be shared and discussed and debated. It’s a centuries’ old tradition. People have always loved stories. Oh, I’ll miss this place so much!’ she sobbed, dabbing at her eyes with a soggy tissue.

Estelle reached out towards her, enfolding Mary in a comforting hug. It was so true what Mary had said, she thought, remembering all the chats they’d shared, from debating their favourite Jane Austen novel to discussing the merits of Mr Rochester versus Heathcliff as a romantic hero. Not that she’d have admitted to Mary about reading Ten Sweet Lessons, Estelle thought guiltily, remembering the creased paperback hidden at the bottom of her bag.

Suddenly, she pulled away from Mary as though she’d just had an electric shock. ‘That’s it!’ Estelle exclaimed. Her eyes were sparkling, her face shining with enthusiasm.

‘That’s what, dear?’ Mary asked, looking at her husband in confusion. Alan simply shrugged, staring nervously at Estelle as though she’d gone mad.

‘The solution to my problems,’ Estelle squealed. ‘ You, Mary Bainbridge,’ she declared, throwing her arms around her once again, ‘are a genius!’

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