The Bookshop of Second Chances Jackie Fraser (ebook reader macos .txt) 📖

for my sewing things, perhaps. I’m not sure I can imagine a life there though. Can I? Actually I can, of course, I like the flat very much, the size of the rooms, the elegance of the space, and Edward doesn’t own anything I’d discard, given the choice. He has good taste and has always had the money to buy nice things.

I talk to Xanthe. She wants to know how it’s going, and I tell her he’s away, and that I feel weird.

‘Weird how?’

‘I don’t know. I feel anxious.’

‘Anxious? What do you think is going to happen?’

‘I don’t know. Nothing. I’m not sure. I just…’

‘What?’

‘I… I don’t know.’

‘Well, this isn’t really getting us anywhere, is it? And I don’t know him, so I can’t really help you. It’s very early days, isn’t it? And unexpected, and you’ve only had one partner for, like, twenty years. I guess he’s quite different to Chris.’

‘Well, yes. Yes, he is. But Chris isn’t the only boyfriend I’ve ever had, is he? I don’t think it’s that. Maybe it’s…’

‘What?’

‘I think there are some things I need to speak to him about. And if he was here, I could, but he’s not, so my stupid brain is causing me trouble. Then there’s this whole thing with his brother,’ I say. ‘I mean I can understand why they fell out – it’s hard to imagine how they wouldn’t have. I get why they hate each other. But how will that work? Charles has always been perfectly nice to me; I’m not going to suddenly stop speaking to him. But that might be really awkward.’

There’s a long pause, while she considers this. ‘I suppose so. Can’t you get them to sort it out?’

‘I don’t know. And is it even any of my business?’

Again, a pause as she thinks about it. ‘Sort of?’

‘Yeah. Is that good enough? I don’t want to meddle.’

‘I think you’re worrying about things that might not ever be problems?’

I have to laugh at this. ‘But that would be so out of character!’

She laughs too. ‘Wouldn’t it. But this stuff you’re worrying over about Edward–’

I don’t really want to discuss this with anyone other than Edward – it seems unfair. I change the subject. When the conversation is over, though, I’m thinking about it again. I’m thinking about how different my view of relationships is to Edward’s. He’s had no practice, and he’s been involved in a number of… situations that I would never even contemplate. I know he said this thing we’re doing is permanent and monogamous, but how does he know that? His last relationship was with a married woman – and as far as I can tell, he didn’t even remotely care about the circumstances of that. I know he said Lara’s husband didn’t care either, and I believe him, because why would he lie? But that’s not normal, is it? Or is it? Whenever I’ve said things about posh people and their morals or lack of, he’s never disagreed with me. In fact, I know he sort of thinks people only have morals when it comes to the behaviour of others, and they’ll always be able to reconfigure them when considering their own behaviour. I don’t think that’s true though. Or anyway, it’s not true for me. I’ve never cheated on anyone and I never would, and by that I’d include sleeping with someone who was married, even if I myself were single.

I think about this for ages, and then I remember that when I was first at university, my sixth-form boyfriend Pete slept with a girl on his course and although I forgave him – or said I had – I felt it had somewhat loosened the agreement between us. That Christmas I got off with – but did not even remotely have sex with, although I certainly thought about it – the flatmate of one of my friends. So my morals aren’t exactly perfect. Of course, that was at the end of something – Pete and I should have been brave enough to split up before we went to college at opposite ends of the country because, as I said to Rory many months ago, it was all entirely predictable that we should split up before our third Valentine’s Day. You can’t expect much different really; teenagers exposed to loads of fresh new opportunities, arriving at uni without any baggage from home. And I was an absolute goddess at university (I laugh to myself at this thought) so I had plenty of… options.

None of this helps.

I spend the week at work feeling out of kilter and awkward. It continues to be very quiet at the shop, and the only interesting thing that happens is when the people from the Chamber of Commerce come to speak to me – well, they came to speak to Edward really, but obviously he’s not here – about the Christmas Victorian Shopping Festival. Unsurprisingly, Mr Maltravers has never engaged in this particular bit of local branding, which is due to happen in the week before Jenny and Alastair’s wedding, but I’m well up for it and agree at once. I plan the Christmas window display to accompany this event with what can only be described as glee, and I scroll through hundreds of top hats from eBay before it occurs to me that maybe – just maybe – Edward might own one. He seems the type, frankly. He’ll have been to a dozen weddings where a silk hat was required, surely. I’m not going to be crinolined, I’m going to drag up. I’m already very excited about fake mutton chop sideburns and an embroidered waistcoat.

I text him.

Have you got a top hat by any chance?

Er, yes, I think so – why?

Just wondered. Where is it?

If it’s at the flat, it’ll be in the cupboard in the green spare bedroom. In a box.

Cool, thanks. I mean, is it all right if I look for it and get it out?

Of course, help yourself. But what