Chapter One of THE SECONDHAND BOOKWORM - bookshops and bookworms, the British public

Book selling memoirs

Today I would like to share with you Chapter One of my first novel 'The Secondhand Bookworm'. The full novel is available to download and read through Amazon Kindle - all proceeds from the sales of my books go to Mary's Dowry Productions (my film and media apostolate).
I wrote The Secondhand Bookworm originally for my work colleagues but re-edited it and re-wrote bits almost ten years later as part of a series of novels now accessible to anyone who enjoys a fun, clean, British read.

So, here is chapter one - I hope you enjoy it and I hope it encourages you to start the series. I shall be releasing BOOK 4 this August and am already working on BOOK 5!

The Secondhand Bookworm series of novels are available on Amazon Kindle and in paperback.

CHAPTER ONE – CONCERNING RAVENS

In the front room of an antiquarian and second hand bookshop in a little Sussex town was a young woman named Nora. She was seated at a cluttered counter surrounded by books that lined the walls, while, like a labyrinth, further rooms and stairs spiralled up and up behind her, bursting at the seams with books upon books upon books.

The interior of the shop was silent as the town beyond began to wake up. An elderly man was peering solemnly at a giant ham in the butcher’s shop window, two ladies were contemplating a tiffany lamp in the front window of an antiques shop, and someone stepped out of the delicatessens, almost tripped over a man’s Labradoodle and stood to stroke the animal, chatting with the dog’s owner about the new A-Board that had appeared on the pavement down Market Street with much shaking of their heads.

Inside the bookshop, the sound of footsteps caused Nora to look up as the front door opened and a man crossed the threshold.

“Ah, it’s warm in here! It’s jolly bitter out there this morning. You’re in a good place. Lucky you. Now, I’m looking for a book.” He tugged a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and stood before the counter. “Let me see, right, I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget it. Here it is. It’s a novel and it’s by Patrick O’Brian, you heard of him? Grand writer. Well, I’m looking for the fourth novel but I don’t know the title. Can you check your computer and see if you have it in stock?”

Nora straightened up and shook her head.

“We don’t have our titles listed I’m afraid…” She began.

“Well that’s no good.” The man interrupted, brow furrowed. “You should do you know. How do you find a book then in here?” He surveyed the room and his eyes focussed upon a stack of children’s books waiting to be put away.

“All the books here are in sections so if it’s an art book you’re looking for then you can look in the art section or if it’s a sports book we have a sports section. Fiction is in the attic, alphabetized A-Z of author.” Nora explained mildly.

The man screwed up his nose.

“You don’t have a list of what’s up there? Do I need an oxygen tank? How far up is it?”

“Two flights.” Nora indicated to the walkway between special collections of G. K. Chesterton and Edgar Wallace organised upon the shelves. “It’s A-Z of author so quite easy to find.”

“If I don’t die of asphyxiation before I get up there.” He folded his piece of paper up. “You should list your titles on the computer.”

“Well, last stock check we had about twenty-seven thousand books.” Nora said and smiled inside to see his eyebrows lift in surprise. “It would take too long to individually list them.”

“Hmmm, you should set up a barcode system like Waterstones.” He began towards the walkway that led further into the shop. “It would save your customers searching through twenty seven thousand books…”

Nora watched him disappear, her gaze sliding to Chesterton’s ruddy face on the front of a biography.

“You’d have had a charitable but amusing answer to that.” She told him quietly. “Mine isn’t charitable so I’ll bite my tongue.”

She turned back to see a flash on the computer monitor indicating an instant Skype message from the other bookshop in Seatown.

‘Mr Hill is here.’ The message flashed, accompanied by a horror-stuck emoticon.

Nora bit back a smirk, her thoughts going to their most famous long-standing customer who had started off the day at their Seatown branch. She was about to sit down to reply when the door opened again, letting in a waft of cold air and the loud drone of an engine as a car passed by. A woman marched in, tailed by her husband.

“I want a microwave cookery book.” She said, blue eyes snapping. She stopped at the counter and dropped a large leather handbag onto the surface, knocking over a holder of business cards.

Nora blinked, sinking into her chair.

“Do you have one? My daughter’s bought me a microwave and I want a cookery book for it.”

Nora cleared her throat, picking up the cards.

“We have a cookery section but to be honest I haven’t seen any microwave cookery books come in to us for sale for a long time. I don’t think we do.”

“Can you check your computer?”

“We don’t have our titles listed I’m afraid. They’re all secondhand so they come and go from the shelves quite regularly.” Nora moved the bag to collect a few more spilt cards and return them to the holder. “You’re welcome to go up to the section and browse through just in case, but I can’t leave the till I’m afraid and our cookery section is on the next floor.”

“I can’t do stairs. You go up dear.” She turned and prodded her husband.

“What?” He seemed to return from a trance and stared at his wife.

 “M-I-C-R-O-W-A-V-E cookery books.” She shook her head patronisingly. “For the microwave Louise gave us.  They’re upstairs.”

“Well, I’m quite certain there aren’t any there at the moment really.” Nora hastened to say, fearing a marital dispute coming on.

“Hmph.” The woman snatched up her bag. “If you had your books listed you would know for certain.”

Nora paused.

“Yes, that would help.” She said, side-glancing the Chesterton biography. She watched them stalk out of the shop and another man enter as the telephone rang. Nora grabbed the telephone receiver quickly.

“Good morning, The Secondhand Bookworm, Castletown.” She greeted the caller.

“Yes…he’s here!” Cara’s voice whispered painfully.

Nora bit back a grin at the sound of her colleague from the shop in Seatown.

“I’m glad you’ve got him and not me.”

“He’s given up on Castletown. You keep sending him here.”

“I refuse to buy his books.” Nora pointed out. “Is he buying or selling?”

“Buying…then selling I guess. I’ve got to go…bye.”

She hung up and Nora smiled, watching her own customer nod a hello before striding into the back of the shop.

Turning to the computer, Nora clicked ‘Outlook Express’ for the emails. Her thoughts went to Mr Hill and she shook her head. Mr Hill was one of their long-standing eccentric customers. He had bought and sold the same selection of ten books during the course of thirty years. Hopefully he would find something fresh this time, though Nora doubted it.

“Hi, Nora.” A voice interrupted her thoughts.

Spencer Brown stood in the doorway, his shoulder-length pure white hair like a halo in the sunlight. He stepped down, long black coat billowing like a vampire’s cloak.

“Anything for me?”

“Oh. I’ll check.” Nora eased back her chair to duck under the counter where the reserved books were kept. A modest stack of ghost books with a slip of paper inside was next to the sellotape holder.

“I haven’t seen Georgina for ages.” He said, referring to the owner of The Secondhand Bookworm. “Did you thank her for the latest books she put by for me?” Spencer asked, picking up a book about windmills from the counter.

 “Yes.” Nora’s strained voice assured. She appeared with the heavy ghost books and put them before him.  “These look spooky.”

Spencer Brown was an avid collector of occult books. He insisted that he used them for research but Nora suspected he ran a satanic cult in the woods behind the castle ruins. He was a tall, thin man with piercing blue eyes and especially long incisors which flashed like Dracula’s when he smiled.

Quickly, Nora removed the slip of paper inside the plastic bag of books which said ‘For the local Ghostbuster’.

Screwing up the slip she slid the pile of books towards him.

“Got that one.” Spencer said straightaway. He then developed his gaze of concentration.

Three emails arrived so Nora lobbed the piece of paper over her shoulder where it landed in the small waste paper bin and turned to check them, leaving Spencer to ponder the books. The first two emails were spam. The third email was from a lady looking to sell her father’s collection of fishing books so Nora forwarded it on to the Seatown branch for Georgina to deal with.

The customer from the back room wandered into the front and stood looking perplexed.

“Do you have your books listed?”

Spencer burst out laughing.

“Everyone asks them that.” He said, flicking through the leaves of a tome on poltergeists.

Nora shook her head.

“We don’t I’m afraid.”

“I’ve looked in your railway section for a specific title; that’s the only place it would be?” He ignored Spencer, giving the poltergeist book a wary squint.

“Yes. There’s nothing back here in our antiquarian section. We can take your name and number and keep an eye out for you.” She suggested.

“I’m not local.” He began away. “Thanks though. Great shop.”

“Thank you. Bye.”  Nora smiled.

Spencer nudged a pile towards Nora.

“I definitely have those already. Can you write these down for me and I’ll check if I have them? They change the covers when they reprint them and I’ve got so many now I lose track.”

Nora took up a pen while Spencer stared at her steadily, almost as if poised to lunge for her jugular. Nora edged back warily.

“Lovely day today. I’m going to a UFO convention next week.”

Nora nearly dropped the pen.

“Really?”

“There are other people who do research like me, Nora. Enough to fill a convention.”

“Will there be aliens?”

“You never know.” His round blue eyes shone hopefully. “It’s really good; Sal and I have been before. We’re also going to stay in a haunted house. Last time we stayed there we felt something sit on the end of our bed, I swear.”

Nora stared at him.

“We’re stopping at a place that’s supposed to have a violent ghost. There’s even a book written about it.”

Nora hastily scribbled down the titles and authors and handed them to him.

“Thanks.” Spencer grinned. “Thank Georgina for me.”

“Bye.” Nora watched him go, shaking her head.

The sound of footsteps on the staircase in the hallway beyond the front room signalled the return of Nora’s first customer returning from the fiction room. He was breathing heavily when he reappeared. Two novels were clasped in his left hand.

“Well you had it so it was worth the bleeding climb.” The man said, peering at Nora through his large black glasses. “Just for your information, in case someone asks you in the future, the fourth Patrick O’Brian novel is called ‘The Mauritius Command’. I also found the fifth up there too. So I’ll take them both.”

He dropped two paperbacks onto the counter and then proceeded to shove his hands in the pockets of his enormous overcoat, searching for what Nora hoped was his wallet.

Nora drew the books towards her.

‘The Mauritius Command’ had been priced at £2.50 and ‘Desolation Island’ at £2.00. Nora punched the prices into the till.

“Four pounds fifty please, sir.”

“Why is one priced at £2.50 and the other £2? They look the same to me.” He asked, opening his wallet.

“But they’re not the same book.” Nora smiled pleasantly. “I would assume that the earlier one is fifty pence more because it is harder to find.”

“I found it. It wasn’t that hard.”

“No it probably wasn’t hard to locate it on the shelf.” Nora agreed. “But it may be hard to come by for stock.”

He glared at her.

“How about both of them for four quid?”

“I can’t change the prices I’m afraid.”

“Bloody rip off  if you ask me.”

“Well I‘m not…” Nora began with a scowl but changed her mind about arguing with her first customer of the day so bit her tongue hard and almost screamed. “Ouch!”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Nora muttered, her eyes watering.

The man shook his head, sighing loudly as he counted out four pound coins, two twenty pence pieces and a ten pence piece. He dumped them unceremoniously on the counter.

“Thank you.” Nora winced, tasting blood.

He gave her a narrowed look, watching her deposit the money in the till.

“Do you need a bag?”

“No!” He picked up the books, shoved them in an inside pocket of his enormous coat and turned.

Nora watched him stomp across the carpet followed by the flagstones to the door while she picked up her pen.

“First official sale of the day.” She sighed and wrote it down in the cash book.

The cash book was a methodically kept record of all sales and expenditures in the Secondhand Bookworm. It was a long, thin ledger. Nora wrote the sales down the right hand side and any expenditure down the left. Sometimes she was specific such as writing down ‘Patrick O’Brian novels’ or ‘The History of Castletown’; at other times she was less detailed and simply wrote ‘fiction’ or ‘something smelly, could be covered in old man bogies’. Georgina kept the daily records so as to glean an idea as to what topics were more popular with her customers.

The front door flew open, making Nora flinch.

“Excuse me, is there a chemist shop around here?  I’m looking for the chemist shop; someone said it was along the main street.” The man in the doorway said breathlessly.

  “Yes it is. Just continue along the road and it’s on the left past the bank and the coin shop.” Nora explained, pointing with her pen.

“Thanks. I’ve got terrible diarrhoea.” The man gasped and hurried off, closing the door.

Nora blinked, leaning forward to watch him run up the hill, both hands clamped over his behind. Her gaze slid back to the door as the postman appeared at the window.

“Post for you.” He mouthed.

Recovering her disposition, Nora walked around the front of the desk. She opened the door.

“Hiya. How are you?” Phil greeted cheerfully.

In his early thirties, Phil was one of the regular faces in Castletown. He led a double life as a waiter in ‘The Duke’s Pie’, a crumbling but popular restaurant at the top of the hill.

“Fine thanks.” Nora replied, taking the pile of letters, bills and catalogues. 

  “Looks like it’s going to be a blustery day today. Lots of debris down on Littlesea beach from last night’s storm.”  He told her. “You should let Seymour know.”

“I will, thanks.” Nora nodded, thinking of her brother.

“He still collects stuff for his theatre right? You never know what’s been washed up.” Phil mused.

“I’ll send him a text message.” Nora agreed.

“Have a good day.” Phil winked. He set off up the road on his bike leaving Nora in the doorway.

“NORA!”  A booming voice carried across the cobbled square. Nora saw Billy from one of the antique centres waving frantically. “I’VE GOT SOME BOOKS I WANT TO SELL. I’LL BRING THEM DOWN LATER.” He yelled.

Nora stuck her thumb up, wincing inside as she wondered what horrors Billy would have discovered to try and sell her this time. She was about to turn when, with a sudden jolt of horror, she noticed two ladies waiting to cross the road from over the square, eyes fixed on the bookshop. Quickly Nora ran inside and closed the door, leaning against it.

“Oh lovely. The Ravens. It’s going to be one of those days.” She sighed and headed back for the desk.

There was a new email waiting in the inbox back at the computer so Nora sat down to read it. For a moment the shop was peaceful, the sun streaming in between the shelves in the window, illuminating a set of gold edged Kipling novels.  Crows and rooks from the huge ruined castle behind the shop could be heard squawking. A large, long lorry slowed down just outside to squeeze between the blind that extended over the path and the wall of the picture shop on the corner opposite. Nora looked up and watched, as always, with her breath in her throat. It was a narrow road and a lot of heavy vehicles often sped by, a hair breadth away from the blind that protected most of the books in the window from the sunlight.

Suddenly the two ladies cast open the door and entered the shop whispering.

“Ask her if…ask her if she’ll do it for…ask her if…ask her….” Mrs Raven was whispering.

“I will poppet!” Miss Raven whispered back hard and Nora turned slowly from the computer screen to smile politely.

Mrs Raven hung back while her middle-aged daughter smiled sinisterly and almost glided toward the counter. She was wearing a large coat, a long white scarf, a deerstalker hat with flaps either side of her ears and large flannelette shorts with knee high white socks and white plimsolls.

“Hellooooo.” She greeted in a sweet, high voice.

“Hello, how are you?” Nora welcomed.

“I’m fine, fine. How are you?” Before Nora could answer, Miss Raven glared at her. “You have a book in your window.” She said sweetly. “Can we have a look, please?”

Nora edged back her chair.

“And we’re going to look upstairs; can we leave our bags here?” She asked, daring Nora to refuse with her dark eyebrows lowered and a set smile.

“Of course.” Nora knew better than to argue.

Mrs Raven scurried forward with four carrier bags, a shopping holder and a black sack. With much rustling she arranged the bags behind the counter and when finished stared at Nora who stepped over them to go to the window.

“It’s the ladybird book on ‘The Workman’. In the front for two pounds.” Miss Raven said airily.

Nora moved a costume book and a ‘Jowett Javelin and Jupiter’ tome and reached in the front for the book.

“Ask her if…ask her…” Mrs Raven whispered from behind.

“I WILL.” Miss Raven whispered hard and when Nora turned she beamed. “Thank you.” She took it and the two women bent their heads together over the book, whispering.

Nora walked back to the desk, sat down and pulled up Skype chat.

‘You think you’ve got it bad with Mr. Hill? I have the Ravens.’ She wrote with a smirk just as the telephone rang.

Leaving the Ravens to their in-depth discussion Nora grabbed the receiver.

“I saw your advert in the Yellow Pages that you buy old books.” The man at the end of the line said, sounding small and distant. “We’re down-sizing and have cleared out some bookshelves and I have some books I want to get rid of. These are old, from the nineteen fifties. I have a set of Children’s Encyclopaedias and a set of General Knowledge and some story books. How much would you give me for them?”

Nora leaned back in the chair and put her foot on the shelf under the counter.

“Well I’m afraid that the Encyclopaedias and General Knowledge books wouldn’t be for us.”

“Your advert says you buy old books.” He said indignantly.

“We find the ones you mentioned very difficult to sell on I’m afraid. What story books do you have?” She added hastily.

“Fairy tales, nursery rhymes….”

“Are they illustrated?”

“They got pictures, yeah.” He replied suspiciously.

“Well if they are illustrated by Arthur Rackham or Edmund Dulac or Mabel Lucie Attwell or…”

“Yeah ‘Grimm’s Tales’ is illustrated by Arthur Rackham.”  He interrupted, excited.

Mrs and Miss Raven moved towards the counter, staring at Nora.

“What sort of book is it? Is it large and with a dust wrapper?” Nora inquired.

“No it don’t have a wrapper but it’s blue cloth and has gold writing and the other one, the Nursery Rhymes one, has a glossy wrapper but it has the ring of a coffee mug stained across the face of the Cow who jumped over the moon on the front.” He detailed.

Nora smiled at Miss Raven who was staring pointedly at her, grasping the ladybird book with both hands.

“Probably the Arthur Rackham illustrated book would be worth us looking at…”

“The back cover is missing and some of the back pages have gone, it’s hanging apart a bit, would that make a difference to the price?” He interrupted.

Nora paused.

“Yes.” She said quietly.

“Oh, I thought I’d try before I threw them in the bin.” He seemed to shrug the other end of the line. “The pictures inside might be worth tearing out then for this Arthur Rack-man chap?”

“You might like to keep them before you throw them away.” Nora nodded with a sigh.

“I could try and sell them on EBay. Thanks dear.” The phone clicked as he rang off and Nora took a deep breath, returning the receiver to its holder.

“Yes, we’d like this one but we’d like to look upstairs.”  Miss Raven said, her voice even higher than before. “Can we leave it here while we go and have a look?”

“That’s fine.”  Nora assured.

“Come on, poppet.” Miss Raven whispered to her mother and they shuffled off.

Nora watched them, spinning around slightly in her chair to ponder the Ladybird book.

  The sound of an approaching lorry caused Nora to look up again. The large BIFFA truck slowed down to turn the corner, its dark red side catching the sun and causing Nora to squint. A following car stopped as it took the corner carefully and the driver peered into the shop, meeting Nora’s eyes. She turned back to see ‘AAAAAAARGH’ spelt out on the Skype Chat in reply to her comment that the Ravens had arrived. She chuckled, sifting through the post.

Moments later, Nora watched the door open and a middle-aged man step down.

  “Good morning.” He greeted cheerfully with a tip of his hat, closing the door behind him.

He was very smartly dressed in a yellow tweed suit, waistcoat, shirt and tie, boater hat and white gloves. Nora watched him roll on his heels, hands linked behind his back as he perused the shelves of art books and then he tipped his hat again and headed past deeper into the shop. She leaned to stare after him dubiously. A few days earlier he had cornered her in the science section, dressed in jeans, red fleece and denim shirt to discuss biochemistry with unabashed passion.  He changed his literary tastes and clothing fashion like the wind and had once come in garbed as a Victorian gentleman asking after Charles Dickens novels. She smiled, shaking her head and turning as the door opened once more.

“Hello. I’m probably in the wrong shop but do you sell printer paper?” An elderly man asked.

Nora shook her head.

“No we don’t, sorry.”

“Where can I get some?”

“There’s a computer shop down Market Street.”

“Oh. I must have missed it. Do you sell set squares?”

Nora looked blank.

“Set squares?”

He looked around.

“No it doesn’t look like you do.”  He decided.

“We only sell books.” Nora explained.

“Oh. Do you sell newspapers?”

“No, only books.” Nora stressed.

“Oh. Where is there a paper shop?” He asked, beginning to leave.

“Down the road next to the post office.” Nora indicated, turning when she heard the heavy footfalls descending the staircase in the next room. The man bade farewell and closed the door. The sound of intense whispering preceded the Ravens. They returned to the front room with a Disney book and three more Ladybird books.

“Ah yes, we’d like these please.” Miss Raven said, walking around and placing them on the counter top.

“Ask her if she’d…”  Mrs Raven whispered but her daughter pointedly ignored her.

“We’d like to pay for these four ladybirds now but can you keep this one by for us please?” She handed Nora the Disney book. “And can you do the usual on those?” Her eyes darkened threateningly, poised for Nora’s answer.

“Yes, of course, I can give you ten percent off as you’re regulars.” Nora assured quickly.

Miss Raven’s face relaxed and she smiled sweetly.

“You’re so kind.”

Mrs Raven pulled a little bank bag from her pocket which was full of coins.

“Are you going to pay for them?” Miss Raven asked her.

“We discussed it.” Mrs Raven whispered. “Yes, yes, I’ve got it.” She emptied the whole bag on the counter so that coins rolled and skidded in all directions. There was a whispering argument as Nora ran the prices through the till, taking ten percent off while trying to keep a straight face. Mrs Raven counted out numerous five pence pieces.

“And can we have a bag please?” Miss Raven asked sweetly.

“Sure.”

“Can you double it please into two bags?”

“Erm….”

“We’re going home by taxi and it has to be strong.” Miss Raven snapped, blue eyes flashing.

“Sure.” Nora grabbed a bag, biting her tongue against mentioning her colleague’s recent comment about the Ravens’ carbon footprint due to their obsession with bags.

 “I bet the Ravens line their walls with our blue carriers.” Terri had said.

Nora smirked again when she thought of it.

“We’re getting cotton and jute bags soon.” She couldn’t resist saying.

Miss Raven just smiled sweetly.

Nora cleared her throat, bagging the books and then holding them out.

“Ask her if she can hold on to it.” Mrs Raven whispered, nudging her daughter.

“Ah, would it be possible to leave them here while we go and walk around the town?” Miss Raven asked.

Nora withdrew the bag.

“No problem.”

“Ask her if…”

“I know poppet!” Miss Raven snapped and smiled broadly at Nora who knew what was coming. “Ah, could we leave our bags here? While we walk around the town? As we bought some books today?”

Nora glanced at the pile.

“Well…I suppose as there are no books around here at the moment that’ll be okay.”

“We won’t be long!” Miss Raven grabbed her mother’s arm and they bolted for the door.

“Don’t you need your gloves?” Mrs Raven whispered hard.

“I’m fine, poppet.” Miss Raven assured and they almost wedged one another in the doorway, vying to leave the shop hastily before Nora changed her mind.

Nora dropped the bag with the others and flopped down in the chair, wincing when Billy bowed at the Ravens passing him outside before sticking his head in the shop.

“I’ll bring those books in another day, Nora.” Billy said loudly. “Someone’s coming to see my Nazi daggers so I want to polish them up. Take care.” He winked.

The man who changed his fashion drifted in from the back room, paused to tip his hat and then left silently, closing the door behind him.

Grinning, Nora stood up and climbed over the Ravens’ bags to set about re-sorting the Ordinance Survey maps which the infamous regular ‘Map-Boy’ had messed up as usual at the weekend.

“The last of the big spenders.” A lady’s voice sailed in as the door opened.

Nora’s hand stilled before the first pile of Ordinance Survey maps. She moved back to the till to receive the postcards that the lady had taken from the slim postcard spinner outside.

“Thank you dear.” She said, placing her bag on the counter, rummaging for her purse. She was joined by her husband who looked around.

“You could get lost in here.” He declared.

“Here you are, dear.” The lady offered Nora a ten pound note.

“Do you have any change?” Nora asked.

“No.” She assured.

Nora took the note while the lady placed the card in her bag.

“Where is a good place for a cup of tea?” She asked while Nora counted out her change.

“There are several nice cafes here.” Nora smiled politely.

“What would you recommend?” The husband asked with a wink.

“You can sit outside by the river down at Riverside Café or there’s The Flowery Teacup which does good cakes.”  She said.

“I don’t want a cake, just a cup of tea.” The lady said adamantly.

“Oh. Well, they all do tea anyway, I’m sure.” Nora closed the till.

“Thank you dear.” The lady smiled and they walked away, letting a man in who shut the door so hard behind him that the windows rattled.

“Sorry about that.” He said. “Got any books about the Minoans?”

“Erm…” Nora’s gaze scanned the Folio Society section before jumping to the doorway that led further into the shop.

“Possibly in the back room.”  She indicated.

“I’ll have a look.” He said, heading that way.

Nora was about to begin once more on the Ordinance Survey maps when another customer arrived. She was a tall lady with silvery hair in a bun, a blue ankle length coat and dark glasses.

“I would like this book ordered.” She announced, waving a slip of paper.

“We don’t order books I’m afraid.” Nora explained.

“Oh. But you sell books.” She planted her feet firmly on the carpet before Nora.

Nora edged back behind the counter, almost tripping over the Ravens’ bags.

“All of our books are bought secondhand. We have a few local new ones.” She explained.

“Can you order me a secondhand copy then?” The lady then decided.

Nora shook her head.

“We can’t place orders. We just buy what is brought in by people who want to sell them to us I’m afraid.”

“Can you check on your computer to see if you have it in stock?”

Nora glanced at the monitor.

“We don’t have our books listed. They are just organised in sections of subject.”

The slip of paper was offered to Nora aloofly.

“This one has just come out.” She said gravely.

“Oh. What kind of a book is it?” Nora attempted to take the slip but the lady held firm.

“It’s big and a paperback.” She kept a firm hold of the slip. Nora decided to let go.

“Is it history or art…or….?” Nora prompted.

“No, I’m not looking for an art book or a history book!”  She was severe.

“What’s the subject?” Nora asked patiently.

“It’s a novel.”

“Well, all our fiction is in the attic room…” Nora started.

“Oh I don’t do stairs!” She announced and replaced the slip of paper to her handbag. “I’ll look in Waterstones. Good day.”

“Good bye.” Nora said wearily and dropped into the chair.

The man came out of the back room.

“Nope. Nothing on the Minoans. By the way, I saw a book in the wrong place. It was a submarine book and it was in the section next to it on ancient civilizations.”

Nora stared at him as he began for the door.

“Oh. Maybe a customer put it back wrong.” Nora said.

“Or you need to do some organisation.” He shrugged.

Nora shot a look at the Chesterton biography.

“Yes, we can do some sorting when it’s quiet.” She acquiesced.

He gave her a belittling look and left, shutting the door again so hard that the windows shook. Nora sighed.

“A typical Monday.” She said, shoved herself out of the chair and set about with determination to organise the maps.