Maddy waved her fork while she chewed. ‘The shop’s fine as it is.’
Her offhand tone stung Jemma. ‘Well, I say that it isn’t. I’m in charge and I have Raphael’s backing, so what I say goes, whatever your opinion is.’ She stalked up to the counter. ‘What did you say to them?’
Maddy shrugged. ‘I told the head one that the shop didn’t need painting, and that as far as I was concerned they were a bunch of crooks looking to swindle an inexperienced shop manager.’
‘You what?’ cried Jemma. ‘How dare you!’
Maddy put down her fork, a cold glint in her eyes. ‘Do you think that under your management the shop is earning enough for an expensive makeover? Do you really?’
‘Maybe if I had an assistant who supported me, instead of sticking to the ways of her former and now departed boss, we might get somewhere.’ Jemma could feel herself swelling with rage. ‘Firstly, you will go and apologise to the painters for calling them crooks, and tell them that you were wrong. Then you will help me unload the new books I have bought for the shop. And finally, you will accept the changes I make in the shop, or else hand in your notice. I’m not having any more of this.’ She gazed around her. ‘I’ve a good mind to rip out this shelving and put in something a bit less dark and depressing.’
Maddy gasped and hurried outside. Jemma followed, and stood in the doorway while Maddy choked an apology out, ‘I’m-sorry-for-calling-you-crooks-I-was-wrong.’ That done, she dashed inside so quickly that Jemma had to step out of the way, and bolted for the staff toilet.
Five minutes later she still hadn’t emerged. Was I too harsh? thought Jemma, as she stood in the middle of the shop and waited.
She insulted people who came to do a job for you, and managed to be dismissive of you in the process. She’s lucky you didn’t give her a warning.
Don’t tempt me, thought Jemma. But she still watched the door.
Maddy reappeared ten more minutes later. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she wore a slight, perplexed frown. ‘I don’t feel well,’ she said.
‘Mmm,’ said Jemma. ‘You’ll excuse me if I’m not particularly sympathetic towards you at the moment, Maddy.’ Then she relented, as Maddy did look genuinely confused. ‘What is it?’ she said.
‘I’m not myself.’ Maddy put a hand to her head.
‘Why don’t you take your lunch break and go out for some fresh air,’ said Jemma. ‘Maybe that will help.’
‘Thank you,’ said Maddy, quietly. She fetched her bag and hurried across the shop floor, stumbling in her haste to leave.
The door closed behind her, and Jemma pondered. Was it a not-very-cunning ploy to get out of unloading the books? Somehow, she didn’t think so. To be honest, she would have been perfectly happy to send Maddy out of the shop for an hour after a much less convincing performance, simply to recover her own composure. Perhaps Maddy’s anger had brought on a headache; it was perfectly possible to feel sick with nerves, wasn’t it? But Maddy’s expression – bewildered, helpless, lost – had struck at Jemma in a completely unexpected way. I’ll try to be kinder when she comes back, she thought. I don’t want to fall out with her if I can help it. I don’t want to be that kind of manager. Instead, she spent the next half an hour unloading boxes of books from the van and stacking them beside the counter. She had no idea where they would go yet, but she intended to enjoy every minute of sorting, organising, and shelving her new acquisitions.
***
Jemma felt a stab of misgiving even as she handed Gertrude’s keys to Raphael. Had she done the right thing? Could she trust Maddy?
‘Did it go well?’ asked Raphael. ‘You seem rather burdened with care, if I may say so.’
‘What? Oh, sorry. Yes, it went really well. I bought eight boxes of books and they were actually much less expensive than I thought they would be. I got a beautiful copy of Jane Eyre from Elinor Dashwood.’
Raphael smiled knowingly. ‘So you haven’t been too scarred by the experience?’
‘No, not at all. Um, would you mind if I went back there now? It’s just that I’ve left Maddy in charge of the shop, and I’d like to get things organised for tomorrow if I can. I’ll tell you more about it once I’ve got the shop straightened up.’
‘Make sure you do,’ said Raphael. ‘Did you meet Dave’s parrot?’
‘Dave’s parrot? No, I definitely didn’t see a parrot.’
‘Just checking. Off you go then.’
As Jemma hurried out of Burns Books she wondered at the expression in his eyes. Pride? Wistfulness? She couldn’t tell. Anyway, she needed to check on Maddy. She had only been away for ten minutes at the most, but ten minutes with Maddy in charge of the shop was a very long time indeed.
When Maddy had returned from her break her face seemed less drawn, she had colour in her cheeks, and she looked thoroughly ashamed of herself. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, advancing to the counter and meeting Jemma’s eyes. ‘I don’t know what came over me to speak as I did. Unless it’s all the change. I didn’t think it would affect me so much, but obviously it has.’
‘Change can be difficult to get used to,’ said Jemma, with the wisdom acquired from hours of diligent study and course attendance. ‘I should have warned you that they were coming. It wasn’t fair of me to spring it on you like that. I’ll do better in future.’
Maddy managed a wan smile. ‘Are we friends again?’
Jemma’s first thought was that their relationship was one of manager and employee, not friends, but Maddy looked so pathetic with her little hopeful smile that she dismissed the thought as unworthy. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Shall we make a drink, and think about where these books will go?’
She had already redone the window display, which to be honest was a matter of taking the expensive spotlighted book out of the window and replacing it with a mix of attractive and reasonably priced offerings, with the beautiful hardback Jane Eyre at the centre. To appease Maddy, she had included some non-fiction in the mix.
‘I’ll go and put the kettle on,’ said Maddy. On her way into the back, she hesitated. ‘I like the window. And the painters are getting on well with the prep work.’
‘Good, I thought they would,’ said Jemma. ‘They did come recommended.’
While Maddy was making drinks, Jemma considered the shelves. To emphasise the shop’s change of direction, the new books ought to be at the front. She unlocked the doors of the first bookcase and began clearing the shelves. She should probably alphabetise the new books, but that could wait; she was too eager to make the change. By the time Maddy returned bearing drinks, Jemma had filled two shelves of the bookcase and was beginning the third. ‘I’ve started,’ she said. ‘I haven’t put them in order. It’s just for now.’
Maddy’s left hand trembled a fraction, but she didn’t look angry. If anything, she looked enquiring, as if she were trying to make sense of it. She opened her mouth, and closed it again. Eventually, she spoke. ‘I don’t suppose … I don’t suppose you found any Ann Radcliffe?’
‘I didn’t,’ said Jemma. ‘I did keep an eye out.’ That was a little white lie, but she was fairly confident that she had seen no Radcliffe novels that morning, which was almost the same thing.