‘I feel as if things are falling into place. I’ve got a vision of what the shop could be like. I know I mustn’t get carried away because I can’t afford to wave a magic wand and have it how I want it, but at least I don’t feel so overwhelmed.’
‘I think once you start making changes, things will fall into place,’ agreed June. ‘In the meantime, what do you think about this?’
Emilia looked at the press release June handed her.
There were months of them, piled up under the counter. Endless missives from publicists wanting their book to be given pride of place. Julius never read them, because he wanted to make up his own mind about which books to give preference. He had a brilliant instinct for what would sell well, and he hated gimmicks and hype.
Emilia knew, however, that if she was going to increase Nightingale Books’ profit by any significant margin that she had to raise her game. She needed publicity and a raise in profile as much as the authors and publishers of the books she was selling. So why not use them?
Two blue eyes were staring at her from the middle of the blurb. Mick Gillespie. Even a photocopy of him at seventy years old still had it. His expression made you feel as if you were the centre of his universe. Emilia wondered what it was like to be under his gaze in real life.
He was doing a pre-Christmas book tour to promote his no-holds-barred autobiography, which promised any number of secrets and scandals and behind-the-scenes indiscretion. He would give a talk, answer questions, sign books. Not that he needed to do anything, Emilia thought. He just needed to breathe.
Mick Gillespie was the perfect person to kick off her new campaign. No one was immune to his charms. Men and women young and old would be intrigued. She imagined the shop bursting at the seams, the queue snaking out of the door. He was a legend. An icon. As cool as Steve McQueen and James Dean and Richard Burton all rolled into one. Handsome and devil-may-care and charismatic.
‘June – that is a genius idea.’
‘I knew him once,’ admitted June, with a twinkle in her eye.
‘No way!’
‘Yeah. I was an extra on one of his films. For my sins.’
‘An extra? I didn’t know you were an extra.’
‘Not for long. I was no good at it.’
‘But you met Mick Gillespie? It must have been in his hey-day.’
June nodded. ‘Yes …’
‘What was he like?’
‘Absolutely out of this world. Unforgettable. Magical.’
‘Do you think you can pull strings?’
June laughed. ‘No. Absolutely definitely not. There’s no way he’d remember me. I played a barmaid. If I’d been an actual barmaid he might have paid me more attention.’
Mick Gillespie’s love for the drink was legendary.
‘Well. Nothing ventured,’ said Emilia. ‘This would bring everybody to the shop. We’d be in the papers and everything.’
She picked up the phone to his publicist. He was probably fully committed already. No book shop in the country was going to pass up this opportunity.
Luck was on her side. Peasebrook would fit neatly in between Mick’s current commitments.
‘It’ll be a chance for him to have a little rest. We’ve given him the next day off, so where better to spend it than in the Cotswolds?’ the publicist said.
Emilia grinned to herself as she hung up the phone.
‘Nightingale Books is added to the tour. Mick Gillespie is coming here, to Peasebrook.’
‘Goodness!’ June looked rather taken aback.
‘I think we should get Thomasina to do the food,’ Emilia went on. ‘An Irish theme. She gave me a card the other day in case I needed any catering. What do you think?’
June was away with the fairies.
‘Stop daydreaming, would you?’ Emilia teased. ‘What drinks should we serve?’
‘I’d keep him well away from the drink if I were you,’ said June darkly.
‘But he must be getting on a bit.’ Emilia looked at his picture. ‘And they wouldn’t let him out on tour if he was trouble.’
‘Careful who you’re calling old,’ teased June. ‘He’s not much older than I am.’
‘Well, we all know you don’t look your age.’ Emilia gave June a hug. She was so grateful for the older woman’s advice and help. She almost felt like a maternal presence, something Emilia had never had, or, to be honest, felt the need for. But with her father gone, June’s presence was comforting, and she thought perhaps she didn’t appreciate her enough.
She was only too aware how important the people in this town had become to her in such a short space of time. Without their support, she’d have thrown in the towel weeks ago.
‘Mick Gillespie,’ she sighed, looking at the press release again.
By four thirty in the afternoon, there was just one man in the shop. It was getting dark outside and he was hovering, looking uncertain. This wasn’t unusual. Emilia found people were either totally at home in a book shop, or felt a little out of place. He had a dog with him, a shaggy lurcher who looked as awkward and out of place as his owner.