Soul Love Read Free Page A

bookshop was hot news.
    I pushed past a wedge of post to get inside. The shop was much larger than it seemed from the outside. There was a counter to the left of the entrance and behind that was a small office space.
Beyond the counter, the shop turned into a forest of shelves that seemed to stretch for miles and miles. Beside one of the bookcases was a tatty armchair. This place was so dusty it made
Sarah’s cottage seem like an operating theatre by comparison. I started to cough. This was not a place to work in if you had a dust allergy or delicate nerves. The badly fitted shelves
groaned under the weight of books. It seemed like it would only take one false move or loud sneeze and the whole thing would collapse.
    The only dust-free object was a shiny new poster advertising the Netherby Festival in August. I noted that there were some pretty cool bands playing.
    On my way to fetch the float, I tripped over a box of old records, labelled: Kai’s personal property. NOT FOR SALE . I gave the box an extra kick. How dare he say he turned into a
vegetable every time Sarah walked into the room! It was a bit rich, coming from a man who transformed into a lecherous toad whenever anything remotely female entered a room.
    I scooped up the mountains of post, plopped it all on the counter and took a look at the office space. It didn’t take long. There was a cash register, an old computer, a grubby radio and a
battered office chair, complete with an old velvet cushion that was covered in cat hair. There was also an ancient telephone made of heavy plastic. There was no dial tone, but at least the radio
worked. I tuned it to an R’n’B music station. I took the cushion off the chair and swung round in my seat. On my second swing I encountered a mass of white whiskers and a pair of watery
eyes looking back at me.
    ‘You’re new,’ Whiskers said.
    Without thinking, I answered, ‘You’re old.’
    He burst out laughing and said ‘Touché!’ Then he held out his hand. ‘Julius Lawrence, at your service! Everyone calls me Julius.’
    ‘I’m Jenna,’ I said, eyeing him cautiously.
    Julius continued smiling and speaking in a loud voice. ‘Ah, Jenna. The girl with the green eyes! I used to own this fair establishment until I retired. It was called Julius Lawrence
Antiquarian Books in my day. It specialised in books about art and photography then.’ He fingered the straps of an old camera round his neck and went on. ‘Many moons ago, I fancied
myself as a bit of a photographer. Now like a faithful old Labrador, I keep coming back to my old hunting ground. It’s come in very handy since they closed down the library. By the way
there’s some correspondence stuck in the door.’
    I followed his gaze to where a crumpled brown envelope was jammed under the door.
    ‘I guess that’s why I didn’t hear you come in,’ I said.
    He walked over to a shelf and pulled out a book that had a bookmark in it. Then he sat down in the armchair. ‘Don’t mind me. I’m what is known as a “local
character”.’
    I turned the music up and tried to ignore him. Although I’d never admit it, I was actually quite glad of the company. I liked being treated like an adult, but it was scary to be left in
charge of a shop – albeit a dusty old bookshop with a naff name.
    Julius barked across the room, ‘Sarah usually has Radio 4 on low. Music can be quite distracting when one is trying to lose oneself in a book.’
    ‘You know what they say, Julius,’ I yelled back at him, bending down to switch on the computer. I was hoping to send some e-mail to Mia and Jackson. ‘“Music hath charms
to soothe the savage beast.”’
    Above me, a sparky voice said, ‘ Breast! I think it’s breast.’
    I popped my head out from underneath the table and found myself staring at a familiar faded red T-shirt. I bobbed quickly back under the table.
    ‘Er, breast,’ I said as I struggled to banish thoughts of his naked chest from my mind. Then I