How to Find Love in a Bookshop by Veronica Henry

Author:Veronica Henry
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2017-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

11

After a busy week, Emilia was looking forward to her first rehearsal the next Sunday with the Peasebrook Quartet, although she was nervous, too.

Marlowe had been round earlier in the week to drop off some sheet music. She had been surprised at how pleased she was to see him—there was something reassuring about his presence. And he brought her a bag of windfall apples.

“They’re all over my garden. I won’t have time to do anything with them—I always gave them to Julius. But tell me if you don’t want them. Nothing worse than an unwanted gift of autumn fruits!”

“Yum,” said Emilia. “I can make a load of applesauce.”

“I always mean to do something useful with them. There’s plums, too. But I never seem to be at home long enough. And Delph’s not interested. Sometimes I think she’s not really French at all.”

Emilia stiffened at the mention of Delphine. Was this his way of reminding her he was spoken for? He was pulling sheet music out of his bag, sorting through it, putting it in a pile on the kitchen table for her. She could smell that Tobacco Vanille again—it filled the kitchen. He didn’t seem to notice the effect it had on her.

“Work your way through this lot. Practice as much as you can. We can iron out everything at the rehearsal, so don’t get into a panic. We’ve got loads of time.”

“But it’s taken me hours just to get one piece of music fit for human consumption.”

“But you did it. And you did it well. I’ve got absolute faith in you.” He put a reassuring hand on her arm and she felt a tingle of warmth.

“Have you got time to give me another lesson before Sunday?”

“I’m sorry—I’ve got to go up to London to sit in on a mix. I’m not back till Friday evening.” Marlowe always had a hectic schedule, whether he was recording or arranging or producing or editing.

“Never mind,” said Emilia, but she did.

She knew she would have to get up to speed on dozens of new pieces, and she was terrible at sight-reading: it had always been her weakness. No doubt she would know some of the music, but there would be plenty that was new to her. She went through as much of the music as she could in the evenings. She was pleased no one could hear her as she stumbled through, and when Sunday came she wasn’t sure if she’d done the right thing, agreeing. She wasn’t nearly as confident in her ability as Marlowe seemed to be.

They were rehearsing in the old church hall at the back of St. Nick’s. She walked down with Julius’s cello on her back, not sure whether she was relieved to have something completely different from the bookshop to focus her energy on, or whether she should be catching up on all the things she didn’t get a chance to do when the shop was open. Dave had jumped at the chance to man the shop

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