Winter Wayhaught

Chapter 1

Nicole checked her watch. Ten minutes to go before she could close the bookstore. Another busy day, shoppers making last minute purchases, staff off sick, excited children listening to a story in the afternoon. She was looking forward to relaxing, tidying up, heading upstairs to her flat.

A few customers remained looking for something suitable, or not, to hand over on Christmas Day. Careful consideration no longer a priority. Those who left shopping perilously late, grabbing a Lee Child, or a James Patterson off the shelf in the hope of it sufficing as a token gift. She could always tell the half-hearted, choosing books, their shape easier to wrap. She didn't care. Her job was to sell not to scold. What they bought, when they bought it, who they bought it for of no concern.

A sale was a sale.

She made her way through the shop, wondering if a certain someone was still on the upper level. The woman who came to write, sitting in one of the comfy leather armchairs close to the radiator, absorbed in her work. Nicole had wanted to ask her many times what she was writing. Whatever it was, she would spend the best part of a Saturday afternoon beavering away, scribbling notes in a journal, occasionally popping to the café in the basement to purchase a latte. Mostly drinking water from her refillable bottle.

Blue. Covered in stickers reflecting her passion for the planet. 500ml. Nicole had researched the precise make online, spending ages deliberating. She chose orange. Its feel, its weight. Taking sips throughout the day, her lips touching the cool metal rim, the water filling her mouth. Quenching her thirst. A tangible connection to someone with whom she was too nervous to strike up any lengthy conversation. A few pleasantries exchanged on occasions when Nicole plucked up enough courage.

Carrying a handful of unpurchased items, she made her way upstairs. Warmer. Spotlights throwing out a soft glow across a landscape of literature, creating a more relaxed atmosphere than the ground floor. The large wood burner in the centre of the store rarely providing sufficient heat, cooler air lurking in corners. She spotted a pair of legs, a glass coffee cup on top of a small plate resting beside. Her usual bag. Large. Black. Feminine.

She casually walked past the seat, stopping to insert a book randomly on a shelf. Out of sequence, she would have to return later to remove the offending item. Place it where it needed to go. She turned, pretending to be surprised someone was still in the store, recognising her acting skills needed more work.

"We're closing."

"Sorry. Nearly finished. What time is it?"

"I won't be locking up for a while."

"Thanks. I'd better get going. Don't want to miss my bus."

"Right. The snow's come."

"Blast. Messes up the timetable."

Nicole watched as the woman hurriedly gathered her things, a pencil dropping on the floor as she shoved everything in her oversized bag. Nicole bent down, capturing the escaped instrument, holding it at arm's length. The woman's hand brushed against hers. Nicole pulled away quickly, her gaze lowered, not wanting to give anything away.

The woman threw the pencil in her bag, sensing the awkwardness of the person standing before her.

"Thank you Nicole."

The way the woman purred her name sent a jolt through Nicole's body. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. She glanced up, catching the sparkle of green eyes.

"You know my name?"

The woman pointed to the name badge on Nicole's shirt. "Waverly, or Waves. I don't mind."