Teacher's Pet

Chapter Six

FLASHBACK - DECEMBER 1991

It's a cold and snowy mid-winter afternoon. The days are at their shortest this time of year, so even at a little past four, the sun is already in its golden hour. I'm alone at the bookstore, wandering around the non-fiction section. I actually prefer fictional novels, but since I come here quite often, it's always nice to see the new, shiny books they've very recently slipped on to the shelves and that have probably not even been touched yet. Occasionally I do buy one of the non-fiction books, but usually the lifestyle ones or some sort of textbook we need for a topic at school. 

I love being in the bookstore when it's snowing. Even if the snow outside isn't settling much, it's still a cosy feeling, snuggling up with a fresh book in one of the squishy armchairs in the back corner, and watching the world go by through the window behind. That chair in particular, is the one that hardly anyone ever uses. I'm lucky to have such a beautiful bookstore nearby me, with copious books to read or admire, and new instalments in crates at least twice a fortnight. It's a grand place that is old and classic in architecture, and really adds to the look of the high street.

I know it isn't a library, so I shouldn't just read the whole time and not buy anything. I usually am allowed to buy a book or two a month, which is just fine, but there's something about reading in the bookstore that calms me down. I'm sure anyone who's been in one can agree with me on this. But stepping into a bookstore or library is like stepping into a serene corner of the city. You step in from the loud high street, rumbling with cars and bustling with people, and then everything's a lot quieter and much more peaceful. I love it.  

The place has five floors, including the basement, where I hardly ever go. It's only cookery, home and tool books down there. The ground floor is mostly gimicky things like fifty page books, modern autobiographies, children's books and calendars. I mostly look in the first floor and third floor. First floor for fiction (especially classics) and third floor for the comfy chair.

I sit there now, right at the back and round a shelf of boring books barely anyone cares to read. Obscured from view and in the most remote part of the store, it's here that I can easily sink my teeth into a good book without unwanted attention or (to be blunt) other people. From time to time, I can sit here the whole day and no one disturbs me. 

As soon as I hear my mobile phone ring, I immediately pull the cable up and answer to avoid attention to where I am. Thank God I finally remembered it this time. I say hello into the receiver. It's Harry.

"Hey Rosie? You okay?" 

"Yeah. I'm fine," I reply quietly. "You?"

"Great."

"Guess where I am."

"The cosy chair at the top of the bookstore?" He knows me too well.

"Yep," I say, smiling now.

"Of course you are. Anyway, I was just calling to ask, can we reschedule?"

"What? Our meet-up tomorrow?" I respond.

"Yeah, it's just...okay, you're not gonna believe this!" His voice has quickly shifted to excited.