Read Online The Bookshop on the Corner by Jenny Colgan - Free Book Online Page A

stuck here forever. Anyway, you’re the one off on wild goose chases to look at crazy buses. I’d say you’re closer to it than I am.”
    Nina had known he’d been secretly pleased when she’d come back from Scotland empty-handed. She’d resented the implication of that: that he was worried that if she could get away, pathetic as she was, what did it say about him?
    â€œI know,” she sighed. “It was a ridiculous dream.” She looked around. “I just don’t know . . . I mean, after that . . .” She shivered, remembering Cathy Neeson’s smile, which hadn’t reached her eyes as she’d stood up to leave, before the end of the allotted interview time but after the entire thing had clearly come to a close.
    Nina hadn’t slept well since she’d returned from Scotland. The atmosphere had been muggy and gray, pressing down on her relentlessly. Things she’d once liked—the buzz, the city noise—now made her feel like she didn’t have enough space to catch her breath. She’d read lots of books about people finding new lives, which hadn’t helped her mood either, had made her feel more and more trapped and stuck where she was, as if everyone except her was managing to get away and do interesting things.
    She’d trawled the job Web sites, but it seemed there was no place for librarians anymore. Information officers, yes. Play advisers and local government PRs and marketing consultants, but nothing that seemed to have anything to do with what she’d done her entire life, the only job she wanted: finding the right book for the right person.
    She found herself missing the fresh air, the long views, the clear sunlight bouncing off yellow fields, lush green rolling hills and the sparkling, dancing, beguiling North Sea. It felt very odd that somewhere she’d spent such a small amount of time—and which had ended up so badly—had had such a profound effect on her.
    She stared at her coffee again. A large woman barged past her, almost clubbing her in the face with her gigantic, expensive, directional handbag.
    â€œI don’t know,” Nina said again.
    â€œOh, I’m sure you’ll have gotten the job,” said Griffin, incredibly insincerely. Nina realized for the first time that he’d cut off his ponytail.
    Her phone rang. They both looked at each other and froze.
    â€œThey’ll be calling the successful people first,” said Griffin immediately. “Well done. It’ll definitely be you. Congratulations.Maybe they wanted a way back to the old-fashioned style all along.”
    â€œI don’t recognize the number,” said Nina, looking at the phone as though it were a live snake. “But it’s not Birmingham.”
    â€œNo, it won’t be,” said Griffin. “It’ll be centralized in some Swindon office or something.”
    Nina picked up the phone and carefully pressed the green button.
    â€œNina Redmond?”

    The line was crackly and unclear, and at first it was hard to hear anything in the noisy coffee shop.
    â€œHello? Hello?”
    â€œAye, hello there,” came the voice. “Is that Nina?”
    â€œYes, it’s me.”
    â€œAye, listen. It’s Alasdair McRae.”
    The name meant nothing to Nina, but the Scottish accent was familiar. Her brow furrowed.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œAye, the landlord, you know. Of the Rob Roy.”
    Nina couldn’t help smiling. “Hello! Did I leave something behind? You can keep the book.” She hadn’t had the heart to take it away in the end.
    â€œOh, it was brilliant, that book. Edwin passed it on to me when he was done with it.”
    â€œI’m glad to hear it.”
    â€œThen I passed it on to Wullie.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œAye, well, he was in, looking glum.”
    â€œWell, books are for everyone,” said Nina, trying to be charitable.
    â€œAnyway, listen. Me and the