The Bookshop on the Shore by Jenny Colgan
English | 2019 | Romance | ePUB | 2.5 Mb
The Bookshop : Desperate to escape from London, single mother Zoe wants to build a new life for herself and her four year old son Hari. She can barely afford the crammed studio apartment on a busy street where shouting football fans keep them awake all night. Hari’s dad, Jaz, a charismatic but perpetually broke DJ, is no help at all. But his sister Surinder comes to Zoe’s aid, hooking her up with a job as far away from the urban crush as possible: a bookshop on the banks of Loch Ness. And there’s a second job to cover housing: Zoe will be an au pair for three children at a genuine castle in the Scottish Highlands.
But while Scotland is everything Zoe dreamed of—clear skies, brisk fresh air, blessed quiet—everything else is a bit of a mess. The Urquart family castle is grand, but crumbling, the childrens’ single dad is a wreck, and the kids have been kicked out of school and left to their own devices. Lottie has her work cut out for her, and is determined to rise to the challenge, especially when she sees how happily Hari has taken to their new home.
With the help of Nina, the friendly local bookseller, Zoe begins to put down roots in the community. Are books, fresh air, and kindness enough to heal this broken family—and her own…?
“‘Well, his dad . . . comes and goes a bit,’ she said, and then slightly pleadingly, as if wanting the doctor to approve of her, added, ‘Th-that’s not unusual though, is it? You like seeing Daddy, don’t you?’
At the mention of his father, Hari’s little face lit up as it always did, and he poked a chubby finger enquiringly into her cheek.
‘Soon,’ she said to him.
‘When’s the last time you saw him?’ asked the doctor.
‘Um . . . three . . . six . . .’
Zoe tried to think back. Jaz been gone all summer, truth be told. She constantly told herself to stop following his Instagram feed, but it was like a nasty addiction. He’d been to about four festivals. There were lots of shots of him in different multicoloured hats.
‘Well,’ said the doctor, who had played a sharing card game with Hari, taught him how to click his fingers, played peekaboo with him and got him to find things she’d hidden around the place, all of which the four-year-old had tried to do, nervously and constantly tearing back to clamber in his mummy’s lap, his dark eyes round and scared.
‘It’s a social anxiety disorder.’
‘It’s very unusual –’ The doctor examined her notes. ‘ – for a child not to speak even to a parent. Is there anything about the home he finds unsettling?’”