The Bookshop on the Corner by Jenny Colgan

here.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI had my parking permit turned down. The van’s too big for Edgbaston, it seems.”
    â€œOh, that’s why you’re back so quickly. You flew!”
    â€œNot exactly.”
    â€œWell, at least you didn’t buy the van. But, Nina!” Surinder put her empty coffee cup down on a quivering pile of Regencyromances, which promptly collapsed on the floor in a fainting fit. “What are you going to do with all of this?”
    At the exact same moment, Nina said, with a vision of blinding clarity, “But I did buy it.”
    â€œYou didn’t . . . You what?!” Confused, Surinder looked around, scattering a mint-condition collection of Orwell in the process.
    Nina winced. “Watch George!”
    â€œWatch George?! Nina, what the HELL is wrong with you? What were you thinking? Why didn’t you wait to find out about parking before you bought the damn thing?”
    â€œI don’t know. I just assumed it was going to be okay.”
    â€œWhy did you hand over money for it not knowing what you were doing?”
    â€œI don’t know that either. I just . . . I thought I wouldn’t go through with it if I waited too long.”
    â€œNina . . .”
    Nina had never seen Surinder so furious. She wished she wasn’t exhausted, as she could feel the tears already building behind her eyes.
    â€œNina, I have tried to be patient. I have tried to help when things go wrong and you buy a book and things go well and you buy a book and it rains so you bring home some books and it’s sunny so you get some books. But . . .”
    It might, Nina thought later (more in hope than expectation), have been Surinder’s high-pitched voice that set the whole thing off. It might not have been purely Nina’s fault.
    That, however, was not how she felt just then, as Surinder gestured again in frustration and knocked the rather wobbly banister, which immediately started to wobble even more and dislodged a pile of books at the top of the stairs. And inevitably,as though in a terrible slow-motion film, they then knocked into the next pile, and the next, and sent the whole bunch tumbling over and down the stairs, where they hit a large ornamental vase, which banged onto the hall floor so hard that a small crack appeared in the hall ceiling and a puff of dust came down.
    Everything seemed to happen so slowly. Nina watched the spiral of dust tremble its way from the ceiling, wavering in the light, a tiny cloud of white, nothing more. But it was, she knew, enough. She looked at Surinder.
    It was the last straw. The very final one. They’d both known it was coming.
    â€œOkay,” said Nina. “Okay. I’m out of here.”

    Once it was decided—or rather, once Nina had announced it and they had both calmed down—Surinder was genuinely sad. They had been roommates for four years, and good ones on the whole. She took the rest of the month’s rent in lieu of Nina paying for fixing the crack in the ceiling and immediately plunked some of it on a couple of bottles of prosecco and a gigantic bag of Haribo gummy bears, and they sat in the sitting room the following evening talking it all through.
    â€œWhere will you live?” said Surinder.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Nina. “I don’t think it’s that expensive up there. Cheaper than here, anyway. Which is useful, seeing as I won’t actually have any money.”
    â€œWhat are you going to charge for the books?” said Surinder.
    â€œIt depends,” said Nina. “I think I might just make up prices when I see people.”
    â€œI don’t think you’re allowed to do that,” said Surinder. “Areyou sure you won’t forget you’re a librarian and start just handing books out to people?”
    â€œOnly until I miss my first two meals,” said Nina, taking another handful of Haribo.
    â€œHave you told your