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Julia felt her life was falling apart but then she found hope in an unlikely place…

Carefully, Gladys placed the letter inside her favourite book. The cover of Sleeping Murder was tatty and worn, but she wouldn’t be parted with it. Slowly, with her tired hand, she returned the book back to the shelf. She’d set her plan in motion. It was up to serendipity now.

*********

Gav struggled through the narrow door of the hospital book store. Instead of doing three trips to the van, he’d piled the boxes of books on top of each other. It was a decision he often made and always regretted when delivering them.

‘Sandra, give us a hand!’ he called to the woman behind the counter. Tutting, Sandra took a long sip of her tea before edging out from behind the till and heading to Gav’s aid.

‘You’re going to do your back in one of these days,’ she tutted. Laughing her off, Gav gave her the top box. ‘These were bequeathed to the store from a Mrs G Adlewood,’ he read from the back of his hand.

Sandra rummaged through her box – it wasn’t a bad selection.

There were lots of good books and they were mainly from the 1970s, which gave her an idea. ‘These will make for a great themed display,’ she thought out loud. ‘I need to update the window. Hang around for a bit Gav. I’ll put these out now.’

Gav nodded and picked up Sandra’s cup of tea. ‘Deal… if I can have this,’ he winked at her. Sandra tutted again, but agreed. It seemed a fair trade.

*********

Rubbing her hands together, Julia attempted to keep them warm. The cold air was biting at her already chapped skin.

Each nip from the wind made her wince, and it became apparent that this would be her undoing today. Not losing her job, not having to move back home with her mum, not even being forced to sell her beloved car. No, it was that wind cutting into her sore hands that would finally break her.

Julia took a deep breath to stop herself bursting into tears. She turned off the main road and found herself on Kennan Street; a narrow lane that offered welcome relief from the bitter wind.

She’d never ventured down there before and stumbled across a small hospital bookstore. A sign in the window caught her eye. ‘Step back into the 1970s with a classic novel,’ it read.

As Julia scanned the makeshift display, one book caught her eye. Sleeping Murder had been her father’s favourite book. She took a moment to savour the memory of him. Julia’s father would have been able to help her now, he’d always been her life raft and without him she felt adrift.

The door jangled as she stepped inside. If Kennan Street had felt like a warm release, the book store was a sauna. Julia inhaled the heat and let the warmth seep its way through her veins, filling her with a sense of calm as well as comfort. ‘Afternoon, love,’ Sandra called from the far corner of the shop. ‘Hi. Can I take the Agatha Christie book in the window, please?’ ‘Of course. Haven’t read that one myself – any good?’ asked Sandra, who always enjoyed a chat with the customers.

‘It was my dad’s favourite,’ said Julia, smiling at his memory. Back in the comfort of her home, Julia took the book from her bag. She stroked the worn cover and enjoyed the softness of the tired paper in her hands. As she flicked open the first few pages, a small envelope fluttered to the floor. Curious, Julia picked it up and turned it in her hand. It was an old envelope with tarnished edges. As she slipped her fingers under the flap to open it, the glue gave way easily. A letter was enclosed, which read:

To whom it may concern,

If you’ve found this letter, then my life has finally reached its conclusion. Thank you for giving this book a home – it was my favourite. Agatha was a friend of mine and she bequeathed a brooch to me just before she died. A similar one sold at auction for £50,000 recently. With no family left of my own to leave it to, I’ve allowed serendipity to send it to you. You’ll find it in a safe deposit box at Lloyd’s Bank, 84 High Street, Rye. It’s yours.

Gladys Adlewood

A single tear ran down Julia’s face. Somehow she knew this was her dad guiding her, even though he was no longer here. He was Julia’s life raft, and he was pulling her back to shore.