Every Bookshop Needs a Cat (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 2)

Cinder-Anya, Cinder-Anya!

On Sunday, Anya and Varya, of course, didn't go to the Fleckney Winter Dance but stayed at the farm taking care of Henry. They tended to have quiet and peaceful evenings when it was just the three of them in the house. By now, Henry had settled into his new routine, and soon he was asleep in his cot after his bath.

Anya plopped her backside on the kitchen chair and stretched her legs with a dramatic groan. Varya was industriously colouring another of her drawings of those outlandish outfits. She was also humming a song, and Anya snorted.

"How long are you going to do that exactly?" she asked. "I regret showing you that cartoon."

"Cinderelly, Cinderelly / Night and day, it's Cinderelly / Make the fire, fix the breakfast / Wash the dishes, do the mopping," Varya sang with the perfect pitch she'd inherited from her father.

Anya grabbed a crumpled piece of paper from the table and lobbed it into the girl's head.

"What?" Varya asked innocently. "Shouldn't you be there, at the ball? In a pretty dress you've made yourself. No one will recognise you, and the prince will fall head over heels for you."

"Uh-huh," Anya hummed, dropped her head back, and closed her eyes. "And what would I do with a prince? They are no fun, you know. Spoilt brats. Entitled. Can't sew their own button. Or cook their tea. Or clean their bathroom."

"A prince would be rich. He'd have people to do all that for him," Varya said didactically and shook a pencil at Anya.

"Well, I'd hate to live in his castle then," Anya stated and got up to take the whistling kettle off the hob. "Because I used to be those people who have to do things for them, and it's no fun."

"How about a Holyoake?" Anya asked. "I bet they all can cook and clean their bathrooms. Didn't Da say their Nana made them do all those chores at school? He used to laugh about it all the time, remember? That they were scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush while other lads were loitering around and chasing girls."

Anya poured hot water over her teabag and watched tea swirls dance and slither. She probably shouldn't wonder whether the Bjornsson sons were among the scrubbing or the loitering bunch. Either way, that would be none of her bloody business.

"I don't want a Holyoake," Anya said finally and went back to her seat. "I want to find a nice flat for us to rent, and I want people to eat my bread."

"When we were in that bakery, you should've given the owner the sample you had in your bag," Anya said, once again hunching over her drawing. "She seemed nice. What was the name of it? Cornflower & Sparrow, innit?"

Anya sighed. It's not that she hadn't been trying, but she had zero self-promoting skills.

"Maybe we'll try tomorrow," Anya said. "And you know what? Let's go to the book fair you wanted to see. The one in the Town Hall? Let's go and splurge and buy you books."

Varya lifted her face, doubt written on it.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you love books. And I got my first pay yesterday. And it looks like we're staying in Fleckney," Anya said, trying to sound jolly. "And you're going to school now, and we've got a car, and things are looking up, that's why!"

Varya grinned - but then she stopped herself and asked, "Are you sure? Maybe we should save this money, in case–"

"No!" Anya interrupted and clapped her hand to the table, obviously not too loudly, not to wake up Henry. "We're going to the book fair tomorrow and buying you books! And then we'll have some pudding in town as well, something I don't know how to make."