Page 12 of Be Less Panda

His handshake was pleasantly firm.

‘Lovely to meet you, Philip. I’m Nancy Smith.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Nancy.’

A customer walked into the shop. A rather smart gentleman with a trilby hat, which he politely raised to them. ‘Good morning,’ he said.

‘Monsieur Ferrier, how lovely to see you.’ Madame Dubois offered him her hand, which he duly took and tenderly kissed. ‘We don’t normally get the pleasure of your company on a Tuesday.’

‘No, but I have to visit my daughter in Lyons tomorrow, so I wondered if you might have time to see me now?’ Monsieur Ferrier asked.

‘But of course.’ Madame Dubois lifted the counter to let him through. ‘Philip, please show Nancy around the shop while I’m helping Monsieur Ferrier,’ she said as she shut the office door.

‘Is he a regular customer?’ Nancy asked Philip when they were alone again.

Philip grinned. ‘Oh yes. At least once a week.’

‘He must be a keen reader if he warrants personal attention.’

‘He’s keen, alright, but I’m not sure how much reading he does if you get my drift.’ Philip raised his eyebrows.

Nancy looked puzzled.

‘Let’s just say he’s not here for Madame Dubois’s book recommendations.’

‘What else is he here for then?’

Philip looked uncomfortable. ‘I expect you’ll work it out soon enough.’

Nancy walked into the flat, slightly less out of puff than yesterday, but then she hadn’t had her heavy suitcase to contend with today. Her toes were throbbing from standing up all afternoon, though. She shrugged off her coat, kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on the sofa. Bliss.

Olivia arrived home five minutes later. ‘How did your first day go?’ she asked as she hung up her coat in her bedroom.

‘It was interesting. Madame Dubois is lovely, and her other assistant, Philip, is nice too.’

‘Nice?’

‘Not Billy’s level of nice. I mean, he’s quite a hunk. I think he must lift weights, but I don’t fancy him. He showed me around the shop and how to work the till. He doesn’t seem to be that into books, though. And there’s something else odd, too.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I might be working in a knocking shop.’

‘What?’

‘I think Madame Dubois might be a prostitute.’

‘What on earth made you come to that conclusion?’ Olivia sat down in the armchair next to the sofa.

‘Four gentlemen visited the shop today, but none of them bought a book.’

‘I’m sure that happens in all the bookshops in Paris, or anywhere else for that matter. How many times have you been into a bookshop just to browse?’

‘Lots of times, but these customers didn’t so much as look at the shelves. They just went straight out to the back of the shop with Madame Dubois, presumably into her personal quarters, because I made a point of going into the office just after the third one arrived, and there was no sign of either of them.’

Olivia looked serious. ‘What sort of gentlemen?’

‘They were all older men. The first one was a retired man in his mid-70s, I’d say, and the others were in their late 50s or early 60s, all smartly dressed. The first one didn’t have an appointment. He usually visits on Wednesdays, according to Philip. But the others all had bookings from the way she greeted them. When each one arrived, Madame Dubois disappeared off with them, and within an hour, they were on their way out again.’

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