Epilogue: 'If You'd Judge a Book By its Cover...' Then You Deserve All You Get...

Jonathan's arm was loosely around Gethin's shoulders as they both looked at the scurrilous books.

'No, darling, I think you should ditch the librarian and let the books find their own narrative... pair them, don't line them up... let the eye be drawn to a little grouping, a pair, a ménage a trois...'

He jumped up and within seconds had rearranged some of the titles in new and interesting configurations, making Gethin laugh.

'See?' he said. 'See what happens when you put "Joyful Lays" next to "Under Two Queens", isn't that more interesting...?'

'It certainly conjures an image...'

'Great, excellent! I'll leave you to have a little think, and I'll dash over to my digs, steal the theatre bus, and be back for lunchtime. Then we can have a theatrical installation this afternoon for when the kindergarten gets here...'

'They're under twenty-fives, not under-fives...'

'Not much difference, if you ask me.' Jonathan grinned and gave Gethin a hugely, stupidly soppy kiss that had them both grinning. 'Right, better go and look for the bag I brought with me last night – it's got my bloke clothes in...'

'Quarter past nine, better go and open the shop. You did put that key back on your key-ring, didn't you?'

'Course I did, Geth-love.' He pecked Gethin's cheek. 'Be back before you know it.'

He wasn't back before Maeve arrived, to giggle at the titles again and listen to the plans for the installation, (outlined by Jonathan after Gethin had let him peek at what else was lurking in the wardrobe... 'You clever old darling! And I have just the things to go with it...')

'Gethin!' she gasped, when he got to the nitty gritty of the plan. 'Really?'

He nodded. 'Really. Not freaked you out, I hope?'

'No, don't be silly... I can imagine it of Jonathan... and of a few others who come in here, too... but... well, you look so serious and the... the ones I know tend to be, well... frivolous...'

'So you know some frivolous sorts, do you?'

'Oh, working here has been an education... especially Saturday lunchtimes these days...' Maeve grinned. 'Well, good luck with it; you'll be very theatrical, I'm sure!'

By the time the first of the First Quarterers began to arrive for their Saturday Chat, the rearrangement of the bookshop's window display had already begun. A small crowd of passers-by had gathered, mostly clustered around a beatifically beaming Jonathan, his exuberant bow brooch pinned like a cap badge to the side of his beret, hands in pockets holding back his coat and rocking back on his heels a little from time to time. He had attracted the assembled audience by the simple expedient of staring at the books and laughing when anyone was near at hand, sometimes muttering half a title out of loud and shaking his head.

Of course, the First Quarterers stopped to look too, and young Jeff squealed with excitement.

'There's my book, the one that won, there! And... Oh, look, look, look, everyone! See who's doing the window dressing!'

Everyone looked, but not everyone immediately grasped the relevance as the person arranging the display came back to work on another section. Long and shining black hair. Knee length white boots, Cuban heels, laced all the way up the fronts. Impeccable make up; dusky eyes, ultra-long black lashes, bright red lipstick, yellow mini dress.

'Isn't that...?' one of the Quarterers asked behind his hand.

'Indeed it is,' Jonathan said, sotto voce. 'Keep quiet a bit, will you? Got a live one here...'

He tipped his head fractionally to the front and left where a young man was staring at the significant expanse of shapely legs revealed between boots and hemline.

For himself, though, and for the First Quarterers, it was the arrangement of the books that drew most attention: "Flashes From the Welsh Pulpit" next to "The New Radiation Cook Book"... on a shelf beneath, "Shag the Caribou" which was accompanied by "Kinki Tourists Guide"... "Joyful Lays" was, indeed, coupled with "Under Two Queens" and, centre and front, all other arrangements leading the eye towards it: "Three Weeks in Wet Sheets"; "In and Out of Florence" and "Drummer Dick's Discharge"...

Small cards flanked the books with snips of information and as a banner was set in place over the entire display proclaiming 'If You Judge a Book By Its Cover...', there was a spontaneous explosion of laughter and the window dresser turned and dropped a mock curtsey, grinning.

'Great legs,' the young man ogling said, turning to address the nearest person – who just happened to be Jonathan. 'Wonder what my chances are of getting a phone number...'

'Wouldn't try it, my old son,' Jonathan said. 'That's my sweetheart you're eyeing up.'

'Oh... sorry... erm... it's a great outfit, they say the Sixties look is coming back...'

'Yes, Mary Quant. Boat neck, contrast stitching, diagonal weave... flattering little sleeves, too. A-line, very flattering...'

'You're a lucky sod, she's gorgeous, your girlfriend.'

Jonathan blew the window dresser a kiss. Gethin, in the long black wig and white vintage boots Jonathan had presented him with to accessorise the yellow mini, grinned and blew a kiss back.

'Thanks, I know,' Jonathan said to the bystander. 'But... that's not my girlfriend.'

'Hold on... you said...'

'That's my boyfriend.'' Jonathan pointed to the 'If You Judge a Book By its Cover' display with a wink. 'Or didn't you see the banner?'