‘Oh, Alfie!’ says Blue. ‘He was so cute!’
Tilly swallows hard.
‘So, what are we going to do, then?’
‘What do you mean?’ Prudence asks, looking up from the photos.
Blue is staring at Tilly too, her expression questioning.
‘I mean,’ Tilly says, more firmly this time, ‘what are we going to do about the bookshop? Because it can’t end like this, can it?’
After everything the bookshop has given her, she isn’t going to give up without a fight.
And after everything Alfie has done for her … well, maybe this is something she can do for him.
56
Alfie hasn’t left his flat in two weeks, apart from to let in food deliveries. He is sat on the sofa eating a tub of triple chocolate ice cream and watchingJurassic Parkin his pyjamas when the doorbell rings.
‘Let us up!’ comes his sister’s voice over the intercom. ‘We’re here to stage an intervention!’
Alfie reluctantly presses the buzzer to release the door lock, sweeping the worst of the mess into the bin and pausing the film, the screen freezing on the scene of the Velociraptors in the kitchen.
‘This bit always used to terrify me,’ says Tash once she’s hugged Alfie in greeting and thrown herself down on the sofa, reaching for the ice cream.
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ says his mum, giving him a hug that makes Alfie’s eyes grow blurry.
After logging out of social media, avoiding phone calls, and answering messages with only the briefest of replies, it feels overwhelming to have his family here in person.
‘Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee? Leftover noodles?’ he asks with a forced laugh.
‘Sit,’ says his mum, taking the opposite end of the sofa to Tash and patting the empty space between them.
Alfie hesitates before sinking down into the cushions. It’s amazing how exhausting doing nothing can be. He hasn’t beenon his bike in ages or walked further than the length of his apartment, and yet his limbs feel heavy.
‘Sorry for just turning up like this. But we’ve been worried about you.’
‘I’m fine.’
Tash lets out a snort. ‘Alf. It’s eleven in the morning and you’re most of the way through a tub of Häagen-Dazs. And I love you, but those pyjamas have a smell.’
He shuffles uncomfortably on the sofa. He didn’t mean for anyone to see him like this. That was the whole point of the not-leaving-the-house thing. It’s been something of a relief, letting himself lean into his sadness after months of trying to hold things together; now he doesn’t have to do any of that. Giving up has felt surprisingly freeing. But beneath it all is a deep sadness that he can’t shake. And the sense of having been so stupid, for having thought, just for a moment, that things might end differently.
‘I’m sorry. I know I’ve been rubbish at keeping in touch these past few weeks. I’ve just needed some time.’
‘We understand that, sweetheart,’ his mum says, taking his big hand in her small one. ‘It must be hard to face closing the shop after how hard you’ve worked over the years, ever since your dad died. But maybe it isn’t the worst thing.’
Alfie looks up then, his eyes flashing. He catches his mum and sister looking at each other.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I’ve always felt guilty about how I handled things after your dad died. I was so distraught that I let too much fall on your shoulders.’
Tash reaches out to rub their mum’s arm. ‘Mum, you did everything you could. You were grieving too – you’d just lost your husband. But I feel it too, like I wasn’t there for you enough, Alfie.’
‘Don’t be silly, Tash. You were about to have a baby. And Mum, you know I didn’t mind taking over the shop. Iwantedto.’
‘I know you did, darling. But I still wonder whether it was too much. You’ve done an absolutely brilliant job at keeping it going all these years. But I worry about what it has cost you. First Freya, then all those long days and late nights, now to see you like this …’
