‘She came back for the funeral.’ He remembers how relieved he was to see her.
He’d been holding it together for his mum and sister, taking care of the organization of the funeral and all the logistics that suddenly needed to happen. He threw himself into looking after everything and everyone, but when he met Freya off the plane he finally let himself collapse, falling into her arms and crying for the first time since that phone call.
‘At first it was so good to see her. I felt like maybe I could face it all with her there. That we could face it together. But then I started talking about what was going to happen to the bookshop … and everything changed.’
‘She wasn’t keen on the thought of you taking over?’
‘I thought she understood. She seemed supportive. But a week after the funeral, she told me she’d booked her flight and she’d be heading back to India, picking up the trip where we left off. She wanted me to come with her. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t just close the bookshop for a year while I went travelling. So I stayed. And Freya went.’
Tilly’s hand grips Alfie’s sleeve.
‘That’s awful, I’m sorry, Alfie.’
He shakes his head. ‘The crazy thing is, I’d even been planning to propose. I had the ring and everything, stashed in the bottom of my backpack. Looking back now, it seems ridiculous. We were so young. But I thought I’d foundit.’
He lets out a breath, trying to imagine being that … optimistic. He’s not the same person who packed for that trip, hiding the jewellery box containing the gold band with the tinydiamond that he’d bought with three years’ worth of tips from working in the student union bar, stashing it into a balled-up pair of socks.
‘I was an idiot.’
He laughs but the sound falls flat. He can feel Tilly beside him, the warmth of her shoulder pressing up against his, the feel of her hand on his arm.
‘No.’ Her grip tightens. ‘A romantic, maybe. But not an idiot. Never that.’
He swallows hard, trying to fight the urge to place his hand on top of hers, wrapping their fingers together.
‘As the final perfect bow to wrap up the whole shit show, about a month after I left, Freya met someone else. For the rest of the year I had to see photos of them together, going on the trip that I’d planned. That we were supposed to take together.’
Tilly winces.
‘You should have blocked her.’
‘Ah,’ he says, turning around now so that he is facing Tilly, his back against the railing. ‘But that would have been the act of a sane person. I was not sane. Not back then.’
‘You were grieving. Grief makes everyone go a bit insane. At least it’s made me feel that way. And what she did was really shitty.’
The sun illuminates her pale face, picking out the green in her eyes.
‘You’re probably right. But I think that’s why I get defensive when it comes to the bookshop. I don’t want to say I’ve sacrificed a lot, because it didn’t feel like a sacrifice. It felt like the only thing to do. The shop … it just means a lot to me.’
‘I can tell,’ says Tilly. ‘I felt it, back when I came in for my first book, even if I was too blinkered by grief to really appreciate it. There’s this atmosphere in the shop, a sense of care and thought. You can tell how much work you’ve put into makingthe shop a haven for everyone. Your dad would be so proud of you, Alfie.’
She blinks up at him, her face so open and lovely that Alfie has to look away. It suddenly feels hard to breathe.
‘Shall we keep walking?’
45
The smell of melting raclette cheese, truffle and freshly baked bread fills the air. Tilly and Alfie stand at the entrance to Borough Market beneath a bridge where trains rumble overhead. The food market heaves with stands and crowds of people. The floor is dark and cobbled, making it easy to imagine sawdust on the ground and horses and carts trundling by, and yet the shining geometric shape of the Shard rises up, old and new London colliding.
‘It looks … busy,’ says Tilly, hesitantly. ‘For someone who chose to move to the UK’s most populated city, I’m not a fan of crowds.’
‘I grew up in London and I’m not a fan of crowds either. But I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. You’re going to love it, I promise. The trick is to just go with the flow of the crowd. Embody driftwood. If you want to find somewhere specific here, chances are you’ll get lost. But if you just let yourself go with it, you’ll find yourself stumbling over the most amazing places.’
‘Got it,’ replies Tilly. ‘I can be driftwood. I think …’
‘Oh, and another very important rule,’ adds Alfie. ‘Say yes to samples.’
‘Well, obviously.’
