She shifts in her seat, turning her attention to Alfie. He is aware of the woman operating one of the cameras fixing it on him and he tries not to flinch as the presenter says, ‘Alfie Lane is the owner and manager of Book Lane, the north London bookshop behind this very special year of books. Welcome, Alfie.’
‘Thank you,’ he says, his voice coming out hoarse. He clears his throat, rubbing his hands on the underside of his jeans.
On the other side of the presenter Tilly flashes him a reassuring smile. ‘You’ve got this,’ she mouths.
‘Now, Alfie,’ says the presenter, leaning forward slightly. ‘I hear that you played a very important role in this special gift.’
Alfie’s stomach flips.
‘Oh, I didn’t really do anything.’
‘That’s not what I’ve heard! When we called to arrange this interview, we spoke with your colleague Prudence and our producer was so touched by what she said that she wrote it down. I’d like to read it to you all now.’
The presenter flips through her notes and there’s a cough in the audience and a rising smell of sweat that is almost certainly coming from him, but all Alfie is focused on is Tilly’s expression as she watches him from the other side of the studio set, her eyebrows pinched together and her lips slightly parted.
‘“On a cold day in February last year, a customer came into the shop with an unusual request,”’ reads the presenter. ‘“He didn’t really know what he was looking for, just that he wanted to leave books for his wife that would help her when he was no longer there. He explained his idea for a year of books but admitted that he didn’t know where to start, given he wasn’t much of a reader himself. In fact, he hadn’t read a book since high school.”’
Alfie suddenly can’t meet Tilly’s eye, looking down at his lap, feeling his neck and face flushing hot.
The presenter continues to read. ‘“Alfie spent the whole afternoon with the customer. In fact, he closed the shop early so he could give him his full attention, going back and forth over different suggestions until there were twelve books that the customer was entirely happy with.” Now,’ says the presenter, looking up, ‘that doesn’t sound like nothing to me.’
There’s a silence and it takes Alfie a moment to realize everyone is waiting for him to say something.
‘I’m a bookseller. Helping people find the books they need is my job.’
‘Which is a splendid reminder of the importance of independent bookshops,’ says the presenter.
She goes on to mention the fact that Book Lane is now selling customers their own ‘year of books’ online but all Alfie can think about is when the cameras will stop rolling and how long it is until he can get up and leave.
Tilly walks off the set feeling dazed, her steps wobbly. For all her anxieties, once she was sat in the chair she experienced an unexpected rush of adrenaline that wasn’t unpleasant. It felt good to share her story and to feel as though people wanted to hear it.
A member of the camera crew unclips the microphone from her dress, someone doing the same to Alfie’s shirt beside her. She tries to catch his eye but he looks away, his gaze fixed on his shoes.
‘Thanks so much again for coming on the programme,’ says the producer, leading them through the maze of wires and equipment surrounding the set. ‘I’ll just take you back to the green room for your things.’
Tilly follows the producer down a corridor, aware of Alfie behind her and the sounds of the studio growing quieter as they move through the building. She can feel her heart racing inside her chest.
‘Someone will be up in a minute to take you downstairs,’ the producer says, leading them into the small room where they’d waited ahead of the interview. ‘Thanks again, it went really well! Good luck with the campaign.’ And then the door swings shut behind her, and Tilly and Alfie are left alone.
A screen in the room shows the set they have just left, the presenter having her make-up touched up as she prepares for the next segment. But Tilly can’t stop looking at Alfie, thinking about everything the presenter revealed. An image comes into her mind of Alfie guiding Joe around the bookshop, pulling down book after book from the shelf. Her chest tightens.
‘Well, that was surreal,’ she says, trying to lighten the atmosphere in the small, suddenly warm room. ‘Not your average Thursday. At least, not mine anyway.’
She hopes he might laugh, but his mouth is set in a tight line, the crease between his eyebrows deepening.
‘I’m sorry about all that,’ he says in a rough voice. ‘I had no idea they’d spoken to Prudence or that she’d told them all that. I hate the thought of you thinking I kept something from you. But I didn’t think it was right to tell you –’
‘Alfie, stop.’ She reaches a hand out, placing her palm on his chest. She can feel his heart beating hard and fast beneath the thick, scratchy warmth of his jumper. ‘You have nothing to be sorry about.’
He looks down at her, his eyes hesitantly searching her face.
‘It really was all Joe’s idea. I just helped a bit. I know Prudence meant well but I wish she hadn’t said all of that …’
Without quite realizing what she’s doing, she takes a step closer until they are stood just a step away from one another, the next interview playing on the screen above them but neither of them listening.
Alfie seems to catch his breath, then says, ‘I don’t want it to change the way you think about Joe’s gift. I know how much the year of books means to you. I don’t want to take anything away from that.’
His voice is rough and she can feel his breath, catch his coffee and wool smell cut with a hint of eucalyptus.
