Seph:Maybe she’s just sleeping in.
Payton:Apparently she’s checking out some houses this afternoon so she wanted to go shopping early on. Although it is only 8.30. I wish I could sleep in longer.
Callum:Back to presents, people.
Claire:How about passes to the zoo? Or an adopt an animal thing—as in one you get newsletters about, not an actual animal. I don’t see Max homing a friendly alligator or something.
Callum:That’s me sorted. Cheers.
Claire:And you couldn’t have come up with that yourself. Lazy.
Seph:I have no idea either.
Claire:Which is ridiculous seeing as you live with them. How about a voucher for a meal out so they can get away from you?
Seph:Somewhat harsh but I’ll take that and run with it. See you later.
I hit the home button and left the conversation, wondering what Ava’s plans were given that she wanted to be done early afternoon. She answered her phone just as I was about to hang up, sounding predictably groggy.
“What time is it?” she said, muffling a groan.
“Quarter to nine. What time are we meeting?” I said, still sprawled out in bed.
There was a low groan and a muffled voice that sounded distinctively male and familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“Eleven?”
“I thought you were busy this afternoon?” I said, now highly suspicious that my little sister wasn’t alone and when she said she was going home yesterday, she had lied.
“I can push the viewings back till later. Meet me at eleven at Walsingham’s on Thayer Street. I think I’m going to get them this set of cushions and throws I’ve seen that’ll be perfect in the snug,” she said, still sounding half asleep. “Actually, make it midday.” There was definitely stifled laughter in her voice.
“That’s fine,” I said. “But when we meet, you’re going to tell me who you’re with and you’re not going to lie to me.”
“Gotcha,” she said, and hung up, leaving me feeling more than a little bit lonely in my bed on my own.
* * *
It was just after midday by the time Ava showed up at Walsingham’s. She was freshly pressed and tidied, radiating something that made people look at her as she walked down the street. I didn’t remember life before Ava: there were only eighteen months between us so she’d always been a fixture. Where I had been the determined and stubborn sister, she’d been the gracious and ethereal one, the girl who just naturally charmed with her smile but had the brains to follow it up. I’d had the brains, but the charm had to be worked at. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d hate her.
London buzzed around us, Saturday shoppers out in full force along with the tourists who were a continual trail of ants leading a parade around the sights. “How was your morning?” I said, obviously fishing.
She shrugged, stepping into the shop. “It was a hook up. Nothing to talk about. An itch got scratched. You should try it some time.”
“I’ve tried it plenty. I’m not usually as evasive,” I said. My sister was typically all too happy to analyse and score whichever hook up she’d been entertained the night before. That she wasn’t saying anything was something to dig into next time she’d had a few too many glasses of wine.
“What are you going to get them?”
“I was thinking of some books. Classics—the really nice editions you can get. There’s that book store next door I thought we could try; plus, they have a lunch menu and a licence in the coffee shop inside,” I said. I had been stumped for ideas as between Max and Victoria, they were richer than God and more alcohol or a house plant just seemed thoughtless. Books were something they both loved and the house had been renovated with several built-in bookcases.
Ava walked straight over to a set of shelves where material and cushions were displayed, including a tropical print that looked suitably historic in design. It turned out I was right; the print was a replication of one from the nineteenth century and matched the wallpaper in the snug.
“I’ll pick them up after we’ve been to this bookstore,” Ava said, putting her card back in her wallet. “No point dragging huge bags everywhere. Besides, I know how long you’ll spend in there.”
I decided not to respond, because she was unfortunately right. I liked big books and I could not lie and the bookshop next door was drool worthy, possibly better than the prospect of a night with most men.
Cases, as it had been named, was an independent, although it had three or four other premises across London and one in Bristol. Like a lot of bookstores, there was a licenced café, but unlike most others the spaces were also used as live music venues.
This one, next to Ava’s favourite home store, was the flagship and it was huge. I hadn’t been in this particular branch before so I allowed myself the time to walk in slowly and savour the dark wood bookcases that bordered a wide aisle leading to what used to be a ballroom. Again, the same mahogany bookcases ran around the room, smaller ones dividing it into sections, the tiled centre dotted with leather Chesterfields and tables, perfect for lounging on with a book and a glass of red. Above was a mezzanine floor where the bar and café were situated, and above that was another floor of books.
