It looked beautiful and intriguing and I knew I’d struggle to get Harriet to leave tomorrow. I’d struggle to leave myself and I was already preparing myself to be a lot of money down by the time I exited with a bag full of books.
I pushed open the door, the bell jingling. There was no music in the background, just the distant sounds of someone moving around in a room nearby, a box being dropped, followed by a not-so-subtle ‘fuck’ that sounded distinctly American.
I walked across the first room, althoughchamberwould be a better way to describe it. Mahogany bookcases lined walls tothe left and the right, floor to ceiling. Ladders were attached to the bookcases, manoeuvrable, and the sort I’d seen in glossy social media posts with the hashtaghomedecor.I didn’t disguise my footsteps, wanting Laurie – because I was pretty sure it was Laurie – to know I was there.
“Hello?” A head popped through the archway between the two rooms. “Rose! How are you?” Her face brightened and she looked genuinely pleased to see me.
“I’m good. This place looks fantastic. I can’t believe you’ve managed to get it like this in a couple of weeks.” It truly did look amazing.
“It doesn’t always take that long to set up shop, so I’ve learned, and this was a bookshop before and didn’t need wall repair or anything like that. I’m pretty pleased with it.” She put her hands on her hips and arched her back. “Come and have a look through here – the room you’re in is the literary fiction room. This room - ” I followed her through. “ – is fantasy and romance. The next room is crime and mystery, and we’ve got some poetry in the lit fic room too. Carter said you used to love poetry.”
I’d noticed that she mentioned Carter in the context of me, never in relation to her.
“I think Carter still has a book of poetry I leant him years ago.”
“The Final Year by Matt Goodfellow? He does. He had it with him in New York and he said he’d never returned it to you. Come through here – it’s where you made tea – it’s not full of dust anymore.”
I followed her through a door at the back of the crime fiction room, into a slim but long space that I did remember, but not like this. It was tidy now, with soft seating and piles of books. Lighting was dotted around that would be great for reading and at one end there was a drinks station.
“I say brew, but I use it for any hot drink over here. I didn’t realise it was just for tea. I’m used to it being for a beer.” She looked a tad embarrassed. “I’m intending on living here permanently and I really want to fit it.”
“I don’t think anyone needs to try to fit in in London. Over three hundred languages are spoken here, honestly, if you’re a nice person, you’ll fit in.” I tried to reassure her. I’d never really left the city, so technically I was a Londoner, but I wasn’t really sure what that actually meant. I loved the city with its diversity and metamorphoses, the different cultures and interests. It was a melting pot where people could be themselves, wherever they were from.
She smiled, but still looked nervous. “Honestly, the only person I know is Carter. There are some family friends, but I don’t want to really mix with them.” She pressed a button on a coffee machine. “Tea or coffee? Or I can even do hot chocolate with this thing at the press of a button. I don’t make tea with this as I’m told the water doesn’t boil hot enough, so we have a new kettle.” She gestured to the kettle with a lot of dramatics. “What will it be?”
“Hot chocolate, thank you.” I wasn’t sure I could manage her making tea – that was definitely a skill that took years to perfect, at least according to Harriet.
“Super. I spoke to Carter this morning. He sounded very upbeat.” She pulled mugs out of a cupboard and set the machine to work.
I took a seat nearby, a squishy chair that smelled very new. “This is comfy. He told me last night about your arrangement.”
She didn’t respond for a few seconds, the sound of the coffee machine taking over. I looked around the room instead and wondered if a change of career from psychologist to bookseller could be in my future. This would be a blissful place to work.
“I’m glad it’s comfy. I haven’t had a chance to try the chairs out yet and I’m at that point where if I sat down I don’t think I’d get up again for at least three weeks.” She set up her own drink and the noise started again.
I took the hot chocolate off her and waited for the machine to stop. Finally, silence reigned, and Laurie picked up her own mug and rested against the counter, nursing it. “I’ve told Carter at least a hundred times that he doesn’t have to do it.”
“He keeps his word. He always has.” I left space for her to tell me more.
She sighed. “He knows that if he did change his mind, I’d wrangle someone else to do it, and then he worried that that person would manipulate me into being paid off and I’d lose some of the money, or worse, I'd try to wait it out and lose money that's supposed to be mine. He explained about that, didn’t he?”
“He said you needed to marry to get access to your trust fund, and it depreciated the longer you stayed single.” I grew up in a family where money was never a problem, and there had been a trust fund set up by my grandparents that had also come with various stipulations that it could be used for – mainly so I didn’t blow it all on books and impulsive eleven pm online shopping sprees. It was for property or education, or to put into trusts for my own children, should that be in my future.
“That would be accurate. They allowed me to take the money out to buy my stores and set up the business, mainly because I was going to do it anyway and get a private equity backer, which they didn’t want. But in exchange for that, they expected me to be a performing monkey and my family isn't the most ethical of circuses.” She sipped at the coffee, closing her eyes. “And I wanted to do something else with the money. Set up a fund to support children’s literacy, which is my big project.”
“That sounds good.” It really did. “But wouldn’t your family have approved of that?”
“Not really. My grandfather isn’t interested in education. I suspect he thinks it’s dangerous. That’s another reason I wanted out.” She let out a long breath. “Carter has really done me a favour. I’d thought my ex was going to propose and he didn’t. He ghosted me. I could’ve isolated myself away from my family, I know that, but I’d have left my little sister behind, and they wouldn’t have let me see her. I couldn’t do that either. I’m sorry it’s caused a wedge between you and him.”
I wasn’t sure how to reply. It had caused a wedge, but that wasn’t Laurie’s fault. That was down to Carter’s lack of communication.
“It’s resolved. He should’ve told me when he suggested it to you.”
“He should. He should’ve told you how he felt about you too, but he was too chicken shit. Do you say chicken shit here?”
“We say most things. I wish he had said something.” I thought back to the conversation last night, how he’d thought I was falling for someone else, and I’d been perhaps a little oblivious to what he’d been saying. “But he’s Carter. Multi-faceted.”
“That’s one way of describing him. There’s nothing between Carter and me, I hope you know that. And I’m glad the two of you are finally starting something up. I’m sure I know an author you could write your childhood-friends-to-lovers story and it could go in the section next door.”
