I click into the gallery of photos. Pristine white sandy beaches. A close up of a couple frolicking in a sparkling turquoise pool. Sun loungers galore. Palm trees. Tropical paradise indeed. I go through the album but don’t see any photos of the bookshop itself. Perhaps it’s a new inclusion? I check the time difference between London and the Seychelles. We’re three hours behind so that makes it just after three in the afternoon there. Before I can overthink it, I email the application as requested and call the number.
‘Good afternoon, the Barefoot Bookshop, this is Gus.’ There’s a jovial grandfatherly tone to the voice that eases my sudden fluttering of nerves.
‘Uh, hi. I’m Harper from London, calling about the bookseller job.’
‘Harper, as in Harper Lee?’
I smile. ‘Yes, inspired by. My dad loved the novelTo Kill a Mockingbird.’ Dad was the person responsible for introducing me to books at a young age. Together we worked our way through the classics despite Mum’s protests that they were too advanced for me. They weren’t really, and I later came to the realisation that was a bit of reverse psychology on her part, which worked like a charm. I desperately wanted to read the books that were allegedly too grown up for me.
‘Well, that’s really something. Did you email your application, Harper?’
‘I did.’
A terse voice interrupts. It sounds like a younger guy who is rather authoritative. I struggle to make out what’s being said but the tone feels off, abrupt. Something about an urgent meeting and no excuses. The phone crackles and I hear Gus confirm he’ll meet up with the person later.
‘My apologies for that intrusion, Harper. Now give me a minute here while I pull up your application. Our Wi-Fi is a little patchy, which is a nice way of saying it only works when it wants to.’
‘Perfect.’ It slips out. Patchy Wi-Fi is exactly what I’m looking for. A forced digital detox.
‘Not a fan of technology, eh?’
‘Not at the minute, no.’
‘OK, I sense there’s a story there, but for now, let me take a squiz at this. So Harper, for the question, if you were stuck on a desert island with only one book what would it be, you chose Vikram Seth’sA Suitable Boy. An interesting choice. Can you explain why?’
I haven’t had a job interview quite like this before. Gus is just the tonic for a lost bookworm. ‘Two reasons. I love books set in India and if I’m going to be stuck reading the same book for the foreseeable, it’s got to be a long one.’
He laughs. ‘If memory serves, that tome is a touch over fourteen hundred pages.’
‘Yes, something like that. It’s on my shelf but it’s one of those I’ve never got around to.’
‘Books have a way of getting our attention when the time is right.’
I nod, even though he can’t see me. ‘That’s always how it happens. That strange wizardry inside each book.’
‘And Atwood, eh? Why not Hemingway?’
‘I love Hemingway’s writing and by all reports he was a charismatic person, but could any man face up to Atwood and win, especially in a battle of wits? I think not.’
His chortle echoes down the phoneline. ‘That’s the only correct answer. Now let me give you a run down about the island bookshop, and what to expect.’
Gus goes on to explain the resort amenities, location and the island itself. The bookshop apparently gets busy as the resort fills up over the summer, and an extra pair of hands is needed in the hopes that if customers are given one-on-one attention it will translate to more sales.
‘Sales have sadly been on the decline. Holidaymakers come over with a suitcase jammed with books and their kindles preloaded so there’s a lot of browsing done at the bookshop and not much else. The thing is, the bookshop also services the wider island community, so if we’re forced to close the doors, they’ll lose out too.’
My bookseller brain goes haywire with ideas that would encourage guests to commit to a purchase. It’s all about making it fun. Exclusive. They’re on holiday, they’ve got time to attend events, in-store activities.
‘Right, I’m sure I can help there. I’ve had a lot of experience as a bookseller and’ – dare I say? – ‘in the online book community.’ I teeter on the edge of telling the truth and potentially losing out on this job, or keeping quiet. But honesty wins. I tell Gus all about my disastrous live stream and the consequences of my actions. ‘To be blatantly honest, this job sort of feels like a last-ditch resort, a last chance to stop messing up my life once and for all.’ God, have I just blown it? Why do I blurt every thought that pops into my mind like that?
‘Sounds like you’re in a bit of a jam, Harper. Don’t you worry, I understand about making mistakes. Everyone at the resort knows a thing or two about last chances as well. And as the Persian fable says, this too shall pass. Hold on to that.’ His gravelly wise voice gives me hope, as if Gus has walked a similar path and come out on the other side. ‘Maybe what you need is a dose of island life, to help put things into perspective. I should warn you, this place is like a petri dish,’ he says with a sarcastic lilt. ‘The resort is its own little world. Guests come and go, but staff and expats stay. What the Barefoot Bookshop needs is some young blood with big ideas to help breathe life back into it. What do you think, Harper? Would you like to give it a go?’
‘You’re offering me the job? Just like that?’ I can’t keep the surprise from my voice. There must be a catch. Maybe this is one of theLord of the Fliessituations and I’m walking into a nightmare. But Gus… well, he seems like a laid-back bookish type.
‘Why yes! You’re the first candidate to choose Atwood and you’re named after Harper Lee. It’s a no-brainer.’ He lets out a booming laugh. ‘With your social media nous and bookselling experience, we could really get the Barefoot Bookshop where it needs to be. You’ll get your own suite at the resort, meals are included, and you’ll be paid a small wage too.’ He rattles off a figure. It’s not huge, but if you consider the savings I’ll make not paying for rent, bills and groceries, it’s more than fair and should allow me to save and get back on an even keel.
My mind is spinning at the speed of this whole thing, but why not say yes? This is a lifeline and what better place to regroup than a gorgeous resort in the Seychelles? ‘I’d love to accept, Gus. When would you like me to start?’
‘Next week too soon? We can get the Gainful Occupation Permit, also known as the GOP visa, fast-tracked because around here, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know, as you’ll come to learn. But don’t tell anyone, it’s highly illegal.’ I’m met with a boisterous laugh.
