‘Understood. I was called away on a private matter. I’m not usually so lax about replying so forgive me but things have been piling up and I haven’t got to them. But you’re right. I don’t need to know every detail, as long as whatever you do for the bookshop fits with company policies. I’m here now if you want to run some of your ideas past me.’
We sit side by side behind the counter, so close his (husband material?) shoulders are close to brushing mine.
His gaze slides down the length of me and I’m about to call him out for it when he says, ‘No shoes?’
I frown. ‘It’s the Barefoot Bookshop. The sign itself says: shoes optional.’
‘That’s for…’ His words peter off as he clearly rethinks the rest of the sentence. No doubt the guy is dreaming up a new rule like all staff must wear shoes inside. It’s easier not to, as I’m constantly going outside to the hammocks on the sand to chat to customers and manage to drag half the beach back inside my sandals which I then have to sweep up. ‘OK.’
‘There are no social media pages for the Barefoot Bookshop. Did you want me to start those?’ With the unspoken caveat that I will under no circumstances be showing my face on them. But Turt might, if Xavier agrees to it. ‘We can cross-post with the Last Chance Resort socials for extra views.’
‘Gus believes that social media rots brains and so I didn’t push the point. From what I hear you were a talented book influencer.’
‘Were being the operative word.’ Just how much does he know? Likely a lot from the way word gets around here.
Xavier gives me a sympathetic smile. It seems genuine, which surprises me. Men are usually the first to belittle online work as if it’s just a silly pursuit. Maybe I’m reading him wrong? It’s hard to tell what he’s really like with that mask he wears. He doesn’t probe further and for that I’m grateful. ‘I’d love it if you can work your social media magic for the bookshop.’
OK, I admit I melt a little at him playing the role of Nice Guy today. I wonder if it’s got something to do with the private matter that pulled him away from the bookshop? He’s definitely more relaxed than usual. More personable and, dare I say it, less clenched.
‘I’ll happily rot my brain if it helps the Barefoot Bookshop.’ I smile. ‘I want to put shelves on the sand outside, so we can claim this place is a real barefoot bookshop. We can use the range of preloved books that Gus has stockpiled.’
He crinkles his nose, which I find adorable and an expression that’s very unlike the controlled Xavier I’ve come to know. ‘Where will you get the shelves? How will they not fall over? Won’t the weather damage the books…? Sea spray, wind, bright sunlight will fade the covers…’ Luckily I anticipated that Xavier would pepper me with questions about these sorts of scenarios and I’m ready for it.
I hold up a hand and pass him a blueprint that the maintenance team made for me. ‘A simple row of hip-height curved shelves with support posts driven into the sand. They’re happy to erect a permanent shade sail to protect the books from the elements. Yeah, it’ll be a bit of a pain taking them in and out each day, but it’ll be worth it. We’ll be a proper barefoot bookshop and it’ll be a great visual cue for people further down the beach who might not even know the Barefoot Bookshop exists.’
‘Impressive.’ He gazes over the simple blueprint. ‘Yes, OK, go ahead and have the maintenance team make a start.’
A happy thrill races through me, but I keep my features neutral. ‘Next up: Turt. He’s an icon. I’d love to feature him on social media, coupled with books we’ve got here already that focus on Seychellois flora and fauna.’
His expression softens further at the mention of the sleepy giant tortoise. ‘Turt really is an icon. Yes, I’m happy with that, as long as he’s kept safe.’
‘What’s Turt’s backstory? Anything interesting we can use?’
Xavier rubs his face as he smiles. ‘From what I remember, Turt wandered into the Last Chance Resort when I was about ten years old and he made the bookshop home. Back then this place was little more than a beach hut with a rickety table and a few rescued paperbacks. Turt would follow Gus around the resort. Still does; well, did. They had an incredible bond.’ At the mention of Gus, Xavier’s face softens. Did the private matter that pulled him away have something to do with the missing bookseller?
‘Turt must really miss his old friend.’ Now I understand the days Turt shuffles in, takes one look at me, and shuffles out again. I’m not the person he’s searching for. I was right, tortoises do show emotions on their wizened old faces.
Xavier nods. ‘And I’m sure Gus misses him too. Gus is…waslike a father figure around here. His absence is felt by many, I’m sure.’ His face is lined with an expression I can’t quite pinpoint. Sadness, but something else too. The mood turns morose, so I shift the conversation.
‘Does Turt have any tortoise friends? Are there any more on Esperé island?’
‘Yes, most of them live on the Aldabra atoll.’ Xavier goes on to explain an atoll is a ring-shaped coral reef or a cluster of islands centred around a lagoon. In the case of the Aldabra atoll, there are four islands circling a shallow lagoon. The islands help protect the lagoon from the open ocean and its predators and the atoll is home to over one hundred and fifty thousand Aldabra giant tortoises. It’s a protected space and strictly regulated. Visitor access is tightly controlled by the Seychelles Islands Foundation.
‘In 1982 it officially became a UNESCO world heritage site,’ he says. ‘It’s a sanctuary and while it’s their natural habitat, they’re still cared for and studied by conservationists and researchers.’
‘I’m happy to hear it’s protected so they can live in peace. But not Turt; he remained here because of Gus?’
Xavier smiles as if in fond recollection. ‘Well, actually, a few years ago, Turt suffered some minor health problems, thought likely to do with his age. He was taken for medical treatment and observation. It was decided that the atoll would be a better place for him to live out his days – they, the experts, painted it like a dream retirement. Turt floating in the natural lagoon, being with his own kind. They determined without this intervention, the minor ailments would turn into major issues and this was our last chance to stop his health deteriorating any further.’
So even our giant tortoise friend has a last chance situation…?
‘Oh? Gus must’ve been upset at the thought of losing his tortoise best friend.’ Poor Gus, being given the news his reptilian buddy would have to be relocated without any care for their incredible bond.
‘He cried like a baby. We all did when they came to transport Turt to the atoll. This will sound crazy, but Turt gave us all such a beseeching look, like he was begging us to intervene on his behalf, and we tried. I asked them if they were sure, 100 per cent positively sure this was the only way, and Gus, well, he was desperately asking them to reconsider, give Turt a few more months, see if his health improved. But the conservationists wouldn’t be swayed and there’s no arguing with them. And so off our tortoise friend went, breaking the hearts of everyone at the Last Chance Resort. The Cabana Bar did a roaring trade that night, as all of the expats and guests alike drank to the greatest tortoise to grace the island.’
‘But how did he end up back here?’ I look to Turt, sunbaking outside.
Xavier grins. ‘That’s the interesting part. A few months later, Turt shuffled into the bookshop as if nothing had happened.’
