‘Yes.’
‘Then you’re a writer.’
Quinn, feeling a warmth of validation from Ivy’s words, took in the looming castle towering on the hill. Lights were on in the downstairs window, the shadows flickering as those inside walked by. The once derelict castle was now being renovated. A poster advertised the grand reopening on Christmas Eve.
They walked along Castle Street, where supermarkets, clothes shops, bakeries and banks met with more bookshops. The town might have been cosy, but it had all they needed. They stopped outside Kings & Queens, turning their backs on the castle.
‘And here it is.’
‘My favourite shop in town.’ Ivy smiled.
Quinn fumbled to find the key for the shop. He swayed, and Ivy steadied him. Both hooted with laughter, forgetting they were outside, forgetting that they might wake people. Finally, the key sliding into the lock, he opened the door to his bookshop, his pride and joy.
In the darkness, he walked to his desk, pushing past the till to switch on a lamp. The dull yellow light illuminated the shop.
Four rows of bookshelves had long since replaced church pews and stretched all the way back to where the original altar remained. Stained-glass windows depicted Christian imagery, which now looked down over glass cabinets of crystals, books, and LGBTQ+ flags.
‘Just magic.’ Ivy sighed, closing and locking the door behind her.
He let Ivy walk around the shop. Truth is, he needed something like tonight. He threw himself into his work so much that he neglected social life, and had been neglecting friendships and relationships with family. Maybe that was why his relationship with Dougie had failed. Tonight had given him the opportunity to relax and reflect on what was in front of him.
He rearranged his desk, which he had left messy the day before. Daniel Craig hadn’t tidied the desk since the time he, Daniel, had tampered with his organised chaos and Quinn went all quiet. Quinn hadn’t even needed to say anything. Daniel knew and never did it again. He wasn’t a mean boss, but he couldn’t say what he wanted out of fear of offending Daniel. After all, he’d only tried to be helpful.
Quinn wrapped receipts together and placed them in the accounts box, then stacked books he needed to price and put on the shelves. He moved his mouse, waking the computer from its sleep mode, and checked his emails, making note of stock enquiries and shipping updates. Behind him, in the bay window, snow billowed in a strong wind.
He could hear Ivy near the back of the shop, humming a Christmas song to herself.
His eyes drifted to a letter he had put to the side. His heart sank. That happy joy inside him extinguished. The blissful numbness left by the gin turned toward a heavy hangover.
Just ignore it and it will go away.
Reaching for the letter and turning it over in his hand, the seal already ripped, he knew he shouldn’t read it again. It was better to ignore it. Deal with it tomorrow. That’s what he kept telling himself.
But the alcohol had other thoughts.
Despite all his protests, he took the letter out, looking up to make sure that Ivy was nowhere in sight. He unfolded the letter and stared at it, tears spilling onto the paper.
The wordsfinal notice of evictionstared back at him, so cold and hollow.
He looked back at the shop in front of him which, even in the dim light, was still colourful and full of joy. He’d spent years crafting a space that could offer something more, something safe. A shop full of books that were selected to retail, new and rare, for both the academic and the casual reader. The arches of the still beautiful chapel, renovated with thought and precision to honour its history and bring it into the modern times.
He turned and observed the castle from his perfect view at his window seat.
He opened a drawer in his desk and dropped the letter inside, where a pile of similar letters was stacked. He closed it, taking a deep breath. ‘What the hell am I going to do?’
ChapterSix
When Quinn awoke the next morning, his head ached and his mouth was dry. Memories of the incident at the festival came rushing back to him. He closed his eyes, remembered what Ivy said, and tried to think positive thoughts.
Only there was nothing positive about this hangover.
Or the angry messages from Dougie, who seemed to regret thinking with his dick.
Quinn texted him back.
Sorry about last night. I wasn’t in the mood.
Not very nice to ignore me, Quinn.
