‘Noah will come back,’ Hermione said. ‘He always does.’
Would he come back? Quinn didn’t know what he would do. Forcing himself to believe Noah was gone allowed him to move forwards. That’s all he could do. But these comments of fleeting hope kept him tied down. ‘Have you heard from him?’
‘I have. There’s?—’
But she didn’t get to finish. An old headmaster from Quinn’s school approached, holding out his arms to Hermione, who squealed, at last breaking away from Jerry and throwing her arms around him.
‘Ronald, it’s beentoolong.’
With that, she guided him away from the crowds, lost in discussion with an old friend.
Jerry crossed his arms, looking at his sister with a wistful expression. ‘It was hard to get her to come tonight.’
‘I appreciate it.’
Jerry scratched at the stubble on his face. ‘She is special. She’s deprived herself of these moments for too long. I hope tonight, seeing these people accept her, love her, idolise her, will help to restore her confidence.’
Quinn had expected nothing less from the crowd in the shop. Despite the almost legend-like stories of Hermione, it didn’t matter. In a very British way, the stories had been part of their childhoods, a fun titbit to tell over a cup of tea. There had never been malice, not really. Hermione was a proud bit of history for Hay, and despite everything, everyone held a soft spot for her.
It made Quinn excited to write her story, to change the narrative, one that he was certain now would have a lot more acceptance than he first thought.
And as he watched the crowd, he thought of Hermione finding her voice to talk about what she’d gone through. How, somehow, he’d helped her find that ability to talk again.
Jerry found his own known faces, getting lost in the crowd, and Quinn wondered what Hermione meant to say about Noah. Her sentence cut off at such a crucial moment. What did Noah say to her? Had he asked about Quinn at all, about his shop?
Part of him hoped that, despite everything, Noah still cared. He checked his phone, almost wishing that a message would come through, a love heart social media like,somethingto confirm that he occupied Noah’s thoughts like the author did his.
Alas, nothing.
The party stretched into the early evening until the last drop of wine and champagne had been poured. Somewhere along the line, they agreed to continue the party in the nearby pub and Quinn said goodbye to everyone as they headed out. They wished him luck and he fought back tears as he promised to keep the fight going.
Eventually, only a small crowd remained. Hermione was at the back of the shop, still lost in conversation with Roger and with Jerry at her side. Ivy and Blair leaned against a bookshelf like university lovers. Quinn thanked the drag queens, who were still ready to continue the party, and hugged Jenny, who’d turned out to be vital in getting the crowds.
‘This donation… I’m amazed. But if we close, I can’t take the money.’
‘Oh, no.’ Jenny shook her head. ‘That money is yours. Use it as a deposit on somewhere new if you have to. Or just to keep you afloat as you start the next chapter.’
She was drunk. That was clear to see by her wide eyes and her flushed smile, but Quinn could see she meant every word.
She cried, a rather dramatic cry that would look false on anyone else. The drag queens fussed over her and she shook her head. ‘It’s just so sad.’
‘Don’t be sad,’ Quinn said. ‘Look at tonight. Look how amazing this has been. The perfect send-off. If, of course, it is the send-off.’
Jenny took his hands like a woman sending her husband off to war. ‘Please, will you join us in the pub?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Quinn said.
Jenny nodded, wiping tears, and stepped out into the cold. Quinn turned to Penny Farthing, who seemed the most sober of the group.
‘Are you sure about this money?’
‘Totally. We raised this for you. It’s yours, regardless of where it is spent. Take it.’
‘I don’t think I can ever repay you.’
‘That’s not the point of a fundraiser.’ Penny smiled. ‘You deserve it, Quinn. Thank you for this space, and all that you have done.’
Once the queens left, their arms around Jenny, their voices singing a drunken rendition of ‘Driving Home for Christmas’,Quinn let the tears fall.
