I laughed. “No, he’s definitely not. In fact, he’s been amazingly supportive of me this week.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Nick said. “And I bet your writing is much better than you’re giving yourself credit for. If it’s anything like you, I know it must be unique and funny and smart, which is more than I can say for many of the books I sell in my shop.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but once again found I wasn’t sure what to say. Thankfully, at that moment a train came rushing noisily into the platform and I was spared from having to say anything. The carriage was so busy when we boarded that we had to stand in the narrow aisle between the two rows of occupied seats. As it set off, I pulled my thoughts back to Darcy. Had any more of him faded yet? And if, as I suspected, he now knew he was a fictional character, how was he coping with the news? While he was an outwardly stoic person, I’d seen a glimpse of the sensitivity below the surface this week, so I could only begin to imagine how distressed he must be feeling rightnow. Plus, he would have realized that I’d lied to him, which I knew was something he’d never forgive. My insides curled at the thought of how much pain I’d inadvertently caused him. Why hadn’t I just told him the truth from the beginning?
“Do you know if your mum or relatives ever told any of their fictional visitors who they really were?” I asked, leaning closer to Nick so that the people around us wouldn’t hear.
“You mean, that they werecreative types,” he said pointedly, and I nodded. “No, I don’t think so. Part of the reason they only ever hosted their visitors in the back room of the bookshop was that it was easy to disguise what was going on. I don’t know if you noticed, but that room was designed to look timeless, so it could just as easily be from 1726 as 2026.”
I thought back to the room and realized he was right; there hadn’t been a computer or any modern technology in there, and even the light fittings could have been mistaken for candles.
“So the visitors were kept in the dark about where they’d come from and who they were?” I said.
“Yes. I mean, obviously they knew something odd had happened, given that, from what I heard, it could be an uncomfortable journey for some. But my family had been doing this for a long time, so they’d got pretty good at knowing what to say to allay visitors’ fears when they arrived.”
“I still don’t understand how your family managed to keep their abilities a secret,” I said. “I know you said they weren’t allowed to advertise what they were doing, but I’d have thought that if there was a bookshop in the middle of London that brought fictional characters to life, it would be all over the internet. But aside from a few vague references to your mum having a special book club, I didn’t find anything.”
Nick glanced around us to check that no one was listening, but everyone nearby was absorbed in their phones. Still, when he spoke again, his voice was a whisper.
“That’s because my family workedveryhard to keep what they did a secret. They only ever offered their services to a select few customers who they thought would really benefit from their help, and everyone had to swear they’d never talk about what happened outside the walls of the shop. Mum always said that book lovers were trustworthy people, and almost every one of them kept their word.”
“But why all the secrecy? Your family could have made a fortune from their skills.”
Nick gave a small smile, as if the same thought had occurred to him many times. “I don’t think my family were ever interested in money or fame. Apparently, before Ava, the secret was so closely guarded that my relatives only ever read characters out for themselves or their loved ones. It wasn’t until after my great-grandfather’s death in the war that Ava decided she wanted to do something good for the people of London, so she started discreetly offering her help to a few customers she deemed in need of hope.”
“Wow,” I said. “And nobody outside the women in your family can do it?”
Nick shook his head. “Not that I’ve ever heard of…until you.”
I swallowed, lowering my voice even further. “I told you, Nick, I don’t have the same powers. I must have just somehow triggered whatever residual magic was locked up in your mum’s copy ofPride and Prejudice.”
“I mean, it’s technically possible, and that’s why I was so insistent that you destroy the book, just in case there was something strange going on with it. But it still makes no sense how you were able to readDarcy out without even realizing you were doing it.” Nick sighed. “I’ve been going over this in my head ever since I saw Darcy last night, and I genuinely have no idea how it happened.”
The train had pulled into Camden Town, and neither of us spoke while passengers left and new ones squeezed in.
“Say for one second I did somehow have this weird magic,” I said once the train pulled off again. “Do you know exactly how it works? Did you ever see your grandma or mum actually doing it?”
Nick nodded. “Sometimes Mum would let me watch, and very occasionally she’d read a character out for me when I really needed help. I’ll never forget when I was about to fail my History GCSE, and she read Jean Valjean out ofLes Misérablesto teach me about the French Revolution.” He smiled at the memory, and for a moment I could tell he was back there at Baskerville Books with his mum. Then the smile faded from his lips.
“When did you lose her?” I asked.
Nick didn’t answer for a moment, staring over my shoulder. “It’s been eight years.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I was going to stop there, and then I remembered how good it had felt when Darcy had chatted to me about my mum. For years I’d avoided talking about her, too scared of the pain it would cause; but as Darcy had said, there was pleasure to be had from remembering the good times we’d had together too.
I looked up at Nick. “What was your mum like?”
He smiled at the question. “She was wonderful: loving, fun, full of mischief. She was a terrible singer and couldn’t cook to save her life, but she had this extraordinary way of making people feel special—like you could tell her anything and she’d understand. And she always had herhead in a book, especially romance novels, so the two of you would have got on like a house on fire.”
I couldn’t help smiling at the compliment. “She sounds amazing.”
“She was super passionate about her work as well, both bookselling and the other part. What she did—her special talent—genuinely helped people.”
“Yeah, I can see it must have been very cool to help people hang out with their book boyfriends in real life.”
“Oh, she didwaymore than just help them hang out.” Nick lowered his voice, and I had to lean closer again—so close I could smell him, a mixture of soap and mint. “So, my family couldn’t just read out characters on a whim; the magic only worked if they or someone else had a specific problem they needed help with.”
