‘I know. And Robert’s told me you didn’t want to, and it doesn’t matter because I’m arse-over-tit in love with you, and—’ Did I just say that out loud? Thank God the side of my head is still pressed against his so he can’t see my face. If anyone asks, the redness is purely down to sunburn. Maybe the sound of the waves will have drowned my words out?
He wobbles on his feet and I start sliding out of his arms as he puts me down and leans forward so his mouth is next to my ear. ‘Just so you know, I am many-arses over many-tits in love with you too.’
It does nothing to help the half-laughing half-crying situation. He pulls back and it would be impossible not to kiss him. I think I actually whimper as our mouths crash together, just as a gust of wind whips up, coating us in sand, and we both start choking and jump apart to spit out unwelcome grains.
‘It was all going too well, wasn’t it?’ He says with a laugh, reaching out to take my hand as I try to shake sand out of my hair.
We start walking back the way I came along the beach, our entwined hands swinging between us, before I realise I haven’t told him about The Princess Bride. ‘Oh God, Dimitri, there’s something else. None of that was the reason I came here. I found out who your mum’s mystery man is. I found a book he’d given to her, and I couldn’t tell you because it was yesterday and suddenly everything made sense, and …’
‘It’s Robert, isn’t it?’
‘How do you know that?’ I say in surprise.
‘When he said you were on your way down and he had something to tell us both, things started to add up. I had a feeling that it was about more than the shop. He knew about my side gate. After Mum died, a box of books used to turn up on our doorstep every month – I thought it was a subscription or something she’d organised before she died, but since I’ve got to know him, I’ve realised it was obviously Robert’s doing. He denied it, of course, but that’s the kind of person he is. So I’ve spent the past few hours on the train adding up all these coincidences. I’ve guessed you found something that proves it?’
‘The Princess Bride. Robert’s favourite book. And I didn’t find it, it found me.’
‘I’ve always said books do that.’
‘Me too.’ Tears fill my eyes again and I try to blink them away. It must be all the salt in the sea air or something. No way am I actually crying this much. ‘Are you okay with it?’
‘It’s … amazing, actually. He’s one of my favourite people in the world. I can’t think of anyone better to have made my mum happy.’
When we get back, Robert’s sitting in the shade with Heathcliff’s bowl on his lap, reading Anne of Green Gables to the fish. I thought he was joking when he said he was going to do that.
‘Hallie …’ Dimitri tugs my hand and pulls me to a stop outside the gate. ‘You didn’t really bring Heathcliff to Cornwall, did you?’
‘I thought he might like to see Robert again.’ I sigh. Why do so many people think taking a fish on a train is weird? ‘And I think he’s reconsidering his sexuality. There’s a couple of seagulls on the roof that he seems really taken with. A Chihuahua walked past earlier and he didn’t give it a second glance.’
He bursts out laughing and bends to press his lips against my cheek. ‘I had no idea how empty my life was before you came into it. There is no one else in the universe who would take a goldfish on a train to Cornwall and make it seem normal.’
‘That’s not fair. I’m sure there are people who take their goldfish out all the time.’
‘Oh yes, five-star restaurants, Broadway shows, the cinema. Maybe they strap its bowl to a skateboard and pull it along on a lead …’
‘Oh, now that would’ve been an idea …’ I giggle, only half joking.
‘Hello, you two lovebirds!’ Robert calls when he looks up from the story and notices us. He nods towards our joined hands as Dimitri undoes the gate and lets us in. ‘I’ve said for years that you two should meet.’
Robert returns Heathcliff’s bowl to the table and gets up, tottering across to the bench that’s in the sunshine and patting the empty space beside him. ‘I think you already know, but it’s long past time I told you something …’
Dimitri hugs him as we both sit down, his fingers laced with mine. I don’t let go of his hand while Robert tells him everything he’s told me, and adds how proud his mum was of him for stepping out of his father’s shadow and putting his talent to good use.
We sit around talking about books and sharing stories about both Della and the bookshop for a good couple of hours, Robert sends out for the compulsory British seaside lunch of fish and chips, and even though it’s been a long day and I’m looking forward to getting back to my little shop in Buntingorden, I’m reluctant to leave when half past three rolls around and we’re going to miss the last train home if we don’t get our skates on.
‘Don’t you want to keep these?’ I ask him as I gather up our things, trying to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.
He holds the copies of Pride and Prejudice, Anne of Green Gables, and The Princess Bride out to me and shakes his head. ‘You two should have them. Maybe one day, you can pass them onto your own children. Della would’ve loved that. For as long as these books exist, even when all of us are long gone, people – be they future generations of family, or strangers who buy those books – will read those words and wonder who she was. That’s a pretty special way of honouring someone.’
The tears come again as I take the books from him and slide them carefully into my bag.
‘I chose you, Hallie.’
I know what he means without him needing to clarify. ‘You picked a ticket out of a hat.’
‘Did I? Or is there a certain type of magic in that shop that ensures the next owner is exactly who it’s meant to be? The man who passed it on to me said exactly the same thing, and when I picked that ticket, I had you in mind. I wanted it to be you. Every page in that shop wanted it to be you. And it was you. Don’t ever doubt that.’
I’m crying again as we both hug him goodbye, and get as far as the gate before he calls after me. ‘And Hallie?’
I turn back.
‘Heathcliff belongs to the bookshop. Take him with you.’
Dimitri dashes back and grabs the bowl. Well, it was worth trying, even though I’ve got quite used to having the goldfish around. And he’s survived nearly two months in my care now. Maybe there is magic in that bookshop after all.
Chapter 19
It’s dark by the time the bus pulls up at the end of Buntingorden High Street, and Dimitri’s been off all the way home. Quiet, lost in thought, and secretively texting someone while clearly trying to hide his phone from me, and I can’t work out what’s going on.
As we approach the shop, I realise the chains have gone from the stairs leading to the roof terrace and the stairway is open, and when we get even closer, there’s a glow coming from up there, like some sort of candle or lamp.
Or the building’s on fire. That would be just my luck.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask Dimitri.
‘You’ll see.’ He winks at me, seeming devious and confident as I follow him up the narrow stairway.
‘You took your time.’ Drake Farrer is leaning back in a chair with his feet up on one of the tables next to a glowing oil lamp that’s supposed to keep midges at bay.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I snap. Of all people I’d have been happy never to see again.
‘Oh, relax, princess. It was his idea, not mine. It’s past ten o’clock at night, do you think I want to be sitting up here freezing my bits off with all these midges?’ He slaps at the side of his neck. I thought even midges would have more discerning taste than him.
‘It’s June! It’s a lovely warm night.’ I’m instantly annoyed by his distasteful tone.
‘Hal, it’s okay, I asked him to meet us here,’ Dimitri says. ‘He’s who I’ve been texting since we left Cornwall.’
Oh, great. ‘So we can dredge up the other day all over again? I don’t need hi
m to confirm anything, Dimitri. I trust you.’ I’m distracted from Drake’s usual smarmy grin by his shoes, which are so abnormally shiny they reflect the moonlight.
‘I know. It’s not about that. He and I are going to do a business deal.’
Drake uncrosses his ankles and finally deigns himself to put his legs down and sit upright. He swings his briefcase onto the table and snaps it open, Dimitri pulls out a chair and sits opposite him, and I go to put Heathcliff’s bowl safely on the other table and wonder what on earth is going on. Dimitri doesn’t seem like himself. He seems calm and confident which is not a feeling Drake inspires in many people. ‘Did you bring the paperwork I asked for?’
Drake Farrer looks almost as confused as I am. Whatever this is, he clearly isn’t sure about it either. ‘Yes, but I don’t know what you think you’ve got that I want.’
‘My half of the house. My half of the house in exchange for the ex-bakery downstairs, enough cash to do the renovations, and a clause to ensure it can never be turned into something that would cause the village to lose its charm and unique spirit.’
‘What?’ I say.
‘What?’ Drake Farrer says.
‘I have something you want and you have something I want. It’s a fair swap.’
‘Dimitri …’ I take a step towards them. ‘That is not a fair swap. He was being generous when he offered me thirty-five grand for my shop. That mansion is worth a heck of a lot more than that.’
‘Listen to your missus, brother,’ Drake says. Even though it’s meant as an insult, there’s something quite nice about being called Dimitri’s missus.
‘That’s exactly why he’s going to take the trade.’ Dimitri turns to me. ‘Because I don’t care about the money and Drake does. Whichever way you look at it, he’s going to do extremely well out of this, and Drake’s a businessman. Good business decisions are what he does.’
‘Dimitri, we might not always see eye to eye, but you’re still my brother. It’s my duty to warn you this is not a fair trade.’
‘I’ll have quotes for the building work with you by the end of the week, so factor that into your price.’ Dimitri ignores him. ‘I want a couple of weeks to get my stuff out of the house, I want that clause put in the contract, and I want you to leave Hallie’s bookshop and the rest of this street alone. You and Dad. He will undoubtedly benefit from you having full ownership of the mansion. Get him to stop his letters, stop his complaining, and end this campaign of hatred that’s gone on for far too long, and it’s yours.’
For the second time in recent weeks, I am utterly convinced that Dimitri has magic powers because he’s managed to render Drake Farrer speechless too. He seems like a different man tonight – far from the stuttery awkward guy I fell in love with, he seems like a student of the property law he once studied, the suave businessman that his father wanted him to become, a cut-throat entrepreneur who can duck and dive just as smoothly as his brother can.
Even Drake looks to me before looking back at Dimitri and shaking his head. ‘You’re a lunatic but you’re right. You’re making me an offer I can’t refuse. I’m not going to turn that down. I accept.’ He holds his hand out and they shake on it before I have a chance of trying to talk sense into him again.
‘And I know you both think I’m the worst person in the world,’ Drake continues. ‘But I do know our mum wouldn’t have wanted me to treat you unfairly, so you can get your building quotes to me, but I have a rough idea of how much it’s going to cost to do these places up, and I’ll double it. Make sure you’ve got enough leftover to knock the flats into one if you’re going to be living together. A buffer while you finish your book or whatever it is you do.’ He waves a perfectly manicured dismissive hand in typical Drake Farrer style just so we know he hasn’t had a complete lobotomy and become a decent person overnight.
‘I’m an illustrator, Drake. No matter how many times you and Dad try to belittle me because I didn’t follow his planned career path, I’ll still be an illustrator, and I’ll still be happy doing something I love, no matter how much it pays.’
Drake mutters something unintelligible and rifles through the papers in his briefcase until he pulls out a sheaf of official-looking documents and starts writing on them.
I watch in silence until he eventually scribbles his name in a couple of places and hands the pen and documents to Dimitri. ‘This is only a commitment. You’ll have to come into the office next week to sign the official paperwork.’
‘I know.’ Dimitri signs his name, takes one copy for himself and hands one back to Drake. ‘Nice doing business with you.’
I notice the tremor in his fingers as he hands Drake’s pen back too, and I realise he might not be quite as composed as he’s coming across.
Drake snaps his briefcase shut and stands up. ‘Miss Winstone.’ He nods to me and then Dimitri. ‘Enjoy your new cramped lives together. I’ll leave you and your fish to it.’
It almost makes me laugh out loud because I’d momentarily forgotten Heathcliff on the table behind me. I expect Dimitri to get up and walk him downstairs, but he doesn’t look like he can move, so I let my hand brush across his shoulder as I quickly follow Drake, feeling a bit like a guard dog, seeing him off one last time. The smile I give him as he walks away is certainly closer to ‘bared teeth’ than an actual smile. I watch until he disappears into the distance before I go back up to the roof terrace.
Dimitri is standing now, leaning over the table and looking like he might be about to hyperventilate.
‘You were amazing,’ I say, even though I still can’t get my head around what just happened. ‘Suave and sophisticated. As much of a businessman as Drake will ever be.’
He laughs. ‘Oh God, sophisticated and me don’t go together at all, do they? I thought I was being all debonair like Marlon Brando in The Godfather then, and just as I was thinking all I needed was a cat to stoke menacingly, one of my braces pinged off and knocked my glasses sideways, and then I looked down and realised I’d put on my sprout socks this morning.’ He leans against the other table and wiggles a foot at me, showing off a pair of navy and white striped socks with grinning green vegetables all over them, sticking out of his matching boots today. I kind of like the dual-coloured ones.
I go over and stand next to him, reaching up to lift his hair where it’s flopped over and tuck it back. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. I knew I had the upper hand there. And it’s been a while since Drake and I had a civilised discussion – that’s enough to unnerve anyone.’
‘Do you think he’ll do it? Stop your father complaining about everything?’
‘I think so. All that matters to my father is money. He and Drake will either flatten the house and build something there or restore it and turn it into a hotel or something. Either way, it’ll be a big enough project to keep him busy, and it’s what he’s wanted for years. I think he’ll see that it’s worth giving up his campaign of nastiness for.’
I can feel joy bubbling up inside me, popping at the surface, trying to get out. ‘Why did you do that?’ I ask when it eventually bursts. ‘The house must be worth a fortune, and the shop is not.’
‘Because you were right,’ he says eventually. ‘You were right about the house. It was dragging me down. Every time I go back there, it’s like stepping back in time, and the emptiness closes around me like a tomb. I don’t want to live there anymore.’
‘But the money …’
‘It’s not about the money. If I cared about money, I wouldn’t draw pictures for a living.’ He lifts his head and meets my eyes. ‘The house makes me feel dead inside and being here makes me feel alive. I’m different here. I’ve found myself here. I’m who I want to be here, and I lose that when I go home every night. You’ve reminded me how much I love Buntingorden. The house is just a building, but my mum and sister will always live on in this village because places like Once Upon A Page exist, and I had a chance to exchange the past for the future.’
It makes me well up again
and he ducks his head. ‘You changed my life, Hal. You made me remember who I used to be and what I used to love. In the past few years, I’ve hidden away in that house and given up on living, and you’ve reminded me that I used to have dreams. Seeing you throwing your all into the bookshop has reminded me that it’s never too late to follow them.’
‘You haven’t even seen inside. It could be rotting away. It could be tiny. You’re used to a massive kitchen.’ Even as I’m saying it, my voice is going high with excitement. ‘Do you have any idea—’
His arms slide around my waist and he picks me up and spins us around, hugging me to him.
‘—how amazing you are?’ I say against the skin of his neck.
He laughs. ‘They must have a good-sized kitchen. It used to be a bakery.’
I squeeze my arms tighter around him. ‘And now you own it …’
‘I own a shop. And half a roof terrace.’
I giggle and he spins us around again before finally putting me down, his hands on my waist, holding me steady as my hands drift up and down his bare arms to his T-shirt sleeves and back. ‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘It’s going to be an art gallery. I’ll display some of my stuff there, but mainly I want to showcase young, local artists who need someone to believe in them. And there’s this little bookshop next door that I think deserves to be bigger, so I thought we could knock the walls through and expand, and maybe add a few tables for a café and a little bakery counter …’
I reach up and fit my hand over his mouth because his talking has turned back into nervous rambling. ‘It’s exactly what Buntingorden needs. Especially the art gallery part.’
His eyes are watering as he laughs, and I let go of his mouth because accidentally suffocating the man I love would be the unwanted icing on the cake of a day that has turned out nothing like I expected it to. I lean up on my tiptoes to press my lips against his instead.
‘It’s what I’ve always dreamed of for this place,’ he says when we pull back. ‘More books, a café, an art gallery, and an open roof terrace where people can bring their cakes and books and sit in the peace up here watching the river trickling by.’
The Little Bookshop of Love Stories Page 33
