The Love Island Bookshop

by Kate Frost

  With the application submitted, Freya had put it to the back of her mind. At work she was swept up in the busyness of the London Book Fair and she didn’t have time to think about much else, until an email inviting her to an interview for the love island bookshop arrived, changing the course of her life. She spent the next couple of weeks preparing for it, researching the island and getting more and more excited about the prospect of actually being able to work there. It was a large island in the Northern Atoll. Its lush tree-covered interior was ringed by white sand beaches, and over-water villas stretched out across the lagoon that encircled it. It looked idyllic and it was unquestionably exclusive. She’d read up on the owner Zander Cohen too – Aisha’s teenage crush – a multi-millionaire with a colourful past from his days in his late teens and early twenties in a boy band that Freya had never been a fan of. By all accounts he’d lived the good life with a bevy of beautiful women, mostly models. Freya was rather relieved when she found out the interview would be with the head of HR and his PA Meena over Zoom. When she was successful in that first interview and was called back for another, she allowed herself to entertain the idea that the job was a possibility. The second video call interview was with Zander himself, although Meena was sitting in taking notes. He’d been brisk and businesslike, talking about his vision for the bookshop before asking just a handful of questions that ended up feeling more like a relaxed chat about books. It felt like he was trying to get the sense of who she was and whether she’d fit into his bookshop vision. She found it difficult to read him and had no sense of how well she’d done. Two days later she received a call from Meena offering her the job.

  The Maldives felt far removed from anywhere or anything. The idea of being in the middle of the Indian Ocean miles from civilisation and the fast-pace of city living was not lost on Freya. Evaluating her life and what she wanted to do next while living on a remote tropical island and running a bookshop, well, what could be better? Yet, as she stared out of the plane window with nerves in her stomach and doubt in her head, she cursed herself for having such little faith in her ability. After all, she’d got the job out of twenty thousand applicants – that had to mean something. She had good credentials, she knew, but what had made her so special out of everyone? Maybe she’d never know; she just needed to be thankful that she was chosen. By far it was the most exciting and nerve-wracking thing she’d ever done.

  Breakfast had been served a while ago, the rubbish collected, and trays and bags stowed away. They were beginning to descend but there still seemed to be nothing but endless blue until she spied an almost perfect circular island. And then another and another, spread out across the dark blue ocean, the islands themselves ringed by the impossibly turquoise water of the house reefs that she’d read so much about. As the plane dipped, Freya could see where the lighter aquamarine water merged with the dark blue of the deep ocean. She wondered what was hidden beneath its depths. She spied another cluster of islands and then just ocean for a while. The plane dipped further until it almost felt like they were skimming the water. The wheels bumped on to the solid ground of the runway.

  It was strange to think that this island and neighbouring Malé were the only real built-up ones in the Maldives. Most of the other islands were holiday resorts for tourists or inhabited islands without the infrastructure of the capital. It was a true tropical paradise despite the catastrophe the island chain and its people were facing from global warming. The idea of curating a selection of books that would appeal to guests and link in with their location left Freya buzzing with ideas.

  She’d had regular communication leading up to leaving the UK, plus all the required jabs and her work permit. She’d booked the train to Heathrow and had even packed her suitcase when an email from Meena arrived updating her on a last-minute change to her journey. Instead of going straight to Loabi Fushi when she landed in Malé, she was to be met by a man called Ibrahim and taken to a different island for an overnight stay to meet Zander who wouldn’t be on Loabi Fushi for the first few days. Freya wasn’t bothered about the extra travelling, after all it meant that she’d get to see another island, but she was nervous about meeting the multi-millionaire owner so soon and the idea that she really would be the one in charge when she got to Loabi Fushi.

  ~

  As Freya waited in the airport cafe for the next part of her journey, the enormity of what she was doing hit her. Perched on a stool by the window, she had a perfect view of Malé, the tall buildings at odds with her impression of the Maldives. A tropical storm was blowing across the horizon. Lead-grey clouds shut out the sun and rain thundered down over the island city. Had she really made the right choice to give up her job and flat for this?

  There was no going back now, she’d committed to this to the point of handing in her notice, although Esther had assured her they’d happily welcome her back. The next few months was her adventure of a lifetime and an opportunity to take a completely new direction. But sitting on her own, sipping a lukewarm coffee, feeling jet-lagged and in need of a shower, she was feeling less and less certain. It was only natural, though, to have second thoughts about such a major decision. And what would happen when the job came to an end – she could hardly stay living on a tropical island. What would she do then? Where would she go? She breathed deeply and focused on the storm clouds clustering over the city. The whole point of the next few months was to allow her the time to make decisions about her future and what she wanted to do with the next decade of her life.

  The storm blew over as quickly as it had rolled in. The sky returned to a near-perfect blue, and the tall buildings of Malé sparkled in the sunshine once again. Freya sensed the heat increasing as the sun streamed through the windows, and she imagined the water that had just been dumped over the city steaming up from the pavements. She was looking forward to the next part of her journey and reaching an island filled with sand and leafy greenness.

  She wandered down to the harbour in time to meet Ibrahim and the boat that would take her to Makumathi. Speedboats and traditional dhonis bobbed in the choppy water. The thought that the storm wasn’t far away crossed her mind, but she was distracted by a jolly Maldivian man holding up a printed sign with her name on it.

  A couple was standing with him with their bags by their feet. Freya joined them and the man turned to her.

  ‘You must be Miss Freya Clifton, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ibrahim,’ he said. ‘Please meet our newlyweds, Mr and Mrs Burrows. Welcome, all.’

  They exchanged hellos and Freya followed the couple on to the boat as Ibrahim heaved their luggage on board.

  Freya smiled at the couple sitting on the seat opposite. She’d clocked their matching wedding rings. The woman’s sizeable diamond engagement ring glinted in the sunshine.

  ‘You’re on honeymoon then?’ Freya asked, nodding at the ring.

  ‘Yes, we got married two, three days ago?’ The woman laughed. ‘We’ve lost track of time.’

  ‘I’m not sure it’ll matter where you’re going.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’ She gazed up at her husband. ‘This is our dream holiday, isn’t it?’ She turned back to Freya. ‘How about you? Is this somewhere you’ve always wanted to go?’

  ‘Kind of. I mean, there are lots of places I’d love to visit, but I’m lucky enough to have got a job out here for the next few months.’

  ‘Seriously?’ The husband looked impressed. ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Running a bookshop, although not on Makumathi. This is just an over-night stop.’

  Ibrahim uncoiled the rope tying the boat to the dock and made his way to the front.

  ‘It will take us around thirty minutes to reach the island.’ He was round-faced, dark skinned, with a permanent smile and eyes that glinted with humour. ‘Right, hold on tight. It’s a fast and noisy journey and there’ll be quite a breeze,’ he said, flashing another toothy grin.

  They set off at a moderate speed away from the harbour and the other speedboats and yachts, o
ut towards the darker open water.

  Freya looked back at Malé, its cluster of buildings shimmering in the heat haze. It was the last bit of civilisation she was likely to see for a while but she was more than happy to kiss goodbye to city living and embrace the laid-back lifestyle of a tropical island. Excitement began to take over from the nerves she’d been battling. It had been such a blur getting ready and organised over the last few months that she’d barely had time to digest the reality of it.

  As soon as they were clear of the other boats, they sped up. Even enclosed within the speedboat, wind buffeted her through the gaps in the windows, but it was a delicious respite from the intense heat.

  ‘So, you won’t be staying on this island?’ the wife shouted over the roar of the engine.

  Freya shook her head. ‘No, it’s one much further north; I’m just meeting the resort owner today.’

  That thought made the butterflies return. The reality of meeting Zander made her anxious – his reputation preceded him. And in less than a month, the bookshop that she’d be in charge of running would be open.

  Chapter Three

  The boat sped past islands that glittered like emeralds in the ocean, giving Freya a glimpse of what they were heading towards. Soon enough an island appeared on the horizon, a green mound of trees ringed by pure white sand. The choppy water turned from deepest blue to a mesmerising turquoise the closer they got and the island began to reveal its details with palm trees looming over the beach.

  Ibrahim docked, jumped out on to the wooden jetty and tied the boat securely. The boat rocked as Freya and the couple stood. She took Ibrahim’s outstretched hand and stepped on to the jetty. The heat took her breath away as much as the place did. A couple of people were snorkelling in the sparkling shallows and a handful of guests were sitting on the sunny deck of a bar overlooking the water. This wasn’t even the island she’d be staying on but her immediate reaction was she didn’t want to leave.

  While Ibrahim retrieved their luggage, Freya followed the newlyweds the short distance along the jetty to a covered area where a European-sounding woman greeted the couple. A Maldivian woman handed them each a damp towel and Freya relished the cooling relief as she wiped her hands and patted her hot neck.

  The European woman turned to her. ‘Freya, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Ingrid.’ They followed the couple along the wooden walkway that led to the beach and a large thatched building nestled among the trees. The clearest aquamarine water Freya had ever seen lapped at the sides. ‘Zander wanted to be here to meet you, but he’s been delayed in Malé. He’ll be back this evening though so you will get to see him then. In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind making do with me.’

  Freya was relieved. She’d read enough to feel rather nervous about meeting the not-yet-forty-self-made multi-millionaire who for a few years running had appeared in various top ten lists of the most eligible bachelors in the world. On paper at least, he’d come across as a bit of a dick, but Freya promised herself she would reserve judgement until she actually met him. Apart from the online interview, communication had so far been through his personal assistant Meena, his HR manager and the resort manager on Loabi Fushi.

  The newlyweds were whisked away to start their honeymoon and Freya walked with Ingrid in the other direction, away from the large open-sided building where she’d glimpsed couples sipping drinks by the ocean. Freya slipped off her cardigan and tucked it over her arm; now the breeze on the boat had stopped, the intensity of the sun bore down on her. Tired from the journey and in need of a shower, everything was an assault on Freya’s senses: the heat, the sound of insects in the undergrowth, and the smell of something deliciously spicy as they walked past the restaurant. It was a relief to follow the sandy path shaded by the leafy canopy of trees. They turned off at a small wooden sign with ‘one’ written on it that led to a curved building with a wooden door in a rough cream wall and a thatched-reed roof like an oversized hat.

  ‘Zander asked us to put you up in one of the beach bungalows.’ Her eyebrow raised a little as if this was far from usual. It was certainly unexpected from Freya’s point of view. ‘The guests staying in this one aren’t arriving until late tomorrow, so it’s yours for the night.’

  She opened the door and ushered Freya in.

  ‘You have the day to yourself,’ Ingrid said, handing her the key. ‘This bungalow is by a wonderful bit of beach. The house reef surrounds the island so everywhere is good to explore. The dive school next to the restaurant has snorkels you can use. Buffet lunch is between twelve and one-thirty – help yourself whenever you’re ready. Then come to the restaurant at eight and Zander will meet you. And if you need anything before then, go to the bar or restaurant and ask for me. Enjoy your day.’ She swept from the room and closed the door behind her.

  Freya whistled under her breath as she took in the room. The ceiling was high, the thatch visible beyond the wooden beams, the white walls bright against the dark wood. A ceiling fan whizzed air around, cooling her hot skin. On the bed, white towels had been turned into swans with their necks entwined and rose petals scattered around them. Freya felt very single.

  She left her bag on the floor, kicked off her trainers and wandered across the polished floorboards. Through the windows she glimpsed the paradise outside: vivid green foliage, white sand and blue sky. She pushed open the door and was met with a blast of heat.

  A sandy path wound between the trees. Her feet sunk into the hot dry sand. The beach was pristine and empty. Although she knew there was another bungalow close by, she couldn’t see it through the forest of palm trees and vines. The sand sloped down to where the surf lightly kissed the beach and turquoise water took over for as far as she could see. She’d done her research on Loabi Fushi, she’d explored the resort’s website and felt like she almost knew every inch of it without having been there, but this place was an unexpected stop and unknown. It was a hugely pleasant surprise after an emotional couple of days saying goodbye to friends and colleagues, and leaving behind the security of her comfortable life.

  Freya’s bags were brought to her room, but apart from finding her washbag and a change of clothes, she didn’t even have to unpack. She cooled off in the outdoor shower, gazing up at the dazzling green leaves and snatches of blue sky. She changed into a bikini, went to the dive school to borrow flippers and a snorkel and wasted no time in padding down her slice of empty beach to the shallows of the house reef. The water felt warm like a bath. It was shallow all the way to where the turquoise changed to inky blue and the deep dark ocean took over. She wondered what was out there beyond the house reef. With her snorkel on, she dunked her head below the surface and explored, swimming alongside angelfish and bluestripe snappers, and even spying a green sea turtle a short distance away. She’d been to the other side of the world to visit her parents in New Zealand, but she’d never been to a place as idyllic and as exotic as this. She almost had to pinch herself to believe it was real. She also acknowledged that she shouldn’t get used to this – she was here to work, after all, and she was certain the staff accommodation would look nothing like the beach bungalow.

  Chapter Four

  Freya’s nerves kicked in with the setting of the sun. The island took on an even more romantic vibe as the sky darkened and twinkly lights lit up the restaurant and bar. Freya walked from her bungalow along the edge of the beach, her bare feet ploughing through the silky sand. Gentle waves foamed only a few steps away. She passed beach villas tucked among the green foliage, their reed-thatched roofs blending in with the surroundings. Amber lamplight pooled on to the sand and Freya imagined couples inside getting changed for dinner. For one night only, she was getting a taste of what guests experienced, but she had no one to share it with. She was about to meet Zander though and she felt out of her depth and more stressed by it being the evening. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having dinner with him in a place this romantic.

  She headed for the bar. A few couples were already seated on the deck th
at overlooked the moonlit ocean. Freya was just about to catch the attention of one of the bar staff when Ingrid waved her over.

  ‘Freya, sorry to mess you around. Zander’s decided to meet you for dinner on the other side of the island. Adil’s going to take you there now.’ She nodded across the restaurant, and a slender Maldivian man came over.

  ‘Okay,’ Freya said, and then Ingrid was off to welcome another couple.

  Adil greeted her with a smile and a nod, indicating for her to follow him.

  The island was small and it only took a few minutes to walk along the sandy path beneath the trees. They emerged on to a moonlit swathe of empty beach with not a villa in sight.

  ‘Mr Cohen much prefers to eat away from the restaurant,’ Adil said. That was the reason for the candlelit table in the middle of the sand with the backdrop of shallow water foaming on to the beach.

  Freya’s nervousness intensified. Surely he didn’t insist on staff referring to him as Mr Cohen rather than Zander? But the idea that he wouldn’t eat at the restaurant and instead wanted them to be on their own didn’t sit easy with her.

  She followed Adil across the sand, which was noticeably cooler than it had been during the day. He pulled out a chair and she sat down. There were another two tables set up a good distance apart, each of them ringed by flickering candles in wicker baskets, so it obviously wasn’t unusual for guests to dine on the beach, but she was the only person here so far.

  There was no getting away from how romantic the setting was. The night-time heat hugged her and the moonlight and lamps were the only light apart from the candle flickering on the table. This was not how Freya imagined she’d meet Zander Cohen for the first time.