Thirteen
Jemma’s stomach was like a tumble dryer from the minute she awoke until the second her event at Bishop’s Books was over. Her nerves kicked in at five a.m. and by eleven a.m. when Greg called to see if there was anything else she needed, and that she was still happy to go ahead, her voice sounded as if she’d sucked helium from a balloon.
‘Happy is, perhaps, not quite what I’m feeling right now. But don’t worry. I haven’t changed my mind. I’ll be there at six on the dot. I’ve got everything I need at this end, so if you’ve got everything your end, we’re fine. I am looking forward to seeing you again. I was sorry we couldn’t get together last night. Just for a catch up.’
‘All systems are go, here,’ Greg said. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you too. I’m sorry about last night. As I briefly said in my text, I went to collect Laurence from the hospital at four, but he had a dizzy spell, so I hung around until they’d checked him again. Everything was fine and they said he might’ve just got up too fast, but suggested someone should stay with him, or they would keep him in for another night. There was no way he was going to agree to that, so I spent the night at his place. I did try to call a couple of times, but you were engaged.’
‘Was I? Oh, yes. Clarice, my editor called and we had a long chat. And then Molly called to confirm Wednesday. Sorry about that. How is Laurence today? I hope he’s okay.’
‘No need to apologise. He’s better than he was. He’s got a nurse to look after him for a few weeks. Or a health care professional. Or whatever those people are called who basically take care of patients twenty-four-seven, via private health insurance. Although I think Laurence may be paying for her himself. She’s cooking all his meals and taking care of all his needs.’ Greg laughed. ‘Well, not all his needs, as he’ll no doubt moan to me later. She arrived at eight and he told me he thought she was really hot and … well … you can probably imagine what he was thinking. But I don’t think she’ll do that. What’s happening on Wednesday?’
‘Wednesday? Oh with Molly. It’s her day off and we’re meeting up in Folkestone. She’s going to show me around and we’re having lunch at some place on The Harbour Arm. She says the views from there are fantastic. Assuming it’s not raining. And yes. I can imagine what Laurence was thinking about his nurse. What is it with men and nurses? Erm. Did you think she was attractive?’
‘Molly? Or the nurse?’
‘Both?’ She shouldn’t be asking but she couldn’t help herself.
‘Molly’s pretty. But she’s not really my type. She wears far too much make up for my liking, and her hair is too perfect. It looked like it was glued into position with not a single strand out of place. Plus, she seemed a bit … sarcastic and brusque on Sunday morning. Or maybe that was just my imagination. The nurse is … the sort of woman most men would find attractive. But again, not really my type. And not all men have a thing for nurses. I don’t.’
Molly’s a hairdresser. Did you know that? Her mum owns a salon in the town.’
‘No I didn’t. But that explains the make-up and the hair. I suppose she has to look good for her clientele. She could take a day off from looking perfect though, couldn’t she? I can’t imagine her walking along the beach on a breezy day.’
‘No. I can’t either. But she did apologise profusely for her cool manner on Sunday. She even gave me a hug. She said she was anxious about something but that she hadn’t meant to take it out on me. Then she suggested going for a drink or lunch on Wednesday. I’m hoping we can be friends, and so is she, I think.’
‘That’s nice. It’s a shame about her taking you to the Harbour Arm. I was hoping to take you there. I was going to put it on that itinerary I said I’d put together.’
‘You can still take me. She says there’s lots going on, and loads of stuff to see and do on The Harbour Arm. Is the itinerary almost complete?’
She wasn’t sure if this was a continuation of their jokey banter on Sunday, but she hoped he had made an itinerary. Or at least, that he wanted to take her to various places. Would he ask her out? Or would they carry on as they were? Somewhere between friendship and flirting. Hopefully, he’d ask her out.
Although she was here to write a book, not to go on dates. She must remember that.
‘Almost,’ he said, his voice giving nothing away other than a trill of joyfulness. ‘We’ll discuss it tonight. Over a drink, if you’re feeling up to it after the event.’
Not quite a date, but a good place to start.
‘I’ll need a drink after that. So … what is your type then? You’ve told me who isn’t. And … if you don’t have a thing for nurses, do you have a thing for anything else?’
He didn’t reply immediately. Perhaps she was asking too many questions.
‘Erm. Fiery red hair, freckles, easy to get on with, and fun to be around. Must love her work.’ He gave a quick cough. ‘And my thing is glasses. I like a woman who wears glasses. Probably because it makes me think they read books. Lots and lots of books. Which is dumb, I know. Lots of people don’t need glasses to read. But that’s just the way my brain works. Do you ever wear glasses? Not that it matters.’
Jemma laughed. ‘I wore glasses from the age of about five until a few years ago. But you wouldn’t have found me attractive. I wore them to correct an astigmatism and I had laser surgery to correct my vision the moment I could afford it. But I’ll happily put on some frames for you. I mean … erm.’
‘You don’t need to put on anything for me, Jemma. I like you just the way you are. Oh, God. Some guy has just fallen off a pair of stilts right in front of my bookshop. I’d better go and see if he’s okay. See you this evening.’
What stilts had to do with the Indie Bookshops Event, Jemma had no clue. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence. Hopefully he would be okay.
She made herself more coffee and tired to do some writing, but her stomach kept churning and eventually she gave in and went for a nap but she slept for longer than she had intended and then she spent the rest of the day trying to catch up. By the time four o’clock came she was stressed, nervous, and nauseous.
A long hot shower soothed her, and she was feeling a little better as she sat at the dressing table in her bedroom. She remembered what Greg had said about Molly’s make up and perfect hair, so instead of putting on a lot of foundation and blusher to hide her freckles and make herself look more like the photo on her book jackets, she kept her make up light, like she had on Sunday. She also left most of the natural waves in her hair and only blow dried the ends.
Greg had booked a taxi for her, which was kind of him, as she was definitely intending to have a drink later.
‘I’ve booked it for five-thirty,’ he’d emailed. ‘In case the traffic’s bad. It’ll bring you to the rear of the shop, so ask the driver to tell you when you’re near and then send me a text and I’ll come and meet you.’
The taxi pulled up outside the rear of Bishop’s Books at five-forty-five, and Greg was standing outside having obviously received Jemma’s text.
‘Perfect timing,’ he said. ‘And wow. You look great.’ And then he smiled that dazzling smile and winked. ‘That green dress matches your eyes.’
‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t the same dress that she had worn on Sunday, but she had learnt from a stylist who had been assigned to her when her books had been sold for the TV series, that green really suited her. Anything from lime green to emerald. Other colours suited her too, but the greens brought out the colour of her eyes. ‘You look great too.’
‘Thanks. I did make an effort. I have a famous author coming and I wanted to look my best.’
He held the door open for her and this time she didn’t tease him about equality for women.
‘You succeeded.’
He beamed at her. ‘How are you feeling? There’s still time to run if you want to. I won’t hold it against you. You’re doing me a huge favour after all.’
She followed him up some stairs. ‘I was feeling awful earlier. Nerves really got the better of me today. But I’ve put on my big girl pants and … oops. That wasn’t quite the image I wanted to convey.’
He smiled back at her. ‘Nothing wrong with big girl pants. I’ll tell you what. I’ll think of super-heroines, and fantasy fiction warrior queens in high-waisted leather pants, with whips, and swords, and axes, attached to a waist-cinching belt.’
‘I knew I should’ve worn my leather bustier. Don’t get excited. That was a joke. I don’t have one.’
He grinned. ‘I’ll buy you one for Christmas. That was a joke too. You don’t need a leather bustier to look like a warrior queen. You’ve got the hair.’
‘And the freckles? Super-heroines and warrior queens have freckles, right?’
‘Absolutely.’ He opened another door which led into a large room at the rear of the bookshop. There was a dais with a single, comfy-looking chair that vaguely resembled a throne, but with lots of red padding. Next to that was a small but solid side table, and a tall modern standard lamp. ‘I use this for most of my book related events, writing workshops and such. It’s the only area in the premises that’s large enough to fit in lots of chairs, along with trellis tables for buffet food, and the staging required for some of the events. The food and drink will be here any minute so I may need to leave you to look around on your own while I help get that organised. I’ll show you the bookshop, and introduce you to my staff. Let me know if there’s anything you need, or ask one of them and they’ll be happy to get it for you. Would you like a glass of wine?’
‘This looks wonderful, Greg. I won’t have any wine yet, but I’d love a glass of water by me, for when I’m reading, just in case my throat gets dry.’
‘There’ll be a bottle each of sparkling and still, together with a glass, placed on that table before you start. That way you can have as much or as little as you want.’
‘You think of everything, don’t you?’
‘I try.’
The bookshop was better than she had imagined. Bookshelves lined the walls and stood in the room at various angles, each one filled with books from floor to ceiling. Greg sold antiquarian books as well as new, and the most expensive and rarest books were locked away in an antique bookcase containing red leather bound books with spines decorated and titled in gilt. There were first editions of books by J.R.R. Tolkien, Charles Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson, and many more. A few padded seats were positioned near some of the bookshelves so that people could sit and read for a while.
Jemma was impressed, and said so.
‘This is my kind of bookshop, Greg. I could happily spend my life in here.’
‘Feel free to move in any time,’ he quipped. ‘Let me show you your window display before anyone else arrives.’
She nearly burst into tears when she saw it. Tears of joy. Her books sat in a tall stack, with more standing beside that, and some beneath an ornate carriage which although only fit for a doll, was definitely to scale. There was a tall top hat on the stack of books and a silver topped cane leaning against the stack. In front of it were some long feathers that Regency ladies would have worn in their hair, and a pair of women’s evening gloves, a dance card, and a fan.
‘I love this!’
‘I’m so pleased. I was dreading you saying you hated it. Ah. The food has arrived. I’ll leave you with Suzie, if that’s okay. I’ll quickly introduce you.’
Things went a little crazy after that. Suzie was lovely and when she took Jemma back to the chair on the dais, she brought her the water Greg had promised and smiled at her reassuringly as Jemma scanned the sea of people seated before her. She had done things like this probably hundreds of times now, but she still got the jitters and her stomach churned each time.
‘You’ll be brill, Jemma,’ Suzie whispered as Greg gave her an effusive introduction and everyone in the room, including Greg and Suzie clapped and cheered. ‘I’m a big fan. You’ve got this. If you need anything during your reading and afterwards, or you want to stop for any reason, just give me a glance and a nod and I’ll sort it out.’
Greg said virtually the same when he handed the dais over to her. ‘Good luck. You won’t need it. You’ll knock them dead. I’ll be just over there if you need me.’
‘Hello, everyone,’ Jemma said, once the clapping eventually died down. She spoke slowly to calm herself. ‘It’s a thrill for me to be here in Bishop’s Books. I think I can honestly say that this is my favourite bookshop. Thank you for giving me such a warm welcome. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to so many people clapping and cheering when someone mentions my name. I’m always a little nervous, so I hope you’ll forgive me. I’m not sure if you’ve all read my books. Oh. Thank you for that show of hands. It looks as if that’s all of you. Gosh. That’s wonderful. Thank you again. Erm. I wanted to be a writer since I was a very young girl, and my beloved gran, Esme Granger was the one who encouraged me to follow my dreams. It’s thanks to her that I’m standing here today. I can tell you more about my journey from that young girl to the woman I am now, if you like, but if you’ll allow me, I’d like to read a chapter from my latest book.’
Everyone clapped again and Jemma sat down and read the first chapter. She had soon forgotten how nervous she was and how much she disliked public speaking, and by the time all the questions followed, she was happy to answer almost all of them. Apart from one that asked what the final book in the series was about, because as she hadn’t yet written it, she didn’t know herself. Of course, she had the basic outline, but that often changed.
‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ she said, and the person seemed happy.
‘I think I’ll tell Laurence I won’t be needing him ever again,’ Greg joked when she finally got a moment to stand with him and chat. He handed her a large glass of white wine and they clinked their glasses. ‘Of course, it would mean you’ll have to agree to come back on a regular basis. At least once a month. In fact, I think it might be easier if you simply stayed. Did Molly say how long she’d be renting out the cottage? You told me your flat in Orpington is on the market but you have no idea where you want to live. Well, Betancourt Bay is rather lovely.’
She was taken aback by his comments and she wasn’t sure whether he was being serious or not. But the thought of living in Betancourt Bay was rather appealing.
‘So I’ve heard,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to be having some guided tours and they might help me decide. As for coming back here. I’d be thrilled. I actually enjoyed myself tonight.’
‘And we’ve sold lots of books. I don’t have one book left. The window display is empty and we’ve taken so many orders it’s unbelievable. Do you feel up to signing some tonight?’
‘Of course. Just give me a table and a pen.’
‘I’ll let you drink your wine first. Suzie will sort everyone into an orderly queue. But say when you’ve had enough.’
Jemma had never signed so many books in one evening, that she could recall. She had cramp in her hand and was completely worn out by the time the last book was signed. But everyone had been so lovely, and this was for Greg, so she didn’t mind.
Until she remembered that she was seeing Molly the following day. She had hoped to spend some of this evening, alone with Greg. Now it was almost ten and all she wanted to do was go to bed.
Alone.
She really must be exhausted.
‘I’ll take you home,’ he said, as if he had read her mind.
‘Thank you. I think I’ll sleep like a log tonight.’
When he pulled up outside Oak View Cottage and held the door open for her to get out, he smiled as he looked her in the eye. ‘Thank you again for tonight. You’ve been wonderful. I hope you sleep well. Have a fantastic day with Molly. I’m busy tomorrow night, but I’ll try to call you. If not, I’ll see you on Thursday, perhaps?’
‘Yes. I’m free on Thursday. That would be lovely. You sleep well too.’
He walked her to the front door and waited as she found her key. She smiled up at him and he hesitated as if he might kiss her. Instead he bowed his head in an oddly old-fashioned way, like one of the heroes in her books. Had he done that intentionally.
‘Good night then,’ he said.
She opened the front door, and with one last smile, he turned and walked away.