Chapter 14 #2
Margaret swoons as his eyes sweep the room.
In fact, everyone looks at Richard a little dreamily, even Pete.
I wonder how many of them have read his latest novel, with several in-depth, gruesome descriptions of severed body parts.
It’s difficult to look someone in the eye when you know they could be considering you as their future fictional victim.
But he could be anywhere right now, and he is here in Ullapool, standing in my bookshop.
And while all eyes are on him, he only has eyes for one person.
He talks about the importance of reading and bookshops for all people, especially small, rural communities like ours, and wishes The Next Chapter bookshop every success in the future.
All the while, his gaze keeps drifting back to Eilidh.
I wonder if his next book might be about the one that got away.
‘So, I’ll pass you back over to The Next Chapter’s owner, Ava Campbell!’
I almost jump at the sound of my own name, as I smile and thank Richard, pulling my notes from the counter.
What the hell am I supposed to say? My hands shake.
I meant to rehearse this speech last night, but it didn’t happen, thanks to the flooding in the shop.
I clear my throat and look around, muttering a thank you to everyone for coming.
My heart pounds. The Next Chapter is finally here, my next chapter is starting.
A new beginning. My eyes land on the bright yellow dresser, with Granny’s recipes displayed all around it.
It feels like she is here, celebrating with me.
I close my eyes, just for a moment, and offer up a moment of thanks to my wonderful granny, who welcomed me to Ullapool with open arms and made me feel like finally I had a home.
The whole room is still as I open my eyes again.
Donna offers me the widest grin. Eilidh stands with Harry and Caden, who elbow each other as she reminds them to behave.
I lock eyes with Rory for a moment as he offers me another nod.
I clear my throat. I start by thanking everyone for coming, Fiona for the food, gesturing around the shop and saying vague breathless thanks for the help I received with the joinery, the plumbing.
But I feel at a distance, as though I’m looking at myself from above. I try to centre myself.
‘One of the things that has struck me since I’ve been in Ullapool is how much I’ve enjoyed connecting with every single person and hearing about your stories,’ I say, pausing for a moment and taking a deep breath – in…
and out. I continue: ‘Whether it’s how much Pete loves delivering the post because it keeps him young, or Fiona’s daily update on the shenanigans of the sheep next door, or Finlay telling me about his latest, very dangerous climbing adventure, I love stories.
Stories connect us all, and when we share our own, it brings us closer together.
‘I’ve also been really moved that people have shared some special moments with me.
Donna and Pete have given me permission to mention Elise, a much-loved parent and wife, who passed away recently, and have told me how much she would have loved this bookshop.
My own granny, Agnes, who lived in Ullapool, would have been thrilled that I fulfilled my promise of returning to live here one day, especially to open a bookshop.
It was Granny who fostered my love of books and reading. ’
I take a deep breath as I feel tears in my eyes. I don’t want to cry. Not here, not now, with everyone looking at me. The room is still as I clear my throat again.
‘A couple of us have been meeting up to talk about books and share our own stories recently. We’d love to extend the invitation for others to join us, now that The Next Chapter bookshop is officially open for business.
We’ll be hosting book clubs and author events too, but this is a little bit different, more of a support group.
If you’d like a shoulder to cry on, for any reason at all, be it a bereavement or that bastard of an ex, we’d like to welcome you to meet with us here on Monday evenings at seven o’clock for The Next Chapter support group.
Anyone can come with their problems – they don’t have to be romantic – or you can come just for a chat.
The first one will be next week to let me get my feet under the till.
For one night a week, we’ll be the breakup bookshop! ’
There’s a ripple of knowing laughter and a few cheers at the announcement.
I meet eyes with Rory across the crowd. He was right.
The Ullapool bookshop breakup and grief support group was a bit of a mouthful.
The breakup bookshop rolls off the tongue much more easily.
He’s among the throng, and I can’t see his reaction to me using his words.
I exhale and finish my speech. ‘Thank you everyone for coming along this evening. Please eat, drink and be very merry!’
Phew. It’s over. The room erupts with applause as I step back and smile. My whole body is shaking, but I did it.
*
‘Ava, we have another recruit for our group!’ Donna calls over, gesturing with jazz hands to Fiona, who blushes and says she’d love to come if we’re happy to hear the witterings of an ‘auld bird’ like her.
A series of ‘not at alls’ follow, as I grin at them.
The evening is full of chatter, exchanges of book recommendations and laughter.
As it draws to a close, people congratulate me, many laden with books they’ve bought, and I wave them off with a grateful smile.
Even Margaret manages to get into the spirit of the launch and approaches me on her way out.
‘Thank you for coming,’ I beam at her.
‘Your downstairs toilet didn’t flush,’ she says, raising an eyebrow as she shuffles out of the shop.
Fabulous.
Okay, so not everyone is swept up in the excitement.
I spot Rory speaking to Finlay in the back corner. He is standing with his back to the room.
‘Rory!’ I call.
He doesn’t hear me, so I make my way over to them.
I nipped out earlier to buy a little thank you present for Rory’s help with the bookshop last night: tickets for the Summer Isles boat trip he’d mentioned he’d loved when he was younger. Gripping the tickets, I march towards them.
I raise my hand, preparing to tap on his shoulder for attention, when something stops me in my tracks. Rory is speaking in a more charged tone than normal, and I wait a few paces away from them.
‘People don’t come here to talk about their feelings,’ I hear him say. ‘This place is an escape from that. It’s quiet. We help one another. We move on and we keep to ourselves. It’s not like you want the whole village knowing your business, is it?’
Finlay’s eyes widen as he tries to alert Rory to the fact that I am behind him, but Rory’s on a rant, and he isn’t about to pause any time soon.
I feel my face heat up. I am rooted to the spot, unsure of my next move.
‘And then there’s that fucking mural that she ruined in twenty minutes because she didn’t check her bloody bath worked.
I come along in the middle of the night to fix it for her, and she hasn’t even mentioned it tonight.
Not once. This is just like her. Forgetting everything – or not caring. God, I’m an idiot!’
My body slumps. I knew there was something I’d forgotten to say in my speech.
I’d written a special thank you to Rory but then got sidetracked by the breakup bookshop idea and hadn’t gone back to it.
My nerves got the best of me. I wish I’d rehearsed, but the flood got in the way.
Plus, I’d barely slept the night before.
He knew all that. But, dammit, I know I should have said something.
I can’t do anything about that now, though. I can’t call everyone back and declare, ‘And you’d probably all be standing in a foot of water if it weren’t for Rory!’
Finlay, his pale face matching his red hair with vicarious embarrassment, gestures at me over Rory’s shoulder.
Rory looks sheepish.
I thrust the tickets out towards him. ‘Here.’
He stares back at me, his expression cold. ‘What’s this?’
‘The “thank you” that you wanted.’
I want to storm off, but this is my shop. My launch night. Instead, I pick up a black plastic bin bag for the rubbish and hope he takes the hint.
And he does. Rory is gone.