Chapter 18 #2
The presenter had called to confirm they would conduct a short interview with me to show on television tonight.
Apparently, it would all be very casual and would only take half an hour or so.
I’d laughed along and said, ‘Of course,’ but as I hung up, I’d headed straight to one of my gorgeous, second-hand chairs to scream into a cushion.
A mixture of fear and excitement is tumbling around my insides.
As soon as Eilidh arrives, we host a mini-fashion show in the middle of the bookshop to choose an outfit that screams ‘successful businesswoman’.
Fake it till you make it.
‘This is going to put you on the map. You could use it as evidence in that funding application I sent you,’ Eilidh suggests, as I twirl around to show her the green and white paisley midi-dress.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ I say, as she nods her approval of my outfit choice. ‘If the application is successful, I’m going to use the funding to set up a book festival here.’
‘Brilliant idea! Brings revenue to the community – tick – and brings people together – tick. Get on to it as soon as you’ve finished with your five minutes of fame.’
Donna brings a box of make-up with her and orders me to sit down. As she sets to work on my face, Eilidh stands behind the counter, ready to serve customers in the bookshop.
‘You would suit false eyelashes,’ Donna observes, as she prods at my cheeks with a blusher brush. ‘They’d be nice on camera too.’
‘Tried them once before. Never again. The make-up artist forgot to tell me they were semi-permanent. I tried ripping them off at the end of the night and could only get a small section off. I couldn’t leave it like that, of course.
I had to pull the rest of them off and ended up with baldy bits for weeks. ’
Donna rolls her eyes. ‘Trust you. Okay, what time is the presenter arriving?’
‘We have an hour to make me look amazing.’
‘You already do, lovely,’ Donna smiles, leaning in for an air kiss near each cheek.
‘Hot off the press,’ Eilidh says, approaching us, her phone in her hand. ‘The television crew is in the area. They’re down at the beach asking people what they think about the bookshop.’
‘Oh shit,’ I say, my stomach flipping. ‘I hope Rory’s not there. He’ll go off on a rant about what a terrible idea it is.’
‘He wouldn’t,’ Donna and Eilidh protest at the same time.
‘I thought you two were friends now?’ Donna adds.
‘Not sure I’d go as far as friends,’ I say. ‘Neighbours. Everybody needs good neighbours. He’s okay. Fine.’
Eilidh raises an eyebrow. ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’
‘They may want to ask him about his mural,’ Donna points out. ‘It would be good to show that the local community has been involved in the shop renovation. It looks amazing now he’s fixed it all up.’
‘And it would help promote him as an artist,’ I say.
I think back to our conversation on the boat.
Rory may not be encouraging of my goals, but I can take the moral high ground and support his.
He is a fantastic artist, whether he admits it or not, and it would look good if the whole village were shown to be rallying around the bookshop.
It also won’t hurt for Seb to see Rory support me on the national news. Someone is bound to send him the clip. A big, handsome Scotsman stepping in to prop up my business venture will leave Seb wishing he’d said so much more than ‘congrats’.
I pop into The Toolbox and find Rory in deep conversation with an older man about power tools. I hop impatiently from one foot to the other until the man leaves.
‘Ants in your pants?’ he asks.
‘The six o’clock news is on its way to interview me about the bookshop. You should talk about the mural. It would be a great way to get some interest in your artwork,’ I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth.
He looks up at me, then back down at the notepad he’d started scribbling on. ‘No thanks.’
‘They’re interviewing people around the village about the bookshop anyway. People should know it was you. You might even get some recognition—’
He puts down his pen. ‘Ava, look. My mum called this morning. My sister is having trouble finding a nursery for the baby, so they’re staying a bit longer until she’s set up.
It looks like I’m in charge for a while longer.
So, thank you. I do appreciate your offer, but I won’t have time to do an interview or any artwork commissions, even if they were to come. Not now. Probably not ever.’
He lets out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping.
‘Oh, Rory, I’m so sorry. I really am.’
He shrugs. ‘It’s fine. I’ve just got to get on with it, don’t I? But thanks for thinking of me. Just as well you were the one who got the shop in the end. Look at what you’ve done! It would still be a shell if it was left to me.’
‘Shit, Rory. I didn’t want—’
‘Don’t worry about it. It’s just… not the right time.’ His tone is different. Lighter. Appreciative. Sad.
He looks up at me. I stand in the doorway for a second, unsure what to say. I have a sudden urge to envelop him in a hug, but I resist. Rory would hate that.
‘Are you still here?’ He offers me a small smile. ‘Go on next door and get ready to show them everything you’ve got. Seriously, Ava, take the credit for it. You deserve it.’
I hesitate before turning to leave. ‘Okay. We can discuss this at the next breakup bookshop. You’ll be first up. We can just talk all around you, so you don’t feel stuck in the silence.’
He laughs.
‘By the way, Ava?’
I turn to face him again.
‘You don’t need me to back you up, you’ll be great on your own,’ he says. ‘You look… beautiful, by the way. Good luck.’
My whole face flushes a bright shade of pink, which thankfully can’t be seen under the fifteen layers of make-up Donna has applied.
‘Thanks,’ I whisper.
*
As the interview comes to an end, I blink at the bright lights behind the camera. I breathe a sigh of relief.
Just as Sarah, the presenter, is packing up, the door opens.
Rory.
‘Ah, here’s the artist that I mentioned,’ I say, moving towards Rory, as though I’d expected to see him here all along. ‘He painted the mural.’
Sarah takes one look at Rory and visibly swoons.
‘Hi,’ Rory says, throwing her a smile. ‘Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to see if you needed any quotes from locals or shop owners about the bookshop. It’s such an asset to our local area. I can say it on camera, if you need any more interviews. I work in the DIY store next door.’
Sarah flutters her eyelashes as he folds his muscular arms across his chest. Hearing him say that, advocating for me and the bookshop, I too melt inside, more than I’d like to admit.
He is here, doing this for me.
Congrats.
‘I thought you were an artist?’ Sarah presses.
‘That’s more of a hobby. I’m happy to give a supportive quote, as a local shop owner, though.’
Sarah nods. ‘That would be great.’
She is thinking the same as me – this handsome Scotsman being earnest and kind about small businesses will certainly help to boost her viewing figures.
As the camera turns to Rory and I look at him, really look at him, and listen to him lie to the world that, from the beginning, he welcomed the bookshop with open arms, knowing it would be such a boost to the local area, my heart pounds in my chest.
Maybe, just maybe, things are looking a little brighter.