Chapter 19
My phone blows up once the six o’clock news airs and I share the content on my social media feed.
According to Donna – and she is definitely an authority on the subject – the whole village is talking about the bookshop putting Ullapool on the map.
There is a stream of messages and calls from people looking to join The Next Chapter’s support group too.
Even my mum messages with her ever-supportive words of wisdom: Saw the show. Make-up was a bit drag queen. She’s added a clown emoji to drive the message home. I roll my eyes. Thanks, Mum.
Eilidh’s delight over the news piece is short-lived, as another unexpected bill pops through my letterbox. Something to do with a licence fee, which apparently is overdue.
‘This media interest is all very well and good, Ava,’ Eilidh says, ‘but we do need to think about money. You need to be able to pay your bills at the end of the month. Have you filled out the funding application yet?’
Annoyingly, she is right. And no, I haven’t.
‘You should charge people to attend the breakup bookshop,’ she suggests.
I shake my head. ‘I can’t do that. It was set up to help people, not to make money.’
‘Yes, but it’s attracting the most interest in your business. It’s your USP. You need to monetize everything to start making some profits.’
I shake my head again. ‘We need to come up with another way.’
Let me think about it. I know you’re right, but everything should start turning a corner at some point. My social media engagement is through the roof. Look at these figures.’
I point at my weekly interaction statistics, but Eilidh rolls her eyes. ‘We can celebrate when that’s your bank balance, Ava.’
‘I’ll get there. I’ll get the funding application submitted soon,’ I say, more confidently than I feel. I make to change the subject. ‘Anyway, what’s happening with Mark? Is he taking the boys with him on holiday?’
Mark recently asked whether he could have the boys during half-term. He’d said it would be good for them to bond with his new girlfriend before the baby came.
‘Well, I still want to shove a parasol so far up his arse that he can’t walk for a month, if that’s what you mean,’ she sighs.
‘But I have to think about what’s best for the boys.
What kind of mother does it make me if I stop them from going on holiday?
They should be having fun. I just can’t stand the thought of them going without me.
Making memories without me, you know? With her… ’
Her voice starts to wobble and my heart breaks for her.
‘Oh Eilidh, I know. I can’t imagine how hard that would be. But the boys have an amazing life here with you every day. A week away won’t change that. Plus, you could take them away sometime, too, if you wanted?’
She shakes her head. ‘I don’t think I could right now, Ava. It is taking all my energy just to get through the day, you know? I’m in sheer survival mode, doing the bare minimum until I can collapse in bed at the end of the night.’
‘I get that. You should start thinking about what makes you happy, though, Eilidh. I know you’re all about the sales and spreadsheets, but don’t you have a passion for something? Maybe something creative that you could turn your attention to for a bit of an escape?’
‘I don’t have a creative bone in my body,’ she says, and I laugh. ‘But the books that you’ve recommended are good. I’m reading constantly. It’s really helping me, actually.’
‘Nothing like a good murder story to cheer you up. That was Granny’s advice,’ I say. ‘Well, you’re welcome here any time. You know that. And not just so you can lecture me on my finances, either. Will I get a bill for this chat, by the way?’
‘As if. You know, you’re right. I might just try and book a holiday, even if it’s only away to a caravan for a few days. Our camping holidays were always their favourites.’
I smile at the idea of Harry and Caden, who have everything they could ever ask for and more, with the biggest house I’d ever seen in real life, losing their minds at the idea of a caravan holiday.
Having money isn’t everything.
But not having it, well, I’m realizing that isn’t ideal either.
*
Finlay pops his head into the bookshop at lunchtime. ‘Hey, Local Hero. Can I have your autograph?’
‘You’ll need to speak to my agent.’
‘How did you get Rory to agree to speak on national TV? He gets embarrassed if people overhear him talking in the pub.’
‘I didn’t ask him. Well, I did, and he said no. But then he changed his mind.’
Finlay raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.
‘Where are all your little dog friends?’ I ask. ‘It’s weird to see you without your army around your ankles.’
‘I know, I feel naked without them. I’m on my way to Rory’s to pick up Piper just now. Then I’m going to get Bonnie, Donna’s poodle. She’s high maintenance.’
‘Donna or Bonnie?’
‘Bonnie! I can only really take Bonnie on her own or with Piper. She gets anxious and nippy around the other dogs.’
‘You could ask if Donna wanted to accompany you on a dog walk sometime? Or you could come along to the next breakup bookshop? I happen to know you’ll find her here.’
The looks they give each other, the awkward little interactions, their shared history.
There’s definitely something unresolved between Donna and Finlay.
While I know logically that relationships take a lot more to work than a shared interest in dogs, I can’t shake the feeling that they’re meant to be together.
And that optimism is really something, coming from someone who is right at the bottom of a deep, dark love-hole.
It would be amazing to see them try and work it out.
‘I’m trying to avoid her right now,’ he confesses.
‘Why would you want to avoid her?’
‘She hasn’t told you? I knew she was embarrassed about it.’ The tops of his ears turn pink.
‘Tell me.’
‘We had been getting… close again recently.’
My hand flies to my mouth. ‘Close close?’
‘Yep, after the whisky night,’ he nods. ‘But she’s clearly embarrassed about it or regretting it.
She broke up with me all those years ago.
I asked her to reconsider; I would have done anything to get back with her.
I told her I was ready for the works: marriage, family, everything.
I guess she didn’t want that with me then or now.
I should just move on and let her go again. ’
He lets out a long sigh. Poor Finlay. I shouldn’t have pushed him to tell me all this. Donna hasn’t mentioned rekindling with Finlay at all, so maybe he’s right. Maybe she does regret it.
‘I’m sorry, Finlay,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have pushed it. Maybe she’s just… shy?’
He lets out an indignant laugh. ‘You and I both know that Donna doesn’t have a shy bone in her body.’
‘She seemed shy around you at the launch night.’
‘Mibbes aye, mibbes no. Anyway, I’m off. See you later, Ava.’
He offers up a weak wave as he leaves the shop.
I feel for Finlay, I really do. He’s clearly still into Donna, but I have a horrible feeling he may be right about Donna’s feelings for him. She talked about Lewis and all her problems with him at the breakup bookshop but said nothing about poor Finlay.
After closing the shop, I wander out to the courtyard at the back of the shops to perch on my usual spot, on top of the bin.
As I angle my face to catch some late-evening sunshine, my phone starts to vibrate with messages.
Over and over, people ask to join the support group due to take place the following evening.
A woman originally from the Highlands who moved to London asks to dial in if I can facilitate it for her. She saw the news piece online and hearing the Scottish accents made her homesick.
A woman in her early thirties from the neighbouring village of Rhue, who is trying to give up alcohol, messaged to ask to attend after realizing she only had ‘party friends’ and no one wants to hang out with her sober. She hopes to come along to the support group to strike up new friendships.
A man in his early twenties from Lochinver asks to join. He’s recently lost his job and doesn’t want to bring his friends down by talking about it all the time. His girlfriend also recently dumped him and, while he understood the decision, he’s struggling to move on.
My heart hurts.
A series of other messages from people who ask if they can come along fill my inbox. I know they all have their own stories to share, heartache to heal or just want to soak up some company. How can I say no to that?
‘Exhausted from being a media sensation?’
My heart gives a little quiver as I hear Rory’s voice. The woman from London is right. There is something about the Scottish accent, in all its gruff glory, that makes you feel a little flutter.
‘I don’t know. Are you?’
‘I don’t mean to boast, but requests have been flooding in since my television appearance. I’ve even been asked to nip to Margaret’s on my way home to fix a carpet that she’s worried about tripping over.’
‘Living the dream.’
‘You?’
‘I may have bitten off more than I can chew,’ I admit. ‘The Next Chapter has grown arms and legs – I’ve got too many people and not enough space. Plus, I need to start making money or Eilidh is going to break up with me.’
‘I would offer you The Toolbox, but I’m not sure people who are weeping about their breakups should have access to drills?’
‘We’re supporting one another, we’re not unhinged.’
‘If you say so,’ he says. ‘We could set up a rage room in the courtyard where you can all come out and smash things with hammers.’
I jump off the bin. ‘The courtyard!’
‘I was joking, Ava,’ he says. ‘Although, I suppose it could be a good idea…’
‘No, I mean, I could use both spaces. I could divide the group in two: one lot inside, where people can talk in a group setting, and one lot outside, in the courtyard, where they can mingle and chat. Then we swap over. What do you think?’