Chapter 15
Rose
It felt surreal. The February grey sky that didn’t seem to change from day to day seemed brighter today, the clouds were less heavy, and the river caught the faint glimmers of yellow light that broke through.
Maybe it was because spring was approaching and the days were getting longer, or maybe it was because of last night and the text Carter had sent me this morning, simple, but it had lived rent free in my head.
Carter: Did you sleep well? X
I’d responded cautiously, drafting and re drafting the message three times, reading through each version and second guessing how each word could be interpreted.
I’d managed to rein myself in, remembering that Carter wasn’t likely to spend more than fifteen seconds reading it, and his level of analysis would be superficial.
Me: Kind of. My brain took an hour to switch off. What about you? X
His response came quicker than I expected.
Carter: Slept like a baby. Finishing at one today as well. Are you still going to the bookshop opening tomorrow? X
Me: Yes. Harriet wouldn’t speak to me if I didn’t. X
I was also curious about Laurie, which was why I was outside Silversmiths now, the shop looking like it had been raised from Harriet’s girlhood fantasies.
The sign looked like it belonged to a shop from a magical realm, dark wood and hand painted, the window frame painted dark brown, and the window display filled with different volumes of first editions, the jackets of the books like an exhibition in an art gallery.
It looked beautiful and intriguing and I knew I’d struggle to get Harriet to leave tomorrow. I’d struggle to leave myself and I was already preparing myself to be a lot of money down by the time I exited with a bag full of books.
I pushed open the door, the bell jingling. There was no music in the background, just the distant sounds of someone moving around in a room nearby, a box being dropped, followed by a not-so-subtle ‘fuck’ that sounded distinctly American.
I walked across the first room, although chamber would be a better way to describe it.
Mahogany bookcases lined walls to the left and the right, floor to ceiling.
Ladders were attached to the bookcases, manoeuvrable, and the sort I’d seen in glossy social media posts with the hashtag homedecor.
I didn’t disguise my footsteps, wanting Laurie – because I was pretty sure it was Laurie – to know I was there.
“Hello?” A head popped through the archway between the two rooms. “Rose! How are you?” Her face brightened and she looked genuinely pleased to see me.
“I’m good. This place looks fantastic. I can’t believe you’ve managed to get it like this in a couple of weeks.” It truly did look amazing.
“It doesn’t always take that long to set up shop, so I’ve learned, and this was a bookshop before and didn’t need wall repair or anything like that.
I’m pretty pleased with it.” She put her hands on her hips and arched her back.
“Come and have a look through here – the room you’re in is the literary fiction room.
This room - ” I followed her through. “ – is fantasy and romance. The next room is crime and mystery, and we’ve got some poetry in the lit fic room too. Carter said you used to love poetry.”
I’d noticed that she mentioned Carter in the context of me, never in relation to her.
“I think Carter still has a book of poetry I leant him years ago.”
“The Final Year by Matt Goodfellow? He does. He had it with him in New York and he said he’d never returned it to you. Come through here – it’s where you made tea – it’s not full of dust anymore.”
I followed her through a door at the back of the crime fiction room, into a slim but long space that I did remember, but not like this. It was tidy now, with soft seating and piles of books. Lighting was dotted around that would be great for reading and at one end there was a drinks station.
“I say brew, but I use it for any hot drink over here. I didn’t realise it was just for tea. I’m used to it being for a beer.” She looked a tad embarrassed. “I’m intending on living here permanently and I really want to fit it.”
“I don’t think anyone needs to try to fit in in London.
Over three hundred languages are spoken here, honestly, if you’re a nice person, you’ll fit in.
” I tried to reassure her. I’d never really left the city, so technically I was a Londoner, but I wasn’t really sure what that actually meant.
I loved the city with its diversity and metamorphoses, the different cultures and interests.
It was a melting pot where people could be themselves, wherever they were from.
She smiled, but still looked nervous. “Honestly, the only person I know is Carter. There are some family friends, but I don’t want to really mix with them.
” She pressed a button on a coffee machine.
“Tea or coffee? Or I can even do hot chocolate with this thing at the press of a button. I don’t make tea with this as I’m told the water doesn’t boil hot enough, so we have a new kettle.
” She gestured to the kettle with a lot of dramatics. “What will it be?”
“Hot chocolate, thank you.” I wasn’t sure I could manage her making tea – that was definitely a skill that took years to perfect, at least according to Harriet.
“Super. I spoke to Carter this morning. He sounded very upbeat.” She pulled mugs out of a cupboard and set the machine to work.
I took a seat nearby, a squishy chair that smelled very new. “This is comfy. He told me last night about your arrangement.”
She didn’t respond for a few seconds, the sound of the coffee machine taking over. I looked around the room instead and wondered if a change of career from psychologist to bookseller could be in my future. This would be a blissful place to work.
“I’m glad it’s comfy. I haven’t had a chance to try the chairs out yet and I’m at that point where if I sat down I don’t think I’d get up again for at least three weeks.” She set up her own drink and the noise started again.
I took the hot chocolate off her and waited for the machine to stop. Finally, silence reigned, and Laurie picked up her own mug and rested against the counter, nursing it. “I’ve told Carter at least a hundred times that he doesn’t have to do it.”
“He keeps his word. He always has.” I left space for her to tell me more.
She sighed. “He knows that if he did change his mind, I’d wrangle someone else to do it, and then he worried that that person would manipulate me into being paid off and I’d lose some of the money, or worse, I'd try to wait it out and lose money that's supposed to be mine. He explained about that, didn’t he?”
“He said you needed to marry to get access to your trust fund, and it depreciated the longer you stayed single.” I grew up in a family where money was never a problem, and there had been a trust fund set up by my grandparents that had also come with various stipulations that it could be used for – mainly so I didn’t blow it all on books and impulsive eleven pm online shopping sprees.
It was for property or education, or to put into trusts for my own children, should that be in my future.
“That would be accurate. They allowed me to take the money out to buy my stores and set up the business, mainly because I was going to do it anyway and get a private equity backer, which they didn’t want.
But in exchange for that, they expected me to be a performing monkey and my family isn't the most ethical of circuses.” She sipped at the coffee, closing her eyes.
“And I wanted to do something else with the money. Set up a fund to support children’s literacy, which is my big project. ”
“That sounds good.” It really did. “But wouldn’t your family have approved of that?”
“Not really. My grandfather isn’t interested in education.
I suspect he thinks it’s dangerous. That’s another reason I wanted out.
” She let out a long breath. “Carter has really done me a favour. I’d thought my ex was going to propose and he didn’t.
He ghosted me. I could’ve isolated myself away from my family, I know that, but I’d have left my little sister behind, and they wouldn’t have let me see her.
I couldn’t do that either. I’m sorry it’s caused a wedge between you and him. ”
I wasn’t sure how to reply. It had caused a wedge, but that wasn’t Laurie’s fault. That was down to Carter’s lack of communication.
“It’s resolved. He should’ve told me when he suggested it to you.”
“He should. He should’ve told you how he felt about you too, but he was too chicken shit. Do you say chicken shit here?”
“We say most things. I wish he had said something.” I thought back to the conversation last night, how he’d thought I was falling for someone else, and I’d been perhaps a little oblivious to what he’d been saying. “But he’s Carter. Multi-faceted.”
“That’s one way of describing him. There’s nothing between Carter and me, I hope you know that. And I’m glad the two of you are finally starting something up. I’m sure I know an author you could write your childhood-friends-to-lovers story and it could go in the section next door.”
“We’re not lovers yet.”
Her face lit up with a smile. “Yet.”
“I think we’ll be taking things slowly.” Because it was new and I was worried about things that didn’t have names, and my mother always said that once you had sex with someone, you couldn’t go back to holding hands.
“Really?” She laughed, probably at my expression. “I wish I had some self-control. I met a man last night and, yeah, self-control wasn’t involved.” She looked semi-embarrassed. “T-M-I, sorry. Too much information.”
I remembered what Carter had said, she knew virtually no one. “What was he called?”
“Jay. He’s a crime writer and signing here tomorrow. We went out for drinks so I could ask him about doing a signing here next month as well as a bit of an event, and drinks led to one thing which led to another.” She stared at her coffee. “I actually really like him.”
“Does he live in London?”
“He does – Battersea, so not far. He’s a single dad looking after his son – he wrote a best seller when his son was just a baby. Before that, he was a cop which is why his books are so good.” She gave a wry smile. “I’m gushing, aren’t I?”
“It’s allowed.”
Laurie shrugged, not looking sure. “I think it’ll just be a one-night thing.”
“Maybe not, you never know.”
“I just hope things won’t be weird tomorrow. Are you still coming?”
I nodded, feeling slightly awkward. “If that’s okay. I haven’t told anyone about yours and Carter’s wedding.”
She put her mug down next to the sink. “It doesn’t matter if you tell your friends, I definitely don't expect a code of silence. I only need it to not get back to my family. The plan is I’ll tell them that the marriage was annulled in a couple of months, and they won’t care anyway.
There’s nothing in the details of the trust that says that would be a problem. ”
“They won’t be able to take the money back?”
“No. And there are no stipulations about what I can use it for either, and it includes the properties the trust bought which are my other two shops, and technically the business, so I’m in the clear.
Trust me, we’ve triple checked everything.
I’ve even had the legal documents prepared if there is any comeback from my family.
” She folded her arms. “I’m sorry for what this did to you and Carter. ”
“You don’t need to be.” I meant it. “That was on Carter, not you.”
She nodded. “But please don’t be mad at him. I wanted him to tell you about it, but I think he confused himself. Men.”
“I think we’ll be able to sort it out.” I hoped so. “We’ve been friends for so long.”
“So you already know each other, and you know each other’s pasts. That’s helpful, you know what baggage each other has already. No awkward surprises.”
“I’m not sure that’s ever guaranteed. Will you show me round the bookshop?” I put my mug next to hers and followed her out of the backroom into the shop.
We spent the next twenty minutes looking round, Laurie pointing out different authors and explaining who was there tomorrow and the other events on Sunday and Monday.
We were joined by one of new employees, a man in his early twenties with pink hair and more piercings than I could count, and more decoration came in the store, as well as a box of merchandise, including book bags that I immediately needed.
I left Silversmiths feeling more settled, straighter in my head about what was going on. The next thing I did was jump into our group chat – me, Erin, Harriet and Fallon.
Me: We need to catch up.