52
Aurelia was feeling bright and relaxed when she met Oliver and his parents for dinner that evening.
Julia, meanwhile, all too quickly chose to stay behind when given the option, and was happily tucked up at home with her copy of Emma and her favorite takeaway.
Aurelia had been right; Oliver’s parents loved seeing them both ahead of the wedding, as though they were getting a private audience with film stars before a premiere.
On the way home, Aurelia told Oliver how Julia thought she’d solved the mystery of why the characters had appeared for her, and how she was certain Julia wouldn’t be able to contain her excitement at getting to run it by Cuff that night.
But when they arrived home, Aurelia found Julia in a deep sleep in the guest room, her copy of Emma spread across her chest and the lights still on.
Aurelia marked her page, set the book on the bedside table, and turned out the lights—all without disturbing Julia.
She then closed the door and began tidying the remnants of Julia’s night at home: dinner dishes in the living room and the television still on, paused on a scene from Cranford.
“Is she asleep?” Oliver asked as he came back up to the flat after walking Biscuit.
“She is,” Aurelia said, nodding toward the guest room. “Fell asleep reading Emma.”
“Feeling pleased with yourself?” he asked with a smile.
“Very. Julia started her night with a Cranford adaptation and finished with a book.” She dried her hands on a tea towel and reached out to kiss him. “I’m a very good influence on the youth.”
He kissed her back and then hugged her before pulling away to look at her as he asked, “What if we go down tonight, me behind the door and you in the shop, and we talk to the characters together—with you translating for me?”
Aurelia scanned his face, looking for a sign of reluctance, but saw only his genuine willingness to have another go at sharing this part of her life.
“Alright, let’s do it. If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” he insisted.
They ran the clock down for the next hour and then, at a few minutes before midnight, they walked down to the mezzanine together.
“You might not want to stick it out until dawn,” Aurelia suggested as they looked across the empty shop.
“Whenever you’re ready, we can ask if the characters want to stay in the shop or go back to their books.
Then I can either come back up and join you, or you can come through the door to send them home. ”
Oliver nodded, then walked into the stairwell and turned, looking back at her. Aurelia leaned in to kiss him and then stepped away.
“This feels odd, leaving you here,” she said with a frown.
“We might not be in the same room for the next few hours, but I’ll be right here.”
“And I’ll be right here.”
He reached forward to squeeze her hand before taking the door handle. He smiled, then pulled the door closed between them.
Aurelia had brought two chairs up to the mezzanine and the characters took turns sitting with her, answering Oliver’s questions as she translated for him, while the others chatted amongst themselves.
By two o’clock in the morning, he suggested they call it a night, and Aurelia didn’t blame him since she knew he must be uncomfortable stuck in the stairwell.
The characters decided to return to their books rather than spend the rest of the night in the shop on their own, so Aurelia brought the chairs back downstairs, said goodnight to everyone, and then stepped outside.
It felt kinder, somehow, than asking Oliver to open the door and know the characters had vanished because of him.
After squinting through the blinds to confirm they’d disappeared into their books, Aurelia walked back inside, locked the door, and headed up the spiral staircase.
“Have you gone up to bed?” she called around the shop, wondering if she’d missed him.
“I’m here,” he said from the other side of the door. It sounded like his voice was coming from the bottom of the stairwell, as though he were still sitting on the floor.
Aurelia ran her hand along the door and then slid down, her back resting against it as she drew her knees to her chest. She could feel Oliver’s weight pushing against the other side and knew he must be sitting back-to-back with her.
“Was it too much?” she asked through the door.
“No, I liked talking to them. Sergeant Cuff is a real character. I mean—you know what I mean.”
They both laughed softly before growing quiet again.
“You should get to see them. You love books as much as I do. Even if you don’t love the classics,” Aurelia teased him gently.
The pressure against the door shifted and she heard him standing, then she got up and stepped aside as he opened it.
Oliver pulled her into a hug, then asked, “Could I pick the books the next time you swap them out?”
“Would you want to?” Aurelia asked excitedly.
“Yeah, I think I would.”
“You could put them on the table yourself—maybe then the characters that appear would be there just for you.”
“Do you think that would work?”
“It’s worth a try.”
“I might put out a Dickens novel,” he said as he led the way upstairs.
“Ooh, which one? What about Our Mutual Friend? I haven’t tried that one yet.”
“I thought I got to pick?” he protested, frowning playfully.
“You do! Of course you do. But as a bookseller, it’s my job to make suggestions. There are so many to choose from… This is going to be fun!”
She lowered her voice as they passed the guest room and headed into their bedroom, but she didn’t stop offering up ideas until they were in bed and Oliver silenced her with a kiss.