Chapter Fourteen
Austen back in the Bookshop
A young woman bounded into the Borrow-A-Bookshop in a burst of colour, announcing she was here for the children’s Poetry Time session. Annie had forgotten all about it until that very second.
‘Can you be bothered with another volunteer sticking their beak in?’ the woman said in a Manchester accent, holding the door open for yet more people behind her. In followed a little girl of no more than seven or eight, and another woman, also all smiles.
‘You’re the new Borrower,’ the little girl informed Annie. ‘I was a Borrower too, years ago, when I was just a baby .’ She said the word with evident disdain for all babies. ‘My name is Radia Pearl Foley.’
‘Got it!’ Annie said with delight. ‘And I am Annie Luna. Who’ve you brought with you, Radia Pearl?’
‘That’s Austen,’ she replied, pointing to the poetry session woman with the bundles of paper under her arm wearing a berry-pink puffa coat and big plasticky eyeglasses. Radia pointed in the face of the second woman, darker, wilder, and dressed in red dungarees and combat boots. ‘That’s Auntie Patti. You should just call her Patti, though.’
Through smiles indulgently acknowledging the precociousness of the little girl, everyone nodded their greetings and Austen went about setting up for the poetry session that had been her own especial responsibility on the volunteers’ rota for the last eighteen months, except when she was visiting her parents and leading writing workshops in her native Manchester.
‘So, do I do anything?’ Annie asked, remembering that the little shop she’d come to think of as her own little sanctuary was still very much a co-op and she was, in fact, just passing through.
‘ You can make the strawberry squash,’ Radia told her.
‘All right, bossy boots,’ her aunt intervened. ‘Why don’t you make the squash, Rads?’
Patti parted with a grocery bag of, it turned out, all kinds of British biscuits, most of which Annie hadn’t seen in nine years. ‘But usually someone does put the kiddies’ biscuits on a plate,’ she told Annie.
Radia was making a dash for the cafe, so Annie followed her in search of a plate.
The shop had fallen completely quiet now that it was almost four. Thankfully, Annie had easily managed both the cafe and bookselling by herself as Harri still hadn’t returned from his search for firewood.
He’d messaged a while ago to say he felt like some ‘alone time’. She’d only really minded his absence when the cappuccino orders were coming thick and fast around two and she’d been forced to tell a teensy lie about the machine being broken and how she could only offer teas and hot cocoa.
Still, it was getting late now. Where was he hiding himself? Before sorting the biscuits, she checked her phone again and found something new there that made her gasp: a blue ‘thumbs up’ on the photo she’d sent to Cassidy, the one of her and Harri turning the shop sign on their first morning here.
This, Annie had excitedly concluded, was a breakthrough. She’d immediately messaged back with a tumble of words.
Cass!! R u OK? Can you talk? I’m still in England. Msg me any time. I
miss you!!
There’d been no reply but her message was marked as ‘read’. She’d taken this as encouragement and not a further knockback. Cassidy was out there making contact in her own way. She only worried what it meant for her safety. Was Deadbeat Dave still hanging around watching her every move?
‘You’re mixing up the chocolate fingers with the Jammie Dodgers!’ a small voice shrieked, pulling her focus back to her job.
‘Shouldn’t I be?’ Annie asked the solemn little girl.
She was making a big mess of her own at the sink with a jug of sticky pink syrup, and the cold-water faucet was running way too hard and splashing all over the counter. ‘Show me how you do it, then.’ Annie turned down the water pressure then let Radia take over biscuit-arranging duties.
When they presented themselves back in the shop with the drinks and plastic beakers on the tray that Radia had known the precise location of, Annie heard Patti excusing herself, saying she had to get to the Big House for the test run of the outdoor cinema projector. Jasper Gold was waiting for her, she said. Patti had kissed Austen on the mouth in such a way that made Annie’s heart heavy. Was literally everyone in Clove Lore loved up?
‘You guys make me feel more single than ever,’ she said, making the women beam.
Patti blew a kiss to Radia and left, telling the little girl that Austen would be taking her home after poetry time.
Austen was saying something about being all set up, just waiting on the kids to turn up, when Radia spoke over her. ‘We live in the cottage with the red door, Down-along.’
‘All of you?’ Annie replied.
‘Yeah, with Mum and Monty,’ the girl said, taking a couple of Party Ring biscuits, just to test them out. ‘And Austen sleeps over when she’s not in Manchester.’
‘That’s nice.’ Annie reached for a chocolate finger since they seemed to be fair game. ‘I love these. These and Creme Eggs,’ she said conspiratorially.
Radia wasn’t much interested. ‘Mum and Monty are having a baby,’ the little girl put in.
Annie had never heard the word ‘baby’ infused with so much horror. She glanced at Austen who confirmed it was true. ‘Yep, and she’s not quite adjusted to the idea yet, have you, Rads?’ Austen’s accent was so different to Harri’s, thought Annie. She sounded more like someone from Coronation Street (one of her old favourites back in Aber), than anyone she’d ever met. It truly was a marvellous voice.
‘Ah!’ Annie said, crouching down beside the child. ‘I don’t have brothers or sisters. I always wanted one. You might find this baby’s kinda fun to have around… eventually.’
The look on Radia’s face said she’d heard all this before and it was not helping.
‘Maybe not.’ Annie stood again and bit into her biscuit.
‘You got the pens and paper ready, Rads?’ Austen asked, and this pulled the little girl out of her anti-baby funk, setting her to work.
Austen had finished arranging the chairs and beanbags into a little circle near the stairs and came to stand beside Annie, grabbing a Jammie Dodger as she went. ‘Are you staying for the session?’
‘I don’t know. What do folks usually do?’ said Annie.
‘Depends. Some Borrowers stay and man the tills in case customers come in; some lock up, take the opportunity to do some sightseeing?’
They both turned to look out at the dark afternoon outdoors.
‘Some go to the pub?’ Austen added with a light laugh.
Annie weighed up leaving to hunt down Harri in the dark or staying here in case he got back and found her gone leaving a shop full of kids. ‘Does anyone stay and take part in the session?’ she asked.
‘Are you wanting to help?’ Radia interrupted from her spot on the green armchair by the fire. ‘Because I’m the helper, actually.’
‘Oh, no, I uh, I thought I might participate?’ Annie hazarded. ‘I love poetry, you know?’
Radia seemed to consider this, giving Annie a long look. ‘All right then. You can sit…’ she looked around, before purposely choosing the beanbag next to her chair, ‘…down there.’
‘Rads!’ Austen said in a warning voice just as a family arrived with two hollering kids.
‘It’s okay,’ Annie said. ‘I worked… I mean, I work with kids, in a school library, so I get it. Kinda.’ She may be comfortable around middle graders, but these little kids were a whole different crowd.
Annie took her place beside Radia who graciously selected a marker pen for her and a sheet of paper, and she watched in wonder as the little girl directed all the new arrivals to their seats, making sure the mother with the baby asleep in a sling sat at the farthest point away from her. ‘Babies stay over there,’ Radia said with a glower.
Soon there were local kids sprawling across the other beanbag, or perching two-per-chair. Some were sitting cross-legged on the floor, munching biscuits and making crumbs all over the place. Two cups of squash had been upset over the floor by the time Austen announced the session was about to start and Radia had twice, like a little martyr plagued by silly children, tutted all the way to where the mop was kept.
‘Who’s ready to write some poetry?’ Austen asked. ‘Today’s theme is friendship.’
Annie checked her phone for notifications, and finding none, switched it to airplane mode and, with Radia eyeing her primly because phones were not allowed , slipped it into her pocket.
‘There’s a saying about friends,’ Austen said, ‘which is going to inspire today’s session. It goes, Friends come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime . Can anybody help us understand what that means?’
Radia’s hand shot straight up.
‘Harri!’
When had Paisley last said his name with this much affection? Harri could have sworn she really was glad he’d called.
‘Hi,’ he said, cupping his hands around his phone to protect their conversation from the blustery wind coming in off the water. ‘Is… is this a bad time?’
‘Of course not. Are you okay?’ She sounded girlish, like she had when they first met.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, a strangled laugh working its way out. He didn’t know why he laughed. Nothing felt funny. ‘It’s so nice to hear your voice.’
Paisley laughed too; a bubbling, slightly tearful sound. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘Oh my god, me too! So much.’ The words came easily.
‘Where are you?’ she asked.
He looked up at the dripping fern-covered cliff wall. ‘I’m on a beach.’ It sounded as odd as if he’d told her he was on the moon. He was so very far away from home and its familiarity and routines. ‘What day is it?’ he asked.
Paisley didn’t seem to think this was a strange question. ‘Wednesday,’ she said simply.
‘Your half day?’ he said. ‘Are you at home?’ Home . As though he still lived there too.
‘Actually, I’m in Cardiff. I called in sick and I took myself shopping.’
‘You did?’ Harri had never known Paisley take a sick day in all the time he’d known her.
Her voice shook. ‘I earned it, I reckon.’ Her accent, so familiar, and so gentle, soothed him. When had they last talked like this? Without the tension and cool civility?
He rubbed at his chest where he’d felt that arrow strike.
‘Got my hair done,’ she said. ‘And I went to Wagamama’s.’
‘On your own?’
There was silence on the line. The waves broke on the shore and retreated all the way out again, dragging a hundred thousand tumbling pebbles, dragging the breath from Harri’s lungs. He shouldn’t have asked that.
‘Was there something you needed?’ she said.
Harri didn’t know why he’d called.
‘Are you all right, Harri? Is Annie there?’
Now she sounded like the Paisley of recent months. It woke him fully. ‘She’s at the bookshop. Listen, Paisley, can I ask you something?’
‘All right.’ There was caution in her voice.
‘Did we just… fall out of love?’
This brought a small gasp, and silence again.
He wasn’t going to chicken out now. ‘It’s just, I don’t really know what happened, and now I’m wondering if…’ He had no idea what the right words were.
‘If we got to the end of us?’ Paisley said.
‘Right. Did we?’ His throat thickened with the need to sob.
He let her think, listened to her breathing. Eventually she said, ‘I think so.’ She sounded so sad.
‘Do you think we could have stopped it? Could I have stopped it?’ he asked, fearing the answer.
‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘Actually… no. Probably not.’ He hadn’t expected her to laugh at this, but she did, and it sounded good and wry, like they were moving past something.
‘I wasn’t the best…’ Harri began, but she cut him off.
‘We both did our best. We were kids.’
‘Nearly thirty-year-old kids?’
‘Naw, we were doing our best with what we had.’ There was no mistaking she was crying now and trying to keep it out of her voice.
‘Paisley,’ he began, wondering where his tongue was taking him. ‘I don’t think I’ll be coming home, to Port Talbot, I mean.’
‘You took most of your stuff,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think you were coming back.’
He let silence fall between them. The sky seemed bluer over his head. The air sharper. He pressed the phone closer to his ear. She was listening too, no need for words. It felt absolutely natural to be quiet together for a while. Harri realised his face was wet from tears. They stayed like that for a long time.
Eventually, Paisley asked if he’d let her hear the beach sounds, so he held out his phone to the shore.
After a while they said a few words about the weather. Her mum and dad were doing fine, thanks. She’d had her hair bobbed that day and he told her he was sure it suited her. She guessed he’d already had fish and chips and extra mushy peas, and he’d swallowed the lump in his throat.
‘Paise, did I waste your twenties?’ he said suddenly.
‘Not unless you think I wasted yours.’ She was so assured when she said this, it took away a little more of the dull arrow’s ache.
‘I need you to know, I was all in.’
There was silence on the line. A dart of panic went through him.
‘I know that,’ she said eventually, and it was emphatic. She must have understood he needed to hear it in her voice.
It wouldn’t hurt like this if he hadn’t been in love with her, if he hadn’t been all in. She wasn’t a distraction either, never second place to a dream of having Annie.
‘I was your number one person,’ she said, and he wanted to crouch down to the sand and cover his face in his hands.
‘Will you be okay?’ he asked her instead, knowing they couldn’t stay like this much longer.
It was starting to hurt in a new way now, the way it feels when love really is irrecoverably gone and you have to walk away for the very last time.
He knew she was nodding down the line. ‘Yep,’ she said at last. ‘I’m going to find out who I am on my own.’
‘Me too,’ Harri said.
‘I think you already know,’ she said with a new kind of arrow-like precision.
‘We’ll talk again, won’t we?’ he said.
Neither of them really believed it, but both let the lie settle between them for the sake of the last ten years and all they’d shared.
They both cried when Paisley at last hung up. Harri let the phone drop to his side and he scuffed his boots and skimmed stones on the beach for a long time as the dark afternoon drew in around him, thinking the whole time that he could only be true to himself, and fair to Paisley, if he resolved to be content to be alone. No more dates, no more sleeplessness, no more clinging to a humiliating hope that a teen crush would miraculously become an adult commitment. He willed the tiny part of himself he’d held in reserve for Annie Luna to dissolve. He wouldn’t hold on to guilt about failing Paisley any longer, but he also couldn’t carry on walking around with this tiny barb in his chest for Annie either.
His unburdened heart beat anew.
‘Jonas is my best, best friend,’ one of the children, Barney Burntisland, declared, only to be cut down by Radia telling him imaginary friends don’t count.
‘Who’s your best friend forever, then?’ Barney shot back, making Radia even crosser.
‘I’m friends with everybody in my class.’ It didn’t sound convincing to Annie’s expert ears, putting her in mind of some of her middle schoolers who couldn’t quite negotiate close friendships yet. They were the kids who drifted between groups, never quite bedding in. Radia, she suspected, was destined to spend a fair few lunch breaks and recesses hiding out in the school library. She knew the type. She’d been one herself, still was, even if everyone mistook her for an extrovert. She’d spent so long as a kid cultivating her convincing happy-go-lucky demeanour, most days even she believed it.
‘Let’s focus on the words, shall we?’ Austen said over the chatter.
Radia did a good show of modelling attentiveness for the other children, sitting bolt upright, eyes fixed on Austen, her felt pen poised. The others, all eight of them, ranging in ages from five to nine, and all pupils at the nearby primary school, fell in line.
‘Can anyone tell me what it means to have a very best friend?’
One of the blond Crocombe boys, brought today by their mother, the school’s headteacher, raised a tentative finger.
‘Yes, Charlie?’ asked Austen.
‘Somebody to play football with,’ he said.
‘And trade Pokémon cards?’ his older brother put in.
‘Nice! So someone you can play with, and someone you can share things with? Let’s write that down,’ Austen said, marking the words ‘share’ and ‘play’ on the flip pad she held facing the group.
‘Anyone else? What is a friend?’
The room was quiet until another child said, ‘A friend plays with you.’
‘We’ve already had that!’ complained Radia.
‘Any of the biggies know?’ Austen encouraged, lifting her eyes to the adults watching on.
The younger Mrs Crocombe and Monica Burntisland, one of her school’s teaching assistants, who’d been catching up with whispered conversation standing at the back, didn’t even notice her asking, so it fell to Annie to help out.
‘Um, how about… friends forgive each other?’ said Annie.
‘Ooh, good one!’ Austen enthused, writing the word ‘forgiveness’ on her pad.
This opened up a heated debate, ignited by Radia, on how you shouldn’t forgive anyone who picked on you or pushed you over, and the whole thing descended into a lot of noise and disagreement, until Laura Crocombe was forced to break off from talking with her friend and intervene.
The children, chastened by the shame of their headteacher telling them off outside of school – and when she was wearing her out-of-school clothes like she was a real person – brought a new type of focus, and they sat with fingers on their lips for as long as they remembered to and everyone was suggesting ‘good friendship vocabulary’ at Austen’s urging.
‘Caring?’ the oldest of the bunch said.
‘Telling jokes,’ said the eldest Crocombe boy.
‘Invites to birthday parties,’ another suggested, and so on, until Austen’s paper was covered in ink.
‘Let’s use some of these good friendship words to craft our own poems, okay?’
‘Like, how?’ said the littlest Burntisland.
‘Well, like this one.’ Austen pulled a notebook from her pocket. ‘This is one of my own poems and it’s going to be printed in a magazine next month!’
This prompted a lot of impressed oohing and a smattering of applause from the kids and Radia loudly announcing, ‘She wrote it for my Auntie Patti, you know?’
‘Okay, thank you, Rads. Anyway, it goes like this.’ Austen cleared her throat and leaned closer to her attentive audience.
‘Before you, I didn’t know the sky was blue.
Before me, you told me, you’d been lonely.
Before us, there was a long waiting.
Now there is summer in winter and only the briefest, passing,
scudding clouds.
Lonely no longer.
Forever after, us
Beneath a blue sky.’
Austen closed the book with a smile and looked around the group. Annie clapped, but the children didn’t move.
‘Scudding?’ asked the smallest Crocombe.
‘Here we go,’ said Radia, doing a dramatic eye roll. ‘You’ve set him off again.’
‘Scud, scud, scudding,’ the boy went.
‘Very good, Charlie, well done! Take that energy and write your very own poem. You’ve got five minutes, starting…’ Austen looked at her bare wrist. ‘Now!’
The swiffing sounds of felt pens moving over paper overtook everything. All their little heads were bent over, tongues jutting from the corners of mouths in concentration.
‘You too, Ms Luna,’ said Austen.
‘Oh! Right, of course.’ Annie, who’d been enjoying the sweet ease of the afternoon and the familiar feeling of being surrounded by young people again, jolted her eyes to her blank pad. ‘Write something about friendship, yeah? Sure, okay.’
Radia shushed her.
There was only one thing Annie could think of writing. It welled up in her and before she’d even got the first line down her eyes were wet with tears and she’d forgotten where she was entirely.
Cassidy, I miss you.
Why aren’t we talking?
I know I was rough on you, telling you how I felt about Dave, and when you’d just broken up and all, but I never imagined you’d be getting back with him. But we don’t have to talk about Dave because no matter what, I’ll always like you and approve of you.
Being in England makes me realise how far apart we are and the missing you is only getting worse now I’m here.
So, here’s my promise to you. Even if you can’t forgive me, even if you’re with Dave for life, I will still be your friend, even if you can’t reach out to me. If you’re ever ready to talk, I’ll be waiting because we’re best, best friends forever.
Please hold on to the part of yourself that loved me because I can’t bear to lose you.
Now I’ve got to find a way to mail this to you. I hope you can find a way to reply. X
When Annie lifted her head, tears were tracking down her cheeks and she had to wipe them hastily away with her sleeves.
The kids had already finished their poems and were sharing them. It took her a long while to zone in on them again and when she did she realised she felt lighter, somehow, and she had a new tiny flame of hope inside her.
‘Friends scudding stones on the scudding shore,’ Charlie was reciting, much to the delight of Austen.
His poem went on for some time, but Austen never lost her genuine smile, and she led the group in applause when he sat down with a proud, gappy grin.
‘Nice one, Charlie! And you’ve added a new word to your vocabulary! Who’s next?’
Radia had waited impatiently to read hers to the group and she stood to do it.
‘A little girl went around the world and now she goes to school,’ it began, but at that moment, Annie’s attention was pulled to the opening door and Harri stepping inside, his hood up, bringing the cold of the dark afternoon inside with him.
Annie was on her feet to meet him. ‘Excuse us,’ she told the group and walked with him into the empty cafe.
‘What happened to you?’ she said, still holding on to her letter.
‘Sorry about that. I was on the beach.’
‘O-kay?’ she said, dragging out the word. There was more to it than that. He seemed wired and tired, like he’d been awake for days.
‘And I spoke to Paisley.’ He stood like he was fixed to the stone floor.
‘And?’
‘And it was good,’ he said. ‘And a bit sad, but mostly good.’
Annie nodded, not sure what he was telling her. ‘You guys are… friends again?’
‘I think so, maybe. Something like that.’
There was something different about him. Before he’d been strung out; now he was worn out.
‘Oh, Harri, come here.’ Her heart swelled for him and she pulled him into a hug. ‘Well done for speaking with her. That can’t have been easy.’ He gripped the backs of her arms as she held him, his head resting heavily on her shoulder like he’d had too much to drink. He hadn’t, she was certain. Harri was just weary.
‘You need some cherishing,’ she told him.
In the next room, the kids were noisily getting into their coats, chairs were being scraped across the floor, mothers were issuing instructions, and someone else had knocked over another cup of squash. Harri didn’t seem to register any of it.
‘Cherishing?’ he said, drawing back to look at her.
‘Yep, come on. We’ll get these guys out, lock the doors, and order takeout. There’s a TV in my room, let’s see what the reception’s like. Reckon we’ll pick up the BBC out here? Maybe Happy Valley is streaming on demand?’
‘Should be,’ Harri said, thawing.
‘The Great British Bake Off , after? Then Homes Under the Hammer ?’
He smiled at this, remembering their favourite shows from a decade ago. ‘Oh, I stopped at the shops,’ he said, remembering himself. ‘Got us these,’ and from his coat pocket he produced the box.
Annie’s heart lifted at the sight of the Cadbury Creme Eggs.
‘Five pack, since it’s been a tough day,’ he said.
She hugged him again.
‘Did you happen to pass a post office in Clove Lore?’ she said when he drew back to look at the paper crumpled between them.
‘You’ve got something to post?’ said Austen at the cafe door. ‘I can take it, if you like? Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.’
Why did everyone in Clove Lore always think they were interrupting something between them?
There followed a lot of activity. Annie left Harri in the cafe with instructions to call the Siren’s Tail and order the scampi and chips with extra mushy peas for her, and she made her way with Austen into the shop, now almost emptied of families.
She took a Valentine’s card from the display and folded her letter inside, inscribing the card with Cassidy’s name and the words, ‘I’m here.’ She wrote the familiar Amarillo address on the envelope and handed it to Austen, who insisted she didn’t want any money for postage, it was her pleasure, and off she went with Radia buttoned up in her winter coat.
‘See you next week, same time!’ Austen said cheerily as she and the yawning Radia left.
Annie bolted the shop door behind them, deciding to leave the tidying up for tomorrow. She had a friend to comfort right this second and a cosy evening ahead.
‘Pop the kettle on, luvvie,’ she called to Harri in her worst Welsh accent, and he laughed hard and shook his head, hanging up after his call to the pub.
‘Dinner’s on its way,’ he said. ‘Time for PJs and a brew?’
‘Definitely!’
With that, the two friends settled back into their easy old patterns learned years ago.
Annie didn’t know the time when she woke, but the building was still shrouded in winter darkness and all was quiet, except for Harri’s steps on the stairs. He must have woken her coming out of the bathroom.
She listened to his feet padding down the spiral stairs as slowly as he could. He was trying not to disturb her.
It had been a perfect evening of good food and easy conversation during the ad breaks, propped up on pillows on Annie’s bed.
At eleven they’d been hardly able to stay awake and she was vaguely aware of the yawning Harri turning off the TV and tucking the duvet over her before making his way to his own room. Blissful, full-bellied sleep had settled over her, but now she couldn’t help pushing the covers back.
Harri hadn’t talked much more about his disappearance, other than saying he and Paisley had, ‘sorted some stuff out’. She’d been happy to see him looking relieved, somehow freed up and more relaxed than he’d been since their arrival in Clove Lore, but she couldn’t help the twinge of regret either.
Was he getting back with Paisley? Just like Cassidy had reunited with Deadbeat Dave? She couldn’t pry and she couldn’t make her true feelings felt. She’d learned that the hard way with Cassidy. In her letter she’d said nothing of her feelings about Dave, about how she feared he was controlling her, making her think things not in her nature, turning her against the people who loved her best. If she was going to reconnect with her friend, she wouldn’t achieve it by badmouthing the man who was still under her skin. So, she’d chosen to write about the preciousness of their friendship instead. She hoped it would work.
She was learning to hold back. This was progress. If she could speak her mind to Harri she’d tell him to take his time, to enjoy being single for a while, that loneliness was only natural after so long in a relationship, but if he just let things settle, he’d be happier. Rushing back to Paisley would be a mistake.
She couldn’t say any of it. But she could at least check in on her friend now. Why was he up in the middle of the night? She tiptoed to the top of the stairs.
Harri wasn’t going back into his room. He was making his way across the shop floor barefoot in the dark.
Annie didn’t understand why she did it, but she impulsively crouched unseen at the top of the stairs, spying on him through the bars.
He switched one lamp on beside the display table. What was he doing?
She shifted for a better view then wished she hadn’t seen him flicking through the Valentine’s cards. He pulled one out, turning it in his hands for a long moment. She saw him make to put it back, hesitate, then change his mind.
Then he was opening it, writing something inside, enclosing it in its envelope, running his tongue over the glue. Suddenly, as if wary of her presence, his eyes darted to the stairs and she drew herself back into the shadows, holding her breath.
What on earth was she doing, acting crazy? But she couldn’t help looking once more as Harri, satisfied he really was alone, flicked out the light and carried his Valentine’s card off to his bedroom.
She sat, clasping her knees to her chest at the top of the stairs for a long time.
He’d been writing to Paisley. After their talk today, he’d been lured back in. He loved her, after all. Of course they were reuniting. Wasn’t Harri just the sort who couldn’t miss Valentine’s Day? Would this be his and Paisley’s tenth?
There was always the possibility, a hopeful part of her brain suggested, that he’d simply been feeling sentimental, and he was sending Paisley a friendly token of his affection, for old time’s sake.
Whatever was going on in his heart, Annie was astounded to realise how much she hoped that, come Valentine’s morning, Harri would be giving that card not to Paisley, but to her.
The realisation was enough to send her straight back to bed in contrition where she scolded herself for a long time.
It was Clove Lore that was responsible, and this bookshop. Being in England in the slowest days of winter, being by the rugged coast, and around Valentine’s Day too. None of it was helping. Throw in her tendency towards Anglophile romanticism and she was way too susceptible to silly daydreams.
She had to fight back. Get a grip again.
She could get through it, she reasoned as she lay in bed.
There were only nine full days of their holiday left and, so long as they avoided romantic moments, beautiful places, alcohol, and anything remotely cosy, she’d get through it, safe and sound.
Eventually she slept, finally back in control of her over-active imagination and believing herself immune once more to those stupid, inconvenient things she’d briefly felt for Harri long ago.