Chapter 4
Chapter Four
‘Are you sure it’s not going to rain? The sky looks rather ominous,’ I said, peering out of a porthole for the millionth time.
It was just over two weeks since I’d decided upon the Blind Date with a Book night, and May had turned to June, the new month bringing with it another batch of statements from the bank confirming that I needed to make the event happen sooner rather than later.
Focusing on the weather was distracting me from the superstitious fear that deciding to hold it on the thirteenth of the month would doom it from the start.
‘Stop fretting, there’s absolutely zero chance of it raining,’ said Flick, reaching across the table to take the sticky tape out of my hands before I ended up inadvertently binding my fingers together.
She started measuring a length of brown paper for the next book to be wrapped in.
‘Trust me, I’ve looked the forecast up on three different apps, plus I messaged that guy I matched with online who works at the Met Office. ’
My nerves settled a little. ‘Thanks. That was going above and beyond the call of friendship.’
She grinned. ‘I didn’t say I messaged him about the weather, but trust me when I say there was a warm front on the horizon by the end of our conversation.
’ Her exhale was practically a wolf whistle of appreciation.
I rolled my eyes, pretending to disapprove of her distraction.
‘Seriously though, it’s going to be a great night.
And if it does rain, who cares?’ she said.
I forced a smile while my internal panic ratcheted up another level.
If it rained, everyone would have to crowd into the cabin rather than mingling on deck or in the towpath garden as I’d planned, and they wouldn’t have the space to enjoy a relaxing browsing experience, so they wouldn’t buy any books which would completely defeat the object of the night.
‘You’ve nothing to worry about,’ Flick continued, blissfully ignorant of the concerns which weighed me down.
We’d been best friends for as long as I could remember, but memories of her giddy delight when I’d told her that I was finally opening the bookshop after years rabbiting on to her about the idea, had stopped me from confiding in her about just how bad my situation was.
Rationally I knew she’d be supportive and kind and would blame everyone but me for my problems, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her disappointment and her sympathy at my failure.
I so desperately wanted to be the successful person she and my Nana Rose believed I was.
As far as they were both concerned, the Blind Date with a Book night was for a bit of fun, as opposed to the crucial fundraiser I needed it to be.
I’d rather be isolated with my issues than feel the guilt of burdening my loved ones with them.
‘Haven’t you sold out anyway?’ Flick asked.
I checked the online booking system again.
‘There or thereabouts,’ I said, still not quite believing it was true.
For the first few days, it had looked like the Blind Date with a Book night was going to be just me and Hilda, but slowly and surely, after I’d put posters up around what felt like the entire city, the ticket sales had started to trickle in.
And then I’d made a half-jokey, half-serious video for the socials playing up my bookish matchmaking credentials, complete with a cheesy soundtrack, and had been thrilled when a boating influencer with tens of thousands more followers than I could ever dream of having, reposted it, saying he was booking a ticket.
The floodgates had opened and suddenly the Blind Date with a Book night was the hottest event in town.
‘Please say you’ve arranged a way of rigging the blind dates so that your bestest friend in the whole entire world…’
‘You mean Hilda?’ I teased.
Flick playfully pretended to throw a book at me. ‘So that your bestest human friend,’ she corrected, ‘can get the pick of the bunch?’
I frowned with mock severity at her. ‘The bookish fates are in charge this evening, you know that. Besides, what about Met Office man?’
‘He’s fun to banter with, but I’m not sure there’s much more going on than that. I’m merely keeping my options open,’ she said with a pout. ‘There has to be some advantage in me wrapping all these books up. Anyway, I refuse to believe that you aren’t going to put your witchy powers to good use.’
I laughed, passing another book across for her to wrap. ‘Being able to recommend books to people is hardly a supernatural talent,’ I said, although, secretly, sometimes it felt like that. ‘Much as I’d like to rig the system in your favour, there’s only so much I can do.’
I’d decided to keep my matching process as simple as possible.
I’d picked a selection of books from the shelves, more because I had two copies of each title, rather than for any other motivation.
They were all being wrapped individually in brown paper, with carefully considered clues on the labels to help people deduce the title.
Guests would choose a book from the pile, then I’d encourage them to mingle so they could help each other work out what they’d got and track down the person who had the identical book to them.
Once they thought they’d found that person, they could unwrap their parcels together to find out if they were right.
I was counting on them being so delighted at having acquired an excellent read and met their bookish perfect match that they’d decide to celebrate by buying dozens of extra books.
‘You never know, you might meet the love of your life,’ Flick said with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows, dutifully rolling out another ream of brown paper.
She was always on at me to put myself back out there again after my last relationship had ended in tears – mine, not his, sadly – but all my energy was going into my business.
The thought of finishing a hard day’s work then having to go and spend the evening making awkward small talk on a date was too much to contemplate.
Curling up in my pyjamas with a good book and Hilda snoozing at my feet always seemed like a much better option.
‘I will be in strictly bookseller mode tonight. I have no intention of taking part in the blind dating aspect of things. I’m perfectly content as one girl and her dog.’
‘There’s no harm in having a little fun while you’re busy trying to make everyone else happy, as always. Did you know that at least one in ten people meet their partners in the workplace? I’ve been researching it for a feature.’
Flick’s phone buzzed before I could respond. Hilda jumped up in surprise at the noise and knocked the stack of books onto the floor.
‘It’s alright, Hilda. It’s only Aunty Flick being extremely popular and in demand.’ I scratched her head reassuringly, and she soon settled back down.
Flick and I gathered up the fallen books, then she checked her phone screen and groaned.
‘Balls. Sadly, the guy I’m most in demand from is boss man Neil, and I’m afraid that message from him is my cue to disappear for a bit.
I’ve got to go and interview a woman about some bins.
Such is the glamorous life of a journalist.’ She pulled a face.
‘You love it really. Judging by the latest newsletter from the Oxford Boating Association, there’s nothing quite like rubbish to get people riled.’
‘Yup, the holy trinity of local news – bins, potholes, and charity challenges. They all keep the Oxford Gazette going. Maybe one day the editor will let me branch out from the council fodder so I can do one of the many much more interesting stories I’ve suggested,’ she said wistfully.
‘Anyway, enough of my blethering.’ She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.
‘Good luck, lovely, you’ve got this. I’ll see you later.
And if I’m not too distracted by all the hotties you’ve lined up for me, I’ll take a few snaps and see if I can pitch a nice fluffy feature about the night to Neil.
Local businesswoman does good kind of thing, he’ll love it. ’
‘Thanks, matey, you’re the best.’
After a final hug, Flick headed off to her interview, leaving me to my nervous preparations.
I finished wrapping and labelling the last books, then carried them to the table I’d set up in my narrow garden by the towpath.
I put out jugs of lemonade and some bowls of snacks, then stood back and surveyed the scene.
It wasn’t the most sophisticated of set-ups with the home-made bunting and basic refreshments, but hopefully the bookish would-be Romeos and Juliets would overlook that.
I couldn’t imagine a more romantic place to meet a life partner than here on the canal, but then again, I was biased.
I checked my watch. People should be arriving any moment now.
As if on cue, the evening sun finally broke through the clouds, bathing the Oxford Bookship in soft, golden light, and I experienced a burst of pride.
She’d never looked better, I told myself, trying not to stare too closely at the deck which, now that the light was shining on it, I realised was probably going to need revarnishing before winter.
I mentally added it to my list of things to worry about once I’d paid the mooring fees.
Boat maintenance was never ending, and that was something boaters like me had to accept.
I snapped a couple of pictures for the socials and then stood nervously by the table waiting for the wannabe daters to arrive.
‘Hello, am I too early for the Blind Date with a Book night?’
I jumped as a familiar-looking man clutching a camera appeared at my side, seemingly from nowhere. Hilda woofed in alarm. She seemed particularly jittery this evening, most likely picking up on my own nerves.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said with a dazzling smile. He held his hand out. ‘I’m Liam Crawford. I booked my ticket the other night.’