Chapter 25
When I arrive, Miranda is twirling around the romance section. Thankfully, the shop has not yet opened. ‘Morning, Nelly,’ she coos, stopping by the display table and stroking the spines of Oliver’s latest book. ‘He’s coming in today.’
‘I know.’
She dances over to the counter where I’m standing. Today, she’s dressed in a green vest and trousers, both adorned with a bold tropical plant print.
‘How’s life living with Oliver James?’
‘Okay.’
Her pencilled eyebrows rocket up her forehead. ‘Okay? Nelly, you are living with publishing’s hottest romance author, and you say he’s… okay.’
‘What do you want me to say?’
She leans in closer. ‘Have you seen him fresh from the shower yet? Maybe with a tiny towel wrapped around his waist?’
‘Miranda!’ I exclaim.
She giggles. ‘I know he’s a bit rough around the edges nowadays, but I think he still looks divine.’
‘How’s Frank?’
Her groan is loud and dramatic. ‘I think I might be invisible. My fashion stylist is shocked he still hasn’t said anything about my outfits.’
‘Maybe you need to change fashion stylists?’
She casts me a horrified look. ‘That young woman is worth every penny.’
‘Shall we open up?’ I ask, trying my best to distract her.
‘Of course.’ She giggles, before hurrying over to the doors.
After serving a customer and observing a vision about how the love for his girlfriend will end when he catches her in bed with his… twin brother, I suck on a boiled sweet and wait for the sounds of the bookshop to come back.
I hear a familiar voice. ‘Hello.’ It causes a fluttering in my chest and compels me to glance up from tidying up the pens and notepads on the till. Oliver is here and is standing in front of the counter.
His hair has been tamed, his stubble has been tidied, and the beard has been removed. He’s swapped his T-shirt and worn-out jeans for a fitted blue shirt and beige trousers. He looks almost polished.
Miranda spots Oliver and squeals. She rushes over to greet him. He smiles and gives her a huge hug. I turn away as seeing others hug is difficult for me.
‘How’s my favourite bookshop owner?’ he exclaims as they break apart. Wow – he knows how to light Miranda up. She casts him a coy look and twirls her brown hair around her finger. ‘All the better for you seeing you, Oliver James.’
Two young women in the romance section look in our direction. Oh, God, they must have radars for ears. I watch as they hurry over. ‘OMG, it’s Oliver James,’ cries one, nudging the other who’s rummaging inside her bag. ‘Where is my sodding phone?’
Miranda slips her hand through the crook of Oliver’s arm. ‘He’s better in the flesh – isn’t he, ladies?’
The two women gaze adoringly at him, like he’s the lead singer of a boy band.
‘Oliver, come and see your books,’ says Miranda, dragging him away.
After taking a step, he turns back and does something I was not expecting – he smiles at me and not at the two women. My heart performs a somersault.
Miranda’s playful squeals and exuberant laughter echo throughout the bookshop. I can’t believe Oliver’s jokes are that funny.
I try to ignore what’s happening in the romance section and get on with my work.
‘Hello again.’ I look up to see Mr Ellis.
He’s smiling at me. I haven’t even started hunting for his cookery book.
‘I’m still searching for your book, Mr Ellis.
’ It’s a lie because I don’t know what else to say to him, and I’m still unsure about whether a copy of his wife’s beloved recipe book will help him.
‘Ah – good. I was walking past the shop and thought I would pop in.’
After he walks away, I write down his name on a scrap of paper and slide it into the back pocket of my jeans.
‘Excuse me,’ says a woman. ‘My name’s Alice. I’ve moved into the cottage next door. I’ve only been living here a few weeks.’
‘I’m Nelly. Nice to meet you, Alice.’
Alice looks like she’s around my age. She has dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and almond-shaped brown eyes. She surveys the bookshop. ‘This is a beautiful place. Living next door to a bookshop is going to be terrible for my bank account, as I love books. Are you the owner?’
‘No, Miranda is the owner, and she’s busy. Can I help at all?’
‘Do you live locally?’
I nod. ‘Yes, I do. Why?’
She points to the plastic bag she’s carrying. ‘I found this balloon in my garden last night.’
‘Balloon?’ I think of Amber.
‘It’s in bits.’ Alice removes a piece of the balloon. ‘I think there must have been a photo on the front.’
I remember Amber telling me it had a photo of Kate’s face on it. ‘Yes, it had a photo of a local woman, Kate, who sadly passed away. Her family commemorate her every year with a special balloon.’
Alice touches a piece that looks like the photo’s corner. ‘That’s nice.’ She puts the piece back in the bag. ‘Kate’s balloon was stuck on a branch. I tried to free it, but it burst. It was then that I noticed a curled-up piece of paper, which must have been inside.’
She passes me a slip of pink paper.
To whoever finds my mum’s balloon, her name is Kate.
She passed away eighteen months ago, and my dad, Ben, needs a girlfriend.
He’s been miserable ever since Mum died, and as I am an adult (15 years old), plus the oldest daughter, I have decided to take control of this situation.
Dad is 39, kind, funny, always wins at Monopoly, likes books, and he’s grumpy in the mornings before coffee.
If you want to apply to be his girlfriend, please email me – AmberBright@.
You do need to like kids – he has three! Amber x
‘Do you know Amber?’
I nod. ‘Yes, I do, and I’m relieved you found this, as Amber confessed to putting this message into her mother’s birthday balloon the other day.’
‘Do you think I should give it back to her? It doesn’t feel right to put the balloon pieces in the bin.’
‘Amber comes in here a lot. I can keep it behind the till. Do you want me to watch out for her?’
Alice’s face lights up. ‘That would be great.’ She gestures to the message. ‘I love Monopoly, books, and I am grumpy in the mornings too. If only I were dating again…’
I find myself imagining what it would be like to play Monopoly with Oliver.
Those dark eyes and that dangerous smile of his would distract me from hoarding those little houses and hotels.
I glance over at him and see that he’s looking at me too.
He holds my gaze as Alice says, ‘I’ve had my heart broken too many times. I’ve vowed to remain single.’
Her words pull me out of my trance. I tear my eyes away from him.
What am I doing? Hasn’t my curse taught me that love is something that should be avoided at all costs?
I have also had my heart broken, and I am still glueing mine back together.
Sam’s face flashes in front of my eyes. I also still haven’t seen anything when I touch Oliver.
The light in Alice’s face has dimmed and she’s rubbing her chest. I give her a knowing nod. ‘Love never ends well.’
‘100 per cent agree,’ she says. ‘It’s not worth it.’
She’s staring at Amber’s message. I wait for her to speak again.
‘Do you know the family well?’ she eventually asks.
She might be wavering. I need to help her stay firm. Love only leads to heartbreak. ‘Yes, I do, and I knew Kate well. The kids are a handful, and he’s—’
She stops me. ‘I have heard enough. I’m going to stay single.’
Alice says goodbye after handing me the plastic bag. I watch her walk away and I tell myself that making sure she didn’t waver was the right thing to do.
‘Excuse me,’ says a female voice. The voice belongs to an older woman with wavy brown hair. Behind her are her three teenage children, all busy on their phones.
‘Do you have any books by the Spanish author, Miguel Diaz?’
‘I can have a look.’
The woman smiles. ‘I’m looking for a romance book he’s written where the Spanish male character tracks down his British female pen pal from when they were kids, and when they meet up, he realises she’s the love of his life.’
‘Oh, I see.’ I type his name into the laptop to see whether his books are in stock.
‘I can’t find his name on our database.’
Her face falls. ‘That’s a shame. Could you order one?’
I can see the book is on one of our distributor sites. ‘Yes, I could do that.’
She smiles, and I notice her cheeks are reddening. ‘Miguel and I used to be pen pals when we were younger. We were more than pen pals at one point.’
‘Mum,’ exclaims one of the teenage boys, ‘You promised us you wouldn’t be cringe.’
She turns to her son. ‘I am not being cringe.’ All three children look up from their screens and raise their eyebrows at her.
‘What’s all this talk about being cringe?’ jokes Oliver, coming to stand near the counter.
The woman blushes. ‘My Spanish pen pal has written a romance book about me, and I want to read it. I have another friend who is also Spanish, and she knows all about Miguel and me. Well, she read this book and has been insisting I get a copy. Miguel has mentioned in the acknowledgements that he still thinks about the girl from the UK with the big hair and blue eyes, who used to sing Spice Girls hits down the phone to him. That was me.’
Her three teenage children groan and look away. With a dreamy sigh, the woman leans on the counter and stares into the distance. ‘One day I will go to Spain to track him down. Miguel and I could be soulmates after twenty-five years apart.’
I let out a silent groan. This is yet another example of rational people making delusional choices when they get carried away by the promise of love.
I glance at Oliver, who looks captivated by the woman’s story.
‘I love this.’ He turns to me. ‘We must track down the book. Is Miguel not on social media?’
Her face falls. ‘He’s not on social media.’ She sighs. ‘I do worry that he could be happily married with kids over in Spain and I am wasting my time.’
Oliver shakes his head. ‘You must try, or you will regret it for the rest of your life.’
She nods. ‘I know all about regret. I told Miguel we would only ever be pen pals. That was the biggest mistake of my life. I went on to have three kids with my ex-husband, and throughout my marriage, I always wondered what would have happened if Miguel and I had made it work. Recently, I have been getting little signs. The place where he still lives, Frigiliana, came up on the TV the other night, and I have seen his teenage face in crowds.’
This is madness. I want to touch her and see how this love story with Miguel ends.
I could tell her to stop wasting her time, but Oliver is staring at me.
Those eyes of his are hypnotic. He leans in closer to me.
I can feel his warm breath on my neck. ‘Let’s help her, Nelly,’ he says softly.
‘She can prove to us that true love does exist.’
Words queue up on my tongue. The urge to tell him that true love is a myth is strong, but his intense stare is more powerful.
Before I can think about what I am doing, I am taking down her name, Juliet Armstrong, and promising her that I will find Miguel’s book.
She’s now emotional, and Oliver has offered to hug her. Her teenage children look horrified.
Once they leave the shop, Oliver tells me he has got some errands to do in town. ‘See you later, bed partner.’ My heartbeat accelerates.
Frank, Miranda’s partner, enters the bookshop. He comes to the till.
‘Nelly, where’s Miranda?’
Frank is the antithesis of Miranda. He’s a quiet man who seems to long for a peaceful existence and always wears gloomy attire. Miranda often remarks that her online fashion consultant is eager to transform Frank’s wardrobe.
‘She’s in the romance section.’
He drums his fingers on the counter. ‘I need to speak to her.’ I point in her direction, and he marches off.
I serve a few more customers. ‘Excuse me,’ says a man. ‘Your free Wi-Fi isn’t working.’
For goodness’ sake, what is Miranda paying for? This Wi-Fi is glitchy – like my curse. I ask him to give me two minutes as Miranda looks like she’s having a heated conversation with Frank in the romance section. I run out to the back and switch the Wi-Fi off and on again.
Once it’s back on, I give him a thumbs-up and go back to the till. I’m distracted by loud sobbing. Turning around, I gasp. Miranda is sitting behind the till.
‘Miranda,’ I gasp.
‘It’s Frank,’ she croaks. ‘He’s going to be a father in a few weeks, and before you ask, I am not pregnant.’