Chapter Thirty-five
One week later
The first thing Yumi did after I gave her permission to rearrange the shelves was to move the horror section in next to the children’s fiction.
For a half a day I had to explain to customers why there were masks, missing limbs and a varied assortment of undead people side by side with the picture books.
‘I thought it would be funny,’ Yumi said solemnly.
‘And also nightmare-inducing?’
‘Building resilience in the younger generation,’ she replied.
She waited a whole half a day before she showed me the section at the back of the shop that she’d cleared, suggesting we turn it into a book cave for kids, complete with torches.
‘You rearranged an entire bookshelf as a joke?’
Yumi shrugged. ‘I wanted to lower your expectations before I showed you the cave,’ she said. ‘Besides, when you agree to it, I’ll have to move the children’s books anyway. The look on your face was definitely worth it.’
The book cave is already a huge hit, and the rest of the changes Yumi’s made since have been small and practical. And while I feel a small pang every time something in the shop changes, there’s also been something . . . hopeful about the process.
Every day for the past week, we’ve drunk coffee at the worn table at the back of the bookshop and she’s taken me through her spreadsheet of ideas – the one she apparently started six months ago.
There’s no way we’ll be able to implement everything, but talking about all the possibilities feels so damn nice.
So nice, that it’s not until the end of each day that I check my phone. It’s been almost a week since I messaged Declan, and he still hasn’t messaged me back.
I’ve spoken to Bri, and to Jed, both of who called to check on Gran. Neither of them mentions Declan, and I feel the absence like a scar.
In a moment of weakness, I message Tessa Dalton, who tells me that he’s moving in a week.
‘Come on,’ says Yumi when I’m still sitting at the table staring blankly at the papers, and I look up to see that the store officially closed an hour ago. Yumi catches the look. ‘Don’t worry, your master apprentice has it covered.’
‘What are you still doing here?’
‘It’s Knit, Stitch and Yarn night,’ Yumi says, like it’s obvious.
‘I am not going to Knit, Stitch and Yarn. I have to get up early tomorrow to visit Gran.’
They moved her back to Glenhaven today, which meant I didn’t see her. And while I don’t feel like I need to run the changes we’re making to the shop by her, I just . . . I want to spend time with her. To take her books, even if she can’t read them.
Plus, my plans for the evening basically consist of waiting by my phone for Declan to not message me back.
Yumi, though, is having none of it.
‘You are young, and vibrant, and you cannot spend the evening feeling sorry for yourself at home,’ she says. ‘Besides, you promised Ruth,’ she adds with a pointed look, and it’s the thought of letting Ruth down that gets me over the line.
‘Fine,’ I tell her. ‘But you know it’s mostly just a bunch of elderly people sitting around talking and pretending to knit?’
I feel disloyal even saying the words, but it’s a last-ditch attempt and I’m feeling a little desperate.
‘Perfect,’ says Yumi happily. She wraps a scarf round her neck – a bright blue and yellow creation that I’ve never seen before – then picks up what I think might actually be a giant knitting bag, and marches out of the bookshop.
I pull the door closed and lock it, and I’m about to take my phone out of my pocket – just to check – but Yumi turns round to look at me, as though she’s got some sort of sixth sense.
She waits until I catch up with her, then raps smartly on the door of the antique shop. A second later, a warm, smiling Ruth opens the door.
‘I love your scarf,’ she tells Yumi.
‘Thanks!’ says Yumi. She wraps her arms round Ruth in a massive hug, then points a finger. ‘Are the knitters down that way?’ she asks.
‘They are,’ says Ruth, and Yumi strides off down to the back of the shop.
Ruth watches me through her blue-rimmed glasses. ‘I’m glad you came tonight,’ she says, and I manage a smile.
‘Thanks, Ruth,’ I say. ‘For everything.’
She puts a hand on my shoulder and I rest mine briefly on top of it. She doesn’t mention the day in the hospital, and neither do I, but there’s something different in the air between us now. An understanding.
Yumi’s already set up at the back of the shop by the time we get there, plonking herself between Diane and Frank.
Like she knows that’s where the fireworks will happen.
Min is on the other side of Frank, and Sofia is across the table next to Alistair.
Everyone waves hello except Susan, knitting steadily alone down one end of the table.
Alistair beams, then shuffles over to make room for me to sink gratefully down beside him.
‘How have you been?’ he asks softly. ‘I heard your gran had a fall; I’ve been meaning to get up to the hospital to visit.’
‘They just transferred her back to Glenhaven today.’
Across the table Yumi pulls out – I kid you not – five balls of wool, and starts bartering trades with Frank.
‘And Ruth mentioned that you were on tour with that young whippersnapper who was in here last time?’ says Alistair, picking up his six rows of stitching.
The thought of Declan has me swallowing a lump in my throat, and I’m working out how to answer Alistair’s question when there’s a knock at the door.
My entire body goes numb.
It’s no one important , I tell myself, trying not to count the people in the room, to notice that everyone is already here. It’s probably just someone who couldn’t make it last month.
But my heart doesn’t give a damn. It pounds against my chest, and I’m vaguely aware of Alistair looking curiously at me, but I can’t keep my eyes away from the back of the bookshelf, waiting to see who Ruth will bring round the corner.
Still, nothing prepares me for the jolt that snaps through me at the sight of his messy black hair and the green eyes that scan the group as though they’re looking for someone.
They stop when they catch on me, and it’s not even been a week since I’ve seen him, but every part of my body is aching to run towards him, to press my face into his chest and to tell him that I’m sorry.
That I loved his book. That I don’t care that he used to date Tessa, or that he didn’t tell me because he’s private, and I know that.
That I don’t even care that he didn’t tell me he was moving.
That I don’t like it, but I understand. That I think maybe we could make things work, if we really wanted to.
But I don’t do any of those things, because, apparently, I’m frozen in my chair.
‘It’s Clarrie’s fellow!’ says Sofia in a voice I think is meant to be a whisper.
‘Declan freaking Archer!’ says Yumi with delight. Then, ‘Knit, Stitch and Yarn is just as good as I thought it would be.’
Declan’s eyes don’t leave mine, and he takes a step forward. My heart skips, and I finally manage to unfreeze, but just as I’m about to push to my feet, someone else beats me to it.
Susan marches out from her place at the end of the table, and it is the first time that I’ve ever seen her upright.
What she lacks in height, she makes up for in strength and enthusiasm, and Declan doesn’t get a chance to do much more than blink as she begins shepherding him towards the seat beside hers.
Then she reaches up and pushes on his shoulder until he sits. She pulls out her piece of string and starts measuring his head, as though she is totally unaware of the tense silence that’s descended over the group.
Declan’s eyes are fixed straight ahead, but I can’t take mine off him. I can feel everyone watching us, waiting to see what happens. I want to go to him, but I don’t know how he’ll react. And I don’t want to make him uncomfortable in a group of almost-strangers.
‘You’re staring a little bit,’ Alistair whispers to me out of the corner of his mouth, and I manage to yank my attention back to him. Then, more loudly, he says across the table. ‘Yumi, did you say it was?’
Yumi grins at him, her eyes bright.
‘Yumi, I wonder, do you have any red wool to—’
‘I don’t pity you.’ Declan’s hoarse voice cuts through Alistair’s query, and the entire group snaps quiet again.
He turns to look at me, ignoring Susan’s tugs on his head until she finally gives up and starts measuring him where he is.
‘What?’ I whisper, but it’s so silent in the shop that he hears me anyway.
‘You said that you don’t want my pity,’ he says. ‘And I don’t. But I don’t want us to be a pause from reality, either.’
Even Susan has stopped what she’s doing now, and out of the corner of my eye I’m aware that everyone is looking back and forth between the two of us, but I can only see him. His green eyes, bright on mine.
‘I want to talk to you and kiss you and argue with you and drive with you and I want us to build whatever we’re doing together. I want to date you, Clarrie.’
‘I thought he didn’t date,’ whispers Diane.
‘Sounds like a bit more than dating,’ grumbles Fred, and I choke on a laugh.
‘Fine,’ says Declan mildly, like he’s not bothered that this is all happening in a room full of people. ‘I want to more than date you, Clarence Brooks.’
It feels like we’re on the edge of a moment. Like what happens next might somehow determine the rest of my life. And I don’t know nearly as much as I’d like about Declan Archer, but I know that, somehow, we can make this work.
‘I spoke to Tessa,’ I say.
Declan’s eyes spark, and I swallow the lump in my throat, then stand.
‘I’m sorry for accusing you of telling her about the shop. I’m sorry that I wouldn’t listen.’
‘They never listen,’ mutters Frank.
‘Stop ruining the moment, Frank,’ whispers Diane.
‘I’m not ruining anything,’ says Frank.
‘Shut up, both of you,’ says Alistair.
‘This is so fun,’ whispers Yumi.
Declan gently moves Susan’s hands away from measuring his head, then he stands as well.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mayfield,’ he says softly, his eyes still on mine. ‘I was confused about how I felt about it, and I was trying to avoid thinking about it. But it was selfish, and it was unfair, especially when you shared so much of yourself.’
I walk round the side of the table, and he meets me halfway. And then he’s there, standing in front of me, the scent and the warmth of him all around me.
‘You didn’t write back to my message,’ I whisper.
‘I was a little busy,’ says Declan. ‘Organising to not move.’
My heart kicks in my chest, flares automatically with hope. ‘What?’
Declan exhales. ‘See, that’s the thing. I thought I needed to be there to write the book about Dad.
But then I kept thinking about one of the last things that Dad told me, the thing that made me want to write the book in the first place.
We were at the carols, and he said, “Sometimes you don’t even notice the light until it fades.
” I thought that Mayfield was the light. ’
‘Mayfield is not the light?’
Declan reaches up to brush a hair from my cheek. ‘Maybe it was Dad’s light. But it’s not my light. I want to honour him, but I don’t need to be there to write something that does that. Besides, my workplace is pretty flexible. I can go up for weekend trips.’
‘That’s really beautiful,’ calls Diane, and Declan’s lips twitch.
‘My light is here,’ says Declan. ‘It’s brownies from the Garden, and being close enough to my mum to be embarrassed by her, and it’s the idea of more-than-dating my second favourite bookseller.’
‘Seriously?’
‘It would take a lot to top Margaret,’ says Declan. He sways closer, until his forehead is resting against mine.
‘I spoke to my mum,’ I whisper, warmth and hope flooding my chest.
‘Speak louder!’ calls Min.
‘Is everything okay?’ says Declan, ignoring the onlookers, his eyes fixed completely on me.
‘It’s good,’ I tell him with a small smile. ‘I think it’s all going to be okay.’
‘Good,’ says Declan. ‘I’m so pleased, Clarrie.’
I’ll tell him all of it, later. And the hope that we might have a later means that I hesitate for only a fraction of a second before I reach out, and when I rest my hand against his cheek, Declan closes his eyes and exhales.
‘I don’t want to pause, either,’ I say. I swallow, and I make myself say the next part. ‘I really, really like you, Declan Archer.’
When Declan opens his eyes again, there’s a light in them – relief and maybe something else. ‘Good,’ he whispers. ‘Because I’m planning to be around for a while.’
He leans forward, like there’s not a table full of people over seventy, plus Yumi, watching on.
‘Yes!’ calls someone – maybe Min? – ‘Kiss her!’
Declan doesn’t retreat into himself. He doesn’t even flinch. He just smiles his lightning smile, his eyes fixed on me.
‘I very much intend to,’ he says, before doing just that.
Only to pull back a few seconds later.
‘You read the book?’ he whispers.
‘I read the book.’
‘And?’
‘I have some notes,’ I tell him, before pressing my lips to his again while Gran’s friends cheer.