Chapter 37
CARLY
Three months later
‘I can’t believe how much you’ve done in such a short time,’ says Jude, wrapping an arm around me and giving me a squeeze.
‘It looks pretty great, doesn’t it?’ I lean my head on her shoulder and admire the new sign above the door which mirrors the font of Shakespeare and Company.
‘Henderson and Company,’ I read, liking the way it sounds.
I admire the big white bow on the freshly painted forest-green front door, thinking it looks like a giant present just waiting to be opened.
‘Let’s go in; I’m dying for a cuppa,’ says Jude. We’ve just spent the day together, celebrating my birthday by visiting our favourite Edinburgh haunts, and trying not to dwell on the fact that tomorrow Jude will be leaving for Washington.
She holds open the front door in the vestibule in such a way that it forces me to step through the shop door rather than the door to the house.
‘Surprise!’ everybody yells, pulling party poppers and raising glasses of champagne.
‘What the—?’ I stop myself swearing, stunned by how many people are in the shop, every face someone I know or love.
Joe, having moved up from Birmingham to work for us, is behind the counter wearing a party hat, pretending to type on Mum’s old word processor.
Behind him, an old blackboard, chalk-full of upcoming events including one with Marleen, sits on the wall.
‘You said you wanted a Carly Finds Herself party for your birthday . . .’ Jude smiles, and I hit her playfully on the arm before giving her a bear hug. ‘It doesn’t get more found than your bookshop launch party.’
‘Who did all this?’ I ask.
‘Who do you think?’ Jude says, and she points to Flynn, appearing through the throng of people from the back of the shop, looking devastatingly handsome in a pair of jeans and simple grey sweatshirt.
‘I should have known,’ I smile, unsurprised that he’s managed to arrange a party on top of everything else we’ve been doing to have the shop open for the summer. I bring my hands to his stubbled face and kiss him to great cheers of delight.
‘Happy birthday,’ he grins, his eyes sparkling. He takes me by the hand and steers me away from Jude and Adam, through the freshly painted front of the shop where new shelves full of the latest titles sit on beautifully varnished floorboards – Daisy having worked her design magic.
‘Happy birthday, Carly,’ say various friends and customers. Grant, fresh off the train, blows a noise-maker in my direction.
Flynn guides me through to the back of the shop, past the daybed we’ve added, and on to where the French windows have been cleared of shelves, lovingly restored, and are now sitting open, drawing us through to the spiral staircase that descends into the garden below.
‘What is all this?’ I ask, when I see tables laden with food, drink and gifts.
‘Just a few of the things you love,’ he answers casually, gesturing to a table full of patisserie and croque monsieurs and where Daisy is pouring hot chocolate with spoonfuls of Chantilly cream.
‘It’s too much,’ I say, thrilled to bits. All the fineries of Paris can’t compete with this.
‘Nothing is too much for you,’ he says.
From the corner of my eye, I see Daisy winking exaggeratedly and mouthing, I told you he was hot!
He takes me to the table laid out with gifts, where a huge bottle of expensive-looking champagne sits waiting to be opened. ‘From Chris Rose,’ Flynn explains. ‘A sort of apology, I think. He’s offered to kick off our book talk series.’
‘Wow, that’s cool,’ I say, knowing just how lucrative a visit from Christopher Rose might be.
‘And Ginny sends her love. She wanted to be here in person, but she’s working remotely, currently from Bora Bora.’
‘Mum will be happy to hear she’s managed to make her dream a reality too,’ I say, thinking that three months ago I might have been a smidge envious, but knowing now with certainty that I’m right where I belong.
He turns me in the direction of Bill’s old potting shed, now free of ivy and freshly painted.
‘What’s going on?’ I ask, as Flynn puts his hands over my eyes and guides me over.
‘Open your eyes,’ he says when we’re inside the shed, which smells invitingly of fresh paint, old books and candles.
Flynn takes away his hands to reveal the shed lined with second-hand books, an old table and chairs set in the centre on an antique rug. On the shelves are pieces of Bill’s pottery, and small samples of Elsa’s tapestries, and artworks by Grandma and Grandad, and Mum.
‘Elsa thought it should be used as a library and event space, give it a new source of life,’ he says, and I well up again.
‘It’s perfect,’ I say, imagining workshops, author talks, book clubs, maybe even a therapy space for Elsa.
‘And look,’ he says, drawing me over to the back wall.
There in the centre of the middle shelf is The Hunchback of Notre-Dame with all of the tokens – the postcard, the ticket, the bookmark – jutting out of the pages.
‘Your mum thought we should have it, as a memento of us meeting thirty years after she and Dad met.’
‘It proved to be quite the catalyst,’ I say, touching its worn cover, glad that Mum and Dad are back on track because of it.
My phone rings, pulling me out of my musing. ‘It’s Mum.’
We wind our way to the office, past the photos of the shop past and present, and our very own Love Board, our version of the one at Shakespeare and Company.
‘Happy birthday, love,’ calls Mum, and Dad waves beside her from their seat on a gondola.
‘Having fun?’
Mum gabs on for a minute or two about all they’ve seen that day, and I tell her about my day with Jude, and the surprise birthday party.
‘We’re so happy for you both,’ says Dad.
‘We know your life together in the bookshop will be a good one,’ adds Mum. ‘It was for us for many years.’
‘Elsa OK?’ Dad asks. He’s looking ten years younger in the warmth of the Italian sun.
‘Wait, I’ll get her,’ I say, and I head to the window seat at the front of the shop where she’s sitting with Aleks, and Bill in his wheelchair.
‘All is well,’ Elsa tells Mum.
‘How was training today?’
‘Super. I’m really beginning to find my feet.’
‘And how’s Bill?’
Elsa passes the phone to Aleks. ‘Right as rain,’ she smiles, putting her face up close to Bill’s so that Mum and Dad can see him.
‘Hi Bill,’ they wave, and Bill gives a smile, a faint look of recognition in his eye.
‘And look who’s just arrived,’ I say, turning the phone camera to the shop door where Frank and Marleen are standing hand in hand.
‘Ah, the newlyweds,’ cries Mum, still reeling from the excitement of last month’s wedding in the garden across the road, where Mum and Dad were married thirty years earlier. ‘How was your honeymoon?’
‘Heaven,’ says Frank, and Marleen agrees. ‘I’m the luckiest man alive – grateful for every moment I have with this magnificent woman.’
‘We have Flynn to thank for that,’ says Marleen, looking at him admiringly as he stands beside me, his arm around my waist. ‘Without Flynn taking over the running of the book train we would never have met.’
‘None of us would,’ I say, putting down the phone and raising a glass to the man I love. ‘To Flynn, and to love, and Paris!’
Later, once everyone has left and Flynn and I are alone in the flat, he pulls out a package, a little larger than a book.
‘I’ve been waiting to give you my gift,’ he says.
‘What is it?’ I ask, unwrapping it.
‘You’ll see. Happy birthday, Carly.’
Pulling back the wrapping paper, I discover a small wooden frame which I turn to reveal two small white notes in a mount.
I know the first note immediately: the wish I’d gone back and made at Shakespeare and Company,
My dream bookshop and a romantic hero of my own.
The other note is in handwriting I recognise, Flynn’s. It reads simply,
To make your wish come true.
‘Flynn,’ I cry, tears welling, clutching the frame to my chest. ‘How did you get this?’
‘I took a photograph of the board just before we left, then, when I saw you sneak back, I compared the two. There was only one new note, so I knew it had to be yours. I didn’t want to take it off in case I jinxed it. I called the bookshop a week later, asking them to send it to me.’
‘It’s the most romantic gift I’ve ever received,’ I say, clutching it to my chest. ‘I love it.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he replies, pulling me close.
In the moment, love flows from and around us, and it feels as if this is what I’ve been searching for all my life – the beginning of our own for ever.