Chapter 1 #4
‘Can you pass that book up?’ I say, making the most of our truce.
The Real World of Macbeth is lying on the floor, and I grimace at the slight crack on the spine.
I guess we’re buying the book, then, as well as a new phone.
As she picks it up, an envelope falls out.
It’s a swish-looking envelope, rich cream, the kind you get from a nice stationery shop.
‘What’s that?’ I ask, as she holds it up and stares at it.
‘It’s an envelope,’ she replies, slightly sarcastically. ‘Although I like what’s written on it…’
She shows it to me. In lovely loopy handwriting: To the right person, at the right time.
‘Do you want to open it?’ I ask. ‘Maybe we are the right people at the right time…’
She shrugs, and tries not to look interested. That would be a cardinal sin for a sixteen-year-old. But still, she slides it open, and pulls out a card.
The front shows a stunning photograph of a spectacular landscape, heather-covered mountains against bright blue sky.
It is unmistakably Scottish, possibly related to the book it was tucked inside?
Some kind of marketing gimmick or sales promotion, like the first hundred copies come with a free card?
Beth opens it up, and I’m happy to let her be for a moment. I need to check if the bloody phone is still working. Sadly, it is, and I have many missed calls from work.
‘Mum,’ Beth says after she takes in the message inside the card. ‘This is amazing! Here, look!’
I should really return some of those calls, but she looks so excited, so full of enthusiasm. How can I possibly resist? It’s like the space aliens finally returned my real daughter. I nod and take the card from her.
I frown as I read, wondering if the phone screen isn’t the only thing that’s cracked.
A beginning, a middle, and an end – that’s what all the great stories have, is it not? the card opens with, in the same looping scrawl as on the front:
Real life is rarely so simple though. The most important stories don’t lie in the pages of books.
They are told by our hearts, found in secret messages, hidden between the wrinkles in our souls.
The choices we made, the paths we didn’t take.
The crossroads where we turned left when we could have turned right.
People we have loved and lost, the lives we left unlived.
These stories don’t come in three parts.
They come in endless circles, in second chances and fresh starts and terrible endings.
In the constant loop of energy that connects us – even you, my friend.
I don’t know your name, but I have faith that you are indeed the right person at the right time.
As I write this card to you, my heart is shattered.
I am lonely, and I am broken. Maybe you are too.
Maybe you know the pain of losing the one person in the whole world who really understood you.
Maybe now, your life feels like a shadow of what it was, a fraction of what you wish it could be.
Maybe you are living in shades of grey, when the world should be your rainbow – shining its hopeful light down on you.
Are you yearning for your second chance at happiness?
If that’s the case, then we are here, and we are waiting – at our cosy little bookshop in the most beautiful place on earth.
Come and visit. Come and be our guest, and maybe we can light up the universe together, who knows?
It could be a second chance for us both.
No need to contact us in advance. No need to call, or book ahead – this is all about a leap of faith.
Just come north, my friend. Come and find your new beginning.
Come and rewrite your story here, with us.
I hope to see you soon – and if not, please leave this card right where you found it, so that eventually, it will find…
yes, you guessed it, the right person at the right time!
I read the words, and I read them again, and I realise I am crying. That Beth also has tears on her cheeks. That the two of us are sitting nestled side by side, holding hands. I gaze into her eyes, and put all the love I have for into my smile. She squeezes my fingers.
‘Can we do it? Can we go there?’ she asks quietly, her voice ragged with hope. And in an instant, I know it’s sincere. She really wants this… and maybe I do too.
Maybe I am living my life in shades of grey, when I want a rainbow. And I know that Beth is hurting, that her father’s rejection has cut deep. Maybe she needs to find some peace and wonder too. Still…
‘I don’t know, sweetie. We don’t even really know where it is, do we?’
She takes the card from my hands, and looks at the back of it. ‘There’s a name and address. The Edge of the World Bookshop. Doesn’t that sound brilliant?’
I nod. It really does. ‘And where is that?’
She reads again, and tells me: ‘Some place called Bonnie Bay, in Scotland.’
I blink, and stare, and stay silent. ‘Say that again please.’
‘Bonnie Bay in Scotland.’ She looks worried now.
Little does she know that just like it says in that card, our real stories are hidden away in our souls. Told by our hearts. And my heart? My heart was shattered by Bonnie Bay, and a promise that was made but never kept.
The universe, I decide, is playing tricks on me.