Chapter 13 #2
‘It’s not bad. I just saw some water coming down the wall.
I ran upstairs to check on Margaret, but she hadn’t been using any water, so I figured it must be coming from you.
I think your shop is worse. The mural is the real victim here.
’ He smiles weakly, trying to make it a joke, but I can see he’s disappointed.
I can’t believe it. The mural that I pestered Rory to paint for me is ruined.
He spent hours working on something that he hadn’t even wanted to do.
Now it looks like a rainbow has cried on the wall.
I haven’t even paid him for it yet. He keeps dodging my suggestion of a bank transfer, so my plan is to leave an envelope of cash in The Toolbox when he isn’t looking.
‘Brilliant,’ I groan. ‘The night before the grand opening. Although, it could have been worse. For a second, I thought you were my ex, hollering at me from the street.’
Why did I say it out loud? Any time something goes wrong, my thoughts seem to switch to Seb, but there’s no need to voice it to Rory right now.
Rory frowns. ‘Why would your ex be here? Is he coming?’
‘Oh God, no. He’s the last person I’d invite. I just, I don’t know, my mind must have been playing tricks on me.’
The relaxing evening I’d planned has gone straight down the plughole.
Rory fixes the bath seal while I change quickly, before going downstairs and mopping up the water on the bookshop floor. I sigh, looking at the mural. It is supposed to be the focal point of the bookshop. How can I unveil the bookshop tomorrow when it looks like it has been shot by a paintball gun?
‘I think I’ve fixed the bath, but you should get a plumber out to double-check it before you use it again,’ Rory advises. ‘I’m just going to close The Toolbox for the day. It’s past closing time anyway. I’ll be back.’
Now this is the helpful Rory the whole village praises at every turn. Apparently, all it takes is pouring water down his walls, ruining the mural he’s spent hours painting and completely screwing up my grand opening plans for the bookshop. Who knew?
‘Rory,’ I say.
He turns around and looks at me, eyebrows raised.
‘Thank you,’ I say earnestly.
‘Don’t mention it,’ he shrugs, before his face breaks out into a smirk. ‘Because I will. Over and over again.’
Ah, there’s the Rory I know.
‘Bet you don’t cast things up to Margaret,’ I call, as he walks out of the door.
‘Jealousy will get you nowhere.’
As he carries a dehumidifier into the bookshop, I realize I should just be grateful that he is willing to help me at all.
‘So, we just stare and watch paint dry?’ I ask, as he switches it on.
‘Yup.’
‘So, what should I do with the mural?’ I say sadly. ‘I wanted it to be a big reveal.’
Rory shrugs. ‘As long as everything else is okay, you’ll just have to explain what happened. We can fix up the mural at some point once everything’s dry.’
‘It’s just – I was so excited about it. All the colours tied in so well with the rest of the shop. But I can’t cancel the launch. I need to get opened and start making money or next time I’m in the bath, I’ll have the bank manager breaking down the door instead of you.’
‘You do love vibrant colour, don’t you?’ he asks, peering at the bright splashes around the room.
‘My ex-boyfriend was very anti-colour,’ I say. ‘It was grey or nothing in our flat. I wanted to make this space as bright as possible.’
Rory stands stiffly, unsure how to respond. Why am I mentioning Seb again? It must be a psychological thing. The last time I felt this panicked and out of my depth was because of Seb, so my mind is rewinding to him over and over. I open my mouth to try to explain to Rory, but he is busy packing up.
‘Right, well, I’ve got to head home for Piper.’
‘Thanks again for all your help.’
He nods briskly and leaves.
*
Tossing and turning in bed, I replay the day in my mind.
I’d been lucky. If it hadn’t been for Rory, I could have completely flooded both shops and had to claim on the insurance, which had been in place for all of five minutes.
The excess would have been huge. I’d be up to my eyes in debt, even more than I am right now…
Now the bookshop is one sleep away from opening, the reality of what I’ve done is closing in on me. My bank balance is pleading with me to stop the crazy nonsense and resume normality. Get a real job, get a salary. Maybe I should be listening.
My sleep is broken with half thoughts of no one turning up to the bookshop launch.
Worse still, I have a nightmare in which everyone turns up – Seb, Macy, Rory, Piper the dog and, for some reason, my least favourite primary school teacher, Mr Johnstone.
I welcome them all at the front door with a wide smile before I look down and realize I am stark bollock naked.
I whisper to them in turn as they make their way past, begging them to lend me a towel.
My primary teacher mutters that I should really have factored that into my planning and hands me my orange bucket.
Thanks, Mr Johnstone.
A sharp noise downstairs tears me from the dream.
I sit bolt upright in bed, my ears on red alert.
My heart feels like it’s thudding in my throat.
What the hell is that noise? Fuck, now someone is breaking into the shop and is about to murder me in my bed.
Just what I need. Should I just lie here and hope they go away?
No. I can’t just hope for the best. What would my independent women playlist think of me?
I grab my phone, even though I know it won’t work if I try to make a call, but I feel safer holding something.
I try to make as much noise as possible, thudding around to alert the intruder to the fact I am coming.
I hope they’ll think better of it and scarper instead of killing me.
A foolproof plan.
Another noise downstairs reminds me that this is no joke.
There is definitely someone in the bookshop below.
I grab the heaviest thing I can find – which happens to be the ironing board – and creep down the stairs, clutching it tightly under my arm.
I can swing it directly at them if needed, whacking them out of the way.
I tiptoe into the bookshop, ironing board at the ready. A man kneels at the foot of the mural. My heart thuds wildly in my chest until he turns his head.
‘Rory?’ I almost keel over in relief. ‘What the fuck are you doing here? It’s half three in the morning! How did you get in?’
He jumps slightly, holding a hand to his heart and then frowns. ‘Why are you holding an ironing board?’
‘I thought you were a burglar!’
‘And you were planning to ‘uncrease’ me to death?’
‘No, I was planning to… anyway, never mind, what are you doing here?’
‘I’m fixing it,’ he says. ‘I practised the mural on a large canvas at home before I started, so I thought we could use that for the launch, until I can redo it. I’ve just fixed it to the space.’
I look up at the wall behind him. The blotchy mural is completely hidden behind the large canvas.
‘It looks great. Better than great. Amazing. But, Rory, you came here in the middle of the night to do this?’ I ask, my voice catching for a moment. ‘For me?’
‘For my reputation. I couldn’t have Richard J. What’shis-face thinking I can’t paint.’
I’m completely disorientated. I’ve had so little sleep, between all my embarrassing naked dreams and waking up suddenly to an intruder in my shop.
‘So, wait a minute, you thought it would be a good idea to break into the bookshop and scare the shit out of me, just so Richard J. didn’t think you’d gone too far with abstract art?’
‘It’s not abstract art. It looked like a rainbow had thrown up on your wall.’
‘I thought you were breaking in to kill me!’
‘That’s a touch dramatic, no?’
He stands back to size up his work.
‘I don’t know whether to thank you or smack you over the head with the ironing board.’
‘It looks better,’ Rory says. ‘Not as good as the original, but it’ll do for now. Right, I’m heading home. I’ll see you when you’re better dressed.’
I look down at my pyjamas. ‘I was actually going to wear these to the launch…’
‘Lock the door behind me, just in case.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I locked it earlier. How did you even get in?’
‘Tricks of the trade.’
‘The murderer trade?’
‘I own a DIY shop. You don’t think I know how to pick a lock? Good night, Ava.’
‘Good night, Rory,’ I say. ‘And thank you.’
He raises a hand into the air and wanders off into the night.