Chapter 17
‘And then Lewis told me he never liked Bonnie anyway,’ Donna reveals. ‘Can you believe he said that? How can I trust someone that doesn’t like dogs?’
Beside me Eilidh stifles a laugh, and I nudge her.
People’s heartaches come in all shapes and sizes.
While Donna’s ex sounds like an utter prat, and she has more disdain for him than sorrow, she has the right to talk it through.
Pete sits beside his daughter, listening intently to her rant, while Margaret mumbles to ask Fiona if there’s any wine on the go.
‘I mean, I should have known,’ she continues. ‘He refused to go out for walks with us. Said he could never pick up hot shit from the ground. I mean, it’s not like I pick it up with my bare hands…’
Eilidh covers her mouth, but her shoulders are trembling by this point. She lets out a discreet cough to cover it up. The rest of the group shake their heads solemnly.
I consider pointing out that Finlay, as a dog walker, would have no issues picking up dog shit, but I’m not sure that’s much of a win for Finlay.
I still haven’t got round to asking Donna about the weird vibe between the two of them or what broke them up years ago, when she’d been so in love.
Finlay said Donna wanted to concentrate on opening her business, but somehow I didn’t buy that.
Donna had been obsessed with him when she was younger. What changed?
Donna takes a deep breath and passes Pete the book that we use to signal who is speaking. He shakes his head, instantly passing it back to his daughter.
‘Ah, no, love,’ he shakes his head. ‘I’m just here for the company, really.’
‘Come on, Dad,’ Donna urges. ‘Why don’t you try speaking about Mum for a bit?’
‘No, no. You talk, love. You should say how you feel about your mum. I’m just here to support you.’
‘Dad, I’m here to support you,’ Donna whispers quietly. ‘I’m okay. At least, I think I’m okay. But I’m worried about you.’
Donna’s eyes fill with tears as she looks into her dad’s eyes. He takes her hand and squeezes it. ‘I’ve got you, love. As long as I’ve got you, I’m just fine.’
Donna nods. ‘Oh, I know, it sounds stupid fixating on Lewis. Honestly, I was over him before we even broke up. It’s just… I’m trying not to think about what really matters. I think about Mum all the time. Talking about other things is a distraction, you know?’
‘I know, love.’
I feel my eyes welling with tears at the short exchange. Father and daughter, both so concerned about the other that they barely think about themselves.
‘Shit,’ Eilidh whispers in my ear. ‘Now I feel bad.’
‘I don’t want to speak this time,’ Pete says. ‘But you do it. Talk about your mum now. Say what you really feel. Go for it, Donna. You’ll make me brave.’
‘Okay.’ Donna coughs, accepting back the book.
She takes a long, deep breath and looks at the floor as she speaks.
‘I’ve been looking through old photos. Mum’s in barely any of them.
That made me really annoyed at her. She’s not in the pictures because she was always self-conscious about how she looked and she made sure she was taking them.
And now I’m really pissed off because she’s not here any more and I don’t have any pictures to remind me of her. ’
The whole room is still for a moment. No one knows what to say. I look up at Pete.
‘I’ve got some,’ he whispers, his voice getting louder as he continues. ‘I knew she hated having her picture taken, but I took some anyway. She was so beautiful, I couldn’t not.’
Tears shine in Donna’s eyes. ‘You did?’
‘Of course I did. You should have said, love. I can show you them, if you like?’
‘I’d love that.’
Pete takes his daughter’s hand again, as a lump rises in my throat. Eilidh starts to fan her face with a book, tears glassing her eyes at the exchange.
Just then, the bookshop door pushes open and Jen walks in, head down, tears streaming down her face. Donna and I jump up to greet her.
‘It’s Evan,’ she sobs. ‘He dumped me. I didn’t know where to go and then I realized you were all here and—’
‘Ah, Jen,’ I say, bringing her in for a hug as she sniffs loudly into her shoulder. ‘Come and sit down.’
‘I knew you should watch out for him,’ Donna rages. ‘Wee eejit that he is. I never trusted him. His eyes are too far apart.’
‘He told me he loved me last week,’ Jen blows her nose in the hankie I hand her. ‘Then he broke up with me tonight, right after his mum’s birthday dinner. And I picked out that cookbook for him! Said he’s been thinking about it for a while. How can he say that when he just said he loved me?’
‘Men,’ Eilidh rolls her eyes. ‘No offence, Pete.’
‘None taken.’
‘Lads that age don’t know their arse from their elbow,’ Donna says, shaking her head. ‘They’re only thinking with one body part and it’s neither of them.’
‘I don’t want to talk about it any more,’ Jen shakes her head, blowing into the hankie. ‘I just knew you were all meeting here tonight, so I thought I’d come along. I can’t tell my mum – she’s never liked him. She’ll only say I told you so.’
Jen blows her nose again and passes the book to me.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to talk any more, Jen?’ I ask. ‘We’re here to listen if you do.’
Jen shakes her head, clutching the hankie and patting her bloodshot eyes. ‘Please, someone else be miserable so I’m not the only one. And book me in for my hair transformation, Donna.’
Donna nods. ‘Yes, sweetheart, show him what he’s missing!’
Jen groans. ‘Right, can someone else take over now? Please?’
‘Hi everyone,’ I say, taking the floor to deflect attention from poor Jen. ‘I’m Ava and I… God, it’s harder than you think, isn’t it?’
I look around at everyone – Pete, Donna, Jen, Eilidh, Fiona – and they nod sympathetically.
Even Margaret seems to agree as she gives a small nod, a flicker of agreement.
I’d been more than a little surprised when she arrived early, the first breakup bookshop member of the evening.
She seemed reluctant to admit she’d come for the group as she casually browsed the historical fiction section.
When I mentioned it, she said that, yes, she would stay, as though she were doing me a favour.
‘Yes,’ Margaret says. ‘It’s easy to listen but hard to speak.’
I swallow my surprise. Has Margaret just said something supportive?
Maybe the ice queen is thawing. I offer her a small smile, remembering what Rory said about her.
She’d lost her husband. She’s obviously lonelier than she wants to admit and is finding it difficult to open up.
That’s why she’s here, and that’s why the breakup bookshop is important.
It can help people who struggle to admit they need help, support or company.
‘Like you said, it’s Chatham House rules,’ Eilidh reminds me with an encouraging smile.
‘What does that mean?’ Jen asks.
‘That we won’t go around telling people what you’ve been saying. It’s sensitive information, so we don’t want to broadcast it,’ Eilidh explains.
I take a deep breath. I have to set an example.
This whole breakup bookshop is my idea, after all.
The Next Chapter. I can’t let everyone else share their secrets and feelings but refuse to open up myself.
I’m just not ready to share the whole story, though.
I can’t talk about Macy. Not in front of everyone.
I can barely admit that part to myself. It just hurts too much.
Losing her as a friend seems like the biggest heartbreak of all.
So, instead, I tell them about Seb. I tell them how we met, how he encouraged me in my career, how I’d planned my future with him. Then, boom, I drop the bombshell that he cheated on me, and I moved here for a fresh start.
I smile. ‘And here I am.’
My head is thumping by the time I’ve finished my short account of the situation, and my heart is sad and heavy in my chest. I know it is good to talk about these things out loud, but right now it feels like a long, hard slog.
‘I think you’re an inspiration, Ava,’ Eilidh says.
‘You packed up everything and moved to the middle of nowhere, where you didn’t really know anyone, and started a whole new business and life.
If that stuff with Seb hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t be sitting here talking to one another. That’s all down to you.’
‘Well, it was more out of desperation than bravery,’ I say, and the others laugh. ‘But thank you. I hope you found the first meeting useful. I’ve really enjoyed it.’
As the group chatter at the end of the session, I start to gather the mugs and biscuits I’d handed out during the meeting, listening to the buzz of conversation around me.
‘Do you know, Fiona, I feel better after that,’ I hear Margaret reveal. ‘I think I’ll sleep well tonight.’
‘Wasn’t it great?’ Fiona agrees. ‘We should have done something like this years ago. We’re so on top of one another in the village, but how often do we actually just talk?’
I feel pride surge in my chest at the thought of helping this community I’ve fallen in love with.
Eilidh and Donna congratulate me as they leave, both comforting poor Jen on the way out.
Pete gives me a wink, then follows them out.
Margaret says she might see me next time as she shuffles out with her stick in hand.
‘I’ll stay behind and help you tidy,’ Fiona offers.
Granny always said that when you’re part of a small community, you have to immerse yourself in it and let people in.
She said your door was never really closed when you lived in Ullapool, and that people making themselves at home in your home was an honour.
I think I’m feeling some of that village pride now.
‘Of course, that would be great.’
Fiona picks up an empty biscuit packet to fan her face, which has started to glisten with sweat. ‘These bloody hot flushes are a nightmare.’
‘Take a seat. You don’t need to help. We can just chat,’ I say, as I offer Fiona a biscuit. She takes one, then sits down again, flapping at her face.