Chapter Three
‘That’s absurd,’ said Adam, his lip curling. ‘You’re joking, right?’
The word absurd cut her. Despite herself, she found she wanted this man’s approval.
She smiled demurely, even though he seemed to think he could come in and disrupt a perfectly happy collective.
‘I’m not joking. We read the last page, and if it’s a good one, then we know the story will be worth the hours we’ll spend reading it. ’
‘But that’s bonkers.’ He laughed, and scanned the group, clearly expecting them all to laugh along with him.
Only Susan nodded. ‘It is bonkers, but it’s also true.’
Judas, thought Erin. That was the last time she offered her a cup of floral-scented hot water for free. She took a drink of her own English breakfast tea to prevent herself saying as much.
‘But surely, the joy of reading a book is to see where the story goes?’ There was pure disbelief in his voice.
‘You say that as if it’s the law,’ said Erin, placing her cup back down on the pewter tabletop.
She set her jaw, silently daring him to continue challenging her.
She’d kept her book group going for a decade, defeating anyone who tried to change it.
All right, the last part wasn’t strictly true.
Everyone who didn’t like being asked to read the last page first quietly sloped off, without much of a fuss.
Still, she was ready to defend her position to the death.
She might be generally conflict averse, but the book group was her safe place, and she needed that to remain the case.
‘Well …’ His brow crinkled, as if he was thinking hard about his argument. ‘That’s how I feel about it.’ There was a hesitation in his voice which suggested he wasn’t as sure as he had been.
Erin ignored the change in tone. She had to be vigilant, especially since she suspected Susan would be quite happy to join in a mutiny.
This man was a carefree travel writer with no roots.
He could afford to just see where the words took him.
Well, Erin wasn’t. She had responsibilities, a son due home from university, bills to pay, and on top of all that, she had a business, her mother’s precious legacy, to protect.
Her book group was the one thing she could be sure of and that was crucial to her.
‘Then maybe this isn’t the book group for you. ’
All eyes turned to him. He appeared flustered for a moment, then sat back and crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket squeaking as he did so.
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘I’ve eaten sheep’s eyes in the desert, and been chased by a polar bear in Alaska, so I’m not going to be put off a book club in South London because of a quirky reading habit. ’
‘If you’d been chased by a polar bear, it’s highly unlikely you’d be here to tell us about it,’ said Hafsa, with an arched eyebrow. ‘You’d be little more than a red stain on the ice.’
Amusement made his grey eyes sparkle. ‘All right, I might have exaggerated that. There was a polar bear, but it was more of an amble, than a chase, and I was filming from the back of a truck, so …’ He made a clicking sound with his tongue.
‘Am I going to be ejected from the group because of a little gentle embellishment, or can I stay and give this last page business a go?’
He wasn’t giving up easily. ‘What’s your favourite book?
’ Erin said, as if that was going to make all the difference.
It wasn’t, but she needed him to prove himself if he was going to be allowed to continue to attend her much-loved Wednesday evenings with her friends.
She crossed her own arms and waited for him to say something predictable, like Jack Kerouac’s On the Road.
‘Oh, is this the test? Okay, then.’ Adam grinned, his eyes moving up to the left as he gave it some thought. ‘The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls, I think. It’s funny and sad and quirky. I love getting an insight like that into other people’s lives, I suppose it’s the journalist in me.’
Erin was pleasantly surprised. Her mother had bought her that memoir, and she’d been deeply moved by the unusual story of Walls’ nomadic, impoverished childhood.
Somehow, it made perfect sense that this man with the bright eyes would choose this beautiful book, and realizing that made her feel oddly vulnerable.
Everything he did added to his attraction, damn him.
‘What’s yours?’ Adam was looking directly at her, his expression warm and curious.
Her mind went blank. All she could think about was the way his mouth lifted at the edges, as though he was always on the verge of smiling. ‘Oh, it’s too hard to choose.’ She gestured to the wall of books with the sliding ladder. ‘I love so many, all for different reasons.’
‘You made me pick, so it’s only fair you do.’ God, he was irksome. She made a mental note to tell the owner of the bookshop to never mention her book group to anyone ever again. Adam leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘Go on, if you had a gun to your head, which would you choose?’
The idea of a gun’s cold barrel at her temple did nothing to improve her clarity of thought.
She turned to the shelves, scanning the spines for inspiration.
Her eyes lighted on a dark blue book and relief washed through her.
‘Hamnet, Maggie O’Farrell.’ In that moment, she felt the story, centred around Shakespeare’s wife and son, was definitely her favourite book of all time, not least because it was one that didn’t make her look like an uncultured fool in front of Adam.
As soon as the thought occurred to her, she was cross with herself.
First, because she didn’t believe in snobbery where books were concerned – every book had merit if it was enjoyed by a reader – and secondly for wanting this man’s approval.
What was she, some pathetic schoolgirl, hanging out on the sidelines of the football pitch, hoping the striker would notice her?
‘I haven’t read that,’ said Adam, sitting back again. Erin was glad to be relieved of his scrutiny. ‘Should I?’
‘You should,’ said Susan. ‘It’s excellent.
I enjoyed your choice too. Shall we all go around, saying our favourite books, by way of a proper introduction?
’ The others nodded. It was hard to say no to Susan since her questions always sounded more like instructions.
‘You can tell a lot about a person by their choice of reading matter.’
‘Why don’t I get us fresh drinks while you all decide,’ said Erin, keen to be on her own for a moment.
It appeared that Adam was now initiated whether she liked it or not, and that left her unsettled.
The book group had been a haven, a reliable gang of six, and now they’d been infiltrated and there was nothing she could do about it.
Adam’s presence made her uneasy. His biker jacket, his job, his lifestyle, and her attraction to him all represented risk.
And Erin had spent the last two decades avoiding risk at all costs.