Chapter Nineteen #2
Gabe nodded. He’d already said too much so why stop now? ‘Virginia Woolf, who was a member of the library …’
‘Even though she wasn’t accredited to a university?’ Tess gasped again in what Gabe now knew to be entirely fake outrage.
‘She owned her own publishing company, the Hogarth Press, so we let that one slide,’ he explained. Also, his great grandmother, evidently, had been a huge fan. ‘Anyway, she put it in writing that the library was forbidden from adding her books to their collection.’
‘And you respect the wishes of the author?’
‘Of course we do!’ Gabe assured her. He wanted to be very clear about that.
‘But none of your philosophers mind being at the beck and call of the library’s patrons?’ There was a glint in Tess’s eyes.
‘On the contrary. They bloody love it,’ Gabe glinted back but they were getting very off track here and he’d already revealed far more than he should.
So, even though he knew his next choice was eclectic, he didn’t feel that guilty as he unlocked the book, opened it and said, ‘Next on the agenda, Winnie-the-Pooh from er, Winnie-the-Pooh.’
‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!’ Tess was no longer glinting but actually snarling, so for a moment Gabe feared for his physical well-being, but as soon as A.A. Milne’s ‘bear of very little brain’ arrived, or rather gambolled into the room, it was an unreserved success.
Pooh didn’t mind being picked up. Or cuddled. Even when Tess squeezed him so hard that he then squeaked. And he really didn’t mind sitting on Tess’s lap as she hand-fed him honey roasted peanuts.
‘I genuinely can’t remember the last time I was this happy,’ she said.
Of course, Gabe was delighted that Tess was finally enjoying herself, but surely she wasn’t enjoying herself as much as the time the two of them had shared dim sum or a walk and talk along the South Bank?
‘I think I’ve finally found love at The Love Library. Who’d have thought it?’
Meanwhile Pooh squirmed blissfully in Tess’s embrace.
‘You are the sweetest little bear,’ Tess cooed. ‘I don’t have any more honey roasted peanuts. How do you feel about a little mango?’
Pooh had never had mango before. It turned out that he was a big fan.
Neither Pooh nor Tess wanted him to go back to One Hundred Acre Wood, but Gabe was made of much stronger stuff.
Although even he felt something in his chest ping painfully as Pooh waved one little bear paw in farewell, before he disappeared in the usual puff of grey glitter, which, of course, smelt of sun-warmed honey.
Tess brushed away what looked like a tear, which hadn’t been Gabe’s intention at all. ‘I choose the bear,’ she said rather confusingly. ‘I will always choose the bear.’ She sniffed, then once again gave Gabe a flinty-eyed look. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’
‘On the contrary. We’re investigating what your type is, and we can safely say that it’s an anthropomorphic little bear with a liking for honey.’
‘Very helpful.’ Tess flung herself back down in the chair. ‘I’ll change my Tinder settings immediately.’
Gabe didn’t want Tess back on the apps. That would defeat the whole purpose of this evening’s entertainment. Also, he could do so much better than the men that she’d been meeting on the apps.
Happily, Jo March from Little Women was another hit. There wasn’t a whiff of romance in the air, but the two women bonded happily about how hard it was to have a career as a writer.
Jo was very impressed that Tess worked for a newspaper, although she couldn’t grasp the concept of Creative Solutions. ‘But you’ve had articles published!’ she cried emotionally. ‘I think I shall write books though!’
She didn’t seem able to speak in anything other than impassioned outbursts.
After only three minutes, Gabe found her quite exhausting, but Tess didn’t seem to mind.
‘I only seem to get commissioned to write articles about my love life,’ Tess said, as if it was a worry that was never far from her mind.
‘I pitch other ideas but Sarah, the features editor, isn’t interested in them.
It’s like all she wants from me are the humiliating details of how I try to find love and come up empty-handed every time. ’
Jo tossed her head back and jumped to her feet as if her energy couldn’t be contained sitting in a chair and having a nice little chat. She was tall and thin with quite sharp features, which now became even sharper. ‘Love? I’d rather be a free spinster and paddle my own canoe!’
Tess gave her a long, considered look. ‘I paddle my own canoe, quite happily. We are talking about a metaphorical canoe, right?’
‘Indeed we are. But figuratively, I can also paddle a canoe,’ Jo proclaimed, flexing her arms. ‘I will be too busy writing my books to ever fall in love. I’m so sick of people saying love is all a woman is fit for.’
‘Well, it’s not quite like that anymore,’ Tess said a little defensively. ‘Women have careers, they do all sorts. They have their own homes, interests, but we still want someone to share that with. Love isn’t everything, but it’s a lot. A hell of a lot. I want to find my person …’
‘I don’t! I’m happy as I am and love my liberty too well to be in any hurry to give it up.’ Jo flung herself down on the chair again, her legs sprawled out and stick-thin in heavily darned tights and scuffed boots that were in need of a good polish.
Gabe couldn’t be sure, but he thought that Tess might just have rolled her eyes. ‘You are quite young, Jo,’ she said carefully. ‘I love that you have all this fire in your belly but …’
‘I may be young but I know my own mind,’ Jo insisted, her features even sharper now and a hectic red glitter on her cheeks. ‘I won’t change my opinions. Not for you. Not for anyone.’
That was a definite eye roll from Tess now and it was time for Jo March and her strident opinions to disappear into the ether.
She was still mid-rant … ‘I want to go to Paris and Rome. I crave art and music …’ when Gabe said, ‘Restore,’ quietly and closed the library copy of Little Women and Jo was gone, but her vitality, her crackle, her sheer Jo March-ness seemed to linger for a while.
‘A bit much, but weren’t we all that passionate when we were teenagers?’ Gabe offered because Jo had been exhausting but also a poignant reminder of how most people seemed to lose their curiosity, their ferocity, their ability to dream the big dreams, as they got older.
It was quite hard to have a poet’s soul when you had to file your tax return or remember to get new batteries for your smoke alarms.
‘I was more moony than passionate,’ Tess admitted. ‘I had my dreams of being a famous writer like Jo, but mostly I was pining over boys in books. Ha! No change there then.’
‘Not pining over boys in real life?’ Gabe asked, as he was curious about younger Tess. He also had a very strange urge to hunt down the first boy to ever break her heart and give him … a very stern talking-to.
‘Slim pickings,’ Tess said, as she investigated the charcuterie. ‘Rural life, remember? A lot of young farmers. Talk of foot and mouth disease and the ever-present aroma of manure wasn’t very romantic. I had to wait until university for all my firsts. First kiss, first boyfriend, first …’
She tailed off, her cheeks a delicate pink as she was clearly remembering another significant first. ‘If it’s any consolation, I had my first girlfriend at the age of eight,’ Gabe offered with a grin as he thought about how thoroughly his young heart had been broken.
‘Shoshanna Feldman. We were inseparable for all of a week then she dumped me for George Fryer because he could solve a Rubik’s cube in less than two minutes. ’
‘Brutal.’ Tess selected a stuffed olive. ‘So this has been interesting. I’m not sure if all of it was fun. Or flirtatious, but lots to think about it.’
She sounded as if she was thinking of leaving.
Already.
‘But we’re not done.’ Gabe held up more books. ‘I still have quite a few promising candidates.’