Chapter 16
Friday night, Sasha and Klara gathered in Sasha’s flat.
Sasha had lined up Mean Girls and Heathers on a streaming channel.
Nothing like some teenage girl revenge watching to put her in a better mood.
Klara brought along her latest Korean beauty box so they could pamper themselves with skin treatments.
‘How are you getting on with those books on dating?’ asked Klara, sifting through the pile on the coffee table. ‘I’ve been meaning to read this one: “Learn to look for the nice guy – the Gilbert.” Aww – I love Anne of Green Gables, Gilbert was hot!’
‘There’s so much information my brain is exploding! I hope Ben appreciates all the research.’
‘You know I love a good book more than anything, but your matchmaking powers are a natural ability. All these theories could be fighting each other.’
‘Just keeping up with the latest on dating. Ben deserves the best from me, and if I can’t sense him psychically, I need extra help.’
They settled on the sofa, with glasses of rosé, a bowl of home-made popcorn and mugs of hot chocolate and marshmallows, generously laced with rum.
Sasha loved comfort; as soon as she got up to her flat, she’d changed into her brushed-cotton pyjamas with cats on, and teddy bear slipper-socks.
Klara, as always on a vintage glamour kick, was relaxing in her 1940s rose-pink silk negligee with matching dressing gown and fluffy kitten mules.
They’d just plastered on their collagen face masks when a loud banging on Sasha’s front door echoed up the stairs.
‘What the . . .?’ Klara’s green eyes peered through the slits of her mask. ‘You expecting someone?’
‘Not at this time . . . Is it Nathan, maybe? Locked out?’
‘Surely not – his parents hardly ever go out. Let’s go and see.’
Sasha led the way, padding down the stairs while Klara clip-clopped behind her, clutching her silk gown round her and brandishing a dessert spoon.
Sasha grabbed an umbrella as a possible defence weapon, and slid on the chain before she opened the door.
She let out a breath in relief. The street light lit up Leo, the delivery guy. He wasn’t in his uniform but wore a puffer jacket and his eyes glittered from under the furry hood. He was carrying a huge cardboard box.
‘Hi, Leo. Bit late for a delivery, isn’t it? Aren’t you off work yet?’
‘Yeah – er – is Klara staying with you? This is for her.’
‘What the hell . . . are those my books?’ Klara pushed past Sasha as soon as she unchained the door.
‘I was driving back from my brother’s,’ Leo mumbled. ‘Found this dumped in the alleyway – under an old mattress. I saw the logo – thought it might be your lost parcel.’
The rain was getting heavier. ‘Come in, Leo, you’re getting soaked!’ Sasha drew him into the hall, and he rested the box on the floor.
‘Euw – something stinks.’ Klara pinched her nose. ‘My books better not be ruined. I’ll be filing a complaint with Royal Mail, for sure!’
Sasha tapped Klara’s shoulder. ‘Er, maybe you should thank Leo for bringing them? It’s late.’
‘It’s his job to deliver them in the first place.’
‘Not after hours! Thanks, Leo, for bringing them round.’ Sasha smiled at him.
He nodded, shifting awkwardly. ‘I can take them to the shop for you, if you like.’
‘Well, that would help, yes!’ Klara nodded and went to find her keys.
Sasha slipped off her bear slipper-socks and swapped them for her boots. She needed proper shoes to cross the slippery wet cobbles and she didn’t want to leave Leo with Klara in the mood she was in.
‘Klara, those mules will be dangerous on the wet cobbles,’ warned Sasha.
‘You’re right. Can I borrow your wellies?
’ Klara slung her coat on and changed her mules for wellies.
She flounced off across the road, not caring that her face was still covered in the collagen mask.
‘Come on, then,’ she snapped at Leo. ‘Let’s go before they get totally drenched. Better not be any rain damage.’
Leo followed her with the box.
Klara took a while to unlock the metal grille and then the door of The Bookery.
She switched on the lights and turned off the burglar alarm.
There was no upstairs flat as there was in the café.
Upstairs was more of the bookshop, with a back room for storage.
Klara swayed, revealing that she must be feeling as tipsy as Sasha from the rum and wine.
‘Shall I put the kettle on?’ Sasha suggested. ‘Make us all a cuppa? Leo – you must be cold – fancy one?’
Leo pushed back his hood and ran his hand through his black hair. He definitely looked better without his Royal Mail uniform.
Klara was glaring at him. ‘Where’d you find this? It stinks of cabbages.’
‘It was under a load of junk and rubbish from the market, dumped in the alley. A mattress covered the box, so the rain didn’t soak it too much. Let’s hope the books aren’t ruined.’
‘What the hell? Smells like rotten cabbages.’ Klara rummaged in a drawer for a pair of scissors.
‘I can only apologize – we’ve had some new delivery drivers. But you don’t have to be such a . . .’
Klara straightened and glared at him, drawing herself up to her full five foot nine. ‘Such a what? Go on, say it.’
‘Nothing,’ Leo muttered. ‘You can file a complaint. Let us know if there’s any damage.’
Sasha glanced from bristling Klara to poor Leo. He turned and went to the door, but it was locked.
‘I’ll be filing a complaint, don’t you worry!’ snapped Klara, unlocking the door. Leo stomped out. She slammed the door shut and turned back to Sasha. ‘I think he was going to call me a bitch.’
‘Klara – he was trying his best – you didn’t need to be so mean.’
‘What? I can’t believe you’re supporting him against me, who’s meant to be your friend.’ She grabbed scissors and started carving into the box.
‘Be careful!’
‘Bit late when these books have been rotting under cabbages!’
‘Look, there was no need to be so rude. It wasn’t his fault; at least he found them for you.’
Klara stopped hacking as the damp cardboard fell apart. ‘Phew, looks like they’re all right. I’m sorry – was I bitch? I guess Leo winds me up: he just dumped the box and went.’
‘He didn’t need to bring them over, to be fair. He was off duty. He was trying to help, he knew how important the books were to you.’
‘He just – never says anything – just stands and gawps at me, like – like I’m some sort of freak half the time.’
‘Well . . .’ Sasha pointed towards their reflection in the shop window. The collagen masks on their faces made them look like ghosts.
‘Oh, my god! The masks!’
‘At least we’ll be wrinkle-free.’ Sasha snorted as they burst into giggles.
Klara hung onto Sasha until her laughter turned into hiccups.
‘And now I have the hiccups! All your talk of a hunky Prince Charming, coming to sweep me off my feet. Where the hell is that beach? My surfer dude? How could he resist me?’ She pouted at their reflections and they collapsed giggling again.
When they finally stopped laughing, Sasha hugged Klara.
‘I’m wondering if I made a mistake? My intuition hasn’t been at its best lately.
What if my matcha reading is pointing you in the wrong direction?
There are some amazing beaches much closer to home too.
There are fabulous sunset beaches in Cornwall. Or Wales.’
‘Sooo – what do you think? I should go to the West Country?’
‘I mean, you could look for love closer to home.’
Klara started to laugh. ‘What are you saying? That a Greek or Spanish hunk isn’t going to romance me after all?’
‘What did that book say? “Look for the nice guy” . . . By the way, I think Leo’s family’s from Goa; there are gorgeous beaches there . . .’ Sasha suggested.
‘Leo?’ Klara shrieked. ‘You are joking, aren’t you?’
‘Well, it’s so considerate of him, finding the books, bringing the box on his night off. He knew how much you needed it.’
‘I’m booking a holiday abroad. Thailand, maybe. I’d rather find my true love on a tropical island, in a five-star hotel.’
‘Sometimes what you’re looking for could be right in front of you.’
‘Back atcha . . . what about you and your latest matchmaking client, eh? I’m talking about Ben, of course. I’m sure you’ve noticed those shoulders and cheekbones. Rather a hottie, don’t you think?’
‘Come on – that joke’s wearing a bit thin, Klara.’
‘As you said: romance can be right under your nose.’
Sasha shook her head. ‘The difference is: I’m not looking for romance. Plus, I’m a professional. I wouldn’t mix business and pleasure.’
‘Are you sure?’ Klara poked her tongue out at Sasha and she poked her tongue back. Sasha snorted.
‘Come on.’ Klara grabbed Sasha’s hand. ‘Let’s head back to your flat. I need sleep if I’m going to be busy ringing round the serial-killer fans before they start thinking about dismembering me!’