Noah crossed his arms, smiling at Emma as she got to her feet, her trainers echoing on the church floor. Quinn allowed her to guide him through the shelves towards the front of the shop. Noah sat alone in the middle of the church, lost in his own thoughts.
‘Well, that is quite something,’ Emma said to Quinn.
‘I don’t think I’ve been this flustered since a woman had her baby in here.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘She came in and she gave birth right there.’ Quinn pointed to the glass cabinet against the wall. ‘Said she wanted to use my phone to call the ambulance and then refused to leave because she was in so much pain. She named her child Charles, like Dickens.’
‘Wow.’
‘This place has so much history. Apparently, it was the site of a murder when the castle was functioning,’ Quinn said. ‘Oh, and Richard Booth used it. Rumour also has it that this place was a boudoir.’
Emma probed Quinn on his own thoughts about the closure. Quinn recited as much as he could, feeling like his words weren’t communicating its importance enough. Which then made him talk too much. But Noah’s words came back to him about needing to fight. This was the way Quinn could fight. With words, with stories, with examples of how special this place was.
‘Well, thank you, Quinn, for your time. It’s appreciated.’
‘I appreciate you,’ Quinn said, somewhat breathless. ‘When will this go out?’
‘End of the week,’ Emma said. ‘Let’s say Friday.’
‘Great!’
Noah joined them at the front of the shop, moving much too close to Quinn. He froze. Only recently, he’d been touching him, hugging him. Now he was back like he’d never left.
Emma turned to Noah. ‘Thank you for your time.’
‘Happy to.’
‘One last photo?’ Emma asked.
‘Sure.’ Quinn held his hand out to Noah. He’d be lying if he wasn’t using it as an excuse to feel Noah again. ‘Where do you want him?’
‘Oh, the both of you, please,’ Emma said.
Noah patted Quinn on the back.
‘An author and his biggest fan,’ Quinn said.
Noah laughed, and Quinn laughed too. The camera flashed, catching them mid-laugh. Emma smiled.
‘We’ll catch you soon.’
ChapterTwelve
Quinn popped the champagne, fizz bubbling over the neck and trickling down the curves like an M&S advertisement. Two glasses in his hands clinked together as he poured the liquid into the glass, handing one to Noah in an awkward movement.
‘Thank you,’ Noah said, his fingers grazing Quinn’s. It almost made Quinn drop the champagne, causing another accident.
‘I can’t wait to see that interview.’ The interview had thrilled Quinn with the idea of what might get published. For the first time in a while, he embraced optimism like an old friend. He couldn’t help it, but with an encouraging pep talk via FaceTime with Ivy, his thoughts had run away from him, imagining the success the interview would have, the saving of the shop, and the materialisation of a nice hot man to make him feel better in the dark, cold winter nights.
‘You okay?’
Quinn realised he’d been thinking a little too long about that hunky man, because Noah’s voice called him back from his daydreaming. Cheeks blushing red, Quinn cleared his throat.
‘A toast. To Kings & Queens. To Hay.’
‘And to you.’
