Page 64 of Hate You to Love You

By the time I wake the next day, Elliot’s no longer at the forefront of my mind. Grafton Street, and how it plays into Claudia and Alastair’s story, is. Claudia is only free in the evening, so I decide to make the most of my alone time. After putting Claudia’s journal and my copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary in my tote bag, I leave the hotel. As I stroll towards my first destination, Hodges Figgis Bookstore, I replay everything that Claudia told me in London. I’m halfway through a cinnamon roll and a warm latte at a nearby cafe, scribbling all the important details that I’ve picked up on so far, when it hits me: the thought of writing no longer terrifies me. Maybe I am getting my magic back.

That, alongside the fact that I spend the rest of the day visiting bookstores, is enough to leave me on a little bit of a high. The alcoves at Hodges Figgis go on and on, like some mesmerising labyrinth made up of bookshelves. For lunch, I hop on one of the trams and take myself to a takeaway shop called Mario’s Pizza. It’s a tiny joint, with one wooden bench to eat at, a fridge that’s only half filled with drinks, and staff shouting at each other from within the kitchen. Despite the name, I order myself the fish and chips and indulge in the crunch of its beer-batter coating, which is soaked in salt. With my stomach full, I wander along the river, shoulder to shoulder with tourists despite the chilly weather, before dropping by Gutter Bookshop and The Winding Stair. It’s early evening when I finish my bookshop crawl, so I begin my journey towards Grafton Street.

As I walk down the wide street, surrounded by high-end shops, I can almost feel the melancholy of Claudia’s words alive in this area. I turn down an alleyway and eventually onto Drury Street, where Loose Canon is located. With part of the street closed off to traffic, patrons spill out from venues, passing people sitting on the ground along the curb to eat and drink. A busker plays a cover of ‘Wonderwall’ to a crowd that has formed in front of a pub. The sun has set, and the last moments of the day are cast in the sky with a faint blue. Fairy lights are draped over the street, swinging slowly with the wind. It feels like one giant street party.

Calling Loose Canon a small bar is putting it lightly. The only seats are at two window nooks, behind which is a counter full of a diverse selection of cheese. As soon as people order, they grab their drinks and platters of cheese to dine out on the footpath. Luckily, Claudia has found herself a seat by the window.

‘You’ve been doing your research,’ she says to me, peering out the window.

The busker is now deep into the chorus of ‘Mr Brightside’, and a small group has started dancing in front of him.

‘How does it feel, being back?’ I ask, taking a seat opposite her.

‘Straight to the point, then?’ she remarks.

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ I try to backtrack.

‘The architecture of Dublin and Edinburgh inspired the world of Golden Ruins, you know,’ she says. ‘And the books gained a huge fan base in the UK. That’s why I was invited to the big festivals over here when Summer Memory came out. And, as you know, Alastair was with me.’

I nod, and the anticipation of getting closer to the truth of her disappearance makes me lean forward.

‘Well, it all came crashing down when we got here. I had back-to-back events lined up. Alastair had been invited to several events and dinner parties. And I tried, I really tried, to get through it,’ she says.

I grip my pen tightly, scrambling to take notes.

‘I thought that maybe I was burnt out, but if anything, being here cemented the fact that this life wasn’t the life I wanted. Year after year, there were tours, events, endless public commitments. I was grateful, but I didn’t have a real life with people I loved.’

‘But you had Alastair,’ I say.

‘That’s the thing. I thought about what our lives would look like after all this, without the accolades and fancy events. I even tried to imagine our wedding, and do you know what I realised? I couldn’t name one genuine friend I’d made over the years who I’d want to invite. My life was an artifice. What I needed was the life back home. I wanted real friends. I wanted to get back to the basics of why I loved reading and writing.’

‘So, the tour didn’t matter anymore?’

Claudia shakes her head. ‘No, no, it did. I owed it to the readers and booksellers who supported me. But that was when I finally ended things with Alastair.’

‘How did he take it?’

‘As well as could be expected,’ she laughs. ‘At one point it felt like the end of a business transaction.’

The atmosphere shifts with her confession. There’s a longing expression on her face, as if she is being pulled back into a long-forgotten memory.

‘Don’t feel sorry for me,’ she declares. ‘I felt free, after I’d figured this out. Alastair still means so much to me. He always will. I’ll never regret the time we spent together. But it was through writing about and reflecting on what love was that I finally realised what being in love really meant to me. That’s when I knew I wasn’t in love with Alastair.’

‘I can understand the pain of grieving that relationship would be overwhelming. Is that why you cancelled the rest of the tour?’

Claudia laughs. ‘Could you imagine that headline? Author cancels tour due to break-up.’

‘People grieve the loss of relationships all the time,’ I say.

‘Ending my relationship with Alastair was one of the many reasons I cancelled the tour,’ she finally answers.

‘Because you regretted it?’

‘No. I knew it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t bear the idea of leading him on. And there was a voice in the back of my head telling me that he didn’t truly love me either.’

I frown.

‘You look confused,’ she says.