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I frown slightly. ‘But you have work lined up, don’t you?’
She nods. ‘But the owner’s a friend… So it’s left me with a bit of a conundrum. Obviously, I don’t want to let her down…’
‘So what will you do?’
She shrugs. ‘Maybe I’ll see if anyone else can take the hotel on. It’s an easy gig – at least, most of the time.’ Glancing around the shop, she changes the subject. ‘So how long have you worked here?’
‘A couple of years.’ I hesitate. ‘I inherited some money. I used to work in a bookshop – and I’ve always loved books, so I figured I’d give it a try.’
The girl looks interested. ‘Lucky for you.’
I sigh. Few people know how I came to open the shop. But because she’s been open with me, I decide to tell her. ‘To be honest, not so much. The only reason I had the money was because my parents died.’
‘God.’ She looks shocked. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK.’ I shrug. My parents had been on holiday. They’d hired a boat, the day before they left. It was the kind of thing they’d done many times before, only this time, there was a random accident. ‘They were too young…’ I tail it off, because when it comes to dying, as I’ve learned, age has nothing to do with it. ‘I suppose, until then, I’d only ever lost an elderly grandparent. I know it’s always sad to lose someone, but when they’re old, it’s less of a shock, isn’t it? When my parents died… it was the first time I realised that age is irrelevant.’
When the girl stares at me, I’m worried I’ve said too much. But I’m used to too many platitudes about grief:time heals, they had a good life, everything happens for a reason. That my parents would want me to be happy; that I need to get on with my life. It’s why when it comes to grief, I tend to say it like it is.
She freezes for a moment. ‘You’re right,’ she says quietly. ‘For frick’s sake. If only more people would think like that and bloody live their lives. Instead they obsess about the most trivial, meaningless things.’
I smile at her sadly. But she doesn’t know that my entire life is designed around the arguably trivial mechanics of running a small-town shop. ‘I guess everyone’s different, aren’t they?’
‘You’re right.’ Suddenly she seems restless. ‘Look, thanks for the tea – and for listening.’
As she stands up, I wonder if I’ve upset her. ‘I’m really sorry – if I said something insensitive just now.’
Her eyes are luminous as she looks at me. ‘You didn’t,’ she says. ‘In fact, you were bang on. You’ve made me think, that’s all.’ She stands up. ‘Look, I don’t know many people who live around here. Do you fancy meeting for a drink one evening? I mean, we’ve hardly scratched the surface, but I promise not to bore you with “poor me” stories.’
‘It’s been anything but boring.’ I smile at her. ‘I’ll have to see what my sister’s doing – she lives with me. But…’ I’m silent for a moment. When Birdy’s fine without me there, I wonder why I’m making excuses. ‘OK. That would be really nice.’
‘Cool.’ Her eyes glint. ‘How about Wednesday? I finish early that day – if that’s OK with your sister?’
I shrug, thinking how my solitary moonlit walks are the only time I venture out at night; that it’s a long time since I’ve been anywhere socially. ‘OK,’ I say cautiously.
‘How about you come along to the Little Hotel? Around seven?’
When I nod, she smiles. ‘I better pay you for this book.’ Picking it up, she gets out her card.
She follows me over to my desk, holding her card up to the reader before taking the book I hold out, wrapped in one of the trademark brown paper bags.
‘I’m Rae, by the way.’
‘Rae as in Raven’s Bookshop?’
I smile. ‘It’s kind of a play on my name. And there are a lot of ravens in the grounds of the castle.’
She nods. ‘Cool. I’m Marnie.’ Putting her card away, she pauses. ‘I guess I’ll see you on Wednesday, then.’
As I watch her walk outside, an unfamiliar warmth comes over me. It isn’t just her directness, her get up and go. What I’m feeling is more subtle than that, as though just being with her has stirred something forgotten in me.
9
MARNIE
After talking to Rae, even at work, it feels like a better-than-average day. Not only do I have another book to escape into, but there’s also the prospect of an evening out with her, maybe the glimmer of friendship, even. If it wasn’t for the appointment hanging over me… As the familiar feeling of dread comes over me, the door opens and the arsehole lawyer walks in.
I glare at him. ‘We’re closed.’
