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‘Wow,’ I say again. ‘So what brings you to Arundel?’
She stares at me. ‘I guess you could say I’m taking a break – until I start another assignment next month. I’m working at the Little Hotel for now – while the owner’s away.’ She glances at her watch. ‘Jeez, is that the time? I have to go.’
‘Sure. What about these?’ I survey the array of books.
‘I suppose I may as well take those two,’ she says ungraciously, selecting the ones I picked out.
Flattered – and slightly anxious – that she’s listened to my opinion, I smile at her. ‘A good choice, if you don’t mind me saying. And if you don’t like them, you can bring them back,’ I add quickly, not wanting her to think I’m sticking my nose in.
‘I might hold you to that.’ She gets out her bank card.
I blink at her. She’s obviously someone who says exactly what she thinks. Holding out the card reader, she pays, and I place the books in a bag and pass them to her. ‘I hope you enjoy them.’
She takes it from me. ‘So do I.’
Without so much as a thank you, I watch her walk towards the door. She’s one of the rudest people to ever come into the shop. But I can’t help noticing her shoulders are straight andthere’s a swing to her step; a kind of poise, too, as she opens the door and closes it behind her. She looks like someone in charge of her destiny, for whom the world is out there, waiting for her to discover it. A feeling I haven’t known in a long time.
I’ve never been overly ambitious. For as long as I can remember, all I’ve ever wanted is a quiet life. My own little place to come home to, a life that’s free of drama, a small handful of friends, enough money to cover my modest outgoings. A life where I know what lies around the corner, that I have some semblance of control over. Isn’t that what we all want – a little control over our destiny while we’re in this world?
Since opening my bookshop, I like to think I’ve achieved that. The shop is the heart of my entire world, hidden away along one of Arundel’s narrow streets, its narrow front belying what’s hidden inside. I’m passionate about books and the worlds they draw us into. To me, each is a thing of beauty, like a piece of art, from the cover design to the font and layout of the page; to the alchemy within the author’s words.
Of course, it would be nothing without the people who come here, and from behind my desk, I’m almost invisible as I watch them, imagining their names and what kind of book they’re going to buy. Often it’s the latest big-name fiction – Richard Osman, Val McDermid, Colleen Hoover kind of big, piled on the table at the front of my shop. Oh, and Prince Harry’s been there, too, of course. After all, if you’re going to buy a present for someone, you’re not going to go for something niche – not usually, that is.
I look up as the door jingles. It’s the girl again – the rude one.
‘Forgot my fricking gloves.’ Her face is like thunder as she finds them on one of the shelves before, without saying anything else, she’s gone again, leaving me gazing after her, wondering just what it is that’s going on in her life.
2
MARNIE
As I walk out of the bookshop, I’m irritated with the girl in there who thinks she knows better than me. With the idiots on the streets who keep walking into me. With myself for not coming out with the books I went in there for. I mean, for frick’s sake. When she doesn’t know the first thing about me, who does she think she is?
I’m also irritated with Arundel – for being so fricking small. The hotel, too, namely with one particular guest who’s trashed one of the rooms and left me a mess to sort out. And with this frigging, mind-numbing, grim English weather.
Just when I think my day can’t get any worse, as I reach the hotel, my heart sinks as through the window I see one of our regulars, Alice. Probably on her fourth Prosecco. I know I should be grateful; that the hotel wouldn’t survive without customers. And I shouldn’t say it, but she’s one of the most annoying people I’ve met, one that today of all days, I could do without.
Silently cursing the universe for throwing everything at me at once, I open the door, pinning on a smile. ‘Morning.’
Behind the bar, James looks up. He’s a nice boy, James. Reliable enough, always in a neatly pressed shirt, and just like everything else about this town, slightly dull.
‘Ah, Marnie.’ Alice beams at me. ‘How nice to see you. Some of the girls are joining me for lunch.’
‘Excellent.’ Instead of thinking of the money they’ll spend, my heart sinks at the thought of a group of loud, opinionated, pissed yummy mummies. ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ Going through to the back, I hang up my jacket. Stopping to take a deep breath, I glance at the books I’ve just bought.
Sighing, just like that I feel my mood change. I probably shouldn’t have been so rude to the girl in the shop. She doesn’t know I’m searching for the impossible. That right now, my entire life feels like it’s on a knife edge.
But no-one knows. And for now, I have another shift to get through. Pinning on a smile, I head for the bar.
By the time I get home, I’m exhausted. On top of the yummy mummies being particularly annoying, along with off-the-scale quotes for fixing the trashed room, there was a missed call from my doctor, who left a message I haven’t listened to yet.
Pouring myself a large glass of wine, I sit down. I gaze at my phone and think about playing the message, before telling myself it isn’t important and putting it off a little longer.
For a moment, I think longingly of the home I left in a narrow Spanish street of white-painted houses; yearning for the clear blue skies, the long drawn-out social gatherings, the vibrant culture.
A sigh comes from me. It isn’t that I don’t like Arundel. With its quiet streets and old buildings, there are far worse places tolive. But even the beauty of the countryside doesn’t compensate for how crowded it is; for the greyness of the skies, the roads packed with oversized cars, all of it at odds with the part of me that aches for freedom and space; for a different kind of life that’s far away from here.
I imagine sitting on a plane, the sound of the engines as it accelerates down the runway; conjure the feeling as it lifts into the air. That feeling of excitement as it touches down hours later somewhere I’ve never seen before.
