Page 48 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
I can hear the girl oohing and ahhing, exclaims of ‘she’s read that one!’ and showing Cleo the prettiest covers, and eventually she skips back towards me, clutching two paperbacks. I think the covers being pink and purple were probably the deciding factors in her choices.
‘We’re doing sums in school, that makes ten.’ She pushes them up onto the counter and waves the book tag at me.
It’s a little bit over ten, but I don’t mind given how happy it makes her. I wrap her choices in gift wrap, and put them into a bag with a couple of bookmarks and a flyer about the book festival, and we watch her skip back across to her grandma onthe benches, who raises a hand in our direction with a grateful smile.
It’s the uplift I needed this afternoon. ‘That’s exactly why the pay-it-forward board is there.Thisis the warm and fuzzy feeling I used to get every time someone used it.’
‘Why did they stop?’
‘Disenchantment?’ I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Maybe most people are cynical, like Rick, and believe it would only ever be used by dishonest people trying to swindle a freebie. Plus, it’s hard to get people to part with cash for something intangible, something they’ll never see the benefit of, and money is tight for everyone these days. Few people have got extra for themselves, let alone for a stranger.’
‘Darcy is not cynical like Rick.’ The tag he wrote is still on the counter and she runs her fingers over his curled lettering.
‘And that’s the paradox that is Darcy. He’s cold, hardened, jaded and distrustful, and yet it’s like he stillwantsto believe in goodness. He wants to believe people are better than they are. He says he hates people and yet he filled that board without a second thought.’
The little girl didn’t take her magazine with her, and Cleo unfurls it and lays it next to the copy we already had. ‘Could he have done this? Anonymous source and anonymous neighbour, bit of a coincidence, no?’
‘Noooo.’ I look up at her in surprise, even though I understand the correlation. ‘There’s no way. This is the furthest thing from something he’d do. He isn’t one for voluntarily talking to people and I can’t imagine him seeking out a journalist or saying anything as unkind as this.’
‘Did he know about U.N.Known?’
‘He knew I was emailing him. I never told him that he’d said he’d think about it. I never told anyone that. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, including my own, because I didn’t want tobe disappointed when he inevitably came back with a no. Darcy was here when I was sorting out the forms the other day, but I’d have noticed if he’d got his phone out and snapped a pic, and he hasn’t been alone in the shop to take any photos.’
Judging by the expression on Cleo’s face, she realises I’m wrong at the exact same moment as I do.
‘Yes, he has, hasn’t he? When we had our friendship date and he was in here cleaning up.’ I turn it over in my mind. Darcy is theonlyperson who’s been alone in my shop. He’s the only person who would’ve had a chance to go through the questionnaires and take a photo without anyone noticing. ‘This is so unlike him. Maybe he thought he was helping and it got lost in translation. The journalist took nice words and twisted them into something else… Darcy has been nothing but supportive since the moment I met him. There’s no way…’
My thoughts are interrupted by the ping of my email account and the email I was dreading pops into my inbox.
It’s from [email protected].
I never said yes.
I know that. That article was nothing to do with me. I’m mortified. I don’t know who told them or how they knew I was talking to you. I honestly haven’t mentioned these emails to anyone. I’m so sorry. This is the last thing I wanted printed about me. I’m the one who looks bad.
If this is some way of manipulating me into agreeing, it won’t work.
I burst into tears because that’s exactly what it looks like, isn’t it? It looks like I’ve released the information to pressure him into agreeing. Cleo chews her lip worriedly as I swipe tears away and type back through blurry eyes.
It’s not. I know what you must be thinking, but I don’t know how it’s got out. I haven’t told a soul about our emails, and I’ve never mentioned your name in relation to the book festival, apart from excitedly telling my neighbour I was going to email you weeks ago. Absolutely no one knew you’d said you’d think about it.
Well, now I certainly won’t, will I?
I thunk my head down on the counter.Thatis exactly what I saw coming. His tone is angry, and I decide not to reply again for the moment. Maybe he’ll hear me out again when he’s cooled off, or maybe I really have blown it for good.
Instead, I fire off an email toThe Wye Wordasking if they’re proud of publishing such a demeaning article and asking to know who their anonymous source is, but they ignore the first question and politely inform me that they can’t share the names of people who wish to remain anonymous.
I wanted to remain anonymous too. Half the people in my life are anonymous. I wouldn’t mind being granted the same courtesy.
14
In recent months, the pay-it-forward board has been mostly cork with a couple of dusty book-shaped tags on it, but by the end of the day, there’s barely room to see the board under all the tags. I’ve had endless phone calls about the book festival and people who want to be matched with bookish friends from all over the country. Cleo stayed for most of the day, refused my offer of paying her, and by five o’clock, I’m exhausted and beyond glad to shut the door for the night and take the phone off the hook.
I go upstairs to feed Mrs Potts and there’s a knock from the other side of the kitchen wall. ‘You there?’
Just hearing Darcy’s voice makes the stress of today melt away. Maybe it shouldn’t, because all day I’ve been fighting that sliver of doubt about him and the article, but Ican’tbelieve he had anything to do with it.
‘You got time to come out? We’ve got an important job to do tonight.’
