Page 13 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
‘You asked that for a reason…’ he says after a while, his tone leading, and I try to ignore the little fizzle that runs through me because he cares enough to ask when he could’ve just left it.
‘It’s silly. It was just that Witt came in today with flyers about hiring out the castle, and it put the thought of a book festival in my head. You know, if I could get a few local authors together to do book signings, readings from their books, maybe a couple of talks about writing or publishing or something… If I could bring a load of booklovers to Ever After Street, they’d naturally visit the bookshop, and that would bring in customers, and…’ My voice is speeding up and I stop myself. ‘Sorry, it sounded better when I said it to my cat.’
‘It sounds pretty good when you say it to me too.’ His secateurs have stoppedplinkingand his voice is closer to the hedge again. ‘Why are you stopping yourself?’
‘Because I don’t know the first thing about hosting a book festival. I’ve never evenbeento a book festival. I know a great group of readers online who could give me some tips on what would be expected, and there are a couple of brilliant romance authors from the Herefordshire and Gloucestershire areas who do talks in local libraries occasionally, if I could get them to come…’ I’m getting carried away again and force myself to stop.
‘Have you always been a bookseller?’ he asks, and it’s my turn to be surprised by the randomness of his question.
‘No. Before A Tale As Old As Time, I worked in retail. I managed a stationery shop until it closed down, then worked as an assistant in a clothing shop, then supermarket checkouts.’
‘And yet, you took on your own bookshop without any hands-on bookshop experience. I know you weren’t alone then, but that still must’ve been a risk, a big step outside your comfort zone, but you went for it. And you’re talking to me – so you’re clearly not afraid of a challenge.’
I bite my lip because that self-deprecation is just a little bit too close to the surface. Without realising it, I’ve migrated across the garden to the hedge too. I’m standing right opposite him but we’re invisible to each other. ‘It’s not a challenge to talk to you.’
He does a grunt of disbelief but clearly isn’t going to continue this thread of the conversation. ‘So what’s changed in the past couple of years? That dynamic young woman who can take on anything is still in there somewhere. Grief, I know. I’ve lost people too. But your mother wouldn’t want you to lose a place you obviously both loved because of her absence.’
‘You don’t know what my mum would’ve wanted,’ I snap and then sigh at myself because this is what I do. I take well-meaning comments too seriously and push away people who are trying to help. ‘Sorry. You’re right, I know you are. She’d be devastated if she knew how much I’ve let things slide. I’ve done the basics to keep the shop afloat. I rearrange books, I order as much stock as I can afford with the dwindling budget, and mainly I lose myself in books to avoid the real world. I’ve pushed the other shopkeepers away. I have no right to expect their support now, and I don’t know how to do it on my own.’ I chew on my lip. Where the heck did allthatcome from? I hadn’t even realised I felt that way until it spilled out. This poor guy. He didnotbank on getting all that in answer to his simple question.
I expect him to backtrack in horror at his oversharing neighbour, but instead there’s a rustle from the other side of the hedge and the grunts and groans of him sitting down.
If he’s really thirty-eight, he makes the noises of an eighty-year-old when moving around.
‘Sit down with me a minute. Maybe I can help. I know a little bit about pushing people away, and if there’s one thing I know about this place, it’s that they don’t leave you alone, even if you wish they would. Even if you growl at them.’
I appreciate the laugh, even though I doubt he’s joking about the growling. Despite the cold concrete of my garden path, I sit down cross-legged again like last night and lean my head back against the hedge. I’m directly opposite him, back to back, with just the vast expanse of green branches between us. Maybe mynext job should be thinning it out on my side just to be a bit nearer to him.
‘When are you thinking?’
‘Mid-November.’ I say it quickly without giving myself time to overthink. ‘It has to be before my lease is up. I have to have something to show Mr Rowbotham, and prove to the council that A Tale As Old As Time deserves its place on Ever After Street. I was thinking we could use a few rooms in the castle. Author talks in one. Book signings in another. Maybe an author question and answer session. Nibbles and drinks. If I held it over a weekend, we could have a bookish fancy-dress party for a finale on the Sunday night – a “come as your favourite literary character” type thing and there’s a prize for best costume.’
I love the sound of it – it’s somethingI’dgo to, but I’ve never done anything like this before and I don’t know where to start. ‘But it depends on so much. How many people are going to have free time at such short notice? And if any authors agree, I can’t expect them to come for free, I’ll need to pay them out of my already dwindling budget, and that’s without everything else that costs money. Caterers. Decorators. Prizes.’
‘I’ll provide floral decorations. And one prize could be a delivery of flowers to their door every month for a year or something.’
‘Seriously?’ My head spins towards the hedge in surprise. ‘You’d do that?’
‘Yeah, why not?’
‘Because you’re…’ I don’t know how to end that sentence without offending him.
‘Yeah, I am.’
‘I just meant… You’re not usually one for getting involved in anything to do with Ever After Street.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘So why…’ Another sentence I can’t finish.
‘Because I hate seeing people excited about something and letting self-doubt stop them. Let the excitement consume you and see where it leads. What wouldyouwant to see in a book festival?’
‘Romance,’ I say instantly. ‘We could make it a romance festival. I love romantic fiction and it always gets a bad rep as being cute and fluffy, but it tackles real issues in a relatable way, and authors of it deserve celebrating. I can think of three local authors I adore who write romance. And I’m a member of a booklovers group on Facebook where loads of authors are members too… I could put a post up and see if anyone would be interested in travelling from further afield, and…’ I trail off again.
‘Everything that is real was imagined first.’
‘Is that…’ It takes me a minute to remember where that line comes from. ‘Is that aVelveteen Rabbitquote?’
‘It’s very fitting. Everything that exists only exists because someone had the courage to do it.’
