Page 30 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
‘Ali didn’t mean any harm. You could have just corrected him.’
‘And you could’ve just left me alone with no one else to think of or care about!’
We stare at each other for a second, at least I assume he’s looking at me as I try to process what he didn’t intend to say there. Is that his unintentional way of suggesting that he cares about me? ‘Darcy…’
‘Leave me alone, as you should have from the start!’ He stomps up the path, the broken glass of the wine bottle crunching under his boots as he storms in the door.
‘You need to control your temper!’ I shout after him, feeling more like Belle than ever before. ‘No one cares about what you’re hiding under that scarf as much as you do, Darcy.’
The back door slamming is my reply.
I make a noise of frustration and go back round to A Tale As Old As Time.
There will be a free book swap table at Bookishly Ever After and I’m sorting out unsellable or damaged stock for that when Ali knocks on my door a couple of hours later, looking sheepish in the rain that’s started up, reflecting my mood after the disaster of what was supposed to be a great start for the friendship dates.
‘Sorry, Marnie.’ He’s still got his chef’s hat on and he takes it off and clasps it in his hand when I invite him in. ‘I was trying to help. I’d looked up burn scarring on the internet, I thought he might feel comfortable opening up to me if I knew what I was talking about. Which I obviously didn’t. I didn’t mean to ruin things.’
‘No, not at all. Maybe it was a terrible idea. I just thought, with his reputation, if I could show that books can bring even the unlikeliest of people together… Maybe I lost the plot. Got caught up in it and thought I could…’ I look at the wall between me and The Beast’s Enchanted Rose Garden sadly. ‘…change the unchangeable.’
Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong – by acting like Darcy needs to change rather than just accepting him. He’s pretty great exactly as he is… even with the tendency to throw objects at people.
9
Not to be discouraged by the disastrous start, over the weekend, I’ve started work on the idea of friendship dates and how to get it functioning. I’ve created a spreadsheet to cross-reference answers, and printed out a blank form to be filled in, hopefully by people who actually want to find friends, unlike one half of my first couple, who definitely did not.
So far I’ve got options for – favourite book, other favourite books because every booklover knows it’s unfair to ask for just one, favourite author, favourite childhood book, last book read and enjoyed, last book read and hated, other interests and hobbies, and a box for any additional comments the filler-in might want to share.
I’m leaning on the counter working on it when my U.N.Known-loving customer comes in.
‘Anything new this week?’ she asks cheerily.
‘Nothing.’ I try to hide the disappointment in my voice, but the budget hasn’t stretched to new stock for a few months now, and with Christmas not far off, I’ve concentrated on children’s books and gift books.
‘And nothing from our favourite mysterious author, I guess?’ Her tone suggests that she’s wondering why she bothers to ask.
I shake my head, keeping my lips clamped closed because I’mdyingto tell her I emailed him, but I can’t. It’s not my secret to share.
She’s the only customer, so she wanders around the shop, telling me about her latest read from the other side of the shelves. Even Mrs Potts welcomes the scritch she offers her, which is unusual because Mrs Potts isn’t generally a fan of customers, but she seems happier since Darcy came into her life.
My favourite customer picks up a couple of bookmarks painted by local artists and a new witchy rom com by Holly Martin and comes over to the counter to pay. ‘You’re certainly doing all the things lately. What’s a friendship questionnaire?’ Her eyes are on the form I’ve just pushed aside and then her cheeks flare red. ‘Sorry, that’s hideously nosy, isn’t it? Ignore me, I only open my mouth to change feet most days.’
There’s something about her that puts me at ease and it buoys my confidence that someone is interested enough to ask, so I give her a brief explanation of the idea of friendship dates and connecting platonically over a love of the same books.
‘Oh, that sounds brilliant, sign me up!’
‘Really?’ I try to hide the grin that bursts across my face, but I can’t quite manage it. I was half-convinced that most people would think I’d finally lost the last one of my remaining marbles.
‘Yeah, definitely! I don’t have many friends and it always feels odd to admit that. It’s so difficult in real life. I either feel uncomfortable around strangers and barely talk or I feel too comfortable around them and don’t stop talking, and both options are off-putting. It would be nice to meet someone else who understood that awkwardness, and to have the bookish chat to break the ice, because things are always stilted at first, and I usually come out with something random and weird like, “Doyou think conkers would taste nice?” thereby ensuring they back away slowly before running for the hills. I never feel like I fit in anywhere, no matter how hard I try, you know?’
‘Oh, more than you can imagine,’ I mutter, wondering how on earth someone who’s so pretty, chatty, and seemingly outgoing could feel like they don’t fit in, and it builds my confidence once again. People are going to get behind this idea. None of us know what other people struggle with, and I’m more convinced than ever that I’m not the only person who struggles to make friends and would like more nice people in my life.
She’s turned the form around to face her and is reading the options. ‘Know anyone who likesOnce Upon Another Time?’
‘Well, other than me, we haven’t really got start—’
‘You’re who I was hoping for.’
‘Me?’
