Page 30 of Finding Love at the Magical Curiosity Shop
And nowI’mblushing at the thought of Ren blushing and she’s absolutely going to notice if I don’t redirect this conversation from the dangerous territory it’s straying into. Yeah, Ren is beautiful, but he’s very, very unavailable, and I don’t want Ava getting any ideas about our friendship because that’s all it is, and I’m not sure it’s even that sometimes. ‘You can always come to me if you want any advice about periods. Or boys, although I’m not so much of an expert with them, but I’ve got nearly three decades of period experience and I grew up with only a dad to talk to as well, so I know what you’re dealing with there.’
‘Did your dad put together a box for you? Every month, he finds, like, a shoebox, and fills it with different sizes of sanitary towels, and chocolate, and a book, and sometimes a new cover for my hot water bottle or a blanket or something, like a period care package.’
My heart melts. Nowthatis a guy who’s stepped up when it comes to periods. ‘My dad bought three books about periods and left them on the coffee table, right in the middle of the living room where anyone who came in would see them, because he wanted me to know it was nothing to be embarrassed about or shy away from. Every month, he filled the bathroom cabinet with supplies. I never had to ask for anything. It’s not easy to grow up without a mum, but having a dad like yours is special. Not all dads are like that.’
The conversation is cut short by Ren’s car pulling up to the door, carefully avoiding my mermaid’s tail statue and the tables full of junk that are still outside. I used to think they’d entice customers to come in, but I’m starting to wonder if it makes the place look like a jumble sale, and the Dickensian feel my shop gives off is because only people from the mid-nineteenth century would deign to shop here.
Ren opens the boot, revealing an endless cavern inside his big estate car and comes back in, pulling on a pair of workman’s gloves. Between the three of us, we carry everything from the area we’d cordoned off out to the car, while I try to make sure my second thoughts don’t show on my face. Some of this stuff has been here since my dad was alive, it’shardto throw out thingshechose, but I can also hear his voice in my head.If it hasn’t found a home by now, Mickey love, it isn’t likely to here. Let it move on.
When it’s all in and the car doors are shut, Ren stands in the doorway. ‘I won’t be long. I’m not sure which one of you is more likely to lead the other one astray, but neither of you do anything I wouldn’t do.’
‘Daaad, that’severything,’ Ava whines.
‘Well, luckily the shop is open so we’re a bit limited on things like going base jumping or wild-water kayaking in the hour it will take you to drop that off, but I’ll tell you what, we won’t do 99.5 per cent of the things you wouldn’t do, and you’ll forgive us for the rest, right?’
Ava laughs and so does Ren, his eyes twinkling as they meet mine across the shop.
‘And thank you,’ I add quickly. ‘You don’t have to do this but I really appreciate it.’
‘My pleasure.’ There’s that twinkle in his eyes as his gaze holds mine again, and then he shakes himself and swings his car keys around on his finger. ‘See you both later.’
‘Do you like Dad?’
Ava’s words catapult me out of the trance-like state I was in, standing at the window, watching his car pull away and then staring into space long after he’s gone.
‘It’s okay if you do,’ she continues. ‘Everyone at school thinks he’s hot. It’s sooo embarrassing. Every girl in my year has got a crush on him, and so have some of the boys. Everyone calls him the hottie history teacher.’
‘There are worse things they could say. It’s better than everyone saying your dad is the teacher who looks like a walrus, isn’t it?’
She giggles. ‘I’m going to tell him you said that.’
‘It’s okay, I’m sure he’ll take it in the spirit it was meant,’ I say with a giggle too. ‘And yeah, I like him, and I don’t mind if you tell him that too. Why shouldn’t I like him?’
‘Because you’re so alive and bright and young, and he’s so boring and old!’
‘He’s actually only three years older than me. And I don’t think he’s boring. I think he’s…’ I hesitate before I say something I shouldn’t and it takes me a moment to settle on a diplomatic answer. ‘…not having the easiest time since your mum left, but he’s trying his best, and underneath his hard shell, he’s actually very kind, thoughtful, and generous.’
‘Because he’s helping you with the decluttering?’ She’s going through trinkets on a dresser and comes across a ceramic seahorse and takes it over to the counter to put aside.
‘Yeah, but also because he’s… well, he always brings tea and cake even though he doesn’t have to. He’s brutally honest but that’s not a bad thing. Like those mugs, he could have just let you think he paid for them but he openly told you they were a gift – there’s something about someone who doesn’t hide even little things like that. I spent a lot of years in a relationship with someone who was never straightforward – it makes me appreciate people who are. He’s quick to apologise if he goes too far. And he makes me believe I can get a handle on the shop and face the antiques fair after all.’
‘Whyareyou so nervous about the antiques fair?’
‘Because it’ll be the first one without my dad.’ I was on my way out to tidy up the back room, and I stop to answer her question. ‘He thrived on doing antiques fairs and talking one-on-one with potential buyers, and it was his suggestion to have it in the castle, but he died before everything could be put into place, so it’s my turn to carry the baton and fulfil his idea. They’ve even named it the Philip Teasdale Antiques Fair in his honour, and that’s alotof pressure. Everyone on Ever After Street is going to expect me to have something spectacular. Witt – the castle owner and the guy who’s set it all up – has got a news crew coming in and everything. There are going to be reports in newspapers and he’s sent press releases out to antiques dealers and special interest websites because he knew that’s what my dad would have wanted, but me… I’d rather stay in the background and hide in my shop.’
‘That’s sad.’ She looks over at me. ‘You’re so lovely, you should be on the news.’
Tears spring to my eyes at how unfiltered she is, and I march over and give her a hug. ‘So are you. Maybe your dad will let you come and help me out and we canbothbe on the news.’
‘I’d like that.’ She hugs me back. ‘Dad will say no though. He never lets me do anything fun.’
‘He’s just trying to protect you. It’s what dads do when you’re thirteen. I was thirty-six when mine died and he was still trying to protect me, even then. One day you might appreciate it more than you do now.’
I let her go and go out to tidy up before I sob all over her. After I’ve crushed up a few cardboard boxes for recycling, and she’s put a few more ocean-themed ornaments on the counter, she blurts out, ‘What’s it like not having a dad?’
‘Horrible. Absolutely horrible. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I would do anything to hug mine one more time. I hugged him every single day and it was never enough. If I could go back, I would hug him so many more times. Enough to make up for all the times I’ve wished I could hug him again since he died.’ It’s hard to think about my dad without getting emotional and I bite my lip to stop my eyes welling up again. Even two years later, the grief is still raw, lurking just under the surface, ready to be set off at any little moment.
She nods and thinks about it for a minute. ‘I keep thinking he’s going to leave too.’
