Page 15 of The Breakup Bookshop

Rory returns from the doctor with a small bandage around his ankle.

‘Just a sprain. I’ll survive.’

‘That’s a relief. I was worried you were going to sue me.’

‘That’s not a bad idea, you know,’ he muses. ‘I’ll get my lawyers to call your lawyers.’

‘You do that. You’ll need to rest your ankle, though. I can work in the shop until it’s better?’

I pull over a chair and gesture for Rory to sit behind the counter. Although I feel bad about Rory’s injury, I hope he won’t take me up on my offer. I have so much work left to do in my own shop, I can’t afford to look after the Tool

andThe Toolbox. Time is money, and I am quickly running out of both. Thankfully, he shakes his head.

‘I’ll be able to take it from here,’ he says, ignoring the chair. ‘Did the delivery come?’

‘Yes, sir, all present and correct.’ I gesture to a large box on the floor. ‘I also had your biggest fan here while you were away.’

‘Michael Roberts?’

‘No.’

‘Jamie Brennan? He’s got a bit of a wire fetish.’

‘That sounds like something you should report to the police, but no, not Jamie. How bigisyour fan base, exactly?’

‘There’s a waiting list for membership,’ he says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘Who was it, then?’

‘Margaret. She wasnotpleased that I had the audacity to stand behind your counter.’

‘Ah, of course. Go easy on her, I think she’s a bit lonely. Lots of people that way up here. Margaret’s husband, Bill, died recently. Not in your flat, in case you’re worried.’

I roll my eyes at Rory’s old joke, but inside I feel a pang of sadness for Margaret. Turns out there’s a lot of lonely people in Ullapool, not to mention myself.

‘Well, it’s good that Margaret’s got you to look out for her,’ I say. ‘The fan club may well double as an anti-book club. She wasn’t much impressed, either, by the idea of a bookshop in the village.’

‘As soon as you change a plug for Margaret, she’ll be like putty in your hands.’

‘That’s not exactly in my business plan.’ I clear my throat. ‘Speaking of which, I have a business proposition for you.’

I stride purposefully to the desk and retrieve the sketchbook, bringing it over to the counter. I lay it open at a sketch of the mountains. ‘You’re an artist.’

The statement seems to take him by surprise. ‘You looked in my book?’

‘Yes, sorry,’ I say. ‘I saw it lying there and I couldn’t resist. I need an artist for the bookshop. I’ve been imagining a mural of Ullapool for weeks now. It will be the focal point of the shop.’ I consider my next words carefully. I don’t want to stroke his ego too much, but I have to get him on board. It’s a fine line. So I add: ‘You’re good. Very good. Seriously.’

‘Thanks,’ he says, unmoved. ‘But no thanks.’

It’s firm, but nevertheless I persist. ‘I’ve got a fee set aside for it. Plus, I could manage your shop while you do it. I’m basically looking for your entire sketchbook in mural form on my wall. In fact, that’s exactly what I’d like. It wouldn’t have to be—’

‘I said no thanks,’ he repeats, somehow even more firmly. ‘I’ll fix the hole in our wall, though. It doesn’t look good for a DIY store to be falling apart.’

He takes some Polyfilla from the shelf and busies around under the counter as I swallow my disappointment. It’s not as though I asked him a favour. I offered him a fee. But he won’t help me even if I pay him. Does he really dislike me that much?

‘Well… I’d better get back next door – to get everything ready for the mural,’ I say. Rory opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. ‘Why don’t you at least think about it? I don’t need an answer right now.’

The bell gives a jaunty ding above my head as I pull the door open. At least I had the last word this time. Factoring in the hole in the wall and Laddergate, I reckon the score is starting to even up.

Let’s say Rory 8, Ava 7. If I can get him to agree to the mural, I’ll definitely give myself a few extra points.