Page 30 of The Breakup Bookshop

The shrill noise rings out and I realize it must be the doorbell. I take the stairs down as quickly as my wobbly, hungover legs can carry me and fling the door open, not caring if Pete sees me in my polka-dot pyjamas with my hair sticking up and a line of last night’s mascara smudged along my cheek. I squint in the sudden brightness, narrowing my eyes as Pete comes into focus. But he isn’t alone. I groan at the sight of his grinning accomplice.

‘Pete! You gotRoryto help you?’ I ask, hiding behind the door as much as I can. ‘I thought you said you’d asked a postie pal.’

‘Rude,’ Rory grins, putting his arm around Pete. ‘I am a postie pal. I’m everyone’s pal.’

Everyone except me.

I arch my eyebrow at Rory, sure that he can read my thoughts. His grins widens. ‘How’s the head?’

I shoot him a look, determined not to reveal that it might take a week to shift this pounding in my brain, and shuffle back in my slippers to give them space to enter. ‘Perfectly fine, thanks.’

‘Good,’ he says.

‘I needed Rory’s brute strength,’ Pete says. ‘Strongest lad in the village, or so was proven at the last village fete. Do you have any idea how heavy that thing is?’

Rory smirks at the compliment, while I contemplate throwing up.

‘So where is it?’ I ask, peering over their shoulders.

‘In the van,’ Pete explains. He seems out of breath at even the thought of lifting it, which doesn’t bode well for my new piece of furniture. ‘We just wanted to check you were in. Can’t leave it outside.’

I move behind the counter and pretend to look as busy and professional as possible in my tired pyjamas and slippers. As much as I want to run upstairs, change my clothes, wash my face and brush my hair, I don’t want Rory to know that I feel self-conscious in front of him. So, instead, I leaf through my book inventory, pretending to be terribly busy, important, and not in the least bit hungover and regretful of my recent life choices.

Rory’s face strains with concentration as he positions himself at the bottom of the tipped antique cabinet, while Pete puts all his energy into the top end.

‘Where’s it to go?’ Rory calls.

‘Right there,’ I point. ‘Beside that blank wall where your mural’s going. Unless you’d forgotten?’

‘Of course not,’ Rory replies.

They let out some muffled huffs and puffs as they set it down. The sight of the beautiful cabinet, looking just right in the spot where I’d pictured it, suddenly feels like a warm hug, like everything is going to be okay.

‘Oh, I am in love,’ I exclaim, clutching my hands together. ‘Thank you for bringing it in. I can’t wait to get started on it.’

‘Started?’ Pete frowns.

‘Yes, I’m going to upcycle it,’ I explain, running my hand along the edge of the dark brown wood. ‘Bright canary yellow, I think.’

‘You have great vision, Ava lass,’ Pete smiles, shaking his head. ‘Doesn’t she, Rory?’

Rory gazes around the shop. ‘I have to admit, it’s looking alright in here.’

‘Just alright?’ Pete elbows him in the chest. ‘This girl’s been working like a dog. Every time I come in, she’s sanding, painting or building something.’

‘Or hanging out around the bins trying to learn how to do it all,’ I say. ‘But it’s getting there. I’m glad you think it’s “alright”. The green tiles will be coming off in no time at this rate.’

‘Okay, it looks good,’ Rory concedes with a shrug. ‘But I’m still holding off on the tiles.’

‘It’ll be better with the mural. That’s the finishing touch.’

‘You don’t need to remind me of it every three seconds. I said I’d do it, and I will. Tomorrow.’

‘Oh aye, Rory’s a man of his word, don’t worry about that,’ Pete nods. ‘Anyway, I’ve got to head off, these packages won’t deliver themselves. Donna said to tell you she’ll pop over on her lunch break to see you, Ava. Just giving you the heads up in case… Well, you know.’

Pete gives a mock whack to his knees on his way out of the door, and I groan inwardly. We’d managed to have a whole interaction without him mentioning the kneecapping incident – or so I thought.

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