Page 38 of The Breakup Bookshop

‘Don’t mention it,’ he shrugs, before his face breaks out into a smirk. ‘Because I will. Over and over again.’

Ah, there’s the Rory I know.

‘Bet you don’t cast things up to Margaret,’ I call, as he walks out of the door.

‘Jealousy will get you nowhere.’

As he carries a dehumidifier into the bookshop, I realize I should just be grateful that he is willing to help me at all.

‘So, we just stare and watch paint dry?’ I ask, as he switches it on.

‘Yup.’

‘So, what should I do with the mural?’ I say sadly. ‘I wanted it to be a big reveal.’

Rory shrugs. ‘As long as everything else is okay, you’ll just have to explain what happened. We can fix up the mural at some point once everything’s dry.’

‘It’s just – I was so excited about it. All the colours tied in so well with the rest of the shop. But I can’t cancel the launch. I need to get opened and start making money or next time I’m in the bath, I’ll have the bank manager breaking down the door instead of you.’

‘You do love vibrant colour, don’t you?’ he asks, peering at the bright splashes around the room.

‘My ex-boyfriend was very anti-colour,’ I say. ‘It was grey or nothing in our flat. I wanted to make this space as bright as possible.’

Rory stands stiffly, unsure how to respond. Why am I mentioning Seb again? It must be a psychological thing. The last time I felt this panicked and out of my depth was because of Seb, so my mind is rewinding to him over and over. I open my mouth to try to explain to Rory, but he is busy packing up.

‘Right, well, I’ve got to head home for Piper.’

‘Thanks again for all your help.’

He nods briskly and leaves.

*

Tossing and turning in bed, I replay the day in my mind. I’d been lucky. If it hadn’t been for Rory, I could have completely flooded both shops and had to claim on the insurance, which had been in place for all of five minutes. The excess would have been huge. I’d be up to my eyes in debt, even more than I am right now…

Now the bookshop is one sleep away from opening, the reality of what I’ve done is closing in on me. My bank balance is pleading with me to stop the crazy nonsense and resume normality. Get a real job, get a salary. Maybe I should be listening.

My sleep is broken with half thoughts of no one turning up to the bookshop launch. Worse still, I have a nightmare in whicheveryoneturns up – Seb, Macy, Rory, Piper the dog and, for some reason, my least favourite primary school teacher, Mr Johnstone. I welcome them all at the front door with a wide smile before I look down and realize I am stark bollock naked. I whisper to them in turn as they make their way past, begging them to lend me a towel. My primary teacher mutters that I should really have factored that into my planning and hands me my orange bucket.

Thanks, Mr Johnstone.

A sharp noise downstairs tears me from the dream. I sit bolt upright in bed, my ears on red alert. My heart feels like it’s thudding in my throat. What the hell is that noise? Fuck, now someone is breaking into the shop and is about to murder me in my bed. Just what I need. Should I just lie here and hope they go away?

No. I can’t just hope for the best. What would my independent women playlist think of me? I grab my phone, even though I know it won’t work if I try to make a call, but I feel safer holding something. I try to make as much noise as possible, thudding around to alert the intruder to the fact I am coming. I hope they’ll think better of it and scarper instead of killing me.

A foolproof plan.

Another noise downstairs reminds me that this is no joke. There is definitely someone in the bookshop below. I grab the heaviest thing I can find – which happens to be the ironing board – and creep down the stairs, clutching it tightly under my arm. I can swing it directly at them if needed, whacking them out of the way.

I tiptoe into the bookshop, ironing board at the ready. A man kneels at the foot of the mural. My heart thuds wildly in my chest until he turns his head.

‘Rory?’ I almost keel over in relief. ‘What the fuck are you doing here? It’s half three in the morning! How did you get in?’

He jumps slightly, holding a hand to his heart and then frowns. ‘Why are you holding an ironing board?’

‘I thought you were a burglar!’

‘And you were planning to ‘uncrease’ me to death?’