This prompted several nods, and more friendly murmurs.
‘And when it comes to Upper Finlay,’ Tom continued, ‘few places feel more like home to me than this wonderful bookshop.’
Again, several members of the crowd nodded, agreeing with the sentiment, spurring Tom on.
‘Now I’m sure plenty of you will remember Daniel, Alex’s father, who ran this place for many years. And recall his patience, generosity, and incredible enthusiasm for books of every stripe. Well, in my case this meant lending me all the books I wanted, free of charge, knowing how tight money was in our household and what a great thirst I had for fantasy and sci-fi novels. As a result, my imagination had all kinds of strange worlds and universes to feed off. In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that without Daniel’s support, the Dominion of Gyrth books would never have been written and I wouldn’t be standing here before you tonight. Not that that would be a bad thing, necessarily…’
He smiled as the joke landed, and the room echoed with laughter.
‘Those of you who have read the third in the series, Lament of the Blade, might recall a character called Emil Latvius, the royal librarian who oversees the magical training of Trelawn Rookhope. Well, he was based on Daniel and is an affectionate portrayal of my friend and mentor. And so it is in honour of Daniel Dean, and the bookshop he gave rise to, that I’m going to read this passage about Emil and Trelawn tonight…’
As Tom picked up the paperback, and turned to the relevant page, Alex came to join me.
‘Are you all right?’ I whispered.
‘I’m good. Just a bit overcome by that tribute.’
‘Did you know that Emil Latvius was based on your dad?
‘Not until right this moment,’ Alex said. I slipped my hand into his and gave it a squeeze.
We stood and listened, entranced by the magical world Tom wove with his words. As he finished there was a dramatic pause, followed by thunderous applause.
He waited, drinking in the adulation, nodding and smiling.
‘Thank you, thank you. You’re too kind. Simply too kind.’ Finally, the room fell silent. You could have heard a pin drop. ‘Now ladies, gentlemen and Wrylons,’ Tom said with a flourish, ‘to finish, I’d like to read you an excerpt from my latest work in progress and the penultimate book in the Dominion of Gryth series: Land of Fire, Song of Hope.’
Around the room there was a collective gasp. I imagined it echoing through the internet.
I punched the air. Tom Benchley, you bloody diamond.
Forty
I spent my last night in Upper Finlay alone with Alex. We sat in the garden eating crisps from a bowl and drinking white wine. Wolf assumed his usual position flopped at my feet, snoring.
The air was fragrant, the early evening warm, bursting with an array of wildlife; chattering birds, pretty jewelled dragonflies and buzzing bees. A cabbage-white butterfly fluttered past, surfing the air waves. I kicked off my sandals and scrunched my toes in the grass. I would miss this.
Although we had lots to celebrate, our mood was a little melancholy.
‘So you did it,’ Alex said. ‘I heard from the bank. We didn’t raise all the money needed, but they’re willing to take a lump payment from what we did manage to raise. They’re suddenly at lot more friendly now that I’ve got – what did they call it? – a viable business on my hands.’
I bristled. ‘It’s a bloody brilliant business,’ I said.
Alex’s phone began to vibrate. He pulled it out of his pocket, checked the display, then stabbed the OFF button.
‘Shouldn’t you get that?’
‘I’ve been fielding calls all day. God only knows who it was this time – the Financial Times, probably. I think that must be the only major newspaper I haven’t heard from today. Whoever it is, they can wait.’
‘Better get used to it,’ I said. ‘You do know the world’s press is set to descend on the bookshop next week?’
Alex shook his head. ‘You’ve created a monster.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I answered. ‘My apologies for putting you on the map.’
‘It’s a fantastic monster, don’t get me wrong. I could never repay you, even if I spent the rest of my life trying. All I’m saying is that I could really do with your help with everything that’s coming next.’
I stared down at my lap, not knowing how to answer him.
‘Website guru, social media ninja, digital overlord – I don’t care what title you give yourself,’ he continued. ‘Just as long as you stick around and help me out.’
Still I could think of nothing to say.
‘Come on,’ Alex said. ‘You are still officially jobless, at least for the moment, although obviously that’s not going to last.’
I shook my head. ‘It’s not like I did anything out of the ordinary when you get right down to it.’
Alex let out a flabbergasted laugh and leaned forward in his seat to better express his amazement.
‘What you did couldn’t have been any less ordinary. The bookshop’s been rammed all day. The restaurant’s booked out for weeks already and other famous authors have been in contact looking to do readings. They’re talking about Upper Finlay on the BBC. I’ve even had location scouts on the phone. Daisy, you didn’t just save the bookshop for today. I think you might have saved it for years to come.’
I smiled. ‘Well, when you put it like that…’
‘Tom’s interested in working with you too. In fact, he’s giving them no end of trouble. I hear he’s refusing to do any more promo unless you’re involved.’
This was accurate. Tom had phoned me fifteen times already today in various states of distress, his agent and Alan the publicist had called an additional three times each.
I’d had several enquiries through the bookshop’s website contact form asking who’d created the website and where they could be hired. Surely this was everything I’d ever wanted.
My lower lip started to wobble. Not everything.
‘Part-time, even,’ Alex pleaded. ‘Say, three days a week. I know that commuting from London would be a headache, but I’m sure we could work something out.’
It was a headache I could have happily coped with. That wasn’t the real issue here. It was Phil. I knew what he was going to say, especially if I was on the verge of becoming his wife. Whatever his plans for our future were, they wouldn’t involve me commuting to Derbyshire on a regular basis. And I knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be happy about my ongoing friendship with someone who looked the way Alex did.
‘It’s a lovely idea,’ I said. ‘And I’m not going to say it isn’t tempting.’
‘Only Phil wouldn’t like it,’ stated Alex flatly.
He was only echoing my own thoughts, but still this put me on the defensive. ‘We do have a relationship to mend. And it’s going to require effort on both sides to set things right.’
Alex slumped, looking utterly miserable. ‘Okay. I can see that. I guess it was a crazy idea.’
‘Anyway,’ I said, clutching at straws, ‘it’s not like I’m leaving you in the lurch now, is it? I’m sure you’ll be able to hire someone.’
Alex sighed. He seemed to be wrestling with what to say next. In the end he simply said, ‘Daisy you know how I feel about you. Please stay.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, my eyes stinging, ‘but I’ve made a commitment.’
‘Can’t you just be selfish for once?’ Alex whispered. I shook my head. ‘I’m being selfish now, drawing this out. Alex, the last thing I ever want to do is cause you pain.’
Hot tears spilled out of my eyes and rolled down my face. I wiped them away.
‘Hey,’ Alex said gently, ‘don’t cry. You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met. I know you’re with Phil. It kills me, but I guess I have to accept it.
‘I do want you to know one thing before you leave. This is
your home whenever you want, or need it to be, and nothing is going to change that. Even if you showed up in a year’s time. Two years. Three years. Four.’
A teardrop ran down my cheek. ‘Isn’t it after seven years that marriages are supposed to run into trouble?’
Alex smiled. ‘You’re a fast worker, Daisy Monroe. Maybe you can bring the schedule forward a bit.’
I laughed through my tears. ‘Oh, Alex.’
‘I’m sorry, Daisy. I can’t change the way I feel about you, trust me I’ve tried. If I didn’t say something it would have driven me crazy wondering – what if.’
Forty-One
Rodney woke me for the final time. I’d barely slept that night, thinking about what Alex had said. But I was leaving today, and my mind was already half out of Upper Finlay, thinking about Phil. Somehow the thought made me anxious, like I was on a conveyor belt that wouldn’t stop. Dragging me slowly towards the edge of a cliff.
Feeling worn and weary and very unsure, I washed and changed and then finished off my packing. I had about three times as much stuff as when I’d arrived in Upper Finlay, but it all fitted into a vintage hold-all that I’d bought from TCFCTSI.
My train was scheduled to leave at seven-thirty-two, but I was thankful for the early start as I didn’t think I’d be able to cope with any more long, drawn-out farewells. It was the same with this room. I hardly dared to look around me, for fear I’d start crying and be unable to stop.
With my bag slung over one shoulder, I stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind me for the last time. Then, very quietly, I made my way downstairs to fortify myself with one final cup of tea and a piece of toast.
Entering the kitchen, I stopped on the threshold, stunned by what I found there. Another table and several chairs had been drafted in from the café to accommodate all of the breakfasters. Joe, Janice, Noah, Jim, Rosie, Cece, and even Liam were all tucking into a goodbye fry-up.
Meanwhile, Alex busied himself at the stove, cooking up more sausages and bacon.
Joe laughed when he saw the look on my face. ‘And there you were hoping to sneak away.’
‘As if we’d ever let you,’ said Rosie.
‘Not a chance,’ said Cece.
I shook my head, trying to downplay the finality of my departure. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘It’s not like I’m moving to the other side of the world or anything.’
‘Then why does it feel that way?’ said Cece, as the others nodded.
Alex brought a plate over to the table and set it down in front of the empty seat. He tried giving me a breezy smile, although the strain in it was obvious. It was probably for the best that everybody was here. I’d been dreading the actual moment we parted. At least this way, with so many friends present, I could distract myself from the main source of loss.
After we’d eaten, everyone with a car fought for the honour of taking me to the station, but I declined their offers because I wanted to walk and say a proper goodbye to Upper Finlay, the place where I had found so much happiness.
Gathering in the small courtyard at the back of the bookshop, I took my leave of everybody, eyes welling up as I hugged each of them. Finally, it was Alex’s turn. The two of us embraced for several moments. He spoke quietly into my ear.
‘What I said last night. It still stands. But I know you’ve made your decision. So I wish you every happiness, Daisy. After everything you’ve done for me, how could I hope for anything less?’
I pulled away and turned to go before I lost it completely. Then Wolf appeared from nowhere and made his own feelings clear. Taking my vintage boot-cut jeans between his teeth, he tugged at the hem. As gently as I could, I prised his jaws open and finally stepped away. I left to the sound of Wolf crying mournfully. If I didn’t get going, I was going to start howling too.
I strode down the back lanes and onto the high street, my eyes swamped with tears. Every instinct told me to stop. To turn around, but I kept walking. As I passed TCFCTSI I couldn’t resist one last look at my own personal fashion boutique. There was no sign of Geoff, but Auntie Lou was in her regular spot in the armchair by the window, both feet up on an old leather pouffe. As I shot past, she looked up from her Jackie Collins bonkbuster and offered a sad shake of the head.
Fifteen minutes later, I was on the train to London as it pulled out of the station. My phone buzzed and I picked it up to read a text message from Phil.
Reunited finally! This time there’ll be no letting you go!!!!!
He’d sent me dozens of texts in recent days, on a similar theme, all of which seemed to point to an imminent marriage proposal. At any other time, these would have thrilled me. Now my emotions were a good deal more complex than before. It occurred to me that I hadn’t checked Facebook once in the last week, weaning myself off Phil’s updates completely. Staring out the window, as the dramatic Derbyshire countryside flashed by, I told myself this stood to reason. I’d had no time, thanks to Tom Benchley’s reading.
Come on, Daisy. Pull yourself together, girl.
I muttered it under my breath, knowing I couldn’t afford to get caught up in two worlds – halfway between London and Upper Finlay. For all my wistful thoughts about what might have been, it was definitely time to commit. Probably, Upper Finlay would start to feel like a dream once I was back in the swing of things. A lovely dream that I’d always look back on fondly, but my real life was ahead of me, with Phil. As for Phil, he was about to give me the clearest sign possible that we belonged together. Maybe his brush with Frannie really had made him see the light. Perhaps things would be different from now on, and not only in terms of him being faithful to me. I was hoping, with this massive commitment, he’d start being a bit more patient and thoughtful as well.
I was so immersed in my thoughts that the journey back was almost as much of a blur as the one that had led me to Upper Finlay in the first place. Still on autopilot, I alighted at Euston and took the tube back to my old neighbourhood, retracing my steps along the high street.
I turned the corner, arriving back on the leafy side street that I’d called home for several years. Halfway along it, I stopped in front of our apartment building, took a deep breath and rang the buzzer.
Several seconds later, I heard the crackle of the intercom, followed by Phil’s voice: ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Daisy.’
He let out a raucous laugh. ‘What are you doing ringing the buzzer? You’ve still got your key, haven’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I guess I wasn’t thinking.’
Phil laughed again. ‘That’s my Goose. Flaky as ever. Come on then, up you come.’
Forty-Two
The front door was already open when I reached the second floor. Phil was stood in the doorway, holding it open for me. He looked fit and tanned, bulging with muscles. Seizing me in a bear hug, he lifted me off my feet with a playful growl.
‘You’ve been working out,’ I said.
‘Every day,’ he said, putting me down again. ‘It was the only way I could keep my mind off you.’
‘I didn’t have much time for it myself,’ I said. ‘Working out, I mean. Other than the odd jog.’
Phil laughed. ‘I can see that. You’ve put a bit of weight on. But that’s okay, we’ll have that off in next to no time,’ he said, grabbing at me playfully. ‘I’m going to put you through your paces in the bedroom after all the time you’ve spent away from me.’
Ugh, why did that thought suddenly make me want to shudder?
Phil studied my clothes, raising an eyebrow as he noted the change. ‘I take it this grim northern town wasn’t exactly over-endowed with quality fashion outlets. You look like you’ve gone back to your charity shop days. And what’s with that bag? It looks a bit…’
‘Retro?’ I said.
‘I was going to say cheap. But no need to worry about that, I’ll take you shopping at the weekend for
something new.’
Phil took hold of my hand and started dragging me towards the living room.
‘What’s the big rush?’ I asked.
‘I need to get back to the office for a two-thirty meeting.’
Stepping into the lounge, I felt small again, timid, like a paler imitation of the Daisy who had saved the day back in Upper Finlay. The first thing I noticed was a new super-sized TV fitted to the far wall. The last one had been pretty big, and was less than a year old, but this new one must have been seventy inches.
‘I splashed out, as you can see. Now you can watch all of your favourite shows in Panoramic Ultra-Def.’
‘All your favourite shows,’ I answered.
Phil laughed. ‘Then there’s this,’ he said, gesturing to a massive white leather sofa that graced the opposite wall. It was another definite upgrade. Sleek and stylish, but with plush cushions.
He watched my reaction, hands on his hips. ‘Well? Have I excelled myself or have I excelled myself?’
‘Very nice,’ I said.
Phil clapped his hands together. ‘Right, to business then. Are we going to do this the old-fashioned way? Do you want me down on bended knee?’
To business? What was Phil talking about? It took me a few seconds to understand that he was about to propose. He wasn’t even nervous. Despite everything that had happened, he couldn’t contemplate me saying anything other than yes.
‘I thought we were going to talk about our relationship first?’
Phil gave an exasperated sigh. ‘And we will,’ he said. ‘All in good time. But first let’s make this official.’
Getting down on one knee, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out an exquisite ring. Holding it aloft between thumb and forefinger he said, ‘Check out this little beauty. 1.13 carats of pure bling, crafted onto a rose gold band. A peerless piece of jewellery. Flawlessly engineered, and with a near colourless diamond at its centre.’
For what felt like an eternity, I watched Phil hold the ring up, turning it this way and that, repeating what the jeweller must have told him. It made him look and sound like a presenter on a TV shopping channel.
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