The Love Island Bookshop

by Kate Frost

  The Love Island Bookshop

  by

  KATE FROST

  LEMON TREE PRESS

  Kindle Edition 2021

  Copyright © Kate Frost 2021

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

  ~

  The moral right of Kate Frost to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  ~

  All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author and/or publisher.

  ~

  Cover design by Jessica Bell.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Join Kate Frost’s Readers’ Club

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Join Kate Frost’s Readers’ Club

  Acknowledgements

  In loving memory of my wonderful dad.

  Forever in our hearts.

  Join Kate Frost’s Readers’ Club

  Join the author’s Readers’ Club and get Mine to Keep, the prequel novella to Kate Frost’s most popular book, The Butterfly Storm, for free.

  Click here to download it.

  Chapter One

  Turquoise water surrounded the white sand beach of a tropical island with palm trees and a beach villa nestled among the undergrowth. It wasn’t so much the image that caught Freya’s attention but the headline, ‘Fancy having the best job in the world?’ Three friends had tagged her in the Facebook post.

  Freya clicked the link and skim-read the article, the background chatter and hiss of the coffee machine in the cafe fading as her heart raced and her palms began to sweat. She breathed deeply and reread it slower this time, taking it all in, mentally ticking off the qualifications and personal attributes she had that the job of a bookseller on an island in the Maldives required. Not only was it pitched as the best job in the world, it was the dream job for her.

  She read it a third time, her lunch momentarily forgotten. It was an actual job, that she could apply for. It felt like madness even considering it, but what was stopping her? She’d been thinking about moving on and finding a new challenge for a while. She was desperate to put the last eighteen months behind her, and with the big 3-0 looming, she felt it was the right time to make her dreams come true.

  Freya’s mind raced as she looked up from her mobile at the busy cafe. Every table was filled and the lunchtime queue went out of the door. Her colleague Aisha was standing at the end of the counter waiting for her coffee. The deserted beach was so far removed from Freya’s life in London; it was hard to imagine even being there for a holiday, let alone the possibility of living and working in a place like that.

  Aisha placed her tray on the table and slid on to the empty seat opposite. ‘You okay? You’re staring into space.’

  The chicken and avocado sandwich on Aisha’s plate looked more tempting than Freya’s salad.

  ‘I’ve just seen this.’ Freya turned her mobile round. ‘It’s a job advert to run a barefoot bookshop on an island in the Maldives.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know.’ Freya put her mobile on the table, the screen still showing the picture-perfect beach. She stabbed her fork into a tomato.

  ‘Are you actually considering it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I mean the likelihood of getting a job like that is slim to non-existent, and the thought of leaving Bloom & Cole feels stressful. I love working in publishing. I’ve worked hard and worked my way up... It’d be reckless to throw that all away, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Well yeah, if it was for something unrelated, but for a once in a lifetime opportunity, I don’t think that’s reckless.’ She scrolled through the post on Freya’s mobile. ‘Oh my God, have you seen who owns the resort? Zander Cohen.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Zander Cohen. From the boy band One Love. How do you not know who he is? They were massive in my teens.’

  ‘I was into indie music.’

  ‘Yeah, you were probably too cool. And too young.’

  ‘Only by a couple of years.’

  Aisha handed Freya back her phone. ‘Makes all the difference.’

  ‘Would you apply?’

  ‘Would I?’ Aisha laughed.

  Freya knew the answer before she said anything.

  ‘I’d have jumped at the chance a few years ago, but not now.’

  ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t mind partners tagging along if you were the right person.’

  ‘Can you see Tom giving up work to go live on an island in the Maldives?’

  ‘It’s only for nine months.’

  ‘Just nine months?’

  ‘Ha, now you’re interested.’

  Aisha bit into her sandwich and wiped her mouth with a napkin. ‘Why are you trying to talk yourself out of it and me into doing something that you know isn’t right for me, not now at least. Tom and I want to start a family. I’ve exhausted my wanderlust; I want to put down roots.’ She pointed a manicured finger at Freya. ‘While you have no ties...’ Her face dropped and she put her hand on top of Freya’s. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did, not after the year you’ve had.’

  Freya breathed deeply and shook her head. ‘I know you didn’t. And it’s true; I have no one else to think about. And I’ve needed a change for a while now, well ever since...’ The wave of upset took Freya by surprise and she battled to contain her emotions. ‘Well, you know.’

  ‘I know; you don’t have to say.’ Aisha looked across the table at her, her brow furrowed. ‘So, what is stopping you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You should apply.’

  ‘It’s kinda crazy though, isn’t it?’

  ‘Well, yes, but then the best things in life are. You’ve already talked about moving on and finding something different, starting your own publishing house, or owning a bookshop... What better way to kickstart that dream than running a bookshop on a tropical island?’ Aisha picked up her sandwich and looked across the table at Freya. ‘Maybe a complete change of scene is exactly what you need; perhaps it will help you to heal. And trust me, if you don’t do something like this now, you never will.’

  She didn’t need Aisha to list the reasons why now was the right time: she was single, renting, not tied down and she was desperate to do something different and leave London behind even if it was only temporary.


  ‘You’ve always wanted to run a bookshop; this is absolutely perfect.’

  ‘I have authors who rely on me – I can’t just give that up.’

  ‘Talk to Esther; there might be a way you can take a break, get your authors looked after by one of the other editors for a little while. It’s worth the ask; after all, the worst she can say is no.’

  ‘I guess you’re right. Anyway, what are the chances that I’d actually get it? Hundreds of people... thousands will apply, I’m sure.’

  ‘Well then, don’t worry about the logistics. If you get it, then it’s meant to be and I’m sure you’ll work something out.’

  Freya swiped her phone so the tropical island image reappeared. She stared at it, wondering about the what-ifs and the life-changing opportunity it could hold. The butterflies in her stomach was a feeling she hadn’t experienced for a long time. ‘I might just go for it.’

  ‘Attagirl. I’ll miss you.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Freya laughed. ‘I said I’d apply. No guarantees, remember. It’s a long shot.’

  ‘I think they’d be foolish not to snap you up.’

  ‘I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people who will fit the description of what they’re looking for.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see, won’t we.’

  ~

  Freya knew what had been stopping her from making a change in her life for so long – the fear of the unknown, of starting over somewhere new, even if deep down that was what she craved. Plus, she loved her work, both her colleagues and her author clients. In many ways that one constant in her life had been what had kept her going over a difficult couple of years. Part of her thought she was foolish to want to give that up to risk everything to start up on her own, whether in publishing or running a bookshop.

  Just after six, she said goodbye to Aisha, Esther and a couple of other colleagues still in the office. She took the stairs two at a time to the ground floor. Even with the promise of spring, it was still beginning to get dark before she left work. It was cold too, but at least it wasn’t raining.

  Freya set off at a brisk pace, leaving behind the narrow road clustered with buildings for the open space of Vauxhall Gardens. The trees were beginning to bud, but in the dusky light there was little colour besides the glowing lights from the coffee shop on the corner. She was tempted to stop and get some dinner, but it was about to close, so she marched on beneath the avenue of trees to Vauxhall Underground Station.

  The Tube was rammed with commuters. She stood close to the doors, gripping a pole as more people squeezed on. It was the same routine five days a week. The people who were sitting were either staring at their phone or had their nose in a paper or a book. Hers was tucked into her bag, a novel she was reading purely for pleasure rather than for work. It was a different mindset reading for enjoyment rather than with her editor hat on. The woman sitting further down wearing a smart dove-grey coat, tights and heeled boots was reading the latest psychological thriller by Bloom & Cole’s star client Mia Jacobsen. Freya smiled to herself; she always liked to see one of the books she was so familiar with out in the wild.

  The commute gave her time to think, but also the time to realise how much she disliked it. The Tube rattled along, her shoulder continuously knocking into the man next to her. The heating warmed up the carriage but also the smell of stale sweat. Freya wrinkled her nose. The lack of fresh air amplified everything. Her mind wandered to the picture of the white sand beach backed by a forest of trees. She imagined the warmth of the sun on her shoulders and the sound of the ocean. The train clattered on and the image faded as she stared along the carriage at the sea of people instead.

  Once she got off the Tube, it was only a ten-minute walk back home, the easiest part of her journey. The sky was cloudy and threatened rain, the air damp and chilly, although her route home was well lit and the rush hour traffic still lined the streets.

  The flat she shared with her friend Jazz was on the top floor of a Victorian terrace. It was a nice enough place with a kitchen, bathroom and living room, and their own compact double bedroom each. Hers looked out over the garden that belonged to the ground floor flat. Jazz also worked in publishing and they’d worked together when Freya had got her first job in London. She liked that they’d managed to remain friends even after they’d stopped working together. Jazz wasn’t home yet, which Freya wasn’t surprised about. It had been a few days since she’d last seen her properly, apart from a quick hello over a cup of tea and a slice of toast in the morning.

  Freya switched on BBC Radio 6 Music, opened the kitchen cupboard and stared at the contents. If only she’d stopped somewhere and got a ready meal. She grabbed a bag of fusilli, filled the kettle and switched it on. She went into the bathroom and found a hairband, pulled her long wavy caramel-coloured hair back and twisted it into a messy bun. She leant on the sink. Her skin was pale – or maybe it was the harshness of the bathroom lights. She needed a holiday. She tanned easily and was blessed with her mum’s clear smooth skin and hazel eyes. She washed her hands, went back into the kitchen and made a quick meal of sun-dried tomato pasta.

  Unless she phoned a friend, she could often go all evening without speaking to anyone. It felt worse because she wasn’t living on her own; it wasn’t like she’d chosen this existence. She had a flatmate who she just didn’t see any more. If she wanted to be on her own, she’d have found a one-bed flat somewhere. She sat on the sofa and flicked through the TV channels. The idea of being on her own and starting her own business was what scared her the most. Taking a leap of faith and starting anew. Particularly if it was somewhere other than London... She didn’t have an infinity to the capital. Yes, she had lots of friends and there were good things about working in the city, but there was an underlying sadness to living in a place that held so many memories for her both good and bad.

  There was nothing on she fancied watching, so she got her book from her bag and sat on the sofa with her feet tucked beneath her. The radiator was on but she still needed her cosy socks and a blanket to stay warm.

  Jazz texted her around nine to say she was out and wouldn’t be home until later. By out, Freya knew she meant with her boyfriend Nate. Jazz was at least good like that, letting her know where she was. And on the occasions she was home, they would sometimes go out together for a meal or to the cinema, or if they didn’t fancy venturing out, they’d cook together, chat and have a laugh. Those occasions were becoming more and more infrequent as Jazz’s relationship with Nate became more serious. It was to be expected; unlike her, Jazz had no intention of staying single, but Freya missed having the company of her flatmate.

  It was gone midnight and Freya was already in bed when she heard the door to the flat open and close. A giggle, unmistakably from Jazz. A thump as something fell to the floor. A shush, definitely Jazz. ‘What?’ a male voice said – Nate. Freya had almost drifted off. She sighed and snuggled further beneath the covers. But because Jazz was trying to be quiet, she ended up being louder than if she hadn’t bothered trying. The tap in the bathroom came on, the flush went, another door banged. Jazz giggled again as she closed her bedroom door. The squeak of bedsprings. More giggling, more squeaking, more shushing. The thump of a headboard against the bedroom wall was harder to ignore. Why was there never any traffic noise when it would be helpful to drown things out? Freya wasn’t jealous; she was fine being single, and it wasn’t like she’d never brought a boyfriend back, it was just that was in the past. Jazz being with Nate accentuated how quiet her evening had been. How most evenings were, and she knew she didn’t want to continue feeling like this, so uncertain, so hopeless, so lonely. Not that a bloke would fix that, that was not what she wanted. What she did need was sleep. She needed to switch off, ready to begin again tomorrow. The endless cycle of her life.

  Chapter Two

  Through the oval window, the endless blue spread as far as Freya could see. Somewhere down there in the middle of the Indian Ocean was the island she’d be living
and working on for the foreseeable future. Freya smoothed her hands down her maxi skirt and breathed deeply, trying to calm the nerves that kept resurfacing when she started to think about the coming days, weeks and months.

  The ten-hour flight had at least allowed her to process her thoughts. She’d left Heathrow in the evening, shivering in her summer skirt and blouse with only a cardigan thrown over the top. She’d had to pack one suitcase for the next nine months and a jumper or a coat would have taken up too much space. It had felt surreal joining others who were heading off on an exotic holiday when the UK was in the midst of an uncharacteristically chilly and wet September.

  The last few months had been a whirlwind of major life decisions. After reading the Facebook post about the job, Freya hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, knowing that she fitted the job description perfectly. She had nearly nine years’ experience in publishing, first at an independent children’s publisher working in marketing, before moving to Bloom & Cole as an editor and working with an eclectic list of women’s fiction and YA authors. She loved books, knew the industry inside and out, and had the passion for selling and marketing with the experience to back that up.

  But it had been that evening back at the empty flat when Jazz hadn’t come home until late that had cemented Freya’s decision to apply. An understanding had dawned on her that she had to do something to shake up her life, to get herself out of the rut of living for work and little else. At work she was confident and sure of herself; outside of it she was struggling. She had plenty of friends but they all seemed to be moving in different directions; marriage, children and settling down were at the forefront of their minds. Without overthinking it, she’d filled out the application form a couple of days after being tagged in the Facebook post. She didn’t talk to Jazz about it. Only Aisha knew. On the slim chance that she got the job, Freya was pretty certain that Jazz would jump at the chance of Nate moving in with her, but it was pointless putting the idea in her head and it not working out. Freya also didn’t think she had a chance in hell of getting a job that felt like a dream – not only was it far away, it seemed unattainable, an opportunity that happened to other people.