The Love Island Bookshop

by Kate Frost

  ‘Hey, can I join you?’

  A smooth, deep voice with a hint of an accent that Freya couldn’t immediately place made her look up. She shaded her eyes and squinted at the tall man silhouetted against the morning sun.

  ‘Of course.’ Freya gestured to the seat opposite.

  ‘It’s good to see a new face round here. I’m Aaron.’ He shook her hand and sat down with a mug of coffee.

  Freya swallowed her mouthful of scrambled eggs. ‘Freya.’

  ‘Let me guess, the bookseller.’

  ‘I am indeed.’

  Aaron was dark skinned like he had Maldivian heritage, but his accent was more Scandinavian. He had dark hair that looked bleached by the sun in places, chocolate-brown eyes, and a chiselled jaw covered in stubble. It was a face that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the front cover of a magazine.

  Freya dabbed the sides of her mouth with a napkin. ‘What do you do?’

  ‘Dive instructor.’ He pointed to where Loabi Fushi Dive School was emblazoned on his beige T-shirt.

  ‘I imagine that’s a good job to have.’

  ‘I can’t complain.’

  Freya laid her knife and fork on her plate and downed the rest of her glass of water. ‘Well, I’m about to meet Meena at the Sand Bar. She’s going to show me the bookshop.’

  ‘And I’m about to go and teach a guest to scuba dive. The Sand Bar isn’t far from the dive school if you’d like to walk together?’

  ‘That’ll be lovely.’ Freya stood up. ‘I’m ready. It feels like I don’t need to take anything with me. Back home I seem to take an awful lot on my commute to work, but here...’

  ‘You travel light. Sunscreen and a hat are about all you need.’

  She hadn’t quite embraced the barefoot policy yet. She would be working, not relaxing or strolling along a beach. Flip-flops seemed the most sensible choice, and she noticed that Aaron was wearing a pair of white trainers and olive green board shorts with his dive school T-shirt.

  He led the way, giving her time to deposit her tray on the counter before they left the staff village, and took the path that cut behind the back of the women’s block.

  ‘So, you’re British?’ Aaron asked as they joined the main path that wound through the centre of the island.

  ‘Yeah, I lived and worked in London, so this is quite a change. How about you? Where’s home when you’re not here?’

  ‘My mum’s Maldivian and lives on an island in the Southern Atoll, so I spend most of my time there when I’m not working. My dad’s British and is currently UK Ambassador in Ghana but used to be the High Commissioner in Sri Lanka. That’s where he met my mum.’

  ‘Your parents aren’t together anymore?’

  ‘Oh, they are, believe it or not. My dad is stubborn and refuses to retire and my mum is just as stubborn and refused to move with him to Ghana. They were in the Seychelles until three years ago. Mum came back here and Dad went to Ghana. My mum has grandchildren and she likes the simplicity of island life.’

  And Freya thought her own family were spread all over the place. ‘Well, I’ve only been in the Maldives a couple of days, and I already know it must be a hard place to leave. I’m not surprised your mum wanted to return.’

  As they walked, Freya noticed narrow sandy paths occasionally splitting off from the main one, signed with villa numbers etched into the wood. She had yet to see any of the beachfront villas, which were well hidden among the lush undergrowth. It felt exclusive and magical, a private pathway cutting through the densely packed trees.

  ‘You haven’t always lived in the Maldives then?’ Freya asked.

  ‘No, not at all. We only came back here for holidays when I was growing up. Dad got posted all over the place. We were in Finland for five years when I was in my teens – that was the longest we stayed anywhere. Mum hated the cold and I can’t say I was too keen either. Then we moved to India. That’s when I left home and spent the next couple of years working and travelling before spending time with them in the Seychelles and heading back here.’

  ‘Wow, it makes me only having lived and worked in London pretty boring.’

  ‘You’ve never travelled?’

  ‘I did for six months straight after uni, partly to see my parents. The moment I went to university they emigrated to New Zealand, so after graduating I went to visit them. We toured the two islands together in a camper van and then I went on to Australia and Thailand. Then it was back to London and into a publishing job.’

  ‘Everyone’s lives are different. There were lots of positives about the way I grew up and the way we lived, but not sticking in one place for very long sometimes made life difficult too.’ His voice was smooth and lilting and his English perfect.

  They reached the main hub of the island where the path split in different directions. Aaron took the path that was signposted ‘staff only’.

  ‘This way avoids the main guest areas.’

  They went through a dense tunnel of trees and past a two-storey wood-clad building that Freya assumed was the forest hideaway Meena had talked about. They emerged into sunshine on to a sweeping beach. Freya got her first glimpse of the beach villas appearing from the lush greenness of ficus and palms. Their cream stone walls and pale sand-coloured reed roofs merged with their surroundings.

  A couple were lying on sunloungers beneath a thatched umbrella with cocktails on a table. It wasn’t even ten, but Freya guessed cocktails were allowed at any time when you were on a holiday of a lifetime. They were the first guests she’d actually seen since arriving.

  They walked along the edge of the beach, just a short way from where the water caressed the sand and bubbled back into the shallows.

  ‘So how do you feel about being the one to get “the best job in the world”?’

  Freya glanced at Aaron. ‘I imagine lots of people’s jobs on this island could be described as that.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. The love island bookseller has quite a ring to it. How about I ask you in a few days’ time.’

  ‘Sounds a good idea. I haven’t even seen the place yet.’

  ‘You’re in for a treat.’ Aaron stopped and pointed at a thatched building on the edge of the beach, nestled among the trees. ‘Well, this is me. If you keep walking, you’ll reach the Sand Bar.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It was nice to meet you, Freya. See you around.’

  He left her with a wave. She walked on, her feet sinking into the warm, soft sand. She glanced back and caught sight of him high-fiving a fellow dive instructor. She knew Drew, Lin, Khadeeja and now Aaron. And of course there was Meena. Meeting a few people had at least settled her nerves. She was the new girl, but the person with the job of a lifetime. Her friends back home had bigged it up, and from Aaron’s comment it was clear it was a job that a lot of people had wanted. She stopped for just a moment and stood in the middle of the hot sand, her skin tingling from the heat and the craziness of where she was. If she looked up all she could see was blue sky and wispy clouds; to her left the crystal clear water of the house reef; to her right the lush green of palm trees and the dense undergrowth; and in front white sand. It was like she was living a dream life.

  Chapter Eight

  Freya spotted Meena sitting on a stool at the bar. A terrace was cut into the sand with sunken seats around fire pits backed by the long bar and the forest behind. The view was of ocean and the wooden walkway cutting across the house reef to the over-water villas. No guests were there yet, just Meena with her laptop open in front of her. Freya took the steps up to join her.

  ‘Morning, Freya. Sleep well?’ Meena greeted her with a smile and patted the empty seat next to her.

  She perched on the stool. ‘Yes, eventually. I’m still adjusting and getting over jet lag.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll soon get used to it.’ She saved what she was working on and closed the laptop.

  ‘You do your work here?’

  ‘Sometimes, although only while the staff are setting
up in the morning.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. I can’t think of a better place to work.’

  ‘Oh, you haven’t seen the bookshop yet.’ Meena grinned. ‘Arguably the best spot on the island, and that’s saying something. So, now you’ve had a day to settle in and have hopefully met some people, I wanted to show you a bit more of the island, and of course the bookshop itself. The Sand Bar is popular particularly after dark, and the walkway that you see going out to the over-water villas also leads behind the bar and through the trees to the pool and the restaurants and spa. Come, let me show you around.’

  Meena left her laptop with one of the staff and they walked along a narrow beach lined by spacious and well-hidden beach villas to the hub of restaurants at the heart of the island. Reef, the over-water restaurant, was filled with guests tucking into breakfast. As they passed the jetty and reached a wider beach, Freya took off her flip-flops and carried them, finding it easier to walk in the sand without them. She noticed Meena was wearing sensible white slip-on trainers and she managed to look cool and smart in an olive-green linen skirt and a fitted white sleeveless top. They waved at a couple who emerged on to the beach from their villa and continued on until they had left the last villa behind. They rounded a corner and reached a desolate beach where the palms and ficus trees seemed denser and encroached on the sand giving it a true desert island feel.

  Meena stopped in the middle of the beach, put her hands on her hips and blew air over her face. ‘Here it is.’

  ‘We’re here?’ Freya looked away from the ocean, across the hot sand to the jungle of trees. She had to really look to see a well-hidden path next to the curved trunk of a palm.

  ‘Keep walking a couple of minutes that way,’ Meena said, pointing ahead of them. ‘You’ll reach Sunset Beach. It’s a beautiful wide and empty stretch of sand with no guest villas, so it’s peaceful and secluded. We do sunset picnics and starlit dinners there. It’s pretty magical. And this bit of beach, well, we haven’t really named it yet – it might end up being called Bookshop Beach, who knows. Come and see.’

  Freya followed Meena up the beach and through the trees to a sand-covered clearing where mottled sunlight shimmered between the gaps in the leaves. Hidden in the deep green foliage and palm trees, the wood-clad bookshop was surrounded on three sides by lush forest. It complemented its surroundings, its reed roof blending in with the leaves above. Large glass windows reflected the trees, so they didn’t look out of place with the rest of the wooden structure. The curved panels of wood matched the natural shape of the forest.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’ Freya hadn’t really known what to expect but somehow – at least from the outside – it was everything she’d wanted it to be and more.

  ‘I’m glad you like it; you’re going to be spending a lot of time here.’

  Meena led Freya on to the deck in front of the bookshop with cosy sunken areas containing deep cushioned seating for two, plus a handful of fire pits dotted about, similar to those she’d seen in the Sand Bar. The outside space for sitting and reading made Freya happier than she thought possible.

  She followed Meena through a wide wooden door. There was air conditioning on, but it was neither too hot nor too cold. Three long windows overlooked the outside deck. Although the bookshop had been well screened by trees from the beach, looking the other way, pockets of white sand and sparkling ocean were visible through the slender trunks.

  The faded wood of the shelves was reminiscent of driftwood, giving it a worn, lived-in feel. They were empty though and Freya couldn’t wait to fill them.

  ‘Zander ordered in a selection of books to start the shop off.’ Meena motioned to the stack of boxes along the back wall. ‘It’ll be up to you to curate the rest and reorder in the future, with Zander’s input of course.’ Meena ran her hand along the driftwood-topped counter by the door. It had plenty of space to display books and behind it was an empty fridge unit built into shelving. ‘The island is cashless so guests simply add any extras to their account. There’s no till or complicated system to get used to. Once the bookshop’s open, cold drinks and snacks will be stocked daily, which will be free. Zander wants the bookshop to be a relaxed and welcoming space. Inside, a respite from the heat, and outside a place to read and soak up the beauty of the surroundings.’

  Freya was doing her best to soak up the details. With no books on the shelves, it didn’t yet have that bookshop smell, just a light vanilla scent mixed with the tang of the ocean drifting in. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood of the shelves, thrilled at the idea of getting the chance to stock the shop, engage with the guests and talk and breathe books all day long. Her long-held dream had at last come true. A wooden shelf ran the length of the front wall just below the windows with half a dozen stools tucked beneath, a place for guests to perch with a book and a drink.

  ‘It’s so peaceful.’ Freya couldn’t get over it. It wasn’t so much the lack of voices, but inside, even with the door wedged open, the island noises she’d been getting used to, the birds and the insects, had subsided. Even the constant sound of the ocean was faint.

  ‘Zander purposefully wanted it to be set away from everywhere else. A place to escape to, on an island you come to, to get away from things. You can play music if you want, and the windows open right up so the view is unspoilt. It also lets the breeze in. You can decide what best suits you. There’s also a laptop for your use and you can take it back to your room too if you want to continue working there. It’s up to you.’

  One of the questions that had come up in the interview was about her ability to work alone. The idea of spending a good chunk of her day on her own, managing her time and the day to day running of the bookshop appealed to her. She’d managed her own list of authors, juggled her working day successfully and thought of herself as being completely self-sufficient. But standing in the coolness of the empty bookshop, the idea of being on her own a lot of the time worried her. Not because she couldn’t manage her time or deal with things by herself, but because she was used to having colleagues and working in a busy office. She put it down to nerves. She was a world away from her comfortable publishing job in central London. A bookshop on an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean, however welcome, might take some getting used to.

  ‘The bookshop opening hours will be ten to one and then three till seven. Until it opens at the beginning of October, it’s really up to you the hours you work as long as you get everything done. Zander’s back the day after tomorrow and I know he’s going to meet you here to go through everything including the grand opening. Let’s sit outside to go through everything else.’

  As they re-emerged into the morning heat, the glimpse of blue sea and sky and the empty beach through the palm trees was magical. Over the years Freya had spent a lot of time in bookshops; wherever she went she’d seek them out, unable to enter one without buying at least one book. For Freya they were wonderfully welcoming spaces. A place to escape to, to shelter from the rain and reality. It didn’t matter that there was no view to the outside world as inside was a place of escapism and imagination. She loved dark cosy ones the best, with hidden nooks and battered leather armchairs in dusty corners. The island bookshop couldn’t have been more different with its high thatched roof, pale honey-coloured curved walls, sand-sprinkled wooden floor and large windows to make the most of the view. There were no sharp corners, straight lines or dusky corners, but Freya was excited by the prospect of the natural wood and stone being broken up by the colourful spines of paperbacks.

  She sat with Meena in the sunken seating area, cocooned by cushions, the only sound the surf. Meena talked through everything Freya needed to know to get started. During the interview process she’d received the breakdown of all the tasks that would need doing both daily and weekly, and everything that needed to be done to get the bookshop ready to open at the start of the high season. Meena talked through the process of ordering books, how and who to contact in the island office and she gave her the login details
to access the bookshop blog.

  ‘Can I ask,’ Freya said once Meena had finished going through everything on her list. ‘If this is Zander’s passion project – and it’s obvious how much time, money and thought must have gone into it – does he really want my input or should I just be following his lead?’

  ‘What do you feel comfortable with?’

  ‘I’m used to making decisions about my clients’ work, their careers, what’s going to work best for them as individuals.’

  ‘And that’s exactly why Zander chose you. He wants someone who’ll be proactive and creative. That’s not to say he won’t be hands on, but he’s a busy man and he’s got a lot of other things to deal with. Yes, the bookshop is his project, but it is just that, a project that needs someone heading it up, leading it and making it work. That person is you.’

  Meena left her with the keys to the bookshop and headed through the trees to join the ‘island walk’ path that cut through the centre of the island. It would be Freya’s way back to the staff accommodation later, her commute for the foreseeable future.

  Chapter Nine

  The next day Freya left the staff village at half nine and took the main path until it split off to the bookshop. Her commute on the Tube was a thing of the past; she almost had to pinch herself. Smothered in sunscreen with a bikini beneath her summer dress, she’d decided to embrace the barefoot vibe. She had nothing with her apart from her mobile and she knew she didn’t even need that. It was more out of habit that she hadn’t left it behind. Usually, her bag would be heaving with her purse, make-up bag, sunglasses (through optimism rather than necessity), her Kindle, tissues, a pack of Polos, at least one paperback, often a manuscript she was in the middle of, and various other bits and pieces she never seemed to clear out of the bottom of her bag. The crowds on the Tube had been swapped for a forest of trees, the gloomy skies of London for the clear blue ones over the Indian Ocean, and the office with views across the road to another brick building for a bookshop with a view to die for.