The Love Island Bookshop

by Kate Frost

  Freya dabbed her mouth with a napkin and sat back in the chair with her mug of coffee.

  ‘It’s strange, it doesn’t even feel like we’re on the island – I thought I’d seen every part of it.’

  Zander nodded. ‘It’s why I chose this spot. This bit of beach is the smallest on the island but because the trees on either side reach right to the ocean, it’s formed its own bay. I’ve always called it Driftwood Cove. And it’s not signposted from the main island walk route. There are a couple of paths that lead here, but only if you know where to look.’

  ‘It’s magical.’

  ‘I’m very lucky.’

  Freya looked at him as he gazed out over his beach to the ocean view he got to enjoy every day. ‘You’ve worked hard for it.’

  ‘That may be, but I’m still lucky.’ He turned to her, concern written on his face and in his green eyes. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Much better, thank you. I needed food and coffee. Oh, and a good night’s sleep.’

  ‘Passing out might have helped.’ He winked at her. ‘Talking of which, I don’t think I said it properly last night and even if I did, I don’t think you were with it enough to remember, but thank you for raising the alarm.’

  ‘You’re welcome. But it wasn’t me who raised it.’

  Zander’s eyebrows pinched together. ‘Oh?’

  ‘I asked Aaron to. And it was only by luck that I was even there that late. I’d left the book I was reading on the counter – I’ve suffered with insomnia at various points in my life and I’ve had a bout of it again here, not sure why because I slept like a baby when I first arrived. Anyway, reading helps me to eventually drift off and I really wanted to finish the book I’d started, so I went back to get it, otherwise I’d have been none the wiser.’

  ‘I did wonder why you were there; I assumed you’d been working late.’

  ‘No, not last night.’

  ‘So, Aaron didn’t think you’d be there?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Huh.’

  Freya frowned. ‘Why? What’s it got to do with Aaron?’

  Zander folded his arms and dropped his sunglasses over his eyes so his expression was hidden. ‘He didn’t raise the alarm. Hassan heard the noise and you shouting on his evening rounds – although he didn’t realise it was you at the time. He saw smoke and the glow of the fire, contacted me and organised help.’

  Freya shuffled in the chair, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. The feeling of contentment she’d had after a good night’s sleep and breakfast in front of the ocean, faded away as worry took over. Aaron had been right there with her. She thought he’d gone to get help – she’d asked him to, she was sure of it. Where had he gone? Why hadn’t he come back? It was Zander who’d been there stopping her from going back into the burning building. Help had arrived. There had been people there to put out the flames, but by that time the damage had been done and so many of the books had been lost, not to mention the destruction of the building itself.

  And now she thought about it, she had a reason for being at the bookshop that late in the evening, but why had Aaron been there?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The idea that Aaron hadn’t raised the alarm gnawed away at Freya. He hadn’t come back to help either, so what had he done? They cleared away the remains of their brunch and went inside Zander’s villa, both of them lost in their thoughts.

  A Maldivian woman, dressed in a pale grey shift-style dress, with a welcoming face was in the kitchen. She took the tray from Zander and beamed at Freya.

  ‘Freya, this is my wonderful housekeeper, Maryam.’

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you, Freya,’ Maryam said in fluent English with a lilting accent. ‘I’m very happy you’re okay after everything that happened. I’m glad to see the beachwear fits you perfectly.’

  ‘Oh, thank you so much for sorting this out for me.’

  She nodded. ‘It’s no problem. Your clothes are clean – they’re folded on the arm of the sofa.’

  ‘Thank you, Maryam.’ Zander kissed the top of her head.

  ‘Yes, thank you so much.’

  ‘If you’re feeling up to it, Freya, let’s take a walk and see the damage.’

  ~

  Freya kept on the new bikini but changed back into the cropped trousers and vest top from the day before, now freshly washed, sweet smelling and crease-free. She didn’t know what to do with the beach cover-up, so she left it neatly folded on the armchair in the guest bedroom. She made the bed too, not wanting to leave it messy, not really wanting to leave at all. She faltered by the door to soak up the perfect ocean view one last time before going back downstairs to meet Zander.

  They walked together across Driftwood Cove and beneath the trees to the left of the beach. It was a path of sorts, a narrow leaf-covered track twisting a short distance past the slender trunks of ficus and palm trees and back on to another wide sweeping beach that Freya recognised as Sunset Beach. She glanced back. There was no sign of a path being there at all, just the lush green screen of palms and bushes, and a beach hibiscus, its red leaves carpeting the sand.

  ‘Your place is so well hidden; I had no clue you lived back there.’

  ‘My secret hideout, and totally intentional. I like my privacy.’

  Freya caught up with him, her feet sinking into the sand as she matched his stride. She liked that he craved privacy. It was surprising considering how much of his life had been played out in the public eye. In the past at least. Last night at the bookshop and again this morning, he’d taken her by surprise, showing a side she hadn’t expected. It must be exhausting to be scrutinised constantly and to have had his whole life talked about and documented.

  They stuck to the trees edging the beach. It was well past midday and the sun was scorching, so they kept to what little shade the trees provided. Freya could smell the smoke before they were close enough to see the bookshop. They left the beach and entered the clearing. They stopped in unison and looked at the devastation. It was worse in daylight, or maybe she’d been so full of shock the night before, there hadn’t really been time to take everything in.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Zander.’ She automatically reached for his hand and squeezed it.

  He squeezed hers back. ‘You’ve got to stop apologising. None of this is your fault. Come on, let’s go and see what you managed to save.’

  She dropped his hand, suddenly conscious of her over-familiar gesture. She followed him up the sandy path from the bit of beach that she’d gazed out at most days since she’d arrived.

  Half of the roof had gone, either burnt or collapsed in on itself. The decking with its sunken seating and fire pits was intact but it was covered in ash and bits of broken wood. Books lay scattered across it where they’d fallen. She may have saved as many books as she could, but she wondered how many of them had survived intact. The fresh scent of the bed linen and the ocean that she’d woken up to that morning had been replaced by the acrid smell of smoke.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Zander ran his hand lightly down her arm.

  She looked up at him, concern written in his furrowed brow. ‘Yes, sorry, I’m fine. Just the reality of it. Even after seeing it burn last night, I wasn’t expecting it to look like this.’

  ‘I was expecting it to look worse in daylight. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to – you can go back and rest if you like?’

  ‘No, I’m fine really. I’ll gather the books.’

  Zander’s fingers brushed against her skin. He nodded towards the destroyed bookshop. ‘I’m going to go talk to Hassan. He’s been here most of the night.’

  Freya watched him continue across the clearing and pat Hassan on the back. Hassan looked exhausted, his usual smiley face etched with a frown, his face glowing through the sweat and dirt. She walked to the edge of the seating area. Most of the debris had been cleared into a pile. The sand around the damaged side of the bookshop was waterlogged, the usually pristine white grains stained by ash. The b
ooks that had been saved were piled haphazardly on the edge of the decking. She’d probably managed to save just a fraction and she had no idea if any of the ones still inside had survived. She perched on the edge of the decking, the wood warm through her cropped trousers. Looking through the trees to the beach and the glimmer of the ocean, she could almost believe that last night hadn’t happened. Sunshine slipped through the gaps in the leaves above, casting dappled light on the sandy ground.

  A wave of sadness hit her. There was no bookshop to run any longer; it was damaged, not beyond repair, but badly enough that she wouldn’t be back any time soon. She breathed deeply trying to stave off the worry coursing through her. The last thing she wanted to do was leave the island.

  Freya spent the next hour sorting the books into three piles: damaged beyond repair; salvageable; and sellable. People milled about behind her, clearing the broken bits of bookshop away. The pile of burnt wood, charred reeds of the roof and some of the destroyed driftwood shelving was taken away on a trailer attached to a buggy. It made quite a difference not having the clearing cluttered with broken bits of the shop. Zander was hands on, helping his staff lug shelves and twisted bits of wood off the decking. She heard him talking to Hassan and answering call after call on his mobile.

  Later in the afternoon, one of the bar staff arrived with cold drinks and Zander insisted everyone took a break. Some people headed back to the staff village for an early dinner, while a couple of the others sat beneath the shade of the trees with their drinks.

  Zander joined Freya next to her pile of books. He thumbed through the pages of Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. He sniffed it and wrinkled his nose.

  ‘I know, it smells like bonfire,’ Freya said.

  ‘We’ll leave it out in the fresh air, see if that does any good.’ He nodded towards the bookshop. ‘Have you seen inside?’

  ‘No, haven’t wanted to.’

  ‘Let me show you. It’s not as bad as you’re imagining, I promise.’

  She scrambled to her feet and dusted off the sand. She followed him across the decking and through the open door. She stopped. She could see the sky through the gaping hole in the roof and the end wall, which had been filled with new paperbacks and a shelf of beautiful hardbacks, was tarred black and completely destroyed.

  ‘You call this not bad?’

  Zander gave her a wry smile. ‘It could have been a lot worse. The place needs gutting, stripping out anything that’s damaged and then the roof and that far wall need fixing.’

  Freya took it all in, unconvinced about the extent of the damage – it looked like it needed a lot work, but at least the place was still standing. If she turned her back on the damaged half, then she could almost imagine that nothing had happened. Almost.

  She spied her copy of The Beekeeper of Aleppo where she’d left it on the counter and picked it up. It smelt of smoke but was otherwise fine. She clutched it to her. ‘This book is the whole reason I was here last night.’

  ‘And the reason why this place wasn’t totally destroyed.’

  ‘What are you going to do with all the books still in here?’

  ‘The ones in that half are just going to have to be destroyed, the others, we’ll see. We’ll take everything out and sort through them. They can all be replaced. The guys are going to finish clearing away and then we’ll see what needs doing next. But that can wait until tomorrow. It’ll be dark soon.’

  They retreated outside. The day had flown by, although Freya realised she’d slept through a good chunk of it, a luxury she hadn’t had since arriving with staff coming and going at all hours. Already there was a silvery tinge to the sky. The sun had sunk lower and wasn’t as intense, the patches of sunlight creeping through the trees softer now. Freya clutched the book to her chest and took a deep breath of the fresher ocean air.

  Zander was talking to Adam, the island’s chief engineer, and a couple of other staff had started to box up the books that were to be saved. Freya felt lost, with no role on the island. She fought back tears as a wave of emotion washed over her. She breathed deeply, trying to concentrate on the here and now and the things she could control, not about what might happen in the future. She needed food and it would be good to see Drew. She needed to find Aaron too. Another wave washed across her, this time worry about Aaron and why he hadn’t come back last night, or why he hadn’t come looking for her today to make sure she was okay.

  Zander appearing next to her, forced her to gather herself together.

  ‘Right, we’re all done for today. We’ll figure out what’s next tomorrow.’

  Freya nodded and smiled at him. She tapped The Beekeeper of Aleppo. ‘Well, only a day late, but I’ll head back and finally get to read my book.’

  ‘Why don’t you come back and have dinner with me...’ He was standing with his back to the ocean. Beneath the shadow of the trees and against the fading light it was hard to see the look on his face. ‘It’s the least I can do after all your help.’

  ‘I, uh...’ She didn’t quite know what to say. She was ravenous though and it felt odd to say no. For what reason? He’d been so generous and thoughtful. ‘That will be lovely, thank you.’

  The sky was darkening rapidly and Freya noticed everyone was leaving. A no-entry sign had been put on the path to the beach and the island walk in case any guests tried to head that way. Freya assumed the fire would be common knowledge. It must have caused quite a disturbance last night with staff from all over the island rushing to help. Despite the commotion caused, Freya felt disconnected from her friends, the guests and the people she worked with.

  Sunset Beach was empty. They walked across the picturesque expanse of sand. The amber sun melted into the dusky pink horizon ahead of them. Palm trees loomed against the silver-tinged sky. It was that magical time of day and there was no one else to witness it, not even guests enjoying a sunset dinner, not tonight, not when they’d have to walk past the burnt out bookshop to reach the beach. Apart from a grey heron padding along the edge of the shore, they had it all to themselves.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Zander’s villa glowed with lamplight spilling out on to the deck, a welcome sight with the dark backdrop of trees in the gloomy light of dusk. Freya could only imagine how wonderful it would be not only to live somewhere like this but to have a housekeeper to keep the place homely and welcoming. And it did feel like a home. Even her brief stay had shown her that the villa had a lived-in feel amidst the luxury and awe-inspiring view.

  As they reached the deck, Freya could see the luminous blue lights glowing beneath the surface of the pool, cool and inviting. Maryam was in the kitchen and as soon as she caught sight of them, she walked over.

  ‘Evening, Zander, Freya.’ Maryam gave the smallest of nods in her direction. ‘Can I fix you something to eat?’

  ‘You can phone through to Reef, please,’ Zander said.

  ‘Of course.’

  She retreated to the villa and Zander motioned to the chairs out on the deck.

  ‘Take a seat; I’ll get us drinks.’

  Freya sat in a chair while Zander went inside. The knot of tension had returned. She suddenly felt foolish being here, about to have dinner with Zander. Did it mean something? Was he just being nice? She’d sat in the same spot earlier that day with the sun beating down; now a light breeze had taken the edge off the sultry night. Moonlight and stars shone beyond the shadowed beach. Last night after the shock of the fire, she’d had a valid reason for being here, but now... It had been far from a normal day, and that was saying something when living and working on a tropical island. She was beginning to wish that she’d gone back to the staff village and was sitting in the courtyard with Drew. That was simple; this felt complicated.

  Zander returned with a couple of bottles of Coke, a bottle of wine and a glass. ‘Wine or a soft drink?’

  ‘Wine please, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Of course I don’t.’ He poured her wine and popped the cap off a bottle of Coke. He kn
ocked it against her glass. ‘I won’t subject you to my cooking this evening.’

  Freya laughed, relaxing a little. ‘You do cook then?’

  ‘Occasionally, mostly if I have friends staying. I’ll cook a chilli and we’ll eat out here on the deck.’

  ‘That’s your signature dish?’ She sipped the wine, deliciously fruity with a sweet edge, and wondered how expensive it was.

  ‘You could call it that.’ He nodded and stared across the dark beach, a wistful look on his face. ‘I know how lucky I am. I have Maryam who looks after me and takes good care of this place. If she’s not cooked or if I don’t fancy cooking, I order food from one of the restaurants.’ He turned to her. ‘I hope you like pizza?’

  ‘I certainly do.’

  ‘We have a wood fired oven and an Italian chef in Reef. The pizzas rival the ones I’ve had in Italy.’

  Zander was easier to talk to than during that first awkward dinner on Makumathi. Back then he’d seemed guarded, while she was thrown by how much she knew about him and the opinions she’d formed. Online pictures that told a story of an excessive lifestyle, partying, women, drink and drugs... Not quite the Zander she was sitting with now, even if they were relaxing on the deck of his luxury villa on his own private tropical beach. The wine helped her to relax a little more and their conversation flowed naturally from the aftermath of last night, to how Zander had come to build the villa – the culmination of years of planning and a desire to put down roots after decades of travelling.

  The time flew by and soon Maryam appeared from the villa with a tray. She placed a wooden board with a pizza and a leafy green salad on the table. ‘I thought you might like something to go with it.’

  ‘You’re the best,’ Zander said. ‘Have you eaten?’