Aria's Travelling Book Shop

by Rebecca Raisin

  I race into the water and dive in, while Rosie edges uncertainly on the shore as if the ocean might swallow her whole. ‘Come on, Rosie. It’s water, not acid!’

  She rolls her eyes and takes delicate steps forward, gasping when the cold water hits her ankles. ‘I have to acclimatize myself.’

  ‘I’ll be out before you get in!’

  Eventually she wades in, gasping and panting like a little old lady. ‘Golly, this is why I’m more of a “feet firmly on the earth” type.’

  ‘It’ll be good for you, good for the baby.’

  She gives me a wide smile joining me in the deep. ‘It’s all falling into place. I don’t want to jinx myself but I finally feel like I belong, that I’m right where I’m meant to be. Even being pregnant and so far from home doesn’t seem as problematic as it once would have. Can you imagine if this happened to me a year ago? It would have been breakdown city central.’

  ‘You’ve come such a long way, Rosie.’

  She nods, fanning her arms in the water. ‘Golly, I had so many hang-ups, still have plenty of course, but they don’t hold me so far back.’

  ‘Van life, the tonic for all that ails.’

  ‘It truly is. What if I’d stayed in London once Callum had moved on with Khloe with a K?’

  On her birthday a year previous, Rosie’s husband Callum announced he was leaving her for the Chef de Partie at the restaurant he worked at. Not long after, when the divorce was still pending, she found out Khloe was pregnant with Callum’s baby, the baby conceived when he was still married and living with Rosie. It had hit her hard and she escaped into van life mostly because she had no other option and she wanted space from the toxicity of the London culinary scene where everyone knew everyone’s business, including Rosie’s. But then Max happened and Callum was just a slimy step on the road to true love.

  ‘I don’t think you were ever destined for that life, Rosie. It never made you happy.’

  ‘No, it didn’t. That was a shell of a life. And now I have Max, and I wonder what I ever saw in Callum.’

  ‘Gotta kiss a few frogs first, right?’

  She grins. ‘Right.’

  I kick my legs and lie on my back and float, eyes closed to the sun. ‘You know, Rosie, I’ve been thinking, maybe being alone the rest of my life isn’t such a good thing. I feel myself retreating further into my books, spending more time alone. I worry one day I’ll look up and there’ll be no one there. Just me, the van and the endless view …’

  Rosie turns on her back and floats beside me. ‘I can see why you made the promise to TJ. It must have been such a devastating time but even he didn’t want that for you. You’re the bubbliest person I know, and for you to be alone goes against the grain of who you are.’

  ‘It wasn’t just the promise I made though, it was his last words.’

  ‘What were they?’

  ‘Until we meet again.’

  She’s silent for a while. ‘So you think that if you move on, whatever chance you have of connecting on some other realm will disappear?’

  I bite down on my bottom lip while I consider a response. ‘It sounds ridiculous out loud. But yes. What if that means I forfeit the chance to be with him again, in the next life, in the afterlife, any life …’

  ‘It doesn’t work that way, surely, Aria. He’s your first, spellbinding love and if there’s anything after here, he will be there waiting for you, just like he promised.’

  ‘It’s silly, but at the time it felt like the truth, like he had this incredible knowing, and it’s what I hold on to, it’s what got me through that first impossible year.’

  Rosie’s teeny tiny belly sits just out the water. She’s only three months along. I imagine the size it will grow to and picture her in other bodies of water as we go, her bump getting bigger and bigger.

  ‘Aria, there are no hard and fast rules about grief and the stages after that. When I say listen to your heart I mean listen to it. It’s not just a cliché, it’s an actual step in the next process of grief. You know there’s stages – anger, denial and all of that – but then there’s the steps, like when you gave away TJ’s clothes, and stopped looking at his picture a hundred times a day, before moving it into a drawer so it didn’t hurt so much. Eventually once all those steps are trudged up, the next one can be opening your heart to someone new.’

  I hadn’t thought about it like that.

  ‘Let some sunshine in to what’s been a really dark place for you. But you can only do that if you stop letting guilt drive you.’

  ‘I just don’t know how to stop feeling that guilt, though, Rosie, that’s the thing.’

  She swirls her arms out and back in. ‘Trust me, I know that feeling well. When my dad died I was consumed by it, right up until Mai did that bizarre and beautiful face reading thing where I thought she was possibly trying to steal my soul. I realized that guilt was only holding me back and it had absolutely no effect on anything else. Guilt wasn’t going to bring my dad back so I could make amends, get that forgiveness I so needed. So what’s the point of holding on to something so toxic and letting that drive your life? There’s no point to it, especially if the person is long gone from here. And I had something to feel guilty about. You don’t. There’s a big difference.’

  ‘TJ really wanted me to make a new life without him. Marriage, the kids, the whole shebang. That’s pretty amazing considering.’

  ‘You need to hold on to that when you feel that guilt creep back.’

  I take a deep breath in and exhale all the angst and feel lighter, floating in the Mediterranean like some kind of sea goddess. ‘I’m so lonely all the time. I’m literally surrounded by happy campers and I’ve got a million friends yet I feel so alone. I want to change that.’

  ‘Then what’s stopping you?’

  ‘Well, his mum for one. Imagine how much she’d hate me if she found out I’d moved on with someone else?’

  ‘I’m sure she’d be happy for you, Aria. You need to lay it all out on the line for her. Emails won’t do – you need to speak on the phone. I think you need to give her more credit. Remember at one time you were like a daughter to her.’

  And I was. We took girl trips away together, just me and Mary. We had once-a-month movie dates.

  ‘Yeah, I just can’t help worrying.’ I kick my legs to stand.

  ‘So what are you waiting for? Speak to Mary and then tell Jonathan how you feel.’

  After an age I say, ‘So I guess I have to tell him that maybe … what? I don’t even know how to do this anymore. I’m broken!’

  ‘You’re not broken, you’re rusty.’

  We laugh and swim back to shore.

  ***

  The street festival is a jovial affair. There’s a band playing reggae music on the sun-bleached street, and how can you not be happy when there’s reggae music? It’s one of life’s simple joys. I dance along as I help Rosie serve – her popsicles are a crowd favourite.

  When we’ve caught up with the queue I go back to the Little Bookshop and help customers find long-forgotten books, getting dusty alongside happy sun-pinked tourists who’ve flocked to the outdoor party. The vibe is incredible and it’s a reminder why we live this way. I never want the day to end.

  A few hours later, the crowds thin so Rosie and I take our chance to try some international cuisines. Taramasalata and the vans closest to us are still pumping orders so we continue on until we find a quieter vendor. Thai-tan has a range of spicy food on offer so I fill up on larb as we walk while Rosie hunts for something with less chilli.

  ‘What are you craving?’ I ask.

  ‘You won’t believe it.’

  ‘Pickles?’ Isn’t that the usual thing women crave for some inexplicable reason.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Erm … a big juicy cheeseburger?’

  ‘No. I’m craving one of Max’s bloody live forever smoothies or whatever he calls those abominations.’

  ‘No!’

  She drops her head in mock shame.
‘I know. Why, why, WHY!’

  ‘The baby has half his DNA, that’s why!’

  With a slap to the forehead she says, ‘Yes, of course, I didn’t think of that.’

  Rosie has protested every step of the way with Max’s foodie lifestyle; how the two have dinner together is beyond me when they eat the very opposite. If Rosie had to give up sugar, I think she’d give up air, whereas Max finds it the work of the devil. Ah, sweet love.

  ‘Well, let’s go get you some food that you can drink, eh?’

  ‘What’s to become of me?’ she moans holding her head in her hands while I stop and buy a tray of mini tacos. ‘Extra jalapeño, please.’ The vendor heaps a mound on top and I give him my thanks. ‘Without you sharing, I’m eating double. You sure I can’t tempt you into a bite of one of these bad boys?’

  She glances at the stuffed tacos and her face turns puce.

  ‘That’s a definitive no then.’

  ‘I hope I’m not turning … vegan!’

  I laugh at poor Rosie’s expression. As a former Michelin-starred chef, she finds the whole premise of veganism problematic and yet her diet is distinctly heading that way. ‘Blame it on the baby. Once little Indigo pops out I’m taking you to a Tex Mex joint and we are going to eat our body weight in bad food, topped off with a decadent dessert so huge you’ll need two spoons to go at it.’

  ‘OK, I’ll mark it in my calendar.’

  Max is doing a roaring trade; it’s the right weather for fresh icy juices. When he sees Rosie he stops everything and comes around the counter to hug her and check she’s OK. Oh, that man!

  ‘Yes, all good, I’m just a little hungry.’

  Max’s eyes glisten with triumph but he doesn’t rub it in. ‘Do you want the ginger smoothie to settle your stomach?’ His expression turns tender.

  ‘Fine.’

  She will never get over having to admit Max’s food is medicinal. Ever.

  He blitzes up a smoothie with all sorts of wholesome nutrients and explains to the waiting crowd that Rosie is the love of his life and they’re expecting their first child. The patrons oooh and ahhh collectively while Rosie turns the same colour as the strawberries he adds to the concoction.

  ‘I’ve made plans to catch up with a friend at Répondre in Monaco tonight. Will you both join me?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘What do you think, Rosie?’ She takes the proffered smoothie.

  ‘Yes, good plan. It’ll be good to get out now that I’m feeling better. Let’s head back to work to replenish the coffers so we can spend it on overpriced drinks.’ I laugh at her honesty. The French Riviera is known for its glamour and that comes at a high price, including the be-seen-at bars and clubs that we usually tend to avoid.

  She gives Max a chaste kiss on the cheek but he grabs her into a bear hug and holds her for an age. I love that Max wears his heart on his sleeve and isn’t afraid to show it.

  ‘So tonight,’ Rosie says, ‘what should we wear?’

  ‘It’s only a casual drink with one of Max’s friends, right?’ Surely Max wouldn’t choose a place that we need to dress to impress?

  She is focused on her smoothie, mixing it with her paper straw. ‘Yeah, but we’re in Nice, we have to look nice.’

  ‘I see what you did there but we’re going to Monaco.’ Where royalty live!

  ‘OK, well stop by when you’re done for the day while we wait for the road to open and we can discuss the merits of the two dresses I own, yeah?’

  She laughs. ‘You’d look good in a potato sack.’

  ‘Too itchy.’

  She laughs and it’s not until I’m back at the Little Bookshop that I wonder if there’s not more to this innocent catch-up drink than I gave them credit for …

  Chapter 23

  Nice

  As the street festival winds down, I check my Facebook page for any orders. Laurent’s five-euro poems have gone down a treat, matched with Mills and Boon book bundles, I’ve been selling them quicker than he can write them. I’m happy to see another handful of orders, so I make note of the books to find and send Laurent a message to let him know I need more poems. Once I’ve caught up on the work side of things, I check my personal Facebook page and find nothing from Jonathan, but see a message from Lulu and Leo to Rosie and me. I click on the message:

  Hello from sunny Cornwall, darlings!

  We’ve got some fabulous news and wanted to share it with our favourites before splashing it about on the world wide web for all and sundry to read. Yesterday Leo and I ELOPED and it was the most beautiful day confessing our love with only the bright orb of the sun as our witness. Sure, it’s soon, but when you meet your cosmic soul mate there’s no point waiting, right? We hope you like our very first picture of Mr & Mrs StarTribe. Yes, we’ve chosen ourselves a new surname that reflects us as people … now to apply to deed poll. How mundane but these things must done if one is to have a passport …

  Has the entire world been infected by Instalove? They’re a spiritual match made in heaven and we did envisage this but how time is racing on for those in the land of l’amour.

  The photo highlights their radiant, blooming faces and my heart tugs. You can tell just by their smiles how truly in love they are, with their whole happy, hippy lives ahead of them.

  There’s a tap on the door and Rosie peeks in as she hears my squeal. ‘What is it?’

  I point to the message and she reads, gasps and puts her hands to her mouth. ‘Already! Oh, put a fork in me, look how happy they are!’ She promptly bursts into tears. ‘Sorry, it’s just—’

  ‘It’s OK, Rosie. I get it.’

  She sniffles and snuffles and tries to compose herself. ‘It’s as if they are love personified, aren’t they? I hope it lasts forever.’ She stops. ‘Oh, god, sorry, Aria, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, I hope they always feel the same as they did yesterday …’

  I rub her back. ‘I know, so do I. It’s OK.’ And I really mean it. ‘I hope their love spans decades and they get to grow old together, surrounded by a big family of StarTribes who grow their own food, attend full moon parties and never lose their sense of adventure.’

  ‘The hormones, golly, one minute I’m laughing, the next I’m sobbing over the smallest things. We’ll let their good news sink in before we reply. So what are you waiting for …? Show me this magnificent wardrobe of yours then.’

  That’s the thing about van life, there’s not a whole lot of room, especially in this bibliophile paradise, hence things like clothes storage are on the bottom of my practicality list.

  ‘Ta-da!’ I say, pointing at two dresses draped on a coat hanger wedged between books. ‘This little number I like to call “frolicking in a field of flowers”.’ I gesture to a flowy summery number adorned with yellow roses. ‘And this of course needs no introduction being the obligatory little black dress suitable for any occasion.’

  With a finger to her lips Rosie considers them as if I’m going to strut the red carpet at the Brit Awards, or something.

  ‘Why the sudden interest in my sartorial taste?’

  She tries to play the innocent but our Rosie is a hopeless liar. ‘Moi?’

  ‘Cue the French … What is it, Rosie? Some blind date with an out-of-work trucker with a seventies-style moustache to get me back in the game?’

  ‘Where do you come up with this stuff? Honestly.’ She laughs. ‘No, I’m trying to Frenchify us both, simple as that.’

  ‘Nothing is ever as simple as that. Tell me the truth.’

  She darts a glance at the floor and her arms stiffen.

  ‘Bloody hell, Rosie, what is it? Not a blind date?’

  ‘Of course not! Imagine the safety logistics of that – it would take me months to figure it all out.’

  Folding my arms, I wait her out.

  And I wait.

  ‘Fine.’ She sighs, loud and theatrically. ‘Apparently Jonathan is going to be there.’

  ‘So the friend we’re having drinks with is Jonathan? Why the secrecy?’<
br />
  She sighs. ‘In case you bailed. But now I’ve bloody well told you so you can’t bail.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘We’ll just let off some steam, you with a tropical cocktail, me with a mocktail.’

  ‘OK. So floaty floral dress it is?’

  ‘Hell no. It’s the mighty tighty LBD with a killer pair of heels.’

  ‘You’re incorrigible.’

  ‘I try. We’re ready to drive to the campsite if you are?’

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be. I might just throw myself in the sea one last time.’

  ‘OK, I’ll finish tidying and we can leave in convoy.’

  She leaves me with a peck on the cheek.

  ***

  The campsite is a set on the side of a cliff with the most magnificent view of the water and blue skies that span for days. It’s a tight, small camp, but we manage to squeeze in, probably due to Tori saving us a space. I guess my begrudging thanks are in order.

  Hand over my eyes to stop the glare of sun, I find her sitting around a table with some nomads I’ve not met before. ‘Thanks for saving us a spot.’

  ‘Well, of course. Friends, aren’t we?’

  I can’t discern any malice in her voice. Maybe she’s learning to live a little more Zen?

  ‘Yeah, friends.’

  ‘Are you coming tonight?’ she asks.

  ‘For drinks, yeah.’

  Her eyes sparkle with challenge. Maybe she hasn’t done an about-face just yet. ‘Brill, Jonathan’s going to be there too. I haven’t seen him in at least a day, so don’t mind us, will you?’

  ‘Mind you what?’

  ‘You know.’

  ‘Tori, can’t you just be honest with yourself for one day? What do you get out of acting like this? There’s nothing going on with you and Jonathan and there never was. I seriously don’t understand why you alienate people by stirring up trouble, and for what?’

  She double blinks in surprise but soon enough her eyes darken.

  I continue, ‘We’re all offering a hand in friendship to you, Tori. You might want to think about what a real friend is.’ With that I walk away, finished with her and the game-playing.