This Book Made Me Think of You(13)
On a ladder propped against the bookshelves, Blue turns around from where she’d been stacking books. She smiles down at them both, her large brown eyes the same shade as her arms, currently bared by her short-sleeved plain white T-shirt. She seems to have no feel for the cold, something that has caused more than a few disagreements between the two of them over the years about the correct temperature to heat a room. Alfie met Blue at university, where they studied different courses but were both part of the same amateur theater group. Alfie gave up when he quickly realized he was terrible at acting, but Blue still performs when she’s not working part-time at the shop.
“And this is Georgette,” he says, reaching out to stroke the tabby sprawled over the paperwork on his desk, “the fourth member of the Book Lane team.”
“So you’re the customer with the mysterious year of books,” says Prudence, stepping out from behind the counter. “We’re all so sorry for your loss. Is it OK if I give you a hug?”
Alfie is just about to try to rein Prudence in (not that trying to rein Prudence in ever particularly works) but she already has her arms around Matilda Nightingale, and to his surprise, it seems she doesn’t mind at all. Any earlier frostiness melts away, and she sinks into the older woman’s arms. When they step apart, they are both smiling. And that’s the power of a Prudence Silver hug. Alfie should know. He’s had more than a few over the years.
“Let me get you your next book,” he says, turning to the collection shelf. “Did you enjoy your first book, by the way?”
“I did, actually. It’s been a long time since I last read a children’s book. I’d forgotten how good they are.”
“I reread The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe every Christmas,” he admits. “There’s something comforting about knowing how a story is going to end.”
He realizes that Matilda is looking at him a little strangely, and he clears his voice and hands the book over, this time tied with a purple ribbon. “Here you go.”
She takes the book in two hands, her arms sagging with the weight of it.
“Wow. Well, I’m guessing this one isn’t a children’s book. Thanks. I’m glad I came back.”
She looks up at him, and Alfie blinks quickly, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“So are we.”
“Enjoy your book, and see you next month!” calls Prudence as Tilly gives a little wave and heads out of the shop. Alfie watches the flash of her hair until he can’t see her anymore, trying to picture the expression on her face when she opens the parcel and wondering how she might respond to this month’s book. But his job is to sell books to customers. What happens next is up to them.
Eight
Tilly stands at the counter in her tiny kitchen surrounded by ingredients. A box of eggs, a stick of butter, a chunk of Gruyère, and a slab of Parmesan…She consults the recipe in the enormous book laid open on the counter and then glances down at Joe’s letter beside it, reading it for the third time.
Dear Tilly,
Did I make you laugh? I really hope I made you laugh. Now, I don’t want to say anything bad about your cooking, but do you remember that lemon meringue pie? That’s all I’m going to say.
I know cooking has never been your thing, but I’ve always found it soothing to follow a recipe, knowing that in cooking if you follow the instructions and keep practicing, things should broadly turn out OK.
I hope this book encourages you to take care of yourself. You’ve made me feel so cared for, something I’ll always be grateful for. I just hope that you’ll remember that you need looking after too.
Make yourself some hearty, comforting meals (I like the look of the Souffléd Macaroni Cheese). And invite people over to share them with you. I know you probably don’t feel much like socializing right now, but you have people in your life who love you. Lean on them, Tilly. You’re not on your own.
I’m sorry I’m not there to cook for you. But I’ll be there at your side as you chop and stir and hopefully don’t start any fires.
I love you.
Joe x
She glances down again at her new copy of Delia Smith’s Complete How to Cook.
“You did make me laugh, by the way,” she says out loud, looking over her shoulder toward the urn on the bookshelves. It had surprised her, the sound that escaped from her mouth as she peeled away the brown paper. But as soon as she saw the title, she could picture Joe’s grin as he chose it, and she couldn’t help but chuckle.
“And how could I forget that lemon meringue pie?”
It had been the first meal they had hosted in their new flat, Tilly’s parents visiting from Hay-on-Wye and Harper and Raj joining. Joe offered to cook the main course, but Tilly said she’d handle dessert.
“I don’t know why I picked something so ambitious,” she says as she weighs out the ingredients. “Maybe I was feeling grown-up because we’d just bought our own place and I wanted to prove something. I’ll admit that using a blowtorch to scorch the meringue probably wasn’t the best idea…”
She had done the blowtorching on the table, intending to add some drama to the occasion. Which it certainly did.
“You were so calm about the fire,” she continues, grating the cheese, the creamy, salty scent making her mouth water. “I just stood there screaming as the tablecloth caught light, but you grabbed a jug of water and threw it over the table. And my lemon meringue pie, too, unfortunately. I remember you still said it tasted good, once you’d drained out the water and brushed off the burned bits.”