This Book Made Me Think of You(24)

“Ooh postcards, do you mind if I get some quickly?”

“You must be the only person under the age of fifty who still sends postcards,” says Harper with a dramatic eye roll.

“That can’t be true.”

But as they step inside, there is only one customer browsing the postcard rack: a leathery-skinned woman who looks about ninety years old.

Under the shade of a palm tree by the pool, Tilly writes a card to their parents and gets Harper to sign her name. Once Tilly has finished the second, she looks up, taking in the view of the pool and the beach framed by palm trees and sun loungers and saying a silent thank-you to Joe.

It’s because of Joe that she is here and because of Joe and his books that she has got back into reading and started taking better care of herself, cooking meals from scratch rather than living off things that come out of jars and takeaway cartons. But maybe it is time she started making some decisions for herself about her future. It feels strange to even think it when for so long it has felt as though her life has simply stopped. But looking out over the sun-kissed infinity pool, Tilly has a sense of her future stretching out ahead of her, vast and unknown.

She follows her sister into the water, floating on her back and feeling the sun on her face. Later, she will attempt to surf, falling repeatedly while Harper sails by like a pro. But each time that Tilly falls, she will pull herself back up again, slightly battered and eyes streaming from the salty water—but still here.





Fifteen




“So, how is the book business?” asks Alfie’s brother-in-law Stu, a large glass of Rioja held aloft. “Because I heard that indies are holding on by their fingernails these days.”

Alfie is sitting in Tash and Stu’s open-plan kitchen in their Surrey home, on an armchair that probably cost more than he makes in several months. He can hear the giggles of his nieces in the playroom on the floor above and wishes he could be in there with them instead.

Tash whips her husband with the tea towel draped over her shoulder.

“Don’t be such a pessimist. Just because you haven’t read anything since that Steve Jobs biography I gave you two Christmases ago…”

Instead of bristling, Stu looks up at his wife adoringly, saying, “Maybe you’re right, darling.”

Because, for all of Stu’s faults, Alfie can’t deny how besotted he is with Alfie’s sister. Which is why he doesn’t let himself react to the line of questioning that he has heard many times before, other than to say, “Business is fine, thanks, Stu.” Which might be a lie, but Stu is the last person Alfie would talk to about his problems.

Tash turns back to arranging candles on a purple birthday cake shaped like a unicorn as a loud squeal erupts upstairs.

“But I’m just saying,” says Stu, “the offer is still there if you ever want to come and work for me at Office World. You’d be selling office supplies, not books, but retail is retail, isn’t it?”

Alfie tries not to wince. For him, selling books couldn’t be further from selling staples and printer ink cartridges.

“Thanks for the offer.”

“You’d have to buy a suit though,” Stu adds, glancing at Alfie’s faded jeans and moth-eaten sweater.

“Stu, Alfie doesn’t need a job,” Tash says as she carries plates over to the table, Alfie leaping up to take them from her arms. She gives him a warm smile. She has his same dark hair, hers curly and worn pushed back behind a floral headband. As his eyes meet hers, it’s like looking at his dad and he has to glance away when Tash says, “He’s amazing at the job he already has. People love Book Lane. They always have and they always will.”

Alfie forces himself to smile back, grateful for his sister’s confidence in him even if it is undoubtedly misplaced.

“Girls! It’s time to do the cake!” Tash calls, and there’s a shriek and then the sound of thumping footsteps so loud that Alfie half expects to see a pair of trolls appearing in the doorway. Instead his nieces charge into the room, Mia dressed in her birthday outfit of a tutu over combat trousers and Mabel following in a Pikachu costume. There’s much chattering as they gather at the table, Alfie having to brush something out of his eye as he watches his niece’s eyes widen at the sight of the unicorn cake, her sweet face glowing in the light of the seven candles. He still remembers meeting her for the first time back when she was a bright pink bundle who looked a lot like a potato but a potato he’d instantly fallen in love with nonetheless.

Tash had been glowing and proud, but the moment was tinged with absence.

“Your dad should be here,” their mum had said, the first to voice what they were all thinking.

“I know.”

“He’d be so proud of you, Tash,” Alfie said, somehow managing to hold the baby with one arm, wrapping his other around his sister and letting his mother lean her head heavily against his shoulder.

It was only when he left that he let himself break down.

They all tuck into cake, then it’s time for presents, Alfie handing over a flat parcel wrapped in unicorn paper.

Mia lets out a sigh far older than her seven years.

“Uncle Alfie always gets us books.”

Across the table Stu stifles a laugh. “Got to keep the business going somehow, eh?”

As Tash elbows her husband, Alfie reaches for another, larger box.