Page 14 of It Happened on Christmas Eve
The shop is lovely, though. I love a book shop and this is a beauty – warm and roomy, with high ceilings piled with colourful books. There’s even a couple of those swingy wooden ladders so people can get to the top shelves!
I wheel Adam over to a display of his books at a table in the middle of the shop. Fliss busies over and hands him a pen.
Adam picks up the book and looks at the blurb for a little while with a sad smile.
‘It’s great that you have a whole display in here!’ I say, trying to be encouraging.
‘Oh, Marcy is an old friend of my mother’s. Nepotism at its finest,’ she giggles, waving a hand over the display. ‘At this time of year I rather expected the table would be empty by now, but these books seem to want to stay.’
She does another little laugh while Adam grimaces and starts to sign the stock with an exuberant signature. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘You really don’t have to keep the display up, if you have something else you think would sell better in this space.’
‘No, no it’s fine, of course!’ Fliss says. ‘Having some signed should help to shift them… Did the publishers sign you up for another deal?’
‘Not yet!’ Adam says, in that forced bright tone again. ‘But I’m writing a brand new series for adults and I’ve already had some interest from a few publishers.’
‘Oh good for you, Adam! I often wonder if the reading public are getting fatigued with all of this commercial literature, but it sounds as though you’ll be just fine!’ Fliss shrugs. ‘I’m actually writing a piece of poetic literary fiction about a beautiful woman who works in a bookshop and her noble horse, who is also her dearest friend.’
Ugh, that sounds like a shit book.
‘Great!’ Adam says, still scribbling over the books. ‘I wish you the best of luck with that. Do let me know if I can help in any way.’
‘Thanks! That’s so kind, but I’m not sure it will be your cup of tea. It’s sort of unique, you know? And very literary. Not like your books.’
She’s not outright saying it but you can tell she definitely looks down on the kind of thing Adam writes.
Snobs. Definitely riding high on the shitlist.
I clear my throat. ‘You know, I’m writing a piece of poetic literary fiction about a woman who works in a shop and who fancies her horse.’ I affect a very serious expression.
Fliss blinks at me, her mouth opening and closing like a guppy. Her cheeks turn red. Adam bursts into loud, deep laughter.
‘I do not ‘fancy’ Snowy!’ she hisses. ‘I think it’s time for you to leave.’
‘I’m finished anyway!’ Adam says, the cheeriness in his voice now sounding a little more genuine.
We quickly gather our things and leave the shop, as a red-faced Fliss scowls at us through the little window in the door.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, once we’re outside. ‘I couldn’t help myself. She seemed like such a snob.’
‘Oh she is. She’s the worst,’ Adam says. ‘I’m sorry you had to meet her.’
Shit. ‘Is she going to take that display down now, because of what I said about her horse?’
‘She definitely will. But it was absolutely worth it! Fancies her horse. Ha!!’
‘I’m sorry your new book isn’t doing so well,’ I say as we wheel around a group of office workers laughing and singing outside a bar.
‘Me too.’ Adam shrugs, the tips of his ears turning red. ‘It’s quite a fall from grace.’
‘Um… shall we grab a quick drink before I drop you off?’ I ask, feeling uncharacteristically sympathetic.
‘Fuck, yes.’
Chapter Nine
Christmas Eve 7:00 p.m.
We head to The Elgin pub, and on the way we pass Tesco. It’s utterly rammed. I peer through the glass window longingly, thinking of my noodles and the peaceful, solitary night that is very quickly getting away from me. I feel regretful for suggesting the pub now, but it seemed like the right thing to do, and however miserable I might be feeling, that must have sucked for Adam in the bookshop. I’m trying to do a nice thing. A kind thing. Not exactly the act of a hardcore bitch. It must be all the music and twinkle lights. This is why Christmas is dangerous – it makes people soppy.
