Page 10 of The Breakup Bookshop

‘You’re thinking of your upstairs cupboard,’ he says. ‘Aren’t you on the phone?’

‘On hold,’ I explain, holding it towards him for proof, so he can hear the tune.

‘Why are you on the bin?’

‘Phone reception. It’s best on top of the green bin.’

His facial expression remains neutral, although I detect a hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘I won’t ask how you found that out. But I would say the blue bin is better. In my experience, anyway.’

‘You just want to see me clambering down to shuffle onto the other bin, don’t you?’

I’m sure I see his lips twitch as he hides a smile. ‘You won’t know unless you try. Alternative is to climb into the bin and close the lid.’

‘Oh, very funny,’ I say, as a voice begins jabbering in my ear, and I realize my call has been connected. ‘Hello, yes, I’m calling to enquire about a drill that I’ve ordered, please? It should have been here on Wednesday, but there’s still no sign of it.’

Rory’s eyebrows shoot up as he shakes his head. He opens the bin, places the bag inside and turns to leave. Before he enters his shop again, he thinks better of it and scrapes each bin along the ground, making a racket so loud that I can’t hear the speaker on the end of the phone. Like changing the order of the bin line-up is necessary right now while I’m taking a call. Standing back from his wheelie-bin masterpiece, he appraises it and flashes me a grin before making his exit with a crashing slam of his door. A real Tool for The Toolbox.

The customer service team promises me that my drill will arrive any minute now.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

4

Sitting cross-legged on the floor contemplating paint samples, I spot Rory across the street. He’s talking to a short, curvy woman with long hair and a blonde balayage wearing a black leather jacket and a wide smile. They chat animatedly as they cross the road together. The shop door is wide open, so their conversation filters into my shop as they approach. I appear nonchalant, gazing at the samples, while casually eavesdropping.

‘Ah, come on, Rory, you haven’t said anything yet? It’ll all come out eventually, you know that,’ the woman says, nudging him playfully in the ribs.

‘Mind your own business.’ He ruffles her hair and she pushes him away. He continues, his voice dropping to a whisper, ‘But please, seriously, promise you won’t tell.’

I hear her sigh. ‘Your secrets are safe with me. However daft I think they are.’

‘Thank you,’ he says before he heads to The Toolbox. Instead of following him, she skips straight towards me to my surprise.

‘Ava Campbell?’ she says in a mock-serious tone, peering through the door.

‘Am I about to be sued or something?’ I squint, before I recognize the familiar face in front of me. ‘Oh my God! Donna?’

As I say her name tentatively, she throws her whole body into mine, while squealing at the top of her lungs. I find myself jumping up and down with her, joining in the squeal-fest.

‘Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here!’ She pulls back from the hug but keeps a tight hold of my arms, and grins widely at me. A woman stands in front of me, but I can still see the girl I spent the summers playing with, her kind eyes and beautifully crooked smile. ‘Fuck, Ava, you’re just as gorgeous as you always were!’

I hug Donna closer. I’ve missed this: a real friend. A live one.

‘Your hair is beautiful,’ I say, gripping her hand tightly so she can never leave. ‘And your tan! How long were you away for, six months?’

She grins as I pull her to sit beside me on the floor because I haven’t managed to source any chairs yet. ‘It felt like it! I couldn’t believe it when I heard you were moving back. I wanted to be your welcoming party. I’ve been calling Dad every day for updates, though. He’s been singing your praises – says you work like a Trojan.’

‘Did he tell you about the—’

‘The first time you saw him and whacked him with your bag? He hasn’t stopped talking about it. Most interesting thing that’s happened to him in months! We know you London lot are tough as nails.’

I smile and offer up a little bow. ‘Glad to be of service.’

‘It’s nice for him to have anything to talk about, really. Between you and me, he’s been struggling since my mum passed away at the end of last year.’ Donna’s voice becomes small and quiet, even though there is no one around. Her brown eyes flicker and I see the glisten of fresh tears under her false eyelashes.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Donna,’ I say, rubbing her arm. I realize then how silly I must have sounded to Pete when I asked to try one of his wife’s caramel slices. ‘That’s awful. I didn’t know your dad was grieving. He’s always so cheery. And your mum was – well, I know I didn’t know her that well, but I remember meeting her once or twice when we were younger. She was just lovely. I’m so sorry.’

‘Thank you. I know, Dad is trying his best to put a brave face on it. I was so worried about leaving him alone, even for this holiday. Then we heard you were moving in, so I sent him on a mission to check you out and report back. Imagine his delight when you assaulted him on day one! And now he keeps telling me how he’s walking about pretending you’re going to attack him again at any moment. Sorry, he’s always thought himself to be a bit of a joker.’