Page 11 of The Breakup Bookshop

‘Ah well, it’s pretty funny,’ I say through only slightly gritted teeth.

‘I’m sorry about your granny, too, Ava. I know it was a long time ago now, but I never got to say it at the time. I thought you’d be back for the funeral but then we heard it was in England, and after that I kept thinking you’d be back the next summer, but…’

I let out a sigh. ‘You have no idea how much I wanted to come back then. But my dad sold the house and there was nowhere for me to stay.’

Donna leans over and throws her arm around me, pulling me in for another hug. ‘Well, you’re here now. And you’re opening a bookshop! Why am I not surprised? You always had your nose in a book when we were younger! I remember you even brought a book around the village with you in the basket of your bike. Elle and I used to call you Matilda, you know.’

‘Elle! How is she? Is she still around?’

I can still picture Donna’s and Elle’s baby faces. Donna, with her long hair always styled to perfection, with an endless supply of sweets that she was more than happy to share with us. Her best friend, Elle, had shorter dark hair, dazzling blue eyes, and could never resist throwing herself into a cartwheel or handstand. We became a summertime trio every year.

‘She moved to Edinburgh. She’s a hot-shot corporate lawyer there now, would you believe?’

‘Ah,’ I say. ‘Shame her gymnast dreams didn’t come to fruition, but I guess a lawyer is the next best thing. What about you, running your own salon? That’s amazing!’

Donna flicks her hair back over her shoulder and grins. ‘There was never really any doubt, was there? Eight years I’ve been open now. It was all I ever talked about! Remember I used to do your hair down at the beachfront, in between the cartwheels, dance moves and skimming stones?’

‘Yeah, and you’ve done it! Your very own business. I just hope I can follow in your glossy-haired footsteps and make this place a success too.’

‘You will. I can’t wait to see your plans coming to life.’ She gazes around the empty shop and smiles. ‘Do you know what? I used to like reading. I read loads of romcoms until I went to high school and my teacher called them trashy. She said I should read the classics and then I might develop sometaste. It put me off reading, to be honest. I’ve not read a book since.’

I do some quick maths and resist the urge to gasp. Donna hasn’t read a book in over fifteen years. What a travesty.

‘Good news for you then,’ I say. ‘Because you have years ofamazingbooks to catch up on.’

I disappear to locate my best romances, which are covered by a dust sheet in the corner of the room, and tug atOne Dayby David Nicholls. I hand it to her.

‘This will reignite the spark,’ I promise, with a knowing nod. ‘It’s got a bit of darkness to it, but it’s a gorgeous romance at the end of the day. You’ll love it.’

Donna mentions something about the Netflix series, but I don’t quite catch it. Her response is completely drowned out by a loud, shrill noise.

I frown. What the…

The noise stops for a moment before resuming again.

There’s no mistaking it. The Tool has a power tool; Rory is drilling next door. ‘Bloody Rory MacGregor.’

‘It must be good having Rory next door, right? He’ll have everything you could possibly need to get this place whipped into shape.’

I frown.

He obviously overheard my phone conversation about the delayed drill delivery and is now showing off with his big, stupid, shrill drill, rubbing it in my face. Screw him. Pardon the pun.

‘I’d like to get him whipped into shape,’ I say.

Donna grins. ‘Steady on!’

‘I don’t mean like that. He’s been a complete pain since I moved in. He’s been spouting all sorts of crap about me being a city girl who won’t last five minutes in Ullapool and how the village doesn’t need a bookstore.’

‘He did not say that,’ she says. ‘I’ll kill him.’

I continue to detail my run-ins with Rory – the assault with the plank of wood (my bad), the dumping of junk mail through my letterbox, the bincident – through the intermittent drill noises from next door.

‘Ach, Ava,’ she says after I’ve relayed Rory’s and my failed first impression. And second and third and whatever number we are on now. ‘I’m sure it’s not as bad as that. You’ve just got off on the wrong foot. Rory’s a sweetheart. He wanted this place for himself and is a sore loser, but he doesn’t hold a grudge, honestly.’

As though right on cue, the drill noise takes on a higher pitched tone and I raise my eyebrows at Donna.

‘Everyone keeps telling me that he’sjust so lovelyand that I have the wrong end of the stick.’ I shake my head. ‘But I am definitely holding the correct end, I assure you. He hates me. And the feeling is mutual.’