Page 18 of The Breakup Bookshop

‘Brilliant. My parents both work in finance and they keep passive aggressively offering to help. The last thing I want is to have Mum peering at my figures while Dad shakes his head, wondering where they went wrong with me.’

‘I’ll give you her number. And mine,’ Donna promises, peering across the road towards the bookshop. ‘Are you nearly finished with the renovations? It’s really taking shape now.’

‘Yes, I’ll be having a launch night as soon as it’s ready. Will you come?’

‘Try and stop me,’ Donna smiles, as she starts blasting my freshly cut hair with the hairdryer. ‘Maybe that’ll be the night to officially launch the purple mohawk?’

*

I feel every one of my twenty-nine years, and more, a few hours later.

I step out to place myself on top of the green bin to call Eilidh, the local accountant Donna recommended, when I discover I’m not alone.

Two teens, a boy and a girl, are locked in a steamy make-out session in the small courtyard beside the bins. Yes, the bins. Gross. The things we do for young love.

I clock them as their hands lace around each other (the boy has one hand on the girl’s bum, as the girl places hers on his waist). Their heads move back and forth quickly, like birds pecking against a tree, without coming up for breath. I find myself completely frozen to the spot, unsure of my next move. Should I call over and insist my courtyard isn’t a suitable snogging location and they should find somewhere else? Throw a bucket of water over them both? Leave them to it?

Deciding on the latter, I creep backwards.

‘Jesus!’ Rory shouts, as I bump into him on the way.

I spin around as the bag he was holding falls to the ground, the contents spilling everywhere.

‘Sorry!’ I apologize in a whisper, bending down to pick up the rubbish. Unfortunately, he does the same, and our heads collide.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Rory mutters, rubbing his head. ‘We shouldn’t be allowed near each other. It always ends in injury.’

He isn’t wrong. Some people, like this teen couple, are drawn to each other like magnets. Rory and I seem to have the opposite problem. He rubs his head, close to the spot where I hit him.

‘Another whack to the nugget,’ he mutters.

‘You’ve got quite the sharp skull yourself.’

The couple peer at us with startled expressions. Their baby faces are clouded with concern; they think they’re in huge trouble. The young girl’s make-up is over exaggerated and completely unnecessary for her perfect, clear skin, and her lipstick is smudged all around her mouth.

Rory exhales and the pair practically tremble at the sound. ‘Jen. Evan.’

‘Please don’t say anything, Mr MacGregor,’ Jen pleads. ‘We promise we won’t come here again. We thought The Old Tea Shop was still empty.’

‘Mr MacGregor,’ I mutter to him under my breath. ‘Makes you sound like an OAP.’

Rory ignores me, but I feel him stiffen at my side. ‘Don’t worry, you two, your secret’s safe with me. But Miss Campbell here, who’s just taken over The Old Tea Shop, is a bit of a blabbermouth.’

‘Oi,’ I say. ‘That’sMsCampbell to you. And don’t worry, my lips are sealed. I was young and in love once too. I won’t say a word.’

Jen and Evan stare back, their wide eyes blinking, as though they aren’t sure whether to believe us or not.

‘Off you go,’ Rory urges, flapping them away with his hand. ‘Go exert yourselves in someone else’s garden.’

They scamper out of the courtyard, along the back lane, with mutters of ‘Thanks, Mr MacGregor. Thanks, Ms Campbell.’

‘“I was young and in love once too”,’ Rory repeats with a chuckle. ‘Call me an OAP. What are you, a hundred years old?’

‘Don’t you know I run a bookshop in the middle of nowhere? I’m in my geriatric era, Mr MacGregor. How old are they anyway?’

He shrugs. ‘Thirteen, fourteen maybe. Jen works on a Saturday helping Donna in the salon and Evan’s parents own the fish and chip shop on the main street.’

I lean against the brick wall in the courtyard with a nostalgic smile. ‘First love. Do you remember being that age? Snogging in bike sheds for hours?’