Page 54 of The Breakup Bookshop

‘So do I,’ he retorts.

‘Well do it then.’

‘I will.’

And suddenly – after our time at sea where we’d agreed to be friends and I’d felt for a second there might be something more; after his unprompted arrival to fix the mural – normal business has resumed. Rory and I are back to squabbling.

I sit down at the till and look again at Seb’s message.

The audacity of him. Seb knew returning to Ullapool was my dream. While he talked about his six-point retirement plan, I spoke wistfully about coming here one day. He shrugged it off, like it would never happen.

Why does his ‘congrats’ feel like such a kick in the teeth?

Bloody congrats for ruining my day. My life.

Eilidh’s name pops up on my phone and I answer the call, glad of the distraction.

‘Get some lippy on,’ she says. ‘There’s a TV crew on their way.’

I sit up straighter.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I texted Richard to say thanks for the article, like I said I would, and he said he got a call from a contact at the six o’clock news. They want to film a piece about the bookshop this afternoon! I’ll be round in ten minutes. We need to make the place look as busy and fabulous as possible. Let’s turn those red figures black, hey?’

‘Eilidh, I…’

‘Get your lippy on!’ she repeats, barking the order like a sergeant major, and hangs up.

*

I pace up and down in the bookshop, chatting to customers as normal, but my head is spinning.

First Seb, now the six o’clock news. This day is like one of my weird dreams.

The presenter had called to confirm they would conduct a short interview with me to show on television tonight. Apparently, it would all be very casual and would only take half an hour or so. I’d laughed along and said, ‘Of course,’ but as I hung up, I’d headed straight to one of my gorgeous, second-hand chairs to scream into a cushion. A mixture of fear and excitement is tumbling around my insides.

As soon as Eilidh arrives, we host a mini-fashion show in the middle of the bookshop to choose an outfit that screams ‘successful businesswoman’.

Fake it till you make it.

‘This is going to put you on the map. You could use it as evidence in that funding application I sent you,’ Eilidh suggests, as I twirl around to show her the green and white paisley midi-dress.

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ I say, as she nods her approval of my outfit choice. ‘If the application is successful, I’m going to use the funding to set up a book festival here.’

‘Brilliant idea! Brings revenue to the community – tick – and brings people together – tick. Get on to it as soon as you’ve finished with your five minutes of fame.’

Donna brings a box of make-up with her and orders me to sit down. As she sets to work on my face, Eilidh stands behind the counter, ready to serve customers in the bookshop.

‘You would suit false eyelashes,’ Donna observes, as she prods at my cheeks with a blusher brush. ‘They’d be nice on camera too.’

‘Tried them once before. Never again. The make-up artist forgot to tell me they were semi-permanent. I tried ripping them off at the end of the night and could only get a small section off. I couldn’t leave it like that, of course. I had to pull the rest of them off and ended up with baldy bits for weeks.’

Donna rolls her eyes. ‘Trust you. Okay, what time is the presenter arriving?’

‘We have an hour to make me look amazing.’

‘You already do, lovely,’ Donna smiles, leaning in for an air kiss near each cheek.