Page 9 of The Breakup Bookshop

We went to the same university, graduated with honours, landed jobs in London and moved into a tiny two-bedroom flat together. As a trainee recruitment consultant, she put everything into her career, just like I did. We joined a dating app at the same time. We used to gossip about everything: our careers, bad dates, our hopes for the future. We could make each other scream with laughter.

But while I struck gold with Seb (or so I thought), she struggled to meet anyone. When I moved in with Seb a couple of years ago, she had a work friend lined up and ready to take my room. Still, even when we weren’t living together, we messaged most days. But maybe life got in the way, and we saw each other less and less. The week I caught them together, she had said she was too busy for coffee, but she had managed to squeeze in a session with my boyfriend.

Seb swore it had only happened a few times before I found out. But how can I believe a man who could sleep with my best friend during the day and wish me good night as we went to bed together?

I try not to think about Macy, but despite everything, it’s hard not to miss her. I picture her wide smile, curly deep-black hair and collection of the brightest clothing I’d ever seen. Fluorescent pink and bold orange blouses that she matched with lime-green trousers or bold red dresses and pink tights. The mismatched combinations were her staple. Seb always joked that her clothes were so bright that they hurt his eyes. I kept my wardrobe plain and neutral to match him. In the end, I’d been blinded by them both.

I head back to my shop, hoping I haven’t missed the new drill that I’ve been waiting for days for Pete to deliver. He arrives just as I do with a couple of envelopes, most likely bills I don’t want to open, but no sign of any boxes.

‘Don’t shoot!’ he says as he enters, already making himself laugh.

The bruise on his knee from my attack on the first day must have faded, but the joke is still very much alive.

‘Any sign of my drill, Pete?’

‘Sorry, love, sometimes these places have a wee bit of trouble finding us all the way up here.’ Then, he has a light bulb moment. ‘Rory will have a drill – you can get one right next door!’

He holds his finger in the air, like an exclamation mark.

I shake my head. There is no way I am going back next door to ask Rory for a drill. Not a chance.

‘I’ve ordered one now, Pete. I don’t want to double up, you know?’

‘You could borrow one in the meantime then? Rory is thenicestbloke, I’m sure he’d love to help you out.’

I roll my eyes. Nicest bloke, my arse.

‘Ah, I don’t think that’s fair, asking to borrow something he sells. You know?’

‘I don’t think he’d mind. He’s not one to hold a grudge, not our Rory. It’ll be water under the bridge soon.’

‘You heard about a grudge?’ I ask. ‘What’s he been saying?’

‘Oh no, he hasn’t mentioned anything. I just mean, with you pipping him to the post to buy this place.’

My eyes widen. ‘Buy this place? My bookshop?’

He nods. ‘Yes. He was in the running for it. Second highest bidder, so I heard. You swooped in and beat his offer, at the last moment. It was all very dramatic. We were all gathered around in The Toolbox cheering him on as he made his offer. Never mind, though, eh? You’re here now and we’re glad to have you.’

My heart sinks. So that’s the reason Rory hates me so much; he was the mystery second bidder. I’d stolen all of his hopes and dreams with the click of a mouse. But this had been my dream too and, regardless of how he feels about me moving here, he’ll need to accept that.

‘What was he planning to do with the shop? Expand The Toolbox?’

Pete shrugs. ‘Maybe. He didn’t want it to be bought by a big chain or by someone who was just going to bugger off abroad and rent it out. That’s become quite common around here, you see. Anyway, I’d better get on with the post. Busy day. See you later, Ava lass.’

After Pete leaves, I step into the courtyard and hop up on top of the green bin to make the call to Amazon customer service. Although hardly stable, it’s the only way I’ve found I can get reliable service on my temperamental phone. Just as I’m getting as comfortable as I can be while balancing on a bin, Rory emerges from his door holding a large black rubbish bag. He raises his eyebrows at the sight of me.

A-ha. He can hardly avoid me now.

Game on.

Some jaunty hold music buzzes in my ear and I hum along.

I should wait for him to say something to me first. Play it cool. Let him hang for a moment.

But I can’t stop myself.

‘Dead body?’ I ask, nodding at the bag in his hand.