That’s it, I decide, if things don’t work out for Jemma with this mysterious book note person – or they do turn out to be a Karen after all – I’m going to make it my mission in life to get her and Harry together. It would be an adorable match and they’d totally thank me for helping them get over their nerdy shyness.
‘Er, Clara?’ He interrupts my matchmaker plans by pulling out of the hug.
‘Yes?’ I look up at him, wondering why the atmosphere in the room has shifted. His eyes are large and dark as he regards me solemnly.
‘Um,’ he hedges, looking embarrassed.
‘What is it?’ I say encouragingly, reaching out to squeeze his arm. ‘You can say anything to me. I am a safe space. We’re business partners now, weshouldshare everything.’
He nods, then gestures at my dressing gown, which I realize now is making a very loud buzzing sound. ‘I was just wondering what that noise was?’
I know immediately that it is my vibrator. I am in the wanking-constantly stage of job searching, and unfortunately – I’m remembering now – I’d casually slipped the bullet into my dressing gown pocket earlier after a particularly enjoyable session. The on button is sensitive and it seems our hug has engaged protocol.
‘Oh!’ I say in a sort of forced casual tone. ‘Right, yeah, ummmmm, that is… that is…’ I search for a solution and pounce on the obvious answer. ‘That is my phone!’ I tell him with relief. Harry wrinkles his nose and looks pointedlytowards my left hand – where I am, in fact, holding my phone. And it’s not vibrating loudly.
‘This?’ I ask, holding it up. ‘Right, yeah, this is actually my… personal phone. The phone you can hear…ringingright now in my pocket is… mybusiness line. For… the upcycling business that I’m launching.’ I pause to flick my hair over my shoulder in what I imagine is a businesslike move. ‘Yeah, I just think if you’re going to start your own business and be an entrepreneur, you need to take itseriously, Haz. Y’know? Invest in yourself. Get your ducks in a row. Grab that low-hanging fruit. Get your boots on the ground. Throw it up and see what sticks…’ I mentally search for more shit office jargon, ‘… synergy,’ I finish lamely.
Harry gives a half nod, then says, ‘Well, as your brand new business partner, I feel like I should be privy to any newphoneexpenses incurred.’ His voice is smooth. ‘I should at least make a note of the number, shouldn’t I? For contacting you about the three and a half per cent?’ He gestures at my pocket, waiting expectantly, eyebrows raised.
‘Um, no, there’s really no need at this stage.’ I shake my head carefully. ‘No need at all. If our… business arrangement continues beyond this one… chest of drawers, then yes, sure, obviously I will pass along my new business number for you to use. But for now, I’m going to suggest we table this and, um, blue sky… the conversation.’
Harry has been getting pinker and pinker as I speak, from what I had assumed was embarrassment, until he fully burstsout laughing. Tears spill out of his eyes and pour down his cheeks as he howls with hysteria.
‘It’s not funny,’ I tell him hotly, and he shakes his head.
‘It fucking is,’ he tells me, barely able to breathe through the peals of laughter. It’s funny to hear him swear – and actually kinda sexy when it’s in such a posh accent.
The vibrating in my pocket continues as I turn on my heel and stomp towards the door. Harry calls out behind me in a voice shaking with mirth, ‘Don’t you think you should answer your business line, Clara? Someone is really, really keen to get hold of you.’ As I enter my bedroom and yank the offending bullet out of my pocket, I hear Harry yell down the hall, ‘Don’t you have voicemail? It’s been ringing for ages!’
I flick off the device and feel my breath slow.
OK.
For my first ever business meeting, I actually think that went pretty well.
Chapter FourteenJEMMA
I take a deep breath and inhale my happy place.
‘Morning, Jemma.’ Anita greets me warmly from the front desk, though she’s already in conversation with someone having computer issues. Beside her, Mack swings in his chair, doing nothing. I catch his eye and he snarls.
I wave pointedly just to Anita, glaring back at Mack before heading for the returns box. Things have changed a lot since I used to come here as a kid, and there’s now not really much need for front desk staff when it comes to returns. They have machines where you can check out or log the return of books. The notification system sending out messages about returns is automated. In fact, you can even access the library with a key card without any staff around. There are times and days when there isn’t anyone staffing this place at all, but it remains open to the public – even on Sundays! Obviously I disapprove of the kind of sad cutbacks that have made that necessary, but I also love being herewhen the staff aren’t. It’s like being at school after hours without any teachers around.
I check for the thousandth time that the note is secure, now placed firmly in the spine of Chapter Twenty-Two. My favourite chapter. It’s where George and Julianna finally admit they love each other, after weeks of pretending to hate one another’s guts.
I ended up showing what I’d written to Clara, Salma and Harry, who all agreed it was ‘fine’ – Salma’s pronouncement – ‘delightful!’ – Harry’s judgement – and ‘oi, what’s wrong with long-winded voice notes?’ – Clara. Their only edit was to suggest adding an X at the end. We debated it. Ohhh how we debated it. It took us hours, with Salma fully pro, and Clara one hundred per cent against. Harry got the deciding vote in the end; shooting terrified glances at my sister, he mumbled that he thought it was sweet and flirty, without being over the top.
Clara isn’t speaking to him and is slamming doors all over the house. All over the twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet.
I returnToo Good to Be Truein the box, feeling nervous as hell about the person who will find this note. When we were just joking aboutThe Very Hungry Caterpillar, the stakes felt lower, but what happens if some randomer decides to check it out for the first time now? The stupid TV series will surely bring in some new fans. It would be so embarrassing if a confused kid found my attempt at intimacy.
What if my note writer is here right now? I scan the rows of books, and slowly circle the library. Passing the children’ssection, I feel warmth moving through me. I spent every Saturday afternoon as a kid sitting on the floor in that very corner. Mum and Clara would head into Sainsbury’s nearby, leaving me to read in peace.
Nobody else would understand the magic this place holds for me. It’s so beige and so plain and so without soul – and yet so full of life for me. The rough, worn carpet is the same one I sat on as a kid. It used to give me a rash through my school trousers but I never cared. The walls are the same greying white from my childhood, with one yellow feature wall behind the front desk. The noticeboard is exactly the same as it’s always been – full of easily ignored scraps of paper. I wouldn’t be surprised if the notices haven’t changed in twenty years.
Sure, there have been some additions to this place in that time. The group of desks, cordoned off as a work area. The newfangled check in and out machines by the entrance. And of course, a lot of the books have changed.
But enough haven’t that I still get a rush of nostalgia every time I pass the rows of pastel-coloured Marian Keyes. My pupils still dilate when I clock the Jackie Collins pile, remembering how I gasped at the sex scenes as a teen. My heart flutters with trepidation when I spot the Stephen King stacks. This place often feels more like home than my real home.
