Clara’s mouth falls open. ‘You knowcelebritiesgo to these things, don’t you?’ She sounds agog and I roll my eyes.
‘I couldn’t give a crap about celebrities,’ I tell her and she looks aghast.
‘Better than made-up people on pieces of paper,’ she mutters, and I shoot her a warning glare.
‘Anyway,’ Salma moves us on smoothly, ‘it’ll be fun, and I’m sure I could get another name on the list if you did decide having fun wasn’t beneath you.’
Clara perks up. ‘Yes, please come, Jemma, it’ll be really great!’ She pauses, then says innocently, ‘You should invite Harry as your, like, date or whatever.’
I take a deep breath. Her subtlety could win awards. But maybe it would be nice to have Harry come along. To have the whole house together for a night out. I can’t even remember the last time I went out for drinks. I decided a long timeago that drinking wasn’t really veryme, plus it’s terrible for my rosacea. But I find I’m actually excited by the prospect.
‘OK.’ I smile at them both. ‘If you’re sure you can get extra names on the guestlist, Salma?’ She beams a yes and I pull out my phone. ‘I’ll message Harry and insist he cancel any other plans he might have, so he can join us.’
‘Perfect!’ Clara almost shouts. ‘It’s a date.’
I give her a disapproving look. ‘It’s not a date.’
‘Where are you guys going now, anyway?’ Clara fiddles with the buttons on her shirt.
Salma points to herself: ‘Chocolate run,’ then at me: ‘She’s going to deliver her latest note.’ She leans forward excitedly. ‘She’s finally asking the book guy who he is!’
Clara gasps. ‘No way! This is so exciting!’ She looks at me hopefully. ‘Can I come?’ I swallow hard and she continues quickly. ‘I know I made a mess of things the last time I turned up at the library. But I promise to behave myself this time! I’ll even, like, shush other people! I can distract that hot, moody bloke behind the desk for you. And it’s not like your sexy hills guy will be there this time anyway, right?’
‘Mountains,’ I say sharply. ‘He climbs mountains. It wouldn’t be much of a memoir if he’d lost two toes climbing Primrose Hill.’
‘Still be impressive to me,’ mutters Salma. ‘I hate all inclines.’
I sigh at Clara. ‘OK, fine, you can come. But no gossiping about this note situation. You have to be aware that it could be literally anyone in there! When you’re shouting about it,he could be listening! It could be the stranger in the corner, y’know? Just promise you’ll be cool.’
‘I still think it’s someone you know,’ Salma says softly behind us, as we all head for the door.
The library is quiet and I internally groan at the sight of Mack behind the counter. No Anita today, just that sour-faced dick.
Beside me, Clara is muttering about upcycling the walls and I resist an eye roll. We’re still climbing around the chest of drawers to get in and out of the house every day and I can’t get to the washing machine thanks to a random bedside table. I thought she’d finally moved on from that hobby.
‘Hi, Mack,’ I greet the dickhead warily and he grunts a response. I lean into Clara, telling her in a low voice, ‘You keep him distracted while I go slip the note in the book.’
She nods and I watch her transform into Flirty Clara, leaning forward onto the counter and lowering her voice. ‘It’s Mack, isn’t it? I’m Clara and I think the walls here are genuinely hideous.’
He snorts and I stop short, shocked by the sound. I’ve honestly never heard him laugh. Literally never. OK, sure, it wasbarelya laugh but it’s close enough to one to feel like some kind of revelation. I stare at him; his whole face is different when he is amused. He’s always been objectively handsome but now he looks…nice?!
‘I have to agree with you actually,’ he says to Clara. ‘I’ve been complaining about the paint job ever since I started a couple of years ago.’
It’s more like eighteen months but whatever.
Clara rewards him with a tinkly laugh and a hair flick as he continues. ‘This whole place could do with a refresh – a bit of livening up – but nobody listens to me. Nobody likes change and no one has time to do anything. There are always excuses!’ He shrugs and then – unbelievably – lets out an actual, real, honest-to-godlaugh.
Clara glances discreetly at me and I slow-blink back at her. Maybe I’ll have to bring her to the library with me more often if she brings out a nicer side of Mack.
I move away, my heart pounding as I head for the general fiction aisle. I stand for a moment, looking atToo Good to Be True’s spine.
Am I really going to do this? Do I really want to know who this person it? Isn’t it better to keep things as they are – full of fun and excitement and possibility? Reality is so often just dull, disappointing and underwhelming.
I take a deep breath and – before I can lose my nerve – slip the note into the book. The last page. And hopefully the first.
Hurrying back, I find Mack and Clara in surprisingly deep conversation. I’ve barely had more than two syllables from him the whole time he’s been working here. But of course, everyone finds Clara utterly charming. Typical.
As we leave, I grab her by the arm. ‘I cannot believe that’s the same Mack who’s growled at me every day for the last year and a half,’ I breathe. ‘What were you even talking about?’ I’m genuinely curious.
