I stare at Donkey Man who nods as if he’s happy his wishes have finally been translated. ‘Dare I ask what he’s offering?’
Roxy turns to him and speaks in rapid-fire Greek. They laugh and chat for a bit before she says to me, ‘He says he might be old but his donkey is very placid – don’t know if that’s a euphemism or not – and he will also buy a sheep, since you seem so enamoured with them. He’s got a very humble farm that he will gladly redecorate for you.’
The situation is too ludicrous to contend with and I laugh at the thought. ‘Can you tell him I’m flattered but I’m in a serious committed relationship although I do appreciate the offer.’
She passes the message on. He takes his fisherman cap from his head and holds it to his chest. He speaks fast to Roxy and she nods wisely before turning back to me to translate. ‘If you don’t mind, he says, he’d like to keep visiting you as it gives him life.’
Oh golly. ‘Sure, sure.’
Soon he’s on his way with his very placid donkey.
Roxy turns to me open-mouthed. ‘God, look at you go! Not only do you have the hottest man in town kneeling at your feet, you’ve got Donkey Man all ready to share his life with you. I tell you, this bookshop has magic powers or something. When is it going to be my turn?’
If only she knew one was fake and the other not going to happen in this lifetime. I have a specific dating age range, and one-hundred-year-olds are well out of it.
I laugh at her awed expression. ‘Aww, Roxy, I’m just the same as you. Who knows what’s around the corner for either of us?’
‘What corner? You’re on a linear path, one that leads straight down the aisle!’
I scoff. ‘The only aisle I’ll be walking down soon is the one on the plane. Straight down to my economy seat.’
‘At least aim for first class.’
*
Lucy’s arrival time creeps closer. I text Georgios for an ETA but get no reply. Visions of Lucy sprawled across his lap spring to mind. Not helpful, brain. Not in the slightest.
There’s not a lot of time to ruminate as the bookshop is bustling with customers as locals come to enquire about the Epeolatry launch and hope to get a glimpse of the famous author. It’s all hands on deck as we sign up new library memberships and sell countless copies of Lucy Strike books to be signed at the event.
Roxy’s campaigns have proved fruitful as word of mouth has spread. Beachgoers with sandy feet and towels strung over a shoulder wander inside. The dogs are rented and living their best lives. Even Pork Chop doesn’t put people off with his trumpeting. For some inexplicable reason customers find it cute. It’s his expression of surprise as if he can’t believe such a deafening sound could be produced from his own body that seems to win them over.
I dash outside to check on the pooches, to make sure they’re being treated well, before heading inside to help Gran who is at her charismatic best, charming the socks off book lovers and selling most of our book bouquets, which she assures customers are a bookworm’s dream.
Gran’s loving the extra bodies about the place. It’s almost like she’s energised by the crowd, her own battery charging up that little bit more. The extra sales have put a pep in her step and it gives me hope that this place will be successful, particularly over the summer months.
I’m ringing up books as quickly as I can, while Gran’s waxing lyrical about Lucy Strike’s romantic suspense series to a customer and telling them about the launch tomorrow night. Sure enough, they pay for membership and RSVP to attend the event. Once they leave with their purchases I motion to Roxy.
‘What are the numbers like now? Do you think we might have to cap them?’ Who’d have thought we’d get to this stage so late in the game?
Roxy checks the numbers. ‘We could, but my concern is we may also have no-shows. It’s up to you and your gran, but my advice is to keep it going and if there’s a queue on the evening, even better. We’ll get some great publicity shots of the long line of people. Epeolatry has plenty of space; we might just have to shuffle guests in and out to meet Lucy.’
‘What do you think, Gran?’
‘Keep it going. The publicity shots will be great for those who don’t come to the launch but visit once the hubbub dies down. Build the intrigue, I say! Isn’t this exciting! So many people. Ooh look there’s the chief of the Hellenic Police. I better go say hi.’
My heart drops. Could this be a trap! Has Yannis’ patience finally snapped because she hasn’t paid her rent and sent his buddy to cuff her? ‘Wait! Gran, what if he’s not here for books?’ I hiss.
She frowns. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
I whisper into her ear. ‘Didn’t Yannis say they were old school pals or something? He threatened you, remember!’
‘Oh that. I’m not afraid, darling. Let me schmooze him and he’ll be putty in my hands.’ She pats down her hair and pastes on a megawatt smile.
‘Gran! Please do not get arrested the moment Lucy Strike walks in!’ My almighty mind with its power of summoning people when I least want to hits again and in walks Lucy Strike herself. There’s a hushed awe and the room falls silent as people make space for her like she’s a living, breathing goddess.
Lucy blows kisses to customers, pouting and purring like she’s a Hollywood starlet and not a scribbler of words. She’s the definition of a siren and from the look of the slack-jawed crowd everyone is blinded by her.
Gran barrels past the crowd and introduces herself. ‘Welcome to Bibliotherapy, Lucy. We’re so grateful to you for agreeing to launch Epeolatry. Would you like a tour of the library bar?’
