Page 104 of Book People

It’s an excellent question and I hate it.

‘Itistrue,’ I say. ‘Sebastian and Kate—’

‘Found happiness in the end. Me and your mother would have got there in the end too.’

‘What about Granddad, then?’ I demand, furious for reasons I can’t articulate. ‘Grandma left him.’

Dad nods. ‘Yes, she did. Your granddad was very angry about his father’s disappearance. He didn’t want to run the bookshop. He wanted to do other things, and was looking for buyers, but . . . then he met my mother and things were good for a while. Mum was a restless spirit, though, and she didn’t want to stay in one place so . . . she left. Dad didn’t want to leave me or sell the bookshop then, because he wanted to hand it on to me, so he stayed.’

‘That doesn’t sound like a happy ending to me,’ I say. ‘Not if Grandma left him.’

Dad sighs. ‘Like I said, he was very angry about his father’s disappearance, and I don’t think he ever got over it, not even after I was born. He didn’t have a head for business, which didn’t help, and he played the horses far too much for his own good. But it wasn’t as if he never saw Mum again. She didn’t like being married, I don’t think, but she did enjoy coming to visit, which she did quite a bit.’

I don’t know what to say now. I don’t know what to think. The Blackwood men can never hold on to the women they love, that’s my family’s history, and yet . . .

‘They stayed together, then?’ I ask stupidly.

‘They never divorced, if that’s what you mean,’ Dad says. ‘That was their version of a happy ending. And your mother and I would have had ours if she hadn’t been ill.’

‘So, it’s all wrong, then.’ My voice is hoarse. ‘What they say about the Blackwood men?’

Dad rolls his eyes. ‘“They”? Who’s “they”? I suppose, if you’re talking about the village, then, yes, it’s wrong. That’s just the story they made up about us. But the reality is always much more complicated than that.’

I run a bookshop; I know all about stories, and I should know that too. Yet, somehow, I missed this lesson, and now all I can think is that everything I’ve been telling myself is wrong. Even my own story is a lie.

A strange electricity runs through me and I turn away, staring out through the front window to the bookshop across the road.

Where Kate is.

If my story is a lie, then what is the truth?

But I know the answer to that question. The truth is the same. That I’m a coward who can’t handle the feeling in my heart, and I’ve been using this lie to protect myself. The Blackwoodhistory is a castle I’ve built, with guards on the parapets and a drawbridge I can pull up to close myself off, because . . .

I’m afraid.

I’m afraid I’m not the man Kate thinks I am, that I’m not enough for her. And I’m afraid to even try.

‘I know,’ Dad says after a moment. ‘It’s a lot to take in, but I—’

‘I’m in love with her,’ I say hoarsely, the words a pressure I can’t keep inside any more. ‘I’m in love with Kate Jones. She owns the bookshop across the road.’

‘Ah,’ says Dad. ‘Jean was right, then.’

I turn to look at him. ‘I told her it was over.’

‘Why did you do that?’

‘Because I’m a fucking coward.’ I can feel the muscle in my jaw leap with the tension screaming inside me. ‘Because love fucking hurts and I hate it.’

Dad looks at me a long moment, and then, strangely, he smiles. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Yes, it does.’

‘Why are you smiling?’ I demand. ‘I fucked it up. She told me she loved me and I told her that loving me was a mistake and I walked away. I ended it.’

‘That doesn’t mean you can’t begin again, Sebastian. It’s not over unless you want it to be over.’ He raises a brow. ‘So . . . do you want it to be over?’

‘No.’ The word comes out immediately and without my conscious thought, every cell of my being joining in. ‘No, that’s the last thing I want.’

Dad’s smile turns wistful. ‘Ah, son. You always did feel things so very deeply. But that’s not a bad thing – you know that, don’t you?’

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