Page 36 of Crazy in Love at the Lonely Hearts Bookshop
Nina’s unhappy train of thought was derailed by a customer who wanted a book brought down from a high shelf and another lady who wanted a recommendation for her mother-in-law’s birthday and many people after that, all wanting to buy books and Nina chatted to them all. She did love chatting to people about books; it was her favourite part of her job. Made every day different.
And she was only preoccupied with the lack of creativity in her day job because of the non-date with Noah. Nina glanced down at her outfit; the hated Happy Ever After T-shirt, which she’d paired with a tight black pencil skirt and green snakeskin mary janes with a punishingly high heel. She held out her arms to check that they were still covered in tattoos. Checked her tongue, nose and several ear piercings, then admired her face with its perfectly arched brows and red lips in the little mirror she kept under the counter.
Shewascreative. You couldn’t look the way Nina did if you were uncreative. Each morning when she stood in front of her wardrobe and decided what she’d wear, or rather what would go with that horrid grey thing Posy made them wear, Nina was choosing who she wanted to be that day. That was creativity right there, she thought as the bell tinkled above the door and a bike courier came in.
‘I can sign for it,’ Nina called out because when the office door was closed it meant that Posy and Verity were hard at work and didn’t want to be disturbed.
The courier held up a bag from the London Graphic Centre in Covent Garden. ‘For a Nina O’Kelly?’
Nina frowned. ‘That’s me.’ She knew for an absolute fact that she hadn’t ordered anything from the London Graphic Centre, which was like Selfridges for stationery lovers and artists alike. ‘But that can’t be for me.’
‘That’s your name, innit though.’ The courier didn’t care, he just wanted Nina’s signature so he could move on to his next job.
He was out of the door before she’d even opened the bag. Inside were two beautiful, black, soft-bound sketchpads, the paper inside as smooth as velvet, a tin of really fancy Faber Castell coloured pencils and a smaller tin of stubby charcoals. ‘What the hell?’ Nina wondered out loud. Was there another Nina O’Kelly in a parallel universe who’d actually stayed on to do her A-levels and had then gone to art college and become a successful graphic artist?
It was a mystery until Nina peered into the bag again and drew out an envelope. Her name was written on it in an almost illegible scrawl. She opened it to find a single sheet of paper with the same spider’s-web writing on it. It took a little while to decipher it.
Dear Nina
You said that you wouldn’t know what to do with a stick of charcoal so here’s your chance to find out.
Noah
Underneath his name, he’d written his email address in block capitals so it was at least more legible than the rest of the short note.
Nina looked at the sketchbooks, the coloured pencils, the sticks of charcoal. Two nights ago she’d confessed her secret dreams to Noah, even though she hadn’t even shared the same aspirations with her closest friends. And because her secret dreams were also her secret resentments, Nina had got defensive and dismissive when Noah had suggested she take a life-drawing class.
Now, she felt something inside her give, like a flower slowly unfurling its petals. Noah had listened to her, really listened to her, and stored all that information away so he could buy her this thoughtful gift. It was the nicest thing that anyone had done for Nina in a long, long time.
I don’t want nice,said the voice in her head (as it so often did). But she was definitely going to have to commit to a second date now, she thought, as all the complicated feelings that Noah roused in her – amusement, annoyance, bewilderment but mostly guilt – rose up in her again. This time, Nina would absolutely confirm its non-date status before they’d finished their first drink. Maybe even draw Noah a diagram of the friendzone that she was going to put him in. Give him a whole speech about how they should just be mates because he wasn’t her type and God knows, she couldn’t be his type. She only had seven GCSEs, after all.
Perhaps another drunken non-date was the wrong message. Nina could be just as thoughtful as Noah. Or at least, she couldtry. As she served customers and discussed new releases on autopilot she came up with and discarded half a dozen possible non-date scenarios with the help ofTime Outand Google.
Noah would probably enjoy going to a lecture at the Royal Geographical Society about climate change or to the Institute of Contemporary Art on The Mall to listen to a ‘theorist and media activist’ talk about ‘futureability’ but Nina would rather have root-canal treatment without an anaesthetic.
He’d mentioned wanting to do the Gumball Rally, a transcontinental car race, but no way could Nina afford a day at Brands Hatch and as for his other high-adrenalin pursuits, Nina wasn’t going to do anything that involved having to wear figure-hugging Lycra. She liked to play to her strengths and having every lump and bump showcased was not playing to her strengths.
Nina was still mulling it over when Sam popped into the shop after school. ‘Oh! Hello stranger,’ Nina exclaimed in delight because a Sam visit was sadly a rare occurrence these days.
Before Sam and Posy had moved in with Sebastian, Sam had always been cluttering up the place. Arguing with Posy about whether he’d done his homework or if he needed new school trousers. Asphyxiating them all with the noxious body spray he’d douse himself in so that he might attract the attention of Little Sophie, the Happy Ever After Saturday girl, who he’d known since they were both at primary school together and who seemed likely to return Sam’s affection though he was too dense to realise it.
Sam extricated himself from his school bag, which was almost strangling him, dumped it on the floor and collapsed onto one of the sofas. ‘Posy and I are going to look around a sixth form college this evening,’ he said wearily as if even the thought of it was exhausting. ‘Is there any cake going?’
‘You could go and ask Mattie yourself,’ Nina said. The shop was fairly quiet, just a couple of browsers, so she came out from behind the counter to perch on the arm of Sam’s sofa and prod him on the shoulder. ‘She might even have forgiven you for helping yourself to those Maltesers she needed to decorate a special-order birthday cake.’
From under his long fringe (Nina made a note to remind Posy that Sam really needed a haircut) Sam grimaced. ‘How was I to know she was planning on using Maltesers as cake decoration?’
‘Sam! You ate three whole family-sized bags.’
He groaned like he was in pain. ‘This is a very stressful year for me, I have my GCSEs. That should give me a free pass.’
Nina poked his shoulder again. ‘Nice try.’
With great effort, Sam levered himself up to an upright position. ‘If you go and get me cake, I’ll give you all the shop’s social media passwords,’ he countered with a sly smile. ‘Sebastian was going to hack into my hard disk to try and retrieve them but then Noah came round and he asked me a few questions and then I remembered the password for the program that generated all the passwords for Happy Ever After.’ Sam shook his head. ‘It was like witchcraft.’
‘Noah,’ Nina echoed in what she hoped was a casual voice. ‘Did he mention anything about what he’s been up to the last couple of days?’
‘Why would he?’ Sam folded his arms. ‘Chop, chop, Nina, that cake isn’t going to get itself.’
