a petition and an Instagram account. Plus, a new website. That was a start.
‘How was your day, Flo?’ asked Mia.
‘Fine. I’m making scrambled eggs. Anyone want some?’
‘No thanks. Wed-shred starts now.’
‘Eggs do terrible things to my stomach,’ added Hugo, but luckily none of us could dwell on this because Mia’s phone rang.
‘Hi, Mum,’ she said, picking it up.
I cracked two eggs into a mug and reached for a fork.
‘Yep, yep, no, I know, yep, we’re doing it now, yep, no, yep…’ she went on while I whisked.
‘Yep, she’s here, hang on,’ said Mia, holding her phone in the air without standing up so I had to cross the kitchen.
I put the mobile to my ear with a sense of dread. ‘Hi, Patricia.’
My stepmother went straight in. ‘I’ve spoken to this woman’s office and she can see you on Tuesday afternoon at five.’
‘Which woman?’
‘The love coach. She’s called Gwendolyn Glossop. Does five on Tuesday work for you?’
‘The shop doesn’t close until six, so—’
‘Florence, darling, you’re selling books, not giving blood transfusions. I’m sure they can spare you for an hour. I’ve told your father and—’
‘All right all right all right. I’ll be there.’
‘Right, have you got a pen? Here’s her address, it’s—’
‘Hang on,’ I said, hunting for a pen on the sideboard. No pens. Why were there never any pens?
‘Floor 4, 117 Harley Street,’ carried on Patricia.
‘OK, I’ll just remember it.’
‘I’m so glad, darling, I do hope she helps. Now can I have Mia back again, I need to talk to her about vicars.’
I handed Mia her phone just as the toast popped up. Black on both sides, a bit like my mood, I thought, sliding them both into the bin.
While Eugene dusted shelves the following morning, I told him about this appointment. He was more enthusiastic than me.
‘Darling, how thrilling,’ he said, his back to me as he swished the pink feathers back and forth like a windscreen wiper. ‘Do you think she’ll have a crystal ball? I saw a palm reader after Angus left and she told me that I’d soon meet the third great love of my life.’
‘And did you?’
‘No.’ He lowered the duster and held his palm close to his nose, inspecting it. ‘It’s this line that runs from your little finger.’ He looked up. ‘But perhaps I just haven’t met him yet? I expect he’ll be along any second, waiting for me on the 345 bus.’
I wasn’t sure about that. I’d never seen anyone who looked like a great love on the 345, so I merely nodded and Eugene returned to his dusting.
Angus was Eugene’s ex-boyfriend, the second great love of his life after Shakespeare, he always said. They’d met while studying drama at university and had been together for twenty years, but not long after I started working at Frisbee, Angus moved to New York to direct a performance of Evita and they’d separated. He’d remained there since and was now considered one of Broadway’s top musical directors while, back in London, Eugene constantly auditioned for roles he never got.
Barely a day went by when he didn’t mention Angus, as if a proud parent watching his offspring blossom from afar. He kept up with his shows, read his New York Times reviews out loud to me in the shop and occasionally emailed him to say congratulations. I was never sure if Angus replied to these, I didn’t like to ask. Still, Eugene was one of life’s sunbeams, a positive person who remained admirably upbeat in the face of these disappointments, so his enthusiasm towards Gwendolyn Glossop didn’t surprise me.
‘So you think I should definitely go and see this woman? It isn’t a bit… tragic? Or mad?’
Eugene tutted. ‘Absolutely not. What have you got to lose?’ He turned back to me and held the duster high in the air. ‘Boldness be my friend.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Cymbeline, act one. And I think you should look upon this as an exciting opportunity.’ He spun to face me again. ‘Because without meaning one jot of offence, angel, I think my mother gets more action than you.’
‘Doesn’t your mother live in a retirement home?’
‘In Bournemouth, exactly my point.’
I was about to object but heard Norris’s heavy footsteps on the stairs.
He glanced from Eugene to me, tufty eyebrows raised. ‘You two all right up here?’
‘We are indeed,’ said Eugene. ‘I’m just advising our young colleague on matters of the heart.’
Norris had been married decades ago to a lady called Shirley but now lived alone. On quiet days in the shop, Eugene and I