Ruby, Mum and me. I’ve got a mood board. Look.’ She reached for her laptop so I quickly picked up my suitcase again. Couldn’t face looking at 742 different hairstyles right now.
‘I’ve got to go unpack all my knickers,’ I said, ‘but I’ll text her and ask.’
Chapter Seven
‘A WORD, PLEASE, EVERYONE!’ shouted Norris a few days later, as he stood in the middle of the shop just before opening.
I looked over my shoulder and caught Eugene’s eye. He frowned at me; I shrugged back. Zach appeared at the top of the stairs and yawned, stretching his tattooed arms. A bird with unfurled wings flew up his right bicep, so delicately inked you could see every feather.
‘Morning, madam,’ said Zach mid-yawn, his arms still lifted. ‘What are you staring at?’
‘Put your hand over your mouth,’ I replied, walking past him towards the others.
‘Is everything OK, Norris?’ said Eugene. He was wearing his silliest bow tie, pink with yellow spots. It made him look like the host of a children’s game show.
‘Eugene, Eugene, calm down,’ said Norris, waving a hand in the air as if he was trying to slow traffic. ‘It’s only to say thank you, again, for the evening last week and any more ideas would be gratefully received since the landlord’s not budging on the rent. So we need more. More money, more support.’
‘More readings?’ suggested Eugene. ‘I’ve been looking at the catalogues and there’s a new cookery book by Marigold Shute coming out in the next couple of weeks called How to Have a Very Merry Vegan Christmas.’
‘Christ on a bike, not the nut-munchers,’ muttered Norris.
‘I’m not interviewing anybody,’ I warned.
‘And there’s a new Hitler biography by Simon Friedman,’ added Eugene.
‘Another one?’ I asked. ‘How is there anything left to say that the last 592 books about him haven’t?’
‘Hitler’s a crowd-puller,’ insisted Eugene.
‘Steady on,’ said Norris, waving his hand at him again. ‘But he does sell tickets so can you look into it?’
‘I’ve been thinking about children’s events,’ said Zach, leaning back against the shelves. ‘Hallowe’en is in a couple of weeks, then Christmas.’
‘Zachary, why would I want a stampede of kids dribbling from every orifice in this shop?’ asked Norris.
‘Because if you get the kids, you get the parents. Look, say we do a Hallowe’en party, a tenner a ticket per kid, string up fake cobwebs downstairs in the children’s section, do a couple of spooky readings, get a face painter. Job done. Meanwhile, the adults are stuck here for an hour or so. They’re going to buy books.’
‘You’ll probably just get a load of nannies.’
Zach rolled his eyes at me. ‘Don’t be a grinch. It’s what we should be doing. More community stuff, local stuff. And it’s good for our social channels. We get tagged in pictures, word spreads. Every little helps.’
‘If you want to do local stuff, what about my petition?’ I said, looking at Norris. ‘A proper campaign against the rent hike. And posters in the windows. That’s got to be more helpful than some fake cobwebs.’
‘Spoilsport,’ muttered Zach.
‘Don’t worry, I love fancy dress,’ said Eugene, patting his arm. ‘I’ll be there in my pumpkin outfit.’
‘Alternatively you could go as a toad,’ I suggested, peeved by Eugene’s open act of disloyalty.
‘We can do both,’ said Norris, adopting the tone of a UN peacekeeper. ‘Zachary, you can be in charge of events. Let’s see how Hallowe’en goes before committing to any others. But I do not want to see a drop of fake blood anywhere. If I see a drop of fake blood there could be a very real accident, all right?’
Zach nodded.
‘Florence, you may start your petition, but can you run it past me before you get any placards made up?’
‘I wasn’t going to get plac—’
‘It was a little joke,’ said Norris. ‘And Eugene, can you please approach Hitler and the cabbage brigade about readings?’
‘Yes, Norris, right away.’
‘Good, thank you. Can someone open up? I’m going back downstairs if anyone needs me.’
There was a NOMAD meeting that night, so I locked up and walked round the corner. ‘Hi, Stephen,’ I said, pushing the classroom door open. He waved from the teacher’s desk at the front where he was fanning out his custard creams. Mary was already in her seat at the front. Seamus, the hoarder, was making tea in the corner. I was always nervous about Seamus being on tea duty because he didn’t inspire much confidence on the hygiene front; today he was wearing a coat fastened with orange twine.
‘How you doing, babe?’