Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven

‘Are you going to give me the silent treatment this whole time?'

Snow had replaced the rain, and now the appeal of winter, of Christmas, was back again. Ivy drove through the winding country lanes towards Hay, where everything was supposed to be perfect, yet it had all seemed to fall apart for Quinn.

Inside the car, the heaters blasting hot air with a loud whine, Quinn stared ahead, watching the flakes catch in the headlamps and splatter on the glass.

‘I don't know what to say.'

It was true. He had learned a lot about Noah and about his decision to leave. Noah, confiding in his uncle, then leaving for London, seemed so raw. He could only wonder how Noah felt, and how Noah needed something new. He'd found it. Found himself.

Was that why Noah always avoided coming back here, because it would make him face a part of himself he thought was long gone?

‘What did Jerry say?'

‘That Noah went there before he left.'

‘And?'

‘And told him he wasn't coming back.'

‘Balls.' Ivy gripped the steering wheel as they descended into the valley.

‘Yes, balls.'

He breathed a sigh of relief when Ivy got back on the even road approaching Hay's village. He watched the snow fall, wondering if it was snowing in London, imagining what mood Noah and Matty were in now. Were they thinking of him, or indeed Hay? Was this all just a faded memory to them?

His thoughts turned to Hermione. It would hurt her that she'd lost a chance to celebrate Christmas with her son again, maybe for the first time in years.

That inkling of sympathy dampened each time Quinn thought of someone Noah had hurt since coming back.

By thinking of that, he could distract himself from his own pain.

They arrived back in town, Quinn seeing a small group of people at his door. He checked the time. Only an hour and a half gone. Hopping out of the jeep, Quinn saw Blair, who handed Ivy a coffee.

‘Almond milk?' Ivy asked.

‘Of course.'

Quinn wondered how they'd got close enough to know each other's drink orders, then smiled at the customers at his door. He saw Jenny, gathered with the drag performers, each one of them out of drag.

‘We're just here to give you this.'

Jenny the influencer handed Quinn a basket with two bottles of wine, a box of candles, some books tied with green and red bows, and biscuits, all sitting on a bed of fake snow. As Quinn took it, he felt tears roll down his face. Wow! He needed to get his emotions in check.

‘You didn't have to.'

‘We wanted to,' Jenny said. ‘A few of us got together and tried to think of what we could do to help.'

‘You've done enough,' Quinn said. ‘All of you. Honestly, I don't know where I'd be right now without you.'

‘We've got our outfits ready,' one queen said, then held out their hand. ‘It's Penny Farthing, by the way.'

Quinn shook Penny's hand.

‘Oh, we're introducing with our drag names, are we?' Another queen laughed.

‘Well, I didn't think George would be as impressive,' Penny said.

‘Well, in that case, I'm Ebeneezer Screwed, not John.' Quinn shook the hand of Ebeneezer, who had a bald head and wore a trans flag pin on his denim jacket.

‘And I'm Santa Whores,' the third queen said. ‘Hay's very own gender bender. A pleasure to meet you.'

‘Again, thank you all so much.'

‘Will there be alcohol at the party?' Ebeneezer asked.

‘Of course.'

‘And the protest?' Penny questioned.

‘If you want there to be.' Quinn shrugged. ‘Show up and fight for this shop. That's all I care about.'

‘Oh, don't you worry, we'll all be there,' Jenny said.

‘It's going to be jolly and gay!' Ebeneezer said.

With that, the three queens and Jenny headed away, promising to be the life and soul of both the protest and the party. Quinn turned to Ivy and Blair, who were leaning against Ivy's car bonnet, talking. Ivy dusted fresh snow off Blair's Hermes scarf. Too close for people who were just friends.

Quinn left them to … whatever they were doing and entered the shop. He was glad to be back in the warm and headed to the kettle to make himself a coffee.

‘Hi, Dan.'

‘Yo.'

He unwrapped the hamper, imagining the first sips of wine at the party. The stack of books was perfect: a couple of classics mixed with modern day romances. It surprised him to see they were books he didn't own. It was hard to believe considering he loved to add more books to his ‘to be read' pile.

At the bottom of the hamper, he found an envelope, sealed with a wax stamped seal. He touched it and…

Was that a penis? Quinn laughed. Snapping the waxed penis, he took out the letter, unfolded it, and felt the thick paper at his fingertips.

He gasped.

It couldn't be.

ten thousand pound donation it said.

He continued to read the letter, amazed at the fundraising efforts by the three drag queens. In addition to the ten-thousand-pound donation, there was also a separate donation of five thousand, which had been raised by Jenny through her Instagram.

Quinn sank into his armchair, his legs unable to support him. He hadn't kept up to date with his online donations. With shaking hands, he brought up the website on his phone, and saw that there was now a whopping 30,000. Scrolling through the donations, he saw people had donated from as far as Canada. Strangers who'd never been to the shop but wanted to see it survive.

Of course, the money wasn't his. He wasn't even sure he could accept the donations raised by Jenny and the queens. He was nowhere near his target, which he'd set to try to buy the shop himself. Despite the people visiting and donating, it was a big ask to find enough people to reach such a high price.

He slipped the paper back into its envelope, then added it to his drawer, being careful to keep it separate from the other envelopes noting eviction. There was one brief glimmer of happiness in a sea of despair in that drawer. Quinn slid it shut, locking it away, trying to forget about it.

The door pinged as it opened, and Quinn looked in time to see Ivy waving goodbye to Bloody Blair Beckett. She seemed to float into the shop, and Quinn watched her approach with a knowing smile on his face.

‘So … what's going on there, then?'

‘I don't know what you mean,' Ivy said.

‘You seem happy,' Quinn said. ‘Your aura is pink.'

Ivy gasped. ‘Is it really?'

She spun around, looking behind her, as if she were trying to spot something on her back.

Quinn laughed. ‘ So pink.'

‘He makes me smile.' Ivy seemed to choose her words with care. ‘He's quite sweet, you know. I was a little worried about the red aura, but soon realised it's more out of passion than malice and anger.'

‘Of course.'

‘He's ruled by Mars, too.'

‘That's right.'

‘You don't have to believe me,' Ivy said, her face as flushed as Mars' surface.

‘Do you think it's anything serious?'

‘We haven't even kissed yet. It may just be a winter fling, but I'm okay with that.'

‘Good.'

Ivy's phone pinged. She took it out of her pocket and smiled. Quinn watched her, feeling envious, sure his aura was now a bottle green.

‘Is that him?'

‘Hm?' Her eyes didn't lift from the screen. ‘Oh, yeah. Yes.'

Quinn decided not to push it. As much as he wanted to live a love life through Ivy, it was not his place to enquire about Blair and how he wooed Ivy. But he recognised the beginning seed of love being planted, nurtured during the colder months, ready to bloom in the spring.

Other than Dougie, his love life had always been just so-so. And Dougie hadn't been impressive. Not too many gay men seemed to live or even stay in Hay. They either went to the cities or settled down with someone they met nearby. It meant that the pool of eligible bachelors was more of a puddle. Besides, Quinn admitted he was a bit of a borderline recluse. He lived above his shop, and he spent most of his days behind the counter or above it. But Noah had been a seed, thirsty for water, stifled and refusing to bloom.

He thought of Dougie, trying his best to think of the positive moments they had shared. The only positive that came to mind was that since blocking his number, he hadn't heard from him. It confirmed to Quinn everything he needed to know. He didn't matter to him. Maybe he never had.

The kettle boiled, bringing Quinn back to Ivy. He made them both a mug of tea, and a third for Daniel. They sat at the altar, a dysfunctional group dealing with their own feelings. Quinn looked around the shop with a wistful air. In just two days' time, this whole thing could be over.

‘You can always rely on a cuppa.' Quinn clenched the mug, forever thankful for something so familiar after such a weird day. They could demolish the place, but he'd be alright if he had his tea.

Mostly.

Ivy slurped her tea next to him, looking at him with an intense gaze.

‘What are you looking at me like that for?'

‘It's not over, Quinn,' she said. ‘Far from it.'

‘I agree with Ivy,' Daniel said.

‘I can only hope you're right.'

‘Want another tarot reading?' She was reaching for her bag at her feet.

‘No, I'm alright,' Quinn said, afraid of seeing the devil coming back. ‘I trust the last one.'

‘Hm.' Ivy sniffed. ‘Alright then.'

‘Can I get a reading?' Daniel asked. ‘There's this thing…'

‘Yes, let's do one.'

Quinn sipped his own tea, more elegantly than Ivy, his eyes on the shimmering lights of the shop's Christmas tree.

‘What are your plans for Christmas?'

Ivy thought for a moment. ‘Spending the day with Mum. She lives over in New Radnor.'

Quinn knew the place, a small nestled village in mid-Wales with sprawling luscious green mountains. Only he knew now they would be lethal, covered in white and ice, the perfect postcard Christmas town.

‘That will be nice.'

‘It will be, but she will insist on going Christmas carolling.'

‘On Christmas day?'

‘It's a New Radnor tradition,' Ivy said. ‘We do it every year. And every year I pretend to hate it.'

‘But you love it?'

‘You heard me sing,' Ivy said, and Quinn recalled the pitchy tones of Ivy in the town hall. ‘You don't hide a voice like mine.'

Quinn smiled just as the front door opened and a customer walked in. They smiled back at him, meandering through the aisles.

‘What about you?'

‘It will either be spent celebrating or trying not to make it awkward with Mum and Harold.'

‘Ah, yes,' Ivy mused. ‘Christmas is a time for family, after all.'

‘Even when that family tries to screw you over.'