Chapter 40

Chapter Forty

Had he owned a red carpet, he would have laid it out. Had the press been notified, they would have shouted Hermione's name. In place of all that, those in the shop fussed over Hermione like she was royalty. Champagne was thrusted her way, and she took a flute handing one to Jerry, who looked like he did when Quinn had met him: rugged and country-like. He contrasted with Hermione's neat image, but it worked. Seeing them standing next to each other, Quinn could see their likeness.

The music filled the speakers again, and conversation erupted, no doubt discussing Hermione's arrival. If she was self-conscious of this, she didn't show it. The smile that had faltered was now back on, and Quinn saw her film-star quality in action as she oozed confidence and spoke to people as they rather tentatively approached her. She fluttered her eyelashes, gave a hearty laugh in the right places, and asked the right questions. The whole time, she held onto Jerry like he was her life raft. Without him, she would drown in the crowd.

This was far removed from the paranoid woman who locked herself away. She even stopped her conversation with an old bookseller to pose for a photograph and answer questions Emma asked. Her fear of the press was no longer apparent.

‘Did you know about this?' Quinn asked Ivy.

‘Not at all.' She looked rather flushed, no doubt from the wine and her foray into romance with Blair. ‘I never thought I'd see the day.'

‘Me neither,' one local nearby chimed in. ‘I thought she was some hobbit in the hills.'

‘I've never seen beauty like it,' Ebeneezer Screwed said. ‘She's a hottie.'

‘She's more than a hottie,' Ivy said. ‘She looks like classic Hollywood.'

Quinn had to admit Ivy was right. Hermione may have not been on a film set for a couple of decades, but she hadn't lost her appeal. She commanded the attention of the room just by standing there. It was quite extraordinary to see.

Hermione found her way to Quinn, who still hadn't left the side of his counter. She turned her back on the audience and looked at him.

‘My heart is pounding,' she whispered. ‘I can't believe I'm doing this.'

‘Breathe,' Jerry said. ‘It's okay.'

‘Are they talking about me?' She jerked her head back to the crowd, who were in fact looking at her.

‘Not at all.' Quinn wondered if that wasn't the answer she wanted to hear. ‘Not negatively. They're amazed to see you.'

‘Oh.' Hermione adjusted the holly in her hair, a wry smile giving her happiness away. ‘Well, I can handle that.'

‘Will you have a photo with Quinn, Hermione?' Emma asked, swaying but still working her journalistic job.

‘Yes, absolutely.' Hermione turned back to the crowd, faltering when she realised many people were looking at her. She smiled, regaining her composure, and it amazed Quinn how quickly she could hide the anxiety she must be feeling.

‘Ivy, Blair,' Quinn said, catching them before they walked away. ‘In the photo, please.'

‘You too,' Hermione whispered to Jerry, who'd made to step aside.

Emma took a photo of Quinn with those who had helped him the most. He called in Jenny and the drag queens, laughing at the absolute campiness of such a scene. It was the best feeling he'd had all day: love and overwhelming gratitude for these people.

As they dispersed, he wished Noah could have been in the frame with them.

‘Thank you so much for coming,' Quinn said to Hermione when Emma and her cameraman slipped back into the crowd. ‘I know this must have been hard for you.'

‘The press was a bit of a nightmare,' Hermione admitted, though Quinn doubted they had been. ‘But I need to realise I can't let them rule my life anymore.'

‘That's the spirit,' Jerry said.

‘Besides, he brought me here.' Hermione nudged her brother. ‘Said he saw you at the farm.'

Quinn cleared his throat. ‘That's right.'

‘My son is a dick,' Hermione said matter-of-factly. ‘There's no two ways about it. But please don't hold him in disregard.'

Quinn sipped his champagne, wanting to choose his words with care. How could he forgive Noah? He didn't want to offend Hermione, or even put her in the middle of the situation like Harold had his mother. As Quinn thought about it, he didn't know if there even was a situation to put Hermione in. Noah was fleeting, like a hot winter's day.

‘I would never do that,' Quinn said.

Hermione stared at Quinn but didn't say a word. It made Quinn uncomfortable, and he prayed someone would distract them; take her gaze away from him. It was excruciating seeing those eyes watch him.

‘Why haven't you been in touch?' Hermione said. ‘I thought you might stop by so we could discuss the book.'

Quinn felt a jolt, wondering what he could say. Was this Hermione's way of letting him go? ‘I didn't know if I would be welcome.'

Hermione blinked, a blank expression on her glamorous face. ‘Because of Noah's theatrics? Please. That doesn't need to impede us.'

The fear that had been wrapped around Quinn let go, releasing him into the atmosphere. The rush of relief was enough to make him let out a loud sigh. ‘You don't know how good that is to hear.'

‘Noah will come back,' Hermione said. ‘He always does.'

Would he come back? Quinn didn't know what he would do. Forcing himself to believe Noah was gone allowed him to move forwards. That's all he could do. But these comments of fleeting hope kept him tied down. ‘Have you heard from him?'

‘I have. There's?—'

But she didn't get to finish. An old headmaster from Quinn's school approached, holding out his arms to Hermione, who squealed, at last breaking away from Jerry and throwing her arms around him.

‘Ronald, it's been too long.'

With that, she guided him away from the crowds, lost in discussion with an old friend.

Jerry crossed his arms, looking at his sister with a wistful expression. ‘It was hard to get her to come tonight.'

‘I appreciate it.'

Jerry scratched at the stubble on his face. ‘She is special. She's deprived herself of these moments for too long. I hope tonight, seeing these people accept her, love her, idolise her, will help to restore her confidence.'

Quinn had expected nothing less from the crowd in the shop. Despite the almost legend-like stories of Hermione, it didn't matter. In a very British way, the stories had been part of their childhoods, a fun titbit to tell over a cup of tea. There had never been malice, not really. Hermione was a proud bit of history for Hay, and despite everything, everyone held a soft spot for her.

It made Quinn excited to write her story, to change the narrative, one that he was certain now would have a lot more acceptance than he first thought.

And as he watched the crowd, he thought of Hermione finding her voice to talk about what she'd gone through. How, somehow, he'd helped her find that ability to talk again.

Jerry found his own known faces, getting lost in the crowd, and Quinn wondered what Hermione meant to say about Noah. Her sentence cut off at such a crucial moment. What did Noah say to her? Had he asked about Quinn at all, about his shop?

Part of him hoped that, despite everything, Noah still cared. He checked his phone, almost wishing that a message would come through, a love heart social media like, something to confirm that he occupied Noah's thoughts like the author did his.

Alas, nothing.

The party stretched into the early evening until the last drop of wine and champagne had been poured. Somewhere along the line, they agreed to continue the party in the nearby pub and Quinn said goodbye to everyone as they headed out. They wished him luck and he fought back tears as he promised to keep the fight going.

Eventually, only a small crowd remained. Hermione was at the back of the shop, still lost in conversation with Roger and with Jerry at her side. Ivy and Blair leaned against a bookshelf like university lovers. Quinn thanked the drag queens, who were still ready to continue the party, and hugged Jenny, who'd turned out to be vital in getting the crowds.

‘This donation… I'm amazed. But if we close, I can't take the money.'

‘Oh, no.' Jenny shook her head. ‘That money is yours. Use it as a deposit on somewhere new if you have to. Or just to keep you afloat as you start the next chapter.'

She was drunk. That was clear to see by her wide eyes and her flushed smile, but Quinn could see she meant every word.

She cried, a rather dramatic cry that would look false on anyone else. The drag queens fussed over her and she shook her head. ‘It's just so sad.'

‘Don't be sad,' Quinn said. ‘Look at tonight. Look how amazing this has been. The perfect send-off. If, of course, it is the send-off.'

Jenny took his hands like a woman sending her husband off to war. ‘Please, will you join us in the pub?'

‘Oh, yes,' Quinn said.

Jenny nodded, wiping tears, and stepped out into the cold. Quinn turned to Penny Farthing, who seemed the most sober of the group.

‘Are you sure about this money?'

‘Totally. We raised this for you. It's yours, regardless of where it is spent. Take it.'

‘I don't think I can ever repay you.'

‘That's not the point of a fundraiser.' Penny smiled. ‘You deserve it, Quinn. Thank you for this space, and all that you have done.'

Once the queens left, their arms around Jenny, their voices singing a drunken rendition of ‘Driving Home for Christmas' , Quinn let the tears fall.

‘No tears, please,' Ivy said.

‘I'm sorry.' Ugly crying. It was definitely ugly crying. And Bloody Blair Beckett looked perfect, even when he had consumed too much wine.

‘Don't apologise,' Blair said.

Quinn wiped his tears. ‘Look at you two. What's going on then?'

The pair looked at each other, all smiles.

‘I saw you kiss.' Quinn pointed to the mistletoe hung above one of the book aisles. ‘Don't lie.'

Ivy giggled. ‘So, we kissed.'

‘So, what does that mean?'

‘I think that's a conversation for us to have,' Blair said, as Ivy laughed again. ‘See you in the pub?'

‘In the pub,' Quinn confirmed.

He watched them go, and then turned back to the shop, expecting to ask Hermione to leave. Instead, he saw Gordon browsing the DIY section. Since the castle, Quinn hadn't had time to speak to him.

‘I can't believe you did that earlier.'

‘Ah, mate, had to,' Gordon said. ‘The missus had my nuts in a vice.'

Quinn tried to push that image out of his mind.

‘Thing is, Harold ain't an evil man,' Gordon continued. ‘He's just a little inconsiderate of his actions.'

‘A little?'

‘A lot.' Gordon grinned.

Gordon seemed happier, brighter.

‘So, have you got a new job?'

‘Aye,' Gordon said. ‘A property firm. Ten grand pay rise. Can't go wrong.'

‘Happy for you, Gordon.'

Gordon clapped Quinn on the back in that classic masculine way that made Quinn feel out of place in his own bloody shop. ‘You're a good man, Quinn.'

He couldn't have a sentimental moment with Gordon. If he did, he would never stop crying.

‘They're all going to the pub. You going?'

‘Nah, got to get home,' Gordon said. ‘I value my nuts.'

When Gordon had gone, Quinn approached the three remaining people in the shop, Hermione, Jerry and Ronald.

‘The man of the hour,' Ronald slurred.

‘Looks like you've all enjoyed yourself tonight.'

‘Of course. I've missed nights like these,' Hermione wistfully said.

Jerry eyed Quinn, and then patted his thigh. ‘I think we should leave you alone.'

‘Oh, no, you don't have to…'

‘No, we know when we've overstayed our welcome.' Jerry got to his feet and signalled for his sister and Ronald to join him. ‘Come on, let's leave this man in peace.'

To say my goodbyes, Quinn thought.

At the door, Jerry turned back to Quinn as Hermione and Ronald giggled at something only they knew. ‘Don't give up, Quinn.'

Quinn wondered if Jerry meant on the shop, or if his words ran a little deeper. He peered over his shoulder at the empty shop, and then glanced up and down the street.

‘Did you see Daniel, by the way?'

Jerry smirked. ‘Left with some guy.'

‘Ah.'

Well, at least someone was lucky in love.