Chapter 45

Chapter Forty-Five

Two Months Later

The for-sale sign above Kings & Queens was pasted over with a red ‘sold' sticker. Quinn, standing outside the shop on a frosty February morning, watched his breath catching in front of him. The New Year had been a turning point for Quinn. After Christmas, he had spent every day with Hermione, hearing her tell her story and writing out the recordings he took on his phone. He'd written most of the book, but he knew he needed to go back and tweak it here and there. Noah had been right. His publishers pulled through.

Hermione's life was colourful, but what struck Quinn was her honesty. She shared details of her life that Quinn hadn't asked for, but it made the book all the juicier. Because despite everything, the publisher, a very well-known tuxedoed animal, thank you very much, wanted all the titbits. Hermione was already raising her profile in time for a summer release, the publisher hoping it would make a good holiday read.

Now she genuinely had to avoid the press, hiring security to guard her gate and keep them off the property. Quinn didn't have the heart to tell her that the press until that point hadn't been all that interested in her life. He knew there would be a flurry of activity. Interviews, television appearances, author signings.

It didn't matter that all that glory would be for Hermione and not him. His name wouldn't even be on the book. He was the ghostwriter, and that suited him. Hermione promised him a thanks in the credits, especially because Quinn flat out refused to have his name on the cover.

He didn't want the attention. He wrote Hermione's story for her own liberation. As the excitement built from the publisher, Hermione, the press and Noah, he thought he brought her some form of justice.

His mother left Harold. Turns out him selling the place after saying he wanted it as part of the castle was the final straw. She later told Quinn that she had considered breaking up with him before Christmas, when he ignored her pleas to stop him from evicting her only son. Quinn hadn't seen Harold since Christmas day, but he'd heard that he'd moved to Cardiff, where maybe he'd find Dougie and they would live a wonderful city life together.

Quinn walked to the window of his shop over the wet pavements, clutching his coffee cup to his chest. It hurt him to see the shop so bare. His mahogany table was there, lying empty, the eviction letters long gone and burned in a ritual Ivy had asked him to be part of.

‘Cleansing the stagnant energy,' she'd told him, as she threw the red stamped eviction letters one by one into the flames.

Quinn had to admit that watching them curl up into nothingness was rather cathartic.

The books in the shop had all found their ways into the other shops, and others entered the honesty library in the castle grounds. It was a full circle moment, his books entering the castle. Almost as if that was always their destiny.

Daniel still kept in touch. Quinn planned to meet with him soon and discover how his life was going.

At the back of the shop, the confessional booth remained. It made Quinn happy to know that the original features would stay there. Maybe the church would function again, though he thought it was more probable that it would turn into some hip restaurant.

On the second of January, Noah had left Hay. It was hard watching him go, and as Quinn waved goodbye, he felt like an abandoned animal. Noah needed to go to London to ‘sort things out'. Quinn later found out that it was to help Matty move his things from his apartment.

Matty. Beautiful Matty.

Quinn had discovered Matty was not as successful as he'd first thought but came from rich parents. Like, uber rich parents who could speak multiple languages. No, seriously. His father held a stake in Uber and his mother in Duolingo. They had set Matty up for life. That was until his father had told him he had to go work for a living, and that had sent Matty crashing to the ground.

So, with twenty-thousand pounds to see him on his way, Matty had opened his bakery. But Matty didn't know how to run a bakery and was more concerned with getting acting and modelling gigs. So, the bakery soon crashed into the ground, but not before he met Noah and realised quite how successful of an author he was.

Noah equalled money and acted as an escape for Matty. Noah had fallen for it.

To be honest, Quinn would have, too. Matty was gorgeous.

So, while Noah did the work, Matty enjoyed living the life he thought he was meant to live –which was to piss about and try to get some acting and modelling work on the side. Those acting gigs meant background artist work. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that, but it wasn't quite the heights that Matty had implied.

Living that life was expensive, though, and Noah soon realised that he was funding Matty's lifestyle. Matty had used Noah's credit card to rack up a bill in Mayfair, Chelsea, and even a trip to Bora Bora with his thespian friends.

As Noah told Quinn everything one snowy December evening, he realised how much Matty had put Noah through.

‘You should get legal action.'

‘The man is a dick, not a criminal,' Noah had said. ‘His heart is in the right place.'

Whilst Quinn didn't agree, he admired that despite everything, Noah still wouldn't hurt him.

Just as long as he kept his devilishly handsome looks away from him, all would be fine.

But any moment now, Noah would be back in town, this long-distance thing mainly only being from one end of the sofa to the other, because Noah had moved into Quinn's apartment. It was why Quinn stood here, reminiscing, but also waiting to see Noah's Bentley come down Castle Street.

‘End of an era.' Ivy's voice brought Quinn back to earth. Somehow, she always had that knack of appearing out of nowhere. He wondered if she was a spirit.

It was nice to see her. She hadn't been in Hay since Christmas. Blair had whisked her away to Brisbane, where he had family, and she'd updated her Instagram with wonderful photos of beaches, summer, and a toned topless Blair. They hadn't stayed long, but packed a lot in, Ivy wanting to return home to Hay for New Year. Something about the energy of it all and her astrological cartography.

Turns out, he'd been pretty serious about wanting to get to know her. They were already Facebook official, and with his minor celebrity status, Ivy made Heat magazine's worst dressed list, much to her enjoyment. She'd found Quinn one day, tanned after her not at all jealousy-inducing holiday, and showed him the spread, a beaming smile on her face.

Now, wrapped in a blue coat, she joined Quinn in looking at the sold sign on the shop.

‘It is.' He spoke. ‘Who do you think bought it?'

‘I heard an out of towner,' Ivy said this with disdain, like it was illegal to live anywhere but Hay.

‘Well, I hope they look after it,' Quinn said. ‘It's a special place.'

Even if it is devoid of soul.

He'd made peace with it when the clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve. He would leave it behind, cut it off with a cleaver. ‘New year, new me,' he had declared to Noah, Hermione, Jerry and Claire. He didn't tell them he said that every year.

‘Are you going to move to London?' Ivy asked him.

The thought grew every day. With Hermione's book being published, and the publisher being in London, it made sense to be nearby. But Noah, who had the same publisher, proved writing could work anywhere.

‘I don't think so,' Quinn said. ‘Not yet, at least.'

‘I'd hate to see you go,' Ivy said.

‘And I'd hate to see you go.'

After all, with Blair fronting national news in London, she had her own dilemma to deal with.

‘Maybe we're both destined for London.'

A car approached them from Castle Street, and seeing that it was black, Quinn thought it might be Noah. He felt the excitement swell inside him, but deflated when he noticed it was a Chrysler rather than a Bentley.

It pulled up outside of his shop, and Gordon got out of the car, a smile on his face.

‘When did you get this?' Quinn asked him, admiring the spotless bodywork of the car.

‘With new jobs come new perks,' Gordon said. ‘They've made me a partner.'

‘Bloody hell, of the property firm?'

‘That's right!' Gordon cheered. ‘You are looking at the man responsible for acquisitions.'

He was dressed in a suit. Gordon. In a suit! He reminded Quinn of one of those people who went on The Apprentice , with their shiny shoes and their pinstripe trousers.

‘Well, I'm happy for you.'

‘Thanks. Missus is chuffed,' Gordon said, ‘but she's not the only one.'

‘What do you mean?'

Another car came down the street, this time putting the Chrysler to shame. Gordon whistled as the black Bentley parked next to his car, the window rolled down, The Spice Girls playing from the speakers.

‘Girl power,' Noah said as he cut the engine. ‘What's going on here, then?'

‘Just in time, just in time,' Gordon smiled, tearing his eyes away from the Bentley. ‘You are now looking at the owner of Kings & Queens.'

Quinn was drowning. He couldn't seem to breathe as he looked from Gordon to the shop, and back again.

Walloped with the betrayal baton again.

‘You bought this place?'

‘Our firm did, yeah,' Gordon said. ‘First thing I did when I got the job, you see. Paid way over the asking price, but the boss doesn't need to know that.'

Ivy managed a small laugh, but she stifled it.

Quinn felt at a loss for words. He thought he would have been able to trust Gordon.

He had been wrong.

His eyes met Noah's, falling into the green oasis, and he saw his own sadness reflected back at him.

Gordon took out the keys in all its familiar glory.

‘Got these today,' Gordon said. Then he did something that made Ivy gasp. ‘I think it belongs to you.'

Gordon held the keys out, with its chipped paint work and its familiar bow. Quinn looked at Gordon, feeling nothing, still in that cold pool that numbed all his senses. He reached out a hand that trembled, felt the rough and cold key under his fingertips, and then felt everything all at once.

It was like the key was a thorn. It brought tears to his eyes as he touched it, but he hung on to it, never wanting to let it go.

‘I don't understand.' Quinn said.

‘Quinn, when I saw the job opening at the property company, I saw an opportunity. They were looking for someone that could help them invest and develop property. I told them about this place, told them the story, and they agreed to help me save it. So, I bought it.'

He was about to say more, but he couldn't. Quinn threw his arms around him and hugged him tight, the closest they'd ever been. He smelled different from Noah. More tobacco than earthy, and he was stiff, because he hadn't been expecting this physical contact, but it didn't matter to Quinn.

He let Gordon go, seeing him breathe a sigh of relief that whatever had happened was over.

‘You are the best person in the entire world,' Quinn said. ‘I never thought I'd say it, Gordon, but I am so glad you're in my life.'

‘Mate, I know how much this place means to you.' Gordon tapped the wooden window panes. ‘She's a beauty and only you can look after her. I'll keep the rent as low as possible, and you'll never have to worry about being evicted again. My missus would have my nuts for garters.'

‘Thank you so much, Gordon. Words will never express how I'm feeling right now.'

‘Welcome back, mate.'