Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

‘I'll ask again; I don't care,' Ivy said as Quinn made them a coffee. ‘He's nervous about getting involved in, like, politics or something. He will come round.'

‘His answer was obvious, Ivy. He's not interested.'

But Quinn couldn't help wondering why Noah came to the shop at closing, almost as if he knew by coming then, he could avoid the crowds. The man had been elusive in the town centre in the early morning, like a vampire about to retire before the sun shone.

Was he a vampire? Quinn had yet to see him in direct sunlight. He supposed he would look wonderful, all strapping and glowing that wonderful glow…

Stop it.

Quinn's apartment was a modern one bedroom with hardwood flooring and a bright kitchen. The windows looked out to the rooftops of Hay behind his shop, so he could see down to Lion Street and glimpse the bridge across the frozen river. At the other end of the apartment, he could see the castle. It seemed to taunt him every time he looked at it. Minimalistic, the apartment gave the impression of being bigger than it was. As he handed Ivy the coffee, he thought about how lucky he was that he wasn't losing his home. Just his income. His bookshop. His livelihood.

Which would mean he couldn't afford his mortgage.

Debt collectors. More evictions.

‘Stop being negative.' Ivy held the green coffee mug in her ringed hands, the steam rising past her face. ‘I've met many people like Noah. They say no at first, but they always come around. It's disappointing, but we will get him involved.'

‘I imagine he wants a fee.'

‘Capitalism.' Ivy sighed. ‘A horrible thing.'

‘The source of all of my problems,' Quinn said. ‘Literally.'

They sat in the kitchen opposite each other at Quinn's breakfast bar. Ivy reached for a banana in his fruit bowl.

‘It's not the end, though.' Ivy unpeeled the banana. ‘Oh, no. We're just beginning.'

She bit into the fruit, looking thoughtful. Quinn got lost in his own thoughts of what life might look like without his shop. He already knew rent rates were out of the question and he refused to move his shop out of Hay.

There was nowhere else.

His shop was home.

‘I can't lose it, Ivy. Because I enjoy helping people and I love my job, and how many people can say that? Then there's Dad. I'm his son. Son of a bookseller. I feel like it's a reputation of mine and that by losing my shop, I've failed. Failed him, even.'

‘You haven't failed him.'

Quinn looked at a small painting of a robin hung up on his wall. ‘I hope not.'

‘Okay, okay, think, think…' Ivy placed her fingers on her temples. She looked like a psychic trying to tell the future. ‘We have snow, meaning we will have stranded authors and notable people in Hay. We get them on board.'

‘Why do we even need those people?' Quinn asked. ‘No, not to be offensive, but can't we just rally the community together?'

Ivy took her phone out of her pocket and began typing away.

‘What are you doing?'

‘Just bought a megaphone. It will arrive at my apartment tomorrow.'

‘We might protest.'

‘Something like that,' Ivy mused. ‘Do you have Instagram?'

‘I do, but I don't think now is the time to?—'

‘You need to do an appeal.'

‘An appeal?'

Ivy got to her feet; her eyes were wide. ‘Oh, this is going to be perfect. Right, where is the best lighting? Ah, here! Sit in this armchair, and this lamp, oh how glorious.'

Quinn looked at her standing by the chair. ‘I don't get what you're doing.'

‘Do you have a social media marketing team?'

‘No.'

‘I took a course once,' Ivy said. ‘I like to learn things, and being a boss babe entrepreneur, I had to better myself, so I know what I'm doing. Now, sit here and let me film you. Do we want to do a live, a reel?'

‘You did not just say boss babe.'

‘Do we want to do a live or a reel?' Ivy repeated.

‘I … don't know what any of this is.' Quinn admitted, heading to the chair.

He sat down, and she turned the lamp on, angling it towards him. He squinted, and she smiled. ‘Get used to it, movie star. We need to get you doing as many of these as possible.'

‘I don't know what I'm meant to say. Shouldn't I have a script?'

Ivy finished her banana and headed back to the kitchen, where she dropped the skin into the bin. She sipped her coffee as she walked towards him again. ‘No, just be you. Natural. Maybe we can mention your dad? Can I use your phone? We can film it straight in Insta.'

‘I don't think I can do this.'

He wanted to kick himself. There was an urge within him to say what he believed to be true, but whenever it got to actually speaking, he couldn't do it.

Ivy removed a ring.

‘What are you doing?'

She handed him the ring with a polished violet stone. ‘This is tanzanite. It will help with your throat chakra.'

‘Ivy…'

‘No, Quinn, it's yours.' Ivy held her hands away, as if the ring never fit her. ‘It will help you open up about your truth. It will help with your self-expression.'

Quinn looked at the stone, the silver band. He slipped it over a finger, surprised it fit. Ivy let out a little gasp, as if he was Cinderella fitting into the lost slipper.

Quinn unlocked his phone and handed it to Ivy. ‘Use the bookshop account rather than my own.'

‘Yeah, 'course,' Ivy said. ‘Okay, so just talk about what's happening and what people can do to help, and we can go from there.'

Quinn took a deep breath and looked into the camera as Ivy counted him down. When she nodded, signalling him to talk, he spoke. ‘Hello. Um… I'm, uh, losing my … no, I work at Kings & Queens, and well, it's a great shop and I … my dad used to…'

He heard his own voice playback.

‘We ran out of time,' Ivy said. ‘It needs to be quicker. And, action.'

‘Hello. I'm Quinn. I live here in Hay, and I'm the one that sells you your books here at Kings & Queens. Uh…'

His mind went blank. He stared at the camera, his mouth open, with no sound coming out.

‘Okay, it's fine, actors have many takes. Take three!'

Ten takes later, and they still didn't have a cohesive video. Quinn waffled and fumbled his way through the dialogue, trying to get all he wanted to say condensed into one tiny video.

After yet another failed attempt, he groaned.

‘I can't do this.'

‘Yes, you can,' Ivy encouraged.

‘No, I can't. It's not working. What the hell am I meant to say?' He looked away, lost in thought. ‘This bookshop means everything to me. It's my heart and soul. It's run by me, for the community, and it's a shop that people shouldn't be without. And I'm being evicted, so they can turn it into a soulless corporate info centre for the castle. We're about to lose my shop and I need people's help. Otherwise, Hay loses something special. And you want me to get that into a short video? I don't know how to do it.'

He looked back at Ivy to see her grinning.

‘What?'

‘Oh, I'm posting it. I got it.'

‘I wasn't looking at the camera!' Quinn said.

‘No, but you said what needed to be said.' Ivy tapped a few buttons and then handed his phone back to him. ‘And now we wait.'