The London Bookshop Affair by Louise Fein

Author:Louise Fein [Fein, Louise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Celia

Celia’s alarm jolts her from a deep sleep. She is momentarily confused. It’s Sunday, not a workday. Then she remembers. It’s her first date with Septimus, and her heart leaps. No, it’s not a date. She is doing a favor for a friend, that’s it. She remembers Mrs. Denton’s words of caution. She can see he might be a serial heartbreaker. And he is just the type to charm a girl into bed, and then what? She’d be no better than her mother and her life would be ruined. She must be firm if he dare try anything.

In the kitchen, she encounters Mother in her blue dressing gown, fresh from a bath, curlers in her hair, putting the kettle on. She spends more time getting herself looking nice for God on a Sunday than she does for herself any other day of the week.

“You’re up early,” Mother says, suspicion clouding her eyes.

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“Which friend?”

“Just someone I met through work.” Celia sighs. “Her name is . . . Susan.”

“I see.”

“She lives in Paddington. She’s rather new to London, so I said I’d show her some of the sights.”

“How very community-spirited of you.”

“I’m sure you would do the same if it was someone who had just joined the church.”

Mother sniffs, spooning sugar into her tea and stirring with unnecessary vigor.

“Perhaps you could try trusting me every now and then,” Celia says. “I’m not Jeannie,” she adds, regretting the words the moment they are out.

Mother blanches. “You mustn’t say such things. Don’t be flippant about Jeannie.”

Mother picks up her tea and sweeps out of the kitchen, leaving Celia alone bar a bluebottle buzzing around the window. She watches it hurling itself repeatedly at the glass, unable to find a way outside through the invisible barrier.

If only she too could leave, move on, find a new way to be.

Yesterday evening, in desperation, she’d knocked on Sam’s door, needing the company of a friend. But when he’d opened it, he’d not been alone. A fair-haired, green-eyed girl had been with him, a friend from the animal sanctuary. The girl was there for dinner, he’d explained, and to meet his mother. Cindy, or Mindy, or Lindy, or something. Celia hadn’t quite caught it. But she had caught the energy between the two of them. The way they smiled at each other. The way they touched shoulders and finished each other’s sentences. And there Celia had been, taking Sam for granted. Thinking he would always be there, the reliable friend.

The room swims as self-pitying tears she has no right to swell in her eyes.

Celia Duchesne, who even is she?

Celia has no idea.

What sort of man was her father? What sort of woman her mother? According to Miss Clarke, she was brave and clever; according to her parents, foolish and shameful. But how did she look first thing in the morning? What was her voice like? Did she like to sing or read or do the crossword? Was she serious or funny, introvert or extrovert?

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