Come Thursday – the day before the party – the newly arrived books had all been allocated to their correct sections on the new shelves. A new burgundy velvet sofa had been sourced on Gumtree, and vases filled with fresh spring flowers were dotted all around. It all looked immensely cheery. There were even jars of old-fashioned sweets and lollipops for younger customers.
For the actual party there would be drinks and retro snacks – a modern take on vol-au-vents, cheese straws and even things on sticks, just for fun. Michael was taking care of the edibles and had nipped in to go over the menu. Leo, the Red Lion’s landlord, knew a local band, and there would be competitions to win limited editions of classic vintage books.
‘But the main focus,’ Della said to Roxanne as she switched the sign on the front door to ‘Closed’ – it was 5.30 p.m. – ‘will be the retro cocktail demonstration.’ She paused and grimaced. ‘Hopefully we won’t see a repeat of—’
‘Michael’s workshop?’ Roxanne sighed. ‘I’m sure we won’t. Look how many regular customers you have. Everyone’s been talking about the party all week.’
Della rubbed at her eyes. ‘It still feels like there’s so much to do, though. I can’t believe I’ve left it so late.’
‘Yes, but we have all of tomorrow, don’t we? The party doesn’t kick off till six so I can run around picking up any last minute bits and pieces during the day. Just give me a list and I’ll help.’
Della looked at her and smiled. ‘You know what, Rox? I don’t know what I would have done without you …’ She broke off to retrieve her ringing mobile from the counter. ‘Slow down, darling,’ she said, frowning. ‘I can hardly hear you. Take a deep breath and tell me again what’s happened …’
Roxanne busied herself with pinning up bunting along the tops of the shelves.
Della was pacing back and forth behind the counter, phone clasped to her ear. ‘Sophie, love, it’ll be okay. Don’t panic … Okay, listen to me please, darling,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll call my bank and see if there’s any way to transfer money if you have no ID. There must be some way to do it …’
She broke off, glancing at Roxanne with an alarmed face. Sophie was still talking. Roxanne could hear her niece’s voice, frantic yet distant, a nineteen-year-old young woman now, but sounding like a frightened little girl.
‘Soph,’ Della cut in, ‘listen to me, please – of course you’ll be able to get back home. We’ll figure out the money situation, but what you need to do is report it to the police, okay? Have you done that yet?’ Small pause. ‘Okay, well, that’s important. You have to do that. Then you’ll need to go to the British embassy and they’ll be able to help you. They’ll probably give you a temporary passport – I can look online for you, see what happens? Honey, please don’t cry. It happens to lots of people. I just wish you’d put your valuables in the hotel’s safe, like I said—’ Sophie’s voice rattled tinnily from the phone. ‘Okay!’ Della exclaimed. ‘Okay, sweetheart. No need to shout. I’m sorry. I know there’s no point in saying that now …’ She tried to placate Sophie some more, then finished the call with a loud groan and slumped into the chair behind the counter.
‘What’s happened?’ Roxanne exclaimed. ‘Is she okay?’
Della rubbed her hands all over her face. ‘Christ, Rox, the thing is with being a parent, it never stops. The worrying, I mean, the stress of it all …’
‘She’s not hurt, is she?’
She shook her head. ‘No, thank God. Well, not in that way, not in a physical sense …’ Della emitted another low moan of despair. ‘She’s travelling with Jamie, right? This boyfriend from her course, who’s supposedly wonderful? They’re in Berlin now and things were getting a bit tetchy, she said. They weren’t getting along. I’m not sure about the details – just that he was panicking over every little thing and she … well, you know what Sophie’s like. She just takes things as they come.’
Roxanne nodded.
‘Then last night they had a row, and he just stormed off and left her. Left her alone in the hostel which was okay-ish; she thought he’d be back, that he’d call at least when he’d got over himself – but he didn’t. And in the morning she woke up to find her bag had gone from under her bed. Someone had come in and nicked it – wallet, passport, tickets, her decent camera, the lot. The only reason she still has her phone is because she’d been texting Jamie in bed and fell asleep and it must have fallen under her sheets …’ Della shook her head.
‘That’s so awful. So, you’ve told her to go to the police, and then the embassy …’
‘Yeah. I just wish I could be there. That’s what it’s like, Rox. When something happens …’ She broke off as tears filled her eyes. Roxanne kneeled beside her and held her close. ‘When something happens to your children,’ Della added, ‘all you want is to be there. Does that sound silly? I know she’s a grown-up …’
‘But she’s still your girl.’ Roxanne pulled back and looked at her. ‘So, Jamie hasn’t come back?’
‘Nope – he just texted her to say he was going home and that was that.’
Roxanne shook her head in disbelief. Of course, she didn’t know how her sister felt exactly; she didn’t have a child thousands of miles away, stranded with no money or means of travelling home. However, she couldn’t remember seeing Della looking so distressed – not even after all the Mark stuff: finding out about Polly Fisher in her fancy detached house.
They moved to the sofa and just sat together, quiet for a while and then going over what Sophie could do, and venting their anger at Jamie – what had he been thinking, abandoning her like that in a city she didn’t know? He was supposed to love her!
‘I just feel like a terrible mum because I’m not with her,’ Della added. ‘I feel helpless, Rox.’
‘I’m sure you do, but come on – she’ll do the things you said, and you can find out how to send some money over, and she’ll be fine …’
‘She has literally not one euro on her!’
Roxanne nodded, aware that it wasn’t enough to just sit here, listening, trying to reassure her. ‘Could Mark help in any way?’ she ventured cautiously.
‘Oh, he’s completely useless,’ Della exclaimed. ‘He pays his share of her rent, as we agreed, and slings her the odd bit of birthday and Christmas money. But apart from his financial contribution, he doesn’t seem to want to be involved at all. He hasn’t bothered to go and see her in months. Sophie and I think he’s sulking because she’s not terribly enamoured with the idea of going to stay with him at Polly’s.’
‘That’s not so surprising.’ She paused. ‘Could I go, then?’
Della stared at her. ‘What – to Berlin?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘But … I couldn’t ask you to do that!’
Roxanne frowned at her. ‘Why not? I could take her some money, help her to sort out a passport – I’d just be there for her …’
Della rubbed at her eyes with her sweater sleeve. ‘It just feels like too much.’
‘Why is it too much? I travel for work, it’s not a big deal, Dell. Come on, one of us should go …’ She broke off. ‘Would you rather go?’
‘Yes, I would,’ she said softly. ‘I really want to see her, make sure she’s okay – but it’s the party tomorrow. What a mess, Rox. What bloody awful timing …’
‘Does that really matter, though? I know you’ve worked so hard to get to this point. But the main thing is, the shop’s all ready and it looks fantastic …’
Della picked at a nail. ‘I suppose I could just cancel the party and get a flight tomorrow. I could put a notice in the window, apologising, for when people turn up …’
‘Or I could do it,’ Roxanne suggested. ‘Take care of the party, I mean. Be a sort of surrogate you.’
Della gave Roxanne an incredulous look. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that either. That’s ridiculous—’
‘You’re not asking – I’m offering,’ she said firmly.
Della pondered this for a moment. ‘But … d’you think you could cope?’
‘Yes, of course!’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Rox.’ Now Della was eyeing her as if she were a seven-year-old who had just wandered in and asked if she could play shops.
‘What are you worried about exactly?’ Roxanne asked, losing patience now. ‘Come on, you must admit, you’re surprised how well I’ve managed in here these past few days …’
‘You have been quite a help,’ Della conceded.
Roxanne smiled. ‘So, can’t you trust me to hand a few vol-au-vents around?’
Della was still studying her, almost suspiciously, for goodness’ sake. Roxanne inhaled deeply, knowing she had to tread carefully. ‘I know you’d hate to miss your own party,’ she added.
‘It’s not that,’ Della murmured. ‘It’s more important that I see Sophie …’
‘Just go then,’ Roxanne urged her, ‘and remember it won’t just be me all by myself. Faye will be here, and I’m sure Frank will help out.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘… And maybe Elsa and Jude wouldn’t mind handing out drinks. And then there’s Michael …’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure everyone’ll pitch in …’ Della bit her lip. ‘But what about my cocktail demo?’
‘That might be a bit beyond my capabilities,’ Roxanne conceded, ‘but we’ll think of something – if we need a demonstration at all. Isn’t it really about welcoming your customers to the new shop? There’ll be plenty going on.’
Della looked a little calmer now. ‘Yes, I guess there will be. Okay, so I’ll try to fly back early Saturday morning in time for the shop opening …’
‘Why?’ Roxanne exclaimed. ‘I can look after things here.’
‘Yes, but after the party it might be too much—’
‘Dell, listen to me, please. I’m not ninety-five years old and it won’t be too much. We’re talking a party in a bookshop – not an all-night rave …’ She stopped and smiled. ‘Do people even go to those anymore?’
‘No idea,’ Della said, a hint of a smile on her lips.
‘Well, anyway, I can take care of Saturday so please don’t worry.’
Della exhaled. ‘Okay, I will go, even if I have to fly from Heathrow. I’ll tell Sophie now.’ She picked up her phone from the coffee table and started to text. ‘Thanks, Rox,’ she added. ‘Thank you so much.’
Roxanne swallowed. ‘Well, I sort of owe you.’ Their eyes met, and Della put her arms around her and hugged her tightly.
‘You don’t owe me anything – truly. Are you really sure about this?’
‘Absolutely,’ Roxanne said. ‘Now, off you go and see if you can book a flight.’