Jane Green - Bookends

‘Ingrid,’ she says eventually, and rather cheerfully it has to be said. ‘Looking ever so glamorous. How on earth do you manage to walk in those marvellous shoes?’

‘I am used to them,’ she says, as Max comes running in and falls at her feet, clutching her calves. She raises her leg and for one happy second I think she might aim a sharp kick at Max in her killer shoes, but no, she just gives him a disdainful look and shakes him off as if he were something nasty, which I suppose he is, depending on how you look at things.

‘Ingriiiiiiiiid,’ Max wails, going in for the cling again. ‘Don’t go. Stay here with me.’

‘No, Max,’ Ingrid says, walking across the kitchen and thereby dragging Max with her across the kitchen floor, as Lucy ignores them and Laura stands in the doorway looking as if she’d dearly like to be anywhere other than here, ‘I am going out tonight to party.’

‘She can say that again,’ Si whispers, doing a double take at Ingrid disappearing up the stairs.

‘Blimey,’ Josh says, with a huge grin on his face. ‘Old Ingrid, eh? Who would have thought she’d scrub up like a sex kitten?’

‘Sex kitten?’ splutters Si. ‘More like cheap hooker.’

‘WHAT’S A HOOKER?’ Max’s voice reverberates around the house, and we all turn to stare at him in horror, Ingrid evidently having managed to disengage him from her leg just outside the kitchen door.

‘Oh God,’ Lucy groans, hiding her face in her hands. ‘I knew this day would come. Max. Sssshhh. Don’t shout.’

‘BUT WHAT’S A HOOKER?’ Max now realizes he’s not supposed to be shouting this and naturally starts shouting louder than ever, before marching up to Si and screaming, ‘YOU’RE A HOOKER! YOU’RE A HOOKER!’ at which point we all do the worst thing possible, given the situation, and collapse with laughter.

‘Maximilian, I have been called many things in my time, but I have to say that’s a first.’ Si scoops Max up on to his lap and smiles indulgently, putting him down pretty quickly as Max opens his mouth for another bit of attention-seeking shouting.

‘Oh God,’ Josh says, finally managing to calm Max down by offering him a handful of chocolate, ‘do you think she heard?’

‘And what if she did?’ Si sniffs. ‘Face it, she does look as if she’s on her way to a street corner in Westbourne Park Road.’

‘Oh, she’s only young,’ Lucy says. ‘That’s obviously all the fashion.’

‘In Scandinavian porn films,’ Si says, ‘perhaps.’

Josh quickly stuffs some more chocolate into Max’s face, then whisks him into the other room to distract him with the video of Mulan . Thankfully he manages this before Max can utter those immortal shrieks: WHAT’S A PORN FILM?

‘Thank God.’ Lucy rolls her eyes. ‘Peace and quiet. Now, Si.’ She turns to face him. ‘Why are you here by yourself, is your new man coming later, and if not, why not?’

Si looks at me and makes a face. ‘Cath hates him, so I decided not to ask him.’

‘Does she?’ Lucy looks at me, horrified, and I shrug dejectedly. ‘I don’t exactly hate him,’ I say, ‘I just didn’t really take to him, that’s all.’

‘Never judge a book by its cover,’ Josh says, putting his arms around Lucy and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ She hits him playfully with a tea-towel.

‘Nothing,’ he says, ‘just that you should judge people by yourself, not judge them by what you hear.’

‘Speak as you find,’ echoes Si. ‘Exactly,’ and he looks at me with disappointment in his eyes.

‘God, it’s not my fault!’ My voice is as indignant as I feel. ‘I mean, Jesus, you didn’t have to not invite him because of me. That’s ridiculous, to give me a guilt trip about it. I wouldn’t have minded if he’d come.’

‘Uh oh, now I feel guilty,’ Si says. ‘Actually, I was winding you up. I did ask him, but he said he had other plans.’

‘What other plans?’

Si shrugs. ‘He didn’t say.’

‘And you didn’t ask?’

‘Nope. Anyway, much better that it’s the old gang. To be honest I’m not sure how comfortable I’d be if he were here now. Not that I think you wouldn’t like him – well,’ and he shoots me a dirty look, ‘other than Cath, of course…

‘It’s just,’ he continues, ‘I’d be worrying about what you all thought about him, and what he thought of you, and quite honestly I just want to have a good time tonight and let my hair down. And of course,’ he goes over to Lucy and puts his arm around her, ‘give both of you my undying love and support.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ I say, still unable to believe that it’s actually happening, that tonight’s the night. ‘I can’t believe this is the opening party. God, Lucy. Do you think it’s going to be fine?’

‘You tell me, my love,’ Lucy says with a grin. ‘You’re the one who keeps telling me we’re going to be a huge success.’

‘I know,’ I groan. ‘I was hoping the power of positive thinking would work, but now that it’s actually here I’m so nervous.’

‘Here.’ Lucy pops a prawn satay stick into my mouth to shut me up. ‘The food’s great, the shop looks amazing, and the local support has been extraordinary. You just wait and see, Bookends is going to be a huge hit.’ And with that she takes off her apron and walks upstairs to freshen up.

‘Shit,’ I mutter quietly when I’m sure she’s gone, spitting the satay into the palm of my hand. ‘I’m allergic to prawns.’

We get ready to leave, and, as I walk out the front door, I almost have to kick myself to remember that this isn’t all a dream. I can’t believe that back in April this was just a fantasy, and in August, only a month ago, we were still decorating, and now we’re opening!

But the truth is, it’s all been so easy. Hard work, but lovely work, because it’s ours. We’ve employed two young, local people, Bill and Rachel, to work in the shop with us – Bill will be on the till, while Rachel will take control of the stock and help Lucy in the kitchen. I, naturally, am in charge of the accounts.

The four of us have slaved to get the shop ready in time. Bill and Rachel took over the responsibility of sectioning up the bookshop, as Lucy and I couldn’t manage to get it quite right, and between the two of them they skilfully divided the shop into sections: fiction, biography, cookery, travel, health/family, history, children’s, local interest, poetry, plays and Shakespeare, gardening, humour, and a touch of mind/body/spirit, just in case.

We spent all of last week unpacking the boxes, while Lucy and I kept on catching one another’s eye and giggling because we couldn’t believe that it was actually happening.

All the orders have come from wholesalers – thank God – so I haven’t had to deal with a million invoices and deliveries from all the different publishers, which, quite frankly, would have done my head in.

There’s still a lot to learn, but we’re learning fast, and thankfully Bill had a summer job at Waterstone’s when he was at university, so he’s been unbelievable, to put it mildly.

Now I used to go to parties quite a lot for work, and most of the time they weren’t much fun. Even the ones that are supposed to be ‘trendy’ and ‘media’ were usually trivial and boring, and a couple of years ago I decided that I had become immune to parties, and that they were no longer my thing.

But look at this place! Look at the people squeezed into every available bit of floorspace in the shop! Listen to the buzz of conversation that’s growing steadily louder and louder as people’s tongues are loosened with champagne.

And watch their faces as they groan in ecstasy at Lucy’s canapés – her delicious bite-sized morsels of food that, quite literally, melt in the mouth; and watch Lucy, weaving through the hordes, beaming with heat, pride and happiness.