Bookshop Girl Page 4

  Sue excuses herself to go to the loo and, I wish I didn’t, but I spend some time thinking about how she’ll have to wipe really thoroughly to make sure that no little drops of leftover wee trickle out when we’re all watching her. Not saying that she’s incontinent, or that I am, you just wouldn’t want that to happen in a public place with all eyes on you, right? Right?

  ‘What’s a clicktivist? What’s click-ti-vi-sm?’ Holly concentrates like it’s a tongue-twister.

  I shrug. She takes out her phone and Googles.

  ‘Ahhhhh …’ she whispers knowingly under her breath. ‘It’s basically using the internet to run campaigns and petitions.’ She scrolls. ‘“See also: Slacktivism”.’

  ‘Aha! I think I might be a slacktivist,’ I confess.

  ‘I’m a snacktivist!’ Holly pulls a cereal bar out of her bag and I roll my eyes at her grandad-worthy joke.

  The second half of the class is a blur. A hazy blur of nipples and Him and cheeks and Him and hands and Him and Sue and Clive and Him. When Sue is lying on her side, one leg up in the air (I know right, ambitious) he leans over to me whispers, ‘Hey, try this –’ He holds his hand out to me.

  I just take it.

  I take his hand in mine. And for a millisecond it’s beautiful.

  Until the pencil in his hand jabs my palm and it’s awkward and, Oh My God, what just happened? I grabbed his hand. He was passing me a pencil, clearly that’s what he was doing, and I felt him up. Okay, brilliant. Okay, I take the pencil. Should I even be allowed out? I might ask my mum to lock me under the stairs. It could probably be a huge benefit to man-and-woman-kind if I was just stowed away in some kind of Harry Potter cubbyhole.

  ‘Sorry, thanks.’ It looks like a normal black pencil. It says CHINAGRAPH in silver writing along the side. It has a few teeth marks at the top of it. His teeth. He bites his pencils. Bet he bites the tops of pens too. Bet those beautiful lips of his have been stained by accidental blue ink before. Why is the thought of that making me so hot?

  I press into the white paper with his pencil. His chinagraph between my fingers. If I bit the end like he did, it would be like our teeth had touched.

  It’s not like a normal pencil at all. The line is thick and black and heavy and greasy. Not oily like pastels or shiny like graphite. My ‘good lines’ look better in this. I become so excited by this new discovery and by how it makes my sketches look that I get really into the drawing. It’s his pencil. He’s right there. He is so beautiful. He has excellent pencils. I press too hard and it snaps. Loudly. Eyes in the back row are on me. Holly and The Boy look over. Face. Ablaze. Again.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to, I –’

  ‘You’re a monster!’ The widest grin spreads across his face. It’s infectious; I have face ache from smiling.

  ‘I didn’t mean it …’ I’m laughing. ‘I just – I’m sorry, I got carried away …’

  He laughs too loudly and that’s when Clive holds up his hand and says, ‘All right, quieten down over there now, please.’

  He leans over again and whispers, ‘Have this one. But please, be gentle.’ Another chinagraph. Brand New. No bite marks.

  So now he’s moved closer to the mattress to get a better angle of Sue. Looks like he’s really focusing on her feet. He’s spending a long time on getting the tonal qualities of her toenails down onto paper. Maybe he’s a foot pervert. He might have a foot fetish. I’m not a great fan of feet. Even the TV screen in Boots that shows the demo videos for the JML Ped Egg makes me feel a bit queasy. But I bet his feet are delicious.

  He really frowns when he draws. And he hunches his shoulders right into his sketchbook.

  I know this because he’s kind of directly in front and a bit over to the side of me.

  Sorry, Sue, no offence but, like, I’m kind of wrapped up in this guy right now. I’m actually drawing him. I’m observing him. And I like what I see.

  ‘Okay then, thank you, Posers. Thank you, Sue, for being our Poser tonight. What we usually do now is lay our work out on the floor, the piece you’re happiest with, and then we’ll just take a look around and discuss bits.’ Clive must see the panic in my expression. ‘No pressure.’

  No! I completely forgot he said we’d show our work! Otherwise I would not have spent the last twenty minutes salivating over That Boy. Well, I might have done, but I wouldn’t have drawn him.

  Right, I’ll show the chinagraph drawing of Sue. That’ll do. I fold the other sheets of paper away inside my sketch pad and leave them on my chair.

  Holly’s favourite bit of work is her purple ink painting. Streaks of ink have run in some places but that makes it look cool, like it’s moving. She bites her nails anxiously.

  The boy-band lad lays his work down. He’s stuck a pencil behind his ear and his work is the strangest. He’s used bright pink and yellow felt-tip pens, and where Sue’s breasts should have been he’s written TITS; where her bush was just says GASH. Not in any type of fancy writing, just in his simple, bold, handwriting.

  Holly scowls and mouths ‘WHAT THE HELL?!’ at me.

  Clive holds his chin and comes to this one first.

  ‘What’s your name, mate?’ So he’s a newbie too.

  ‘Jamie.’ He’s got intense dark eyes but the rest of his body looks completely relaxed, like it doesn’t bother him one bit standing here talking about why he’d write those words over Sue’s body. Sue is standing here right now by the way. Dressing gown on.

  Clive laughs kind of nervously ‘Go on then, d’you want to tell us about it?’

  ‘Yeah, well, basically it’s just, like, this is what a lot of lads see.’ He pauses. ‘Or are told to see. Birds and Tits and Gash. It’s objectification. I just drew that objectification. Commenting on women’s bodies is considered a social norm. I was just thinking about that as I was drawing. About how we label women as parts of their bodies. And actually labelling this portrait looks crude and nasty cos it is.’

  I think about that white van hurtling past me on the way to Bennett’s yesterday.

  There’s a moment’s silence and Jamie looks around the room at the rest of us, then Clive puts both hands to his chest and exhales dramatically.

  ‘Phew! I’m glad you said that, mate. I was bricking it for a minute. What does everyone else think of this?’

  ‘I see what you’ve done and I think it’s a very brave approach.’ A super soft voice. Like triple-velvet toilet roll. Sue’s friend. Elspeth. ‘These words are obscuring the body. As viewers, we are unable to see past these words.’ There’s a general census of approval from the group. Holly’s face has relaxed and she looks like she is more than a bit impressed with his explanation. Nods and ‘hmmms’ and more chin holding. ‘Other than the words, your proportion and perspective are spot on.’

  ‘Cheers!’ Jamie looks genuinely humbled and happy with the response. We go around the room and chat about each other’s work. It’s actually a nice process. Everyone is learning together, even if some of them are old-timers.

  ‘This chinagraph piece is beautiful.’ Clive frowns as he compliments my work. ‘Whose is this?’

  I raise my hand and look over at The Boy who is smiling without looking at me.

  ‘Fantastic. The weight of the line is handled very well.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I am so thrilled with Clive’s feedback. This is better than any Art class at school with Mr Parker, that’s for sure.

  ‘Do you work with chinagraph a lot?’

  ‘Um, no, it was my first time.’ The Boy looks down at his shoes and his hair falls into his eyes and I can actually feel my knees melt all the way down into pools in my shoes.

  ‘Wow. It suits you. Did you use it all session or did you change materials?’ He holds his chin as he looks at me.

  ‘I … I changed. I was using pens and then … I changed …’

  ‘Great! Do you mind if we have a look at your work from earlier in the session? I just love chinagraph and you’ve done such a good job that I
want to compare the way it really lifts the line. It would be great to compare it to your other sketches –’

  No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

  He is in there. I repeat. The boy I’m obsessing over is in that sketchbook. No.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  Oh God, I said that out loud, didn’t I?

  ‘I spilled some inky water over my other work, so, sorry but it’s gone forever now.’ I’m grinning like a complete nutter as I say this and grab the sketch pad so no one can possibly get to it. I see the realisation set on Clive’s face, like, Oh, right, she’s insane. I guess I’ll move on.

  ‘Okay. Okay, let’s look at Elspeth’s work –’

  I don’t really pay much attention to the rest of the class. I’m clutching the sketchbook filled with images of Him close to my chest. And every now and then I think about how the tiny paper versions of him are nestled up flat against my bosom. Like some kind of voodoo doll that could be used to get him on my body. No, Paige, focus!

  ‘Right, thanks then, gang. Great work. Thanks for joining us – hope you’ll be back next week. Same time, same place.’ Clive claps his hands together and smiles.

  We start to pack up and The Boy turns towards me, shrugging back into his leather jacket.

  I smile. With my mouth closed. I smile with my mouth closed because I feel like if I don’t, there’s a good chance I might projectile-vomit all over him.

  ‘Bye.’ One word. Totally, one hundred per cent directed straight at me. One word, especially for me.

  ‘Bye.’

  He folds his sketchbook shut, tucks it under his arm and leaves the studio. Oh, to be that sketchbook, nestled under his armpit …

  ‘Girls, here it is.’ Sue bustles over, squinting at her phone screen. ‘I’ve got it up on here, one of the petition sites I was telling you about …’ She scrolls and sticks her tongue out slightly as she focuses. ‘Here … Make a Change dot org.’

  ‘Oh great! Thanks, Sue!’ I make a note of the address on my phone.

  ‘It’s such a good idea, so easy to just click and support something … not like the old days when we’d be standing out in the freezing cold with a spray-painted bed sheet, trying to get passers-by on the high street to care.’ Elspeth chuckles. ‘It was fun though.’

  ‘Oh, and this one’s good because – look –’ Sue holds the screen up to show me and Holly. ‘It says here that if you reach one thousand signatures, then you can expect a response from the local council.’

  ‘Great!’ That could be just what we need to save Bennett’s.

  ‘You can count me in, once you’ve set it all up …’

  ‘Yeah, there’s a few things we still need to figure out, but we’ll get on with it ASAP!’

  ‘Make sure you’re clear on the people you’re addressing it to.’ She widens her eyes to demonstrate the seriousness of what she just said. ‘Y’know, those landlords, the council who are prepared to demolish the place, this is about telling them that you are not happy with that decision …’

  ‘Yes.’ I scribble what she just said onto the corner of my sketchbook to make sure I don’t forget it.

  ‘Next week, when you’re back here, send us all the link and we can help you save your bookshop.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Sue.’ I genuinely mean it. I think Sue might have just become one of my favourite people.

  ‘And thanks for letting us draw you!’ Holly gushes. This Sue crush is A Thing now.

  ‘Ha!’ She throws her head back when she laughs and her whole body jiggles. ‘Any time! You made some lovely work, you girls. Have you never done life drawing before?’

  Holly, the other half of my Bookshop Saving Girl Gang, gets chatting about art and school and Mr Parker, and I’m kicking myself for glazing over just above Sue’s shoulder as she talks, wondering where That Boy went off to.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake!’

  Tony presses the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Holding the huge flat envelope that he’s just opened.

  ‘Head office have had these made up.’ He passes Maxine the post and she pulls out several banners. Ugly red letters shout ‘CLOSING-DOWN SALE! EVERYTHING MUST GO!’

  Wow. And there it is. The reality that everything must go. Including all of the little booksellers farting around in here.

  ‘We’re not putting them up,’ Adam states defiantly.

  ‘We have to,’ Tony grumbles.

  ‘No.’ I snatch them.

  ‘Paige, give those back.’

  I ignore Tony and scramble to grab the nearest pen to hand. Luckily it’s a thick black Sharpie.

  ‘If we have to put them up, then we can at least alter them slightly so that they’re not misleading … ’

  I kneel on the floor and scrawl ‘NOT NECESSARILY’ across the top of the first banner I get to, asking for clarification on how many ‘C’s and ‘S’s I need to spell it correctly.

  Adam claps, then grabs a dark green marker pen to customise the other posters in the stack.

  I underline ‘NOT’ twice and it’s more satisfying than I ever could have imagined.

  ‘There!’ I get up off the floor, dead pleased with myself.

  Tony tries not to laugh as he jangles his keys and mutters, ‘Bloody hell … we’d better open up …’

  The NOT NECESSARILY CLOSING-DOWN SALE posters have given me an extra kick up the bum. The clock is ticking.

  ‘Today we should set up the online petition. Who’s with me?!’

  Tony rains on the parade. ‘Please don’t forget to stay on top of your usual duties though. We’ve still got a lot to get through and I don’t want you to get all wrapped up in this petition thing and forget to do what you’re here to do.’

  I roll my eyes and I know he catches it.

  ‘Erm, excuse me …’

  I look up from behind the desk, where I’m creating an account on Make a Change. Oh God, it’s Mr Barnes.

  ‘Have you got any books about Coronation Street?’

  Come on. Eyes off my chest, please. It’s the same every time with this guy.

  ‘I’ll have a look for you.’ I run a quick title search on the computer. No results. What a surprise. ‘Sorry, no we don’t have anything in.’ I force my best Customer Service Training Happy Smiley Face even though this bloke gives me the Creeps with a capital C.

  He comes into the shop, like, every Saturday and has been in trouble a few times for ‘shoplifting’. Well, his poor attempts to shoplift. Stuffing books down the front of his trousers. For all to see. And walking very slowly towards the door. How much of a loser do you have to be to steal books from a place like Bennett’s?

  As he shuffles away from the till and makes his way towards the Fitness & Health section I slump back into position behind the counter. There, I carry on with the first draft of our ‘Save Bennett’s Bookshop’ post.

  It’s actually a bit busier than usual in the shop today, and I have a bad feeling it’s to do with the SALE banners in the windows. The upstairs part of the shop that usually only seems visible to the weirdest portion of Greysworth’s population has attracted a wider audience today.

  A woman in cropped jeans with flashy sunglasses stuck on top of her head shouts across the shop floor to the counter. I can only assume she’s talking to me.

  ‘Is this reduced as well?’ She waves a self-help book in the air.

  ‘Yes. It’s half price now,’ I answer.

  Without reacting out loud to what I’ve just said, she produces her phone and squints at the screen. I know exactly what she’s doing.

  ‘Ah, it’s actually cheaper online. I’ll leave it.’

  Adam moves next to me and recites his favourite Bennett’s catchphrase quietly in my direction. ‘Every time you say “online” in a bookshop, a kitten dies.’

  Even though that’s one of my fave Adam lines, I’m slow to laugh and he asks if I’m feeling okay. It’s unlike me to not crack up.

  I’m just tired. I h
ad another late night. Pouring over the sketches I drew of The Boy. Just like I have been doing every night since Posers. I’m aware that makes me sound like an utter psychopath but there’s no other trace of him. Even with Holly trying desperately to track him down, so she won’t be beaten on the ‘Pro-level Online Stalking Abilities’ she proudly brags about. This boy has zero online presence.

  Those sketches are all I have.

  Well, those and the chinagraph pencil.

  It’s like the scarf at the end of The Snowman. It’s proof that he did really happen. I didn’t just dream him up. I don’t want reality to mirror everyone’s favourite Crimbo tearjerker too closely, though; I don’t think I could cope with standing in the garden, in the snow, in a pair of slippers, crying at a pencil as The World’s Saddest Credits start to roll. Merry fudging Christmas.

  ‘Hey, Adam, look.’ I invite my frolleague to read the computer screen with me. ‘It says there is usually a five-to-seven-working-day response rate for petitions that reach one thousand signatures.’

  That means we have to gain as much support as we can, in an even shorter amount of time. Less than three weeks to collect a thousand signatures and hear back from the council.

  ‘Wow. Okay, we’d better get cracking then!’

  Just a few more clicks and ‘Yep! We’re live! It’s up there!’

  He crushes my hair as he hugs me but I don’t mind. ‘Yes! Okay, I’m going to send it to everyone I know!’

  ‘I’m going to print out copies of the link to the site and we can slip them inside all of the books we sell. Like bookmarks.’ I’ll make sure that no one leaves this shop without knowing about the petition.

  ‘Yes! Good idea!’

  It’s actually happening.

  ‘Ooooh and we should send it to all the other branches of Bennett’s!’ Adam moves onto the keyboard and starts clicking.

  I dig around under the desk to load more paper into the antiquated printer. When I’m down there, I notice something I’ve never seen before.

  ‘What’s this, Adam?’ I trace my fingertips over the biro words that have been scratched into the old wood.

  Somebody has scrawled ‘ONE DAY I’LL WRITE A BOOK ABOUT THIS PLACE.’