“It’s not working,” I moaned.
“It was!” he said. “I felt a strong pain a moment ago when you were reading your description of me. You have to try again; I know you can do it.”
“I knew my writing wouldn’t be good enough, Nick. I can’t—”
“There’s nothing wrong with your writing.” This was Maggie’s voice, and I opened my eyes to look at her.
“Was it something to do with the way I was reading it, then? I was completely focused on the three of us in the shop—it was almost like I could smell the books and reach out and touch Nick behind the counter—and then it suddenly stopped. What did I do wrong?”
Maggie didn’t answer immediately, her eyes flicking from me to Nick and then back to me again. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear her above the wind.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Your writing was full of life; you painted the bookshop exactly how I remembered it, and your description of Nick was perfect. The problem isn’t anything you’ve written. The problem is me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You clearly have a strong visual and emotional sense of you and Nick in Baskerville Books, but you can’t see me in the shop in the same way, and that’s what’s stopping it working.”
“Then why don’t you try reading Zoe’s passage, Mum?” Nick said. “That way you can picture yourself back in the shop along with us.”
“I’ve tried to read myself back home thousands of times over the years, but it never works; Zoe saw that herself the other day,” Maggie said. “Besides, I don’t think I can visualize us all there. I’ve been away from the shop too long.”
“I just haven’t written you well enough,” I said. “I’ll go back to the house and rewrite this so that you’re more vivid.”
I started to walk toward the open ground, but Maggie reached out and grabbed my arm. “There’s no time, Zoe. Just look at the color of the trees around us; the story’s fading fast. You and Nick have to get out of here while you still can.”
“No,” Nick said. “We’re not leaving without you.”
Maggie turned to her son, giving him a small, wistful smile. “I made my peace with living inPride and Prejudicea long time ago, darling. But you and Zoe have to go; you don’t belong here, and the story can’t survive with you both in it.”
“There has to be a way of getting you out too,” I said, hearing thedesperation in my voice. “I just need to get a clearer mental image of you in the shop. What kind of clothes did you used to wear? Did you have your hair up or down? What did—”
Maggie raised a hand to stop me. “Zoe, however hard you try, I don’t think you’ll be able to read me back. Please, save my son while you still can.”
There was a moment of silence as we all stared at each other. Then a bolt of lightning tore across the sky, and I felt drops of icy-cold rain start to fall on my skin.
“I can’t lose you again, Mum,” Nick said, and for a moment he sounded not like a thirty-year-old man, but like a small child.
In reply, Maggie opened her arms and pulled him into a tight embrace. They stayed like that for several moments, locked in each other’s arms, both their faces creased in pain. Then Maggie stepped back.
“I need you to promise me that you’re not going to give up on life, Nick. I know what you’re like, and I don’t want you moping around that bookshop all day, growling at anyone who tries to get close to you. Promise me you’ll get out there and live the wonderful life you deserve.”
Nick nodded but didn’t speak, his cheeks wet with rain and tears.
“You don’t have to keep Baskerville Books. That shop was my dream, not yours, so if you want to close it and do something else, then I completely understand. Although if you do keep it open, do me a favor and sort out the front window; nobody wants to come into a shop that looks tired and unloved.”
Nick smiled, although I could sense his heart was breaking. “I will, I promise.”
Maggie turned to me. “Look after Nick for me; my boy deserves his happy-ever-after. And promise me you’ll live your life to the fullest, too, and never give up on writing again.”
“I promise,” I said, my own voice catching.
Maggie nodded, and I could see tears were starting to fall down her cheeks too. There was another roll of thunder, this one so loud it sounded like it was on top of us, and the rain began to fall harder. I glanced down at the piece of paper in my hands and saw the ink was beginning to smudge.
“I need to read this before it becomes illegible,” I said.
Maggie cleared her throat. “Do exactly what you did last time, only focus on just you and Nick in the shop. Forget about me.”
“Mum…” Nick said, but Maggie shook her head.