The Love Island Bookshop by Kate Frost (ebook reader with internet browser .TXT) 📕

over her mouth. Without a second thought, she ran inside. Flames licked across the ceiling on the far side. She dived behind the counter and yanked the fire extinguisher off the wall. She paced across the wooden floor, pulled the pin and aimed the hose at the ceiling. Foam shot into the air but the flames roared even higher. Everything smouldered. The heat was intense. She coughed and dumped the extinguisher on the floor. The flames were ripping through the dry reeds. She knew it was too late. She backed away and grabbed the edges of the first table she reached and dragged it towards the door and outside. Books tumbled off on to the decking. She went back in, grabbed an armful of books and dumped them outside too. The heat was ferocious and smoke curled towards her. Crackling flames chomped through the roof. The creak of wood splitting. A flaming piece of timber thudded to the floor. Fire engulfed the books on the far wall like kindling.

There was shouting outside. An engine, as something skidded to a halt. Freya gathered another armful of books and dived back outside, colliding with someone in the doorway.

‘Are you okay?’

Strong hands gripped her arms. She looked up at Zander. Worry was etched across his face. She nodded and pushed past him, dropping the books on top of a pile of others.

She turned to him. ‘Help me with the bookcase!’

‘Freya, no!’ He grabbed hold of her in the doorway, locking his arm across her chest.

Flames consumed the other end of the bookshop. The sky was visible through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Smoke billowed towards them as a jet of water shot through from outside.

Zander pulled her back. ‘It’s insured; leave everything else.’

They staggered away from the heat. Black smoke spiralled into the night. The clearing flickered red and amber. Half of the roof was gone but with a hose trained on the flames they were beginning to get it under control. Fire had eaten away at the wood, blackening the cream walls. Staff were everywhere, shouting across the clearing to each other. Zander left her and marched back up to the bookshop to stop anyone else from going inside. Freya could now see a couple of men aiming a hose at the roof from the fire hydrant next to the recycling bins. The flames were abating yet the air was choked with heat and smoke.

Freya ran her hand across her sweaty forehead. There was nothing more she could do. She turned away and walked to the edge of the clearing. She sat with a thump in the sand, her back to the partly destroyed bookshop. The air was filled with people shouting and the thud of wood being moved. She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared past the shadowy trees to the moon-dappled ocean.

A shadow loomed over her and Zander sat down next to her, his arms resting on his knees. Despite the light breeze sweeping in from the ocean, the heat from the fire still smouldered behind them.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, his face gleaming with sweat.

Freya nodded. ‘I’m so sorry about the...’

‘It’s not your fault.’ He put his hand on top of hers. ‘But you shouldn’t have gone in and put yourself at risk to save those books.’

‘I did it without thinking. It’s the whole reason I’m here.’

‘I’m just glad you’re not hurt. Everything can be replaced. The building can be rebuilt. It will be rebuilt.’

Freya turned to him. ‘You really care about the bookshop, don’t you?’

‘Books were my life growing up. We never had a TV; my parents never cared for any sort of modern technology. They still shun it now. Although I rebelled in my late teens and early twenties and embraced pop culture – I joined a boy band for God’s sake. Yet I’ve come full circle and believe books and art and culture are some of the most important things in life. I’ve embraced social media mainly to help grow my business, but I still don’t have a TV.’

‘You don’t?’

He shook his head. ‘Books, they’ve always been my lifeline. If I wasn’t doing this,’ he said, sweeping his hand in front of them. ‘Then I’d love to have been a publisher like you.’

‘Really?’

‘But I went down the platinum selling boy band lifestyle followed by the luxury island resort route...’ He nudged his shoulder against hers. A grin lit up his face making Freya smile. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against popular media and TV; I give guests the choice. The villas have flat-screen TVs, Wi-Fi, all the mod cons. Guests paying the sort of money they do expect and want that – even if they don’t end up watching anything because honestly, there’s no need to let the outside world in when you come here. I mean, why would you want to?’

Freya couldn’t agree more. She hadn’t missed watching TV once. The Indian Ocean was on the doorstep, and there were books to read, interesting people to talk to, the island to explore. She’d made so many assumptions about Zander. Freya frowned; it was an odd thing to supposedly ‘know’ someone through their media persona; it was hard to know what was true and what wasn’t.

The rhythmic sigh of the waves was mesmerising. The noise behind seemed to fade away as a wooziness washed over her. She leant her forehead against her hand and breathed slowly waiting for the feeling to fade.

‘We need to get you checked out.’

‘Really, I’m fine.’

‘You probably are but we both breathed in smoke and I’m not going to take any chances. We’re going to get you looked at.’ He stood, took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

‘What about all this?’ Freya wafted her hand at the books piled haphazardly wherever they’d fallen. The burnt embers of the once beautiful bookshop contaminated the pure white sand. Tiredness swept over her, the late hour evident now the rush of adrenalin had abated.

‘They can stay here; we’ll sort