The fair is in a street, small and cosy. A street that in any other day I wouldn’t pay attention to. It’s a residential street with just one small shop of fish and chips. But today the street is different, today is full of life and everyone is out. Well, not everyone because it’s not even crowded, but there are quite a few people outside, behind tables with towers of books. Every person has a stand and most of them are selling books, but some others sell craft jewellery or other things that already caught my attention. The whole street is decorated with ropes with little colourful flags from one streetlamp to the other. Some kids are running around, playing, and I assume they live in this street. Most of the people selling are young, some are actually old, but the majority look late twenty and they all look like hipsters. From the haircuts to the glasses, to the oversized jumpers and scarfs to the skinny trousers and the vintage boots. It actually gives a warm feeling to the whole fair and that makes me smile.
I keep approaching and I now hear there’s music playing from one of the stands with a young couple. It’s some song I haven’t heard before but it sounds indie and I kind of like it a lot. I keep walking and only stop in front of the first stand. There are loads of books, all with leather covers and they look old, really old, like dozen of people have read them before.
I love new books. They are so shiny and perfect and the smell is amazing. I could fall asleep with my nose buried in the pages of a new book. It’s like they are ready to start to bring all the adventures to people and it’s just beautiful. But I also love old books, books that seem they are falling apart because they have make happy so many other people. Books that have been read over and over again because they are just fantastic.
I reach out to touch one of the books, running my fingers over the golden letters craved on the spine and I swear I can feel all the lives it has touched, all the people it has entertained over the years. I feel its age. It’s a wonderful feeling and the corner of my lips curl up in a warm smile.
I read the title and I chuckle. The Canterbury Tales. A classic that I particularly hated when we saw it in class. Although I think I hated it because of the professor that gave that course in Medieval and Classical Literature. One of the classes I hated the most, although it was a literature course and those tend to be my favourites. I think what I remember the most was a horse I tried to draw and which was an epic fail. When Moni saw my try she laughed out loud and she still remembers that today and laughs at me. In my defence, the horse in the picture was in an awkward angle.
Well, this is a book I certainly won’t buy. Or who knows? Maybe if I read it now because I want to and without having Miss Kase to test me about it I might enjoy it. But I think I won’t take the risk.
I keep looking at the other books that are on display and they are all classics. From the Odyssey —another one that I won’t buy— to some by Jane Austen like Emma.
“A book that you want? A pound each,” the woman behind the stand says and only then I look up to meet her eyes. She’s early thirty and smiles friendly, her eyes framed with big brown glasses.
A pound each? I have to buy at least one!
“Uh,” I murmur looking around, trying to decide which one I will buy. I spot Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and remember how much I liked that one. I read the ebook version because it’s free but I would like to have it in paper. “This one,” I tell her grabbing Frankenstein and looking for a pound in my purse to give her.
“Great. That’s a classic you’ll like.”
“Oh, I’ve read it. I just want to have it physical, you know?” I say and she nods, smiling widely. I give her the pound. “This fair is amazing. How is that it happened?” I ask and she looks around.
“Oh, we like doing things as a community. We’re very close so we collect things for a few months and when we have enough we make a sell. It’s never something big, but it’s nice. Never more than a weekend. In summer we had a sweet fair. Everything homemade and people loved it. We’ve thought of repeating that one.”
“Please, let me know!” I say cheerily and she chuckles. “Really. I once bought a cupcake made of love and I’ve wanted to find another since then.”
“Oh, I can assure you we make them with love so you’ll be happy.” We both laugh. “The kids are the ones who enjoy it the most, to be honest. They get the spend the whole day outside playing and we don’t have to worry because we’re all watching.”
“That’s lovely,” I say taking a look around and seeing how the kids are now playing hide and seek.
“Please, look at the other stands. We actually organised it by sections. I’m classics. Martha in front is US Authors, Rick at my side is Renascence literature. Over there is Jonah and he’s contemporary. Lexie at the back has all the best sellers, you know like recent books,” she tells me and I can’t wait to see all what they have to offer. “And Mr McDean there with the cats he has plays. He used to teach Shakespeare in Uni until he retired so he has all his plays. In case you’d like to read them.”
My mouth forms a big O when she mentions the man with the cats. That’s the man H told me to talk to and ask for the next letter. I had almost forgotten about it!
“Wonderful! I think I’ll go check them out,” I say and she smiles brightly. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome and have a wonderful time!” she wishes me and I can honestly feel her sincerity so I smile brightly and walk to the next stand, holding my new acquisition tightly.
I don’t directly go to the man with the cats because I want to take my time and enjoy this homey street fair. It’s lovely and everyone is so nice and I want to buy everything. There are so many titles I’ve always wanted to read and some I’ve enjoyed it before. It’s so hard not to spend all my money on books, but I tell myself that after here I’ll probably go somewhere else and carrying the weight of ten books is not wise. I however buy a leather bracelet, simple yet stylish that I’ll give my stranger when we meet. I don’t know if he wears these kinds of things but it’s something that would match any style. I just want to also give him something today.
By the time I finally make it to Mr McDean’s stand I’ve bought three books —Frankenstein, Coraline and Jane Eyre— and the bracelet. Mr McDean is probably seventy, with white hair perfectly combed. He actually looks like Geppetto with the thick white moustache and the spectacles at the end of his nose, wearing a shirt and a bowtie, a vest and a blazer. I wish he would be my grandfather.
“Hello, dear,” he says to me in a raspy voice and I smile, looking at the display of books he has. There are three cats. A big ginger one, a black one and a coloured one —white, black and brown— and they are all sleeping on top of some book. I start petting the ginger one and it starts purring, stirring a bit just to get comfortable again and keep sleeping.
“Hi,” I say, still petting the cat. It’s so warm and fluffy. “Are these yours?” I ask, not referring to the books but to the cats.
“Oh yes, Marie got them years ago when we accepted our kids wouldn’t come to visit anymore. She left but I still have these fur balls,” he laughs and my eyes widen when I get the meaning of his words.
“I’m so sorry,” I say and he smiles sadly.
“It’s normal at my age,” he says and I wonder how old he really is. “One day I’ll meet her again and I bet these cats will still be alive,” he laughs and I keep petting the cat. “The one you’re petting is Othello, the black one is Iago. He is as mean and clever as the character! And the lovely one sleeping there is Desdemona,” Mr McDean says and I smile widely, noticing yet another reference to Shakespeare.
“They are all lovely,” I say. “And soft.”
“And lazy,” Mr McDean says and I laugh. “Is there a play you would like to read?”
I look around and I see all the offers. Some of them are known to me, some are not. I see Educating Rita and smile when I remember the reference to Doctor Who in that particular play. That was my favourite part. I of course notice all the Shakespearean plays and I have a hard time trying to decide which one I could buy. Definitely not Romeo and Juliet. I can actually feel Moni’s anger and hatred every time she thinks of that play.
I leave Othello the cat alone and start seeing the books more carefully. Mr McDean is a lovely old man and I want to buy a book from him, I just don’t know which one. I grab Macbeth and start to see which version is but I don’t know what happens next. Me happens, I guess, because somehow I drop the book to the floor, waking up the cats, and as I kneel to pick it up I hit the table with my forehead and lose my balance, landing on my bum.
“Ouch,” I complain but then I laugh at my own clumsiness.
“Oh dear, are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?” Mr McDean asks, leaning over the table to make sure I didn't kill myself.
“Yeah, yeah, just me being clumsy,” I reply grabbing the book and trying to stand up with my dignity intact. It doesn’t work, I know I’m blushing and I probably have a mark on my forehead.
Mr McDean watches me carefully, maybe making sure I don’t have a concussion or something but I’m actually all right. These kinds of things happen to me all the time. I’m just clumsy.
“You remind me of this young boy,” he speaks, smiling kindly at me. “He’s very clumsy but he always smiles after something happens. He came yesterday and almost destroyed my stand,” Mr McDean laughs but my eyes widen in shock, suspecting. “He’s a nice lad.”
“Did he give you something? Like, let’s say, a letter for someone?”
Mr McDean looks at me with eyes wide open and his smile changes. “Oh, you’re the girl. Macarena, right?” he asks and I nod, feeling my cheeks heating up for a different reason this time. “Oh yes, he talked a lot about you, dear, and yes, he gave me a letter for you. Oh, he will be so happy when he meets you.”
I look down with an awkward smile sneaking up to my lips. I don’t know what to say.
“He’s a really nice boy. He always helps me and he comes to visit at least once a month. My best student in a long, long time. He took the course the last time I gave it in university,” he tells me and this time I look at him. So my stranger took a class of Shakespeare. I wonder why. Maybe he studied literature.
“You taught Shakespeare, right?” I ask and he nods. “I also had a course of Shakespeare in Uni. I enjoyed it very much,” I tell him and he smiles shows a devotion that makes me smile, too.
“Shakespeare is magical and eternal and he will always be. A genius,” he says and I can only agree. “When you two meet maybe you can come visit me together and we can have a whole discussion about this. I would love to talk about some of the plays you didn’t see,” he offers and that actually sounds delightful.
“I would love that,” I tell him and his smile is bright.
“Oh dear, you two will get on wonderfully,” he says. “Oh, but don’t let me delay you with all my talk! I have to give you the letter. The letter, the letter,” he repeats as he looks for a book. He grabs Henry V and hands it to me. “The letter is inside you can keep the book. A gift,” he says and my eyes widen.
“I couldn’t—”
“Please, I insist,” he says and something in his eyes tell me I can’t even try to refuse.
“Thank you,” I finally say taking the book. I can notice immediately where the letter is kept.
I look at Mr McDean, happy to have met him today and grateful for the present. “Go,” he says, smiling at me and I nod. It’s time to find the next letter.
-:-:-
Shakespeare <3 Did you know Iago is probably my favourite Shakespearean character? "Demand me nothing, what you know you know" *sighs* Anyhow, I hope you liked the chapter. Please leave a comment and a vote if you did! I'll be giving dedication to the best comment.
What about 200 votes for a new update?
Bel, xx
PS: Remember you can contact me on twitter @BelWatson I always reply there.