9 SOMET ING WI D AND BEAUTIFU
here was something special about Pages & Co. first thing in the morning, especially if you were the only one in the shop. There was an air of expectation and endless possibility stacked neatly along the tidy shelves, adventure tucked between dust jackets. Tilly sat cross-legged on the emerald-green velvet sofa by the fireplace, and watched the snow fall outside. The shop was still chilly, and Tilly’s hands were wrapped round a hot cup of a home-made concoction that Grandma called mulled Ribena. She sipped carefully as the snowflakes danced and settled on the glass. ‘I sometimes imagine they are tiny dancing snow sprites,’ a familiar voice said, and Tilly turned to see - 83 -
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Anne Shirley, the heroine of one of Tilly’s favourite books, sitting at the other end of the sofa staring out of the window in wonder. ‘Oh!’ Tilly said abruptly, looking at her. ‘Anne . . . Do you know that your hair is green?’ Anne turned and looked at her mournfully. ‘I have had such a terrible time of it. You would scarcely believe it could all happen to one person,’ she said dejectedly. ‘Truly the fates are against me. I thought I was dyeing it a beautiful, elegant raven black, but the man I bought the dye from at the doorstep has cruelly taken advantage of my vanity and, well, look. I have been washing it furiously for three days straight now and no change. My life in the most glittering of social circles has ended before it had a chance to even begin. It is one thing to go to a dance as a redhead, but quite another to make an entrance with green hair, especially in a town so ravenous for gossip as Avonlea. Just imagine what Rachel Lynde would say if she saw me!’ She flopped her head dramatically on to the back of the sofa and let out a groan of woe. ‘I - 84 -
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am far too embarrassed to leave Green Gables – I will only permit dear Diana to visit as she is able to behave in the sombre manner that befits the situation – and so it’s a pleasant surprise to find myself here. Were you thinking of me?’ ‘I suppose I must have been in some way, for you to arrive,’ Tilly said. ‘And do you know, short hair is very fashionable here? You could always cut it.’ ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Anne said solemnly. ‘Why, the only thing worse than green hair would be short green hair. And if it comes to that I think I shall have to withdraw from polite society entirely.’ ‘Well, fingers crossed it doesn’t come to that,’ Tilly said weakly, knowing – from having reread Anne of Green Gables just the other week – that it was destined to turn out exactly like that. Anne rested her green head on Tilly’s shoulder and sighed. ‘Winter is the most magical time of year, isn’t it?’ ‘You say that about every season,’ Tilly said affectionately. ‘Perhaps,’ Anne said. ‘But the important thing is - 85 -
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that I mean it fiercely in the moment. I do sometimes find that I mean things wholly and entirely when I say them only to discover that the next day, or the next season, my opinions have changed. Marilla says this makes no matter, and that falsehoods dressed up as enthusiasm are still falsehoods, but I think that if you mean something sincerely when you say it then it is the truth, whatever happens next, and that enthusiasm is a very good reason for almost anything – especially winter.’ ‘I wonder what winter in Paris will be like,’ Tilly mused. ‘You’re going to Paris?’ Anne said, sitting bolt upright. ‘Why how perfectly romantic! When are you going?’ ‘Very soon,’ Tilly said. ‘Our train leaves St Pancras station just before lunchtime, I think. Although I’m not sure it’s a - 86 -
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good time to be going . . .’ ‘Whyever not?’ Anne asked. ‘I should have thought that there was no such thing as a bad time to go to Paris!’ ‘Well, a lot has been going on here,’ Tilly said. ‘And I don’t really know where I fit into it all. Grandma and Grandad say they’re going to fix everything while we’re away but I don’t really see how they will be able to do that, and Amelia – our friend – has lost her job, and no one seems worried about what Chalk is up to. And I just don’t know what anything means, and it feels strange to just pop over to Paris for a holiday when everyone seems so stressed and my mum is still so sad.’ ‘She’s still sad?’ Anne asked gently. ‘Yes,’ Tilly said. ‘And she basically stays here all the time. She hasn’t gone into any stories since we said goodbye to my dad, and she won’t even talk to me about it either. It’s like we’re strangers.’ ‘Well, it must be ever so peculiar to go from having a newborn daughter one day and then, suddenly, - 87 -
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the next time you see her, she’s eleven and a whole proper person with her own dreams and memories and desires,’ Anne said. ‘It’s one of those ideas that sounds like it might be quite romantic if you read it in a book but when it happens to one of your bosom friends, you can’t help but worry it’s a little confusing and tragic.’ ‘I mean, I’m not sure I’d go quite as far as tragic,’ Tilly said, bristling. ‘At least she’s back now. You shouldn’t feel sorry for me.’ ‘I don’t at all,’ Anne said earnestly. ‘How could I feel sorry for someone who lives in a bookshop and has two grandparents, and one whole mother to love her, and is going to Paris in the snow! Why I would never trade Green Gables for anything, but I would not be so sad to have your lot in life.’ ‘I suppose so,’ Tilly said, trying to feel as lucky as she knew she was, really. The sound of the kitchen door banging made her jump, and she looked up to see Grandma heading her way. - 88 -
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