Emma followed as he began to push the trolley again. ‘We could look. If not, I’m sure they’ll have some just as nice a bit cheaper. So what do you think I should do?’
‘About what?’
‘The future… my job…’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘But you must have thoughts.’
‘If I air them we’re likely to have cross words.’
‘Why?’
Her dad looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘Because it always ends that way.’
‘Only when you’re telling me to get rid of Dougie.’
‘Since you’re asking me I’ll tell you again that he’s a big part of your problem as far as I can see. Your future would be a lot brighter without him in it; everyone but you can see that.’
She was silent for a moment as he raked the shelves for his sausages, and then she replied. ‘Maybe I’m beginning to see it,’ she said in a small voice.
‘About time,’ was all her dad said, though she couldn’t help but notice he looked pleased.
‘I haven’t said I’m leaving him,’ she warned. ‘There’s no need to be smug about it.’
‘I’m not being smug. I only said I’m glad you’re starting to see sense. I don’t know what hold that boy has over you but I know he’s not good for you; he takes advantage of your good nature. You’re like your mum in that respect too, but even she wouldn’t have let someone like him walk all over her.’
‘He doesn’t,’ Emma said, knowing that he did, but that old unshakeable impulse to defend him had taken hold again.
‘See… there’s no talking to you where he’s concerned. I told you it would get ugly if we started this conversation.’
‘It isn’t getting ugly.’
‘Hmm. Sausages are full price again…’ Her dad held up another pack. ‘These look alright, don’t they?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right.’ He put them in the trolley. ‘I’ll give them a whirl tomorrow with a bit of mash.’
Emma watched the sausages go in. Here she was, trying to get to grips with a future that seemed nebulous, unknowable, bigger than she was capable of comprehending, pondering a crossroads in her life… and her dad was deciding what to have for tomorrow’s supper. It was no wonder she couldn’t figure anything out – there were always too many distractions, too much else to think about. She could never see her future because her present was full of cleaning and cooking and bailing out Margot and making sure her dad ate spinach.
Though she barely knew her, she was finding herself increasingly envious of Tia’s choices, of her clarity and focus. Tia knew what she wanted and, even if she didn’t get it, it meant she was one up on Emma, who didn’t even know where to start. Emma had always refused to be bitter about her circumstances or to begrudge anyone more fortunate ones, but sometimes she found it hard.
‘Maybe you should start your own business,’ her dad said suddenly.
Emma looked at him. ‘What on earth would I do? Ironing lady… that’s about my skill set.’
‘People do set up ironing services,’ he said practically. ‘I’ve seen them. They must do OK or nobody would bother.’
‘Imagine ironing all day. I don’t mind doing a bit but that would make me go mad.’
‘You get people to help, don’t you?’
‘I don’t think so, Dad.’
‘Well, what’s this woman doing?’
‘Who?’
‘This girl from school.’
‘Tia?’
‘Yes, you said she needed a partner.’
‘I must admit I’ve thought about it, but she needs them to have a lot of money and I don’t have a lot of money.’
‘Dorset, you say…’
‘Yes.’
‘I like Dorset. Your mum used to like Dorset too. It’s a long time since I’ve been there.’
‘I can just about remember going to Weymouth on holiday one year when I was a kid.’
‘That’ll be the last time I was there, I expect. I can’t think I’ve been since that trip. If you want to go and have a look at this place I’d go with you.’
‘Look at it?’ Emma handed him the pack of butter she knew he bought every week without fail. He dropped it in with the rest of his shopping.
‘Why not? What have you got to lose? It’s clear it’s caught your imagination.’
‘Is it?’
‘Look at it. If you get there and it’s obvious it’s too big to tackle then you can put it out of your mind and move on.’
‘What if I like it?’
‘Then you could tell this woman you’re in.’
‘But I don’t have the money to be in.’
‘I have some. You know I’ve told you before I can get at it if you need help.’
‘It’s your house!’
‘The house won’t be going anywhere. When I die it’ll go to you and Elise anyway, so have your share before I die or after – makes no difference to me. As long as I can live there until I snuff it I don’t care how much of it I own.’
‘Of course you’d be able to live in it! Regardless, I still don’t feel comfortable about taking money from your house, and even then I don’t know if it would be enough.’
‘This is all just talk until you find out more. See your friend and put it to her. Ask her what she’d need to cut you in.’
Emma shook her head slowly as she stared at the yogurts. He made it sound like a poker game rather than a huge, life-changing risk.
‘This is crazy,’ she said. ‘I’d probably have to sell my house too. What would Dougie do?’
‘Wouldn’t he go to Dorset with you?’
‘I’ve never thought about it. I suppose I’d have to put it to him, but I doubt very much he’d want to. All his friends are here.’
‘In that case, all the more reason for you to go, as far as I can tell.’
‘Dad…’ Emma warned, but a bit of her thought that he might have a point.
Emma looked across to the sofa where Dougie was slouched watching an old James Bond movie. They’d had a surprisingly pleasant evening – civil and good-natured – and they’d even shared the sort of sparring banter that Emma had loved as part of their relationship in the early days. Dougie’s humour had been one of his biggest attractions and she’d missed it of late.
He swiped to take a call that had just come through on his phone.
‘Yep…’ He was frowning slightly, but then the confusion cleared from his features as the call went on. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said, ‘I remember. Of course… Yeah, I’m still interested…’ He glanced at Emma, who was pretending not to listen but absolutely was. He’d have known it too. ‘Yeah,’ he continued, ‘I can be there Monday no probs.’ He winked at Emma now and she couldn’t help a grin.
Sometimes it was hard to remember why she’d fallen for Dougie, but on occasions like this he’d remind her and she’d wonder why she’d ever doubted their future together. Perhaps this was all normal, she told herself now – not for the first time. Perhaps it was supposed to get a little harder; perhaps you were supposed to work a little more at love when the shine of the new had worn off. Maybe that was the way you earned happiness – or at least, if not total happiness, then contentment. And maybe that was OK.
‘Eight on Monday… Report to the foreman’s hut. Got it, yep… See you then. Cheers.’
Dougie put his phone away and lay back on the sofa, hands behind his head, looking pleased with himself.
‘You got a job?’ Emma asked.
‘Of course I did,’ he said with a grin. ‘Did you doubt me?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Liar!’
‘Well maybe a little bit. I was wrong, wasn’t I?’
‘Yep.’
‘It’s brilliant, Dougie. I’m glad to be wrong.’
‘Sometimes you could have a bit more faith in me.’
‘You’re right – I should have more faith.’
‘So you’ll never doubt me again?’
/> ‘Never,’ she said, going over to kiss him. ‘Let’s hope you can keep this one, eh?’
Chapter Seven
Monday morning came around quickly, as it always did. Dougie had left for work by the time Emma went off to Burnbury’s to start her own week. He’d kissed her sleepy mouth, told her he’d see her later, and she’d groggily wished him good luck.
‘I’ll hardly need that,’ he said as he left. ‘It’s only warehouse work; I could do it with my eyes shut.’
‘Please don’t – it might not go down very well.’
Margot was in a better mood than she’d been the week before. A distant aunt had left her a pot of money and she was already spending it, starting with booking a fortnight in Antigua. Emma couldn’t help but think back to her dad’s remark – lucky makes luck. If that were true, Margot was proof of it; one of those blessed people who sailed through life doing as little as she could get away with and yet still having everything she needed and more just falling into her lap. Maybe, Emma reflected wryly as she listened to Margot phone just about everyone she knew to tell them about her good fortune, she needed to change tack. Perhaps if she stopped caring about everyone and everything, a bit of luck would come her way too.
But then, later at home, she forgot about all that. Dougie had got in just before her and on the way had picked up beers and a Chinese takeaway. He’d told her it was an indulgence to celebrate his new job, and they had the most relaxed evening they’d had in ages. Maybe Lady Luck was treating Emma just fine after all; she had a nice house, a good man, they were both working again, and surely things would start looking up from now on.
Tuesday began in much the same way as Monday, only Dougie had left the house with a touch less enthusiasm and when Emma arrived at work Margot was back to her cynically lazy self. She was utterly brassed off because she’d discovered that some illegitimate cousin had laid claim to half the distant aunt’s money and ‘wasn’t it a bloody liberty’. She’d dealt with the disappointment by giving Emma a woefully out-of-date spreadsheet of overtime payments that were now two months overdue and had disgruntled employees chasing them. Of course, this was Margot’s job, Margot’s mess, but Emma’s to clear up.
Tuesday ended with Dougie making beans on toast for her and letting her choose what they watched on TV.
Wednesday morning came and went without incident. At work, Margot had a pretend migraine and so had to divert all her incoming calls to Emma’s phone. While she had a five-hour lie-down in the Portakabin they sometimes lent out to exhausted drivers for a sleep, Emma quietly got on with everything in the office and secretly enjoyed her absence.
At home Dougie went out to buy them a portion of fish and chips to share, and it was at this point that Emma started to get suspicious.
‘Work’s still going well?’ she asked as they buttered bread to go with their meal.
‘Good, yeah. Boss says at this rate I’ll be taking his job, I’m picking it up so quick.’
‘Well you have the qualifications to progress and they know that,’ Emma replied. ‘They must have all that info on your CV after all. They’re probably realising they’ve stumbled across a little gem.’
‘That’s the first time I’ve been called a little gem,’ Dougie said with a laugh.
Emma began to unwrap the chips. ‘Oh dear; I hope it hasn’t put too much of a dent in your masculinity.’
‘I can cope.’ He took some bread and butter from the pile she’d just placed between them on the table.
‘So…’ She sat down and tried to maintain the air of a casual chat. ‘Anything else happened?’
He looked up sharply from his plate. ‘Like what?’
‘Oh, nothing in particular. It’s just that you haven’t said much about work since Monday. What are your colleagues like? There’s a canteen, right? The food’s good? Are you rushed off your feet or is it OK?’
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘Canteen’s alright. Workmates are pretty much your typical warehouse crowd and it gets busy but it’s OK. Makes the day go quicker when it’s busy.’
‘I suppose it does,’ Emma said before she decided to eat her food and say no more about it.
On Thursday Dougie didn’t come to kiss her before he left for work. Though it troubled her slightly, she had to assume he was in a rush. She was happy to forgo a kiss if it meant not making him late.
Margot’s migraine had gone but she now had ‘women’s problems’ and kept disappearing for hours on end. On another occasion Emma might have found it annoying but instead she just savoured the peace in the office; if all her days could be like this she might not mind working in HR so much.
When she got home Dougie was out. She sent him a text to ask when he’d be back so she could cook, and he replied saying he was doing overtime and didn’t know when he’d be in so not to bother. So she warmed up a curry from the freezer and ate in silent contemplation of a universe in which Dougie willingly stayed behind to work extra hours. Maybe he liked this job after all. Maybe he’d realised it was time he brought more money into the house. Maybe he’d finally grown up. Whatever the reason, Emma appreciated that he was making the effort. Over the past few months she’d grown sick of nagging about his unemployment, and he must have been sick of hearing it. If they could finally start pulling together as a team domestically as well as as a couple, it would be nice to see some tranquillity descend on the house as a result.
Emma fell asleep on the sofa and was woken by Dougie coming in around nine.
‘You worked all that time?’ she asked, bleary-eyed and confused.
‘Yeah, babes, I’m knackered. Going to bed.’
‘I’m not surprised. You don’t want to eat first?’
‘I’m alright, just tired. See you tomorrow, yeah?’
‘I’ll be up shortly,’ she called after him.
‘I’ll be asleep by then, babes,’ he called back.
By the time she’d tidied and checked the house before going up she was wide awake again. Typical, she thought, as she made another cup of tea.
Friday morning. Emma woke when Dougie’s alarm went off and decided she might as well get up too so she could see something of him this morning before he left.
‘End of the week already,’ she said, rolling over to face him as he pulled on a pair of joggers in the half light of the dawn.
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s been OK, though? At the warehouse, I mean? This one might be a keeper?’
‘It’s alright,’ he said. ‘It’ll do for now.’
‘That’s OK then. You can do it for a bit and if you still feel it’s not challenging enough you can look for something else at the same company or elsewhere. The main thing is you’re working now. I can’t tell you how much stress it takes off me knowing we’re both bringing a wage in.’
He nodded briefly and pulled a T-shirt over his head. Then he dragged his shoulder-length hair into a band at the nape of his neck.
‘You’re not working overtime tonight?’ Emma asked.
‘Don’t know. Why?’
‘I thought I might cook something nice – celebrate the end of your first week.’
‘You don’t need to; it’s not that big a deal.’
‘But I want to.’
‘Well… whatever.’
‘Want me to make some breakfast?’
‘I’m alright… not hungry.’
‘But you’ll be hungry in an hour and lugging stuff around on an empty stomach in that warehouse will do you no good. At least take a slice of toast to eat on the go so you’ll have something—’
‘Babes, I’m fine. Go back to sleep.’
‘I can’t; I’m awake now.’
She was about to say something else when Dougie grabbed his trainers and dashed from the bedroom.
‘See you later!’ he shouted as he went.
Emma lay back on her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. He really was taking this job seriously.
When she got into work herself, Margot was eating h
er second (or maybe even third) breakfast and reading the paper. That took her until 10 a.m., by which time Emma had processed all that week’s driver expenses. Then Margot went outside to take a private call – which lasted another hour and must have been very private indeed because she usually didn’t care about taking personal calls in the office. When she came back in she announced that her blood sugar was low and she needed tea and biscuits or she’d faint. Emma let out a sigh as Margot left the office again to go to the kitchen, and for the first time that week she allowed herself a moment to imagine running off to Dorset with Tia to rescue a beautiful old railway station.
She hadn’t spoken to Tia since the day of her raffle win, and she supposed her new friend was now busy, boosted by the welcome advantage of the extra cash and trying to raise the remainder of what she needed. After the conversation with her dad about it at the supermarket, Emma had decided once again that it was a reckless endangerment of the money her dad had worked so hard all his life for and she wouldn’t risk it, no matter what he said about inheritances and fresh starts or being captain of her own ship or any other such wisdom he sometimes liked to spout. If she lost that money – and there was every chance she might on such a risky venture – she’d never be able to face him again for the shame and guilt. Still, she could daydream about what that life might be like…
The week with Dougie so far had been calm, even promising, and at least that was one thing to cling to when her own day in the office wasn’t going so well. She tried to shake thoughts of Dorset and focus on making her relationship with Dougie a success, which was a far more realistic prospect.
Margot managed to make it through to twelve thirty before she decided she had to eat lunch. Her break took them to 2 p.m. Emma ate her sandwiches at her desk while she processed some holiday requests. Then Margot needed a hot chocolate from the drive-through coffee house down the road (to her credit she offered to get Emma one too) which got them to 3 p.m. At four thirty, after messing around with the printer for an hour trying to change the toner cartridge, Margot announced she was taking half an hour of time owed to her (for what, Emma had no idea) so she could make a hair appointment and rushed off, leaving Emma wrapping up the week’s work.
The Hotel at Honeymoon Station : A totally heartwarming romance about new beginnings Page 8
