by Rachel Ward
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That’s a shame. I was thinking you were better than that.’
He was off balance again now. She had the upper hand in this conversation.
‘I’m only messing,’ he said. ‘Trying to impress.’
‘You don’t need to. Just tell me about yourself.’
‘I’d rather talk about you,’ he said.
She threw her arms out wide. ‘What do you want to know?’
Everything, thought Ant. I want to know everything about you – your family, the music you like, your favourite films, whether you like ketchup or mayo on your chips, if you’re a good dancer, what your breath smells like first thing in the morning.
‘Ant?’ she said, and he realised he was just standing there, staring at her. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Better start at the beginning,’ he said. ‘I’m really sorry, but I can’t even remember your name.’
19
‘I don’t know about the pub,’ Bea said. ‘I should get home really. My mum’s on her own.’
Jay looked like she’d just told a joke but he didn’t understand the punchline. ‘And your mum is how old?’
‘Fifty-three, but she’s . . .it’s complicated.’
‘You can tell me. Sit down, Bea.’
‘It’s a bit cold, isn’t it?’
Jay grinned. ‘So let’s sit in a nice warm pub and you can tell me why you can’t be there.’
Bea dithered before deciding, ‘Twenty minutes can’t hurt, can it?’
‘We can go to one near yours, so we’re nearly home anyway. Is it the Jubilee round your way?’
‘Yeah, it’s a bit of hole, though.’
‘I can cope with twenty minutes in a hole. Come on.’
In fact, Bea found herself telling Jay about her mum, and her dad, on their walk to the pub, past the bungalows and across the rec. By the time they got there she’d pretty much told him her life story. He bought them both a half of cider and they found a corner to sit in.
‘So what about you?’ said Bea. ‘Where do you call home?’
Jay pulled a face. ‘Kingsleigh is home for now. But my parents live in Hampshire. They’ve just moved there. They move every few years, so nowhere’s really home.’
‘I don’t even know where Hampshire is.’
‘It’s kind of southish, below London.’
They were sitting on opposite sides of a small table, both leaning in on their elbows. It felt intimate.
‘So do they live in a town?’
‘Converted farmhouse in the middle of a field. It’s quite nice. There’s a tennis court and an outdoor swimming pool.’
Bea swallowed her mouthful of cider quickly to stop herself spitting it out. ‘There’s a what now?’
‘A tennis court and a swimming pool. Crazy, right? None of us even play tennis.’
Bea looked him up and down – his jeans and trainers were muddy. His hoodie had seen better days. She’d assumed that he was a bit like her, scraping by, just coping, but he was practically landed gentry. For a brief moment, she pictured herself reclining on a sun lounger, drinking some sort of cocktail out of a slim-stemmed glass, watching Jay, in only the skimpiest of swimming trunks, dive into a crystal blue pool . . .
‘Bea?’ She came to and found Jay looking at her intently. ‘You all right? You seemed kind of absent.’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. I just, um, you know . . .a fucking swimming pool? ’Scuse my language.’
‘It doesn’t matter, though, does it? It’s just stuff.’
‘It matters if you haven’t got it.’
A silence fell between them. It was almost physical, pushing them apart. Bea sat up and leaned back in her seat. Jay mirrored her.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I guess it was kind of thoughtless. It’s my parents, it’s not me. They’re not me and I’m not them.’
‘You don’t have to apologise, Jay. It’s just, I dunno . . .we’re just different. Coming from different places.’
‘Yeah, but that’s not a bad thing. Not if we meet in the middle.’
Another silence but this time it was a melting thing, dissolving the distance between them, pulling them together. They looked at each other. Bea could see little images of herself reflected in her eyes. She didn’t know why someone like him would be interested in someone like her, but he was. Maybe it was a happy new year after all.
Her phone vibrated on the table between them. Bea hated herself for checking the screen. A text coming in from her mum, of course. What else would it be? She clocked the time. They’d been there far longer than she thought. The spell was broken.
‘I’d better get back,’ she said.
‘Sure,’ said Jay. ‘Hang on, let me send you that link I told you about.’ He whipped out his phone and tapped at the screen. Bea’s phone buzzed again as the message came in.
‘I’ll walk you back, shall I?’ Jay said. ‘I’ll just nip to the bog.’
Bea put her coat on as she waited. When he reappeared, they pocketed their phones and walked out into the night.
‘You don’t need to walk me home,’ she said.
‘I’d like to,’ said Jay.
There were footsteps behind them. Bea glanced over her shoulder. Two men had followed them out of the pub. Now they were both sheltering a little way down from the doorway, lighting cigarettes.
Bea and Jay left the pub car park, walked along the row of shops and then turned into her estate. As they turned the corner a jogger the size of a small mountain passed them, going the other way. He had to step off the pavement into the road to avoid them.
‘Sorry, mate,’ Jay called out to him.
The guy just grunted and carried on running, hood up, head down.
‘I think that was Tank,’ said Bea.
‘The guy you saw with the cat?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Bloody hell, he’s fucking massive. Does he live round here?’
‘No,’ said Bea. ‘He lives near Ant’s mate Saggy. Other side of town. I’ve seen him jogging here before.’
‘Hmm, glad I am walking with you now.’
‘I can look after myself, you know,’ said Bea, ‘but, yeah, I’m glad too.’ They’d reached her house now. ‘This is me.’
They stood slightly awkwardly, in a weird sort of limbo. They hadn’t exactly been on a date. Nothing had really been said. But, Bea thought, they had definitely had a moment.
‘Night, then,’ she said. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Yeah. See you, Bea.’
She started turning to open the garden gate, when Jay swooped in and kissed her. He got her smack on the mouth – a quick, soft, gone-before-you’d-felt-it sort of kiss.
‘Oops, wasn’t expecting you to move,’ said Jay. ‘I was aiming for your cheek.’
‘Oh. Right,’ said Bea, a bit nonplussed both by the kiss and the disclaimer coming straight afterwards. ‘I’ll stand still next time. If there is a next time.’
‘Um, I’m not sure about that,’ he said, then kind of bashed his hand against his forehead. ‘The standing still, not the next time bit. I’d like there to be a next time.’
‘Oh, so would I.’
‘Okay, I’m going to go before one of us actually dies of embarrassment. Night, Bea.’
‘Night, Jay.’
20
The next morning, Bea spotted Ant trundling a stock trolley through the store. It was piled high with all sorts of odds and ends. He clocked her and swung by her checkout.
‘I’ve got so much to tell you!’ she said, excitedly.
‘Yeah? Is Goldie all right?’
‘Yes, should be able to get her this evening. You look like you’re meant to be somewhere.’ Bea tipped her head towards the trolley.
‘Got me helping Eileen,’ he said, pulling a face. He and Eileen had never seen eye to eye.
‘For the new Crazy Aisle? Blimey, George doesn’t waste any time, does she?’
‘Nah. But
guess what she’s really calling it.’
‘I dunno. Crap corner? Desperate deals?’
‘Last Chance to Buy.’
‘Ooh, that’s genius. They do that in clothes shops, don’t they? Make it seem like you need to snap the things up, because they’re selling so fast. She’s got her head screwed on, that one. Here, let’s have a look.’
Bea got up from her chair and walked round to inspect Ant’s trolley. It was full of the sort of ephemera that comes and goes with the commercial tide – promotional goods tied to films, comics and kids’ TV series.
‘Is it wrong that I love all this?’ said Bea. ‘Ooh, I really love this.’ She picked up a plush toy – a tiny girl in a mask and cape.
Ant sighed. ‘That how you see yourself, is it? Mild-mannered checkout girl by day, crime-fighting superhero by night?’
‘I didn’t, but I do now! How much is she?’ She examined the label. ‘Was £6.99, now £3.00. Even less with my discount. Sold! Actually, I’ll take two. I’ll get Kirsty to put them through her till at the end of my shift.’ She took the little figures and set them next to her screen. ‘Let’s meet up later,’ she said to Ant.
‘Yeah. I’ve got stuff to tell you too. My contact’s come through.’ He tapped the side of his nose and started trundling the trolley towards aisle fifteen, walking at a faster pace than usual. If she didn’t know better, Bea would have said there was almost a spring in his step.
‘You know I saw some sort of deal going on in the pub the other night?’
Ant grunted, too busy with the chips and beans that Bea had paid for, taking pity on his ‘cashflow crisis’.
‘Well, one of the guys involved was a customer at Costsave. Jay recognised him, and I found out who the other one is.’
‘Yeah?’
‘He’s a vet. He works at that big practice in Livingstone Lane where we took Goldie. He’s called Simon.’
‘Hmm, I wonder who was dealing what to who,’ said Ant. ‘You picking Goldie up later? How’s she doing, by the way? Any news?’
‘Yeah,’ said Bea. ‘God knows how I’m going to pay the bill.’
‘Ask George, maybe? Costsave to the rescue? Charles and Goldie could be our second Costsave charity.’
‘Hmm. Maybe. I’ve got to do something. I haven’t got that sort of money.’
Ant’s fork hovered midway between his plate and his mouth, and Bea realised the awkwardness. ‘I can afford to buy you some chips, mate. Eat up.’
‘Cheers,’ he said, a bit glumly. ‘Bloody money. Shall we just rob a bank, Bea?’
She snorted. ‘Yeah, maybe. You get tired of just scraping a living, don’t you?’
There was condensation on the window next to them, as the warm, greasy air of the café met the cold glass. It blotted out the world outside, but there was no escaping reality, thought Bea. The day-to-day grind just went on and on.
Ant grunted his agreement. ‘I need some spending money, Bea. I’ve . . .’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve met someone.’
‘Yeah?’
‘She’s called Ayesha. She’s really nice. I’d like to see her again, but how can I take her out with no spends at all?’
‘Hmm, I could lend you a tenner, just until payday.’
‘No. I can’t keep taking your money. I’ll have to work something out. Do a bit of buying or selling or something.’
This was straying onto dodgy territory. To distract him, Bea steered the conversation back to their case. ‘The cat thing, did your informant have any information?’
‘No, he just said that Dean and Tank are both busy. In and out of the street. They’re up to something. I’ve asked him to keep tabs on them and report back.’ He hoovered up the rest of the chips and grabbed a slice of bread to wipe up the bean juice.
‘Who is your informant, Ant?’ Bea raised her eyebrows.
‘Saggy,’ he said.
She groaned. ‘Saggy? Can’t you do better than that?’
‘Give over. He’s the man on the ground, Bea. He lives two doors down from Tank. He’s the actual best spy we could have.’
‘I saw Tank last night,’ she said.
‘Yeah?’
‘He was jogging near where I live, up along the top of the rec.’
‘That’s a good mile from where he lives. Are you sure it was him?’
‘Positive. Unless he’s got a twin or a doppelgänger.’ She registered the baffled look on Ant’s face. ‘Someone who looks the same. Spitting image. Me and Jay both saw him.’
‘You and Jay?’
‘We went for a drink in the Jubilee after work.’
‘You and me both on dates. Nice.’
‘It wasn’t a date, it was just a drink.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ She felt an unwelcome warmth spreading into her face.
‘Anyway, do you think the next step is following him?’
‘Jay?’
‘Tank.’ Ant sat back in his chair, seeming to savour the feeling of a full stomach.
‘What, jogging?’ said Bea. ‘Don’t think so. Anyway how you could tail someone in Kingsleigh? It’s so quiet, you couldn’t do it without being seen.’
‘Good point. Maybe we don’t follow him or Dean. Maybe we go back to that farm.’
At the thought of those sad buildings grouped around the cold, shady yard, Bea shivered. ‘Maybe,’ she said, ‘but for now we’d better get back to good old Costsave, earn our crust.’
They scraped back their chairs.
‘Bea,’ said Ant, remembering the swag in his pocket, ‘do you need any socks? I reckon I could do you a good deal on some.’
21
Before Bea had steeled her nerve to speak to George about the vet’s bill, Bob stepped in.
‘I’ve been texting your mum,’ he told Bea as they walked onto the shop floor after lunch. ‘I’m going to give her a lift to pick up Goldie, and I’ll cover the bill.’
‘Bob, it could be hundreds.’
‘’S all right. If Charles is a secret millionaire I’ll get it back from him. If not, no worries. She’s our dog now, isn’t she?’
Bea had a weird rushing sensation inside her head. Our dog. Did Bob mean he was part of the family now – Bea, Queenie, Goldie and Bob? Oh my God, she thought, he’s going to ask me to call him Dad next.
‘It’s like all those pets on Blue Peter – they sort of belong to everyone. Goldie belongs to all of us at Costsave.’
Relief flooded through her and she broke into a smile. ‘Yeah. That’s exactly it. The Costsave family.’
They caught each other’s eye, both aware of the echoes from Gavin, the previous manager, but neither of them said anything about him.
‘If you’re clocking off at five, I’ll give you a lift home, shall I?’ said Bob. ‘Then we can pick up your mum and go straight to the vet?’
‘Yeah. Great,’ said Bea. ‘Bob?’
‘What?’
What did she actually want to ask him? How did he feel about Queenie? Were his intentions honourable? What was going on with Dot? ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Just thanks.’
Dot was doing a short afternoon shift today, and the time seemed to fly by as she and Bea worked side by side.
‘I get to meet Jay today. Quite excited about it,’ said Dot. ‘He’ll be clocking on as I’m clocking off.’
At about four o’clock, Bea glanced up, and her stomach contracted. The next customer, already loading his shopping onto her conveyor belt, was Tank. He had six trays of meat – two stacks of three – as well as two large boxes of eggs, two bags of spinach, some salad and three four-pinters of milk.
‘Hi,’ said Bea, beeping the packs of frying steak, ‘these are good value, aren’t they? Just gone on offer this morning.’
Tank looked at her and grunted.
‘Plenty for the cat,’ she said, holding a large carton of milk.
‘Huh?’
‘You’ve got some to spare for your cat. I met you the other morning, remember?’
�
�Oh, right. Not my cat, but, yeah.’
He piled the shopping into a couple of plastic bags. Bea noticed there were fresh scabs and scars all over his big sausagey fingers. The sorts of injuries a cat would cause, fighting for its life?
‘Oh, right, not your cat,’ she repeated. ‘Whose was it?’
‘Huh?’
Bea winced inside, but ploughed on. ‘Whose cat was it?’
‘My grandad’s,’ he said, glancing away from Bea and then back again. ‘I was looking after it for him. What is this anyway, all these questions?’
Bea beeped the bags of salad and rang up the total. ‘Nothing,’ she said, trying to keep things casual. ‘I just . . .I’ve got a dog, I’m looking after it, too, like you, and well, I’ve started noticing other cats and dogs. It’s like you’re part of a club, isn’t it? Pet owners.’
He looked at her stolidly, then shook his head, dismissing her words as not worthy of a reply.
‘That’s twenty-eight pounds, thirty-five pence, please,’ Bea said.
He loaded the rest of his shopping into the bags, then took a wedge of cash out of his pocket and peeled off a couple of notes. Bea gave him his change and turned to greet her next customers, a husband and wife in their sixties wearing matching green anoraks. She started putting their shopping through when she realised that Tank was back, his considerable frame blocking out some of the light from the window.
She swivelled to face him, thinking he’d left something behind, or maybe she’d made a mistake with his change.
‘Dean’s told me about you,’ Tank said. ‘You’re the reason he lost his job.’
He was a big lad anyway, intimidating. Now he towered over Bea, oozing the threat of violence. She wondered if she should stand up, but really that wouldn’t help.
She needed to keep her nerve. ‘He lost that job all by himself.’ She reached for the call button next to her till and kept her finger hovering over it. She wasn’t confident that Neville would be able to move an intractable Tank, if it came to it, but perhaps some of the other staff would muck in.
‘You’re a stirrer. You need to keep this—’ he tapped the end of his nose with a battered index finger ‘—out.’
