I kept quiet, trying to take it all in. Was I buying this?
‘I don’t know, Phil,’ I said finally. ‘It all sounds pretty far-fetched.’
‘I realise that, I do. But I need you to believe me, Goose. I’m telling you the truth.’
This wasn’t like Phil at all. He hardly ever apologised, certainly not this profusely. I admit I felt a small thrill of power at that. I rarely held the power in our relationship. Not since the very beginning at least, when he was still pursuing me. I had always felt, deep down, that he was too good for me. I’d wondered why someone like him had chosen to love someone like me. So when I’d caught him with Frannie, it was really just a confirmation of my insecurities. That voice in your head, the one everyone says you should ignore. Turns out it was right all along.
Ordinarily, I would have started to thaw at this point. He would buy me a nice gift, shower me with flowers. And I’d cave—all would be forgiven. I hardened my heart. Not this time. This was not just some minor tiff. If I relented now, he would think that what he’d done was okay. I’d be on guard forever more.
‘I need to think it over,’ I said. ‘Weigh up everything you’ve said.’
‘Of course,’ Phil said. ‘Take another day if you need to.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘It has to be longer than that. You can’t just expect me to turn up tomorrow like everything’s okay.’
‘And just how long are you thinking exactly?’ I could hear the irritation returning to Phil’s voice. My natural impulse was to soothe it, to take the edge off, but I stood my ground.
‘A month.’
‘A month!’
‘That’s right. Time for us to reflect on things properly—what we both want from this relationship.’
There was another pause in the conversation. I could sense Phil’s mind whirring. Wondering if this was the best outcome he could hope for or if he should push his luck further. ‘And where are you going to stay?’ he said at last. ‘Can you tell me that?’ His voice sounded annoyingly triumphant, like he knew I had nowhere else to go.
The pause between us grew. Just as I heard him draw breath to say something else I blurted out, ‘Actually, I didn’t have the time to tell you yesterday…’ I paused again, not entirely sure where I was going with this.
‘Yes?’ said Phil. Then impatiently, ‘What, Daisy? What didn’t you have time to tell me?’ He sounded smug. He knew I was bluffing.
‘Um. The office wants me up in Derbyshire.’
‘What!’
‘That’s right. The meeting with Oliver, that’s what it was about. They’re launching a new, um…a new regional branch.’ Oh boy, I was getting on a bit of a roll here. ‘I don’t know if it’s going to be permanent or not or whether they just need me to get the intranet up and running. But, well, for the next thirty days, it’s all systems go.’
Phil was silent. No doubt stunned. He wasn’t the only one. What the hell had I just said?
‘Derbyshire?’ he said doubtfully. ‘Intranet? Seriously, Daisy?’
‘Yep. That’s where I’m calling you from now. Deepest, darkest Derbyshire.’
‘Where? A hotel?’
‘Err, that’s right.’ God, I was a terrible liar! ‘I’m in the lobby right now. I have to say, it’s pretty fancy. Oliver’s really splashed out.’
I looked around the bookshop’s upstairs room. For all its faded charm, chic it certainly wasn’t. Perhaps I was a better liar than I thought.
‘But you don’t have any of your things.’
‘Oh, that’s all taken care of,’ I said breezily.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Phil said.
‘How about, “Congratulations”?’
‘Yes, of course,’ he said uncertainly. ‘That all sounds wonderful. We’ll have to have a proper celebration when you get back.’
‘Before we do that, or anything else, we need to have a serious conversation about where we go from here as a couple,’ I said.
‘To be honest,’ said Phil, ‘this is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about for ages. I could kick myself for not doing it before now.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, still veering between exhilaration and blind panic over the whopping great lie I’d just told.
‘You and me,’ he said. ‘I think we should formalise things. I don’t see any point in putting it off any longer. It’s time I made an honest woman of you.’
If Phil’s aim was to wrong-foot me and wrest the advantage back, this massive bombshell had certainly done the trick.
‘You’re saying we should get married?’
‘I don’t want an answer now, of course,’ Phil said. ‘That wouldn’t be fair after everything that’s happened. All I’m asking is that you think about it and promise to hear me out at the end of the month.’
For another half dozen seconds, I struggled to formulate an answer. The best I could manage, utterly astonished, was a subdued, ‘Okay.’
‘Great,’ said Phil. ‘You won’t regret it, Goose. We’re a hell of a team, you and me.’
Fifteen
I struggled out of bed and walked in a daze to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face repeatedly. This did nothing to clear my head—does it ever?
I stared into the bathroom mirror at my gobsmacked reflection. I looked every bit as stunned as I felt. Had Phil really just proposed to me? Now? I’d thought nothing could top yesterday in terms of emotional upheaval. Turns out I was mistaken.
Through the floorboards directly below me, I heard the hubbub of conversation. One of these muffled voices sounded very much like Alex. I wondered if he was talking extra loudly, a little hint to get me to vacate the premises. Maybe he thought he had a squatter on his hands.
As I shuffled back into the bedroom, I laughed bleakly at my new situation. Thanks to my masterstroke in lying to Phil, I was in a worse pickle than yesterday afternoon. Instead of worrying where to spend the night, I had another twenty-nine to fret about.
It was time to get dressed and face the music. But I also needed just a little longer to compose myself. One last moment of quiet before I slunk out of the Bookshop Café and dragged myself off who knew where. To be honest, at this point, an extra few minutes wasn’t going to make any real difference.
I padded across the hardwood floor over to the window and peered out across an array of assorted rooftops and pretty gardens. The canal glinted serenely at my feet, and beyond that, rolling green hills, criss-crossed with crumbling stone walls. Here and there, flocks of plump, grazing sheep.
I fiddled with the latch and pushed up, grumbling a little when it stuck. Then the window slid open in one smooth motion. In came a whoosh of clean, fresh air.
Despite how much pretty countryside Britain had to offer, I’d spent most of my life in the city, rarely venturing out of the smoggy hub. Concrete under my feet and the ragged teeth of tower blocks above. I shivered at the image. It felt good to be away from honking traffic and constantly ringing phones. Not surrounded by a million people polluting the air with their wants and desires. Just me.
I breathed in the fresh air, feeling suddenly lighter, freer. People always said fresh air did you the world of good. Maybe they were right. As I stared out at the charming view, I tried drawing on it for inspiration. Wasn’t that another benefit of beautiful scenery—putting brilliant ideas in your head? Lord knows I’ve never had more need of a stroke of genius than right now.
No one was going to sort my life out for me. Somehow, I had to do it myself. I had no idea how, but this seemed like the perfect place to start trying.
Something stirred at the back of my mind. I tried to bring it into sharper focus. What I dredged up from the murky depths was an idle comment that Alex had made last night.
‘Pastry chef, short order cook, odd job man, and bookseller on a good day. You get to wear a lot of hats
around here. It’s one of the benefits of being chronically short-staffed.’
There you go, Daisy. A chronic staff shortage. We can’t have that now, can we? Someone should ride to this lovely man’s rescue. Who better than you?
I held the thought up to the light for inspection. Examined it. It wavered a little then held. Was it an inspired idea or simply bonkers? I wasn’t sure, but it was the best I could come up with at such short notice. I took another look out the window, and then back at the room, and nodded. I could see myself here for a month. It wouldn’t even be that much of a hardship, considering the alternatives. Now, using all my powers of persuasion – What bloody powers? – I had to make Alex see it too. I thought back to his easy, open manner yesterday and the kindness he’d shown me. I guess no good deed goes unpunished. I was about to put him in an incredibly awkward situation.
After making myself halfway presentable, I pulled the door back and strode out into the hallway before my determination could desert me.
As I made my way down the stairs from the attic, my resolution was slightly marred by my crazy hair and outfit of Alex’s T-shirt, tucked into the bottom half of my skirt suit. Football socks and no shoes. Not necessarily the best outfit to pitch my proposition in. But I was working with what I had.
Halfway down, I realised that since I had slept until midday, the shop was likely to be full of customers. Maybe that was who I’d heard from the bathroom. I ran my hands through my hair, dithering.
‘Come on, Daisy, old girl,’ I said, in my best old-timey movie-star voice. ‘You’ve got this.’
When that didn’t work, I resolutely slouched my way down the stairs, girding my loins (whatever the hell that actually means).
I stood for a moment in the gallery, girding said loins, when I noticed with some amusement that the shelves where I stood were lined with books of the “adult” variety. Victorian smut. Tantric sex manuals. Lurid paperbacks from the 1970s. Sleaze of every variety catering to all manner of tastes.
I was tempted to stop for a nice long perv, but time was pressing so I pushed on further into the bookshop. Instinctively, I took a narrow corridor off to my left. Halfway along it, I realised that I was being led by my nose. The smell of cooking was wafting towards me. Suddenly I was ravenous, practically drooling.
The smell grew stronger, and eventually I found myself outside a pair of swing-doors. Behind them, I could hear the clanking of pots and pans and the sound of something bubbling. Rolling my shoulders in readiness, while rehearsing my speech a final time, I gave a little rap then pushed on into the kitchen.
Here goes nothing…
Sixteen
The kitchen was small, clean, and well-stocked with shiny utensils. A hub of bustling activity, it boasted a tall chrome fridge and an extensive gas range on which a motley array of pots and pans sizzled and simmered.
Standing behind the stove, a sandy-haired young man was busy stirring a pot full of delicious smelling red sauce. As I entered, he turned around and gave me a friendly smile. ‘Hey, you must be Daisy?’
I nodded, fiddling with the hem of Alex’s T-shirt, more than a little embarrassed by my appearance. ‘Was it my fancy threads that gave me away?’
The young man chuckled. ‘I’m Joe, by the way. Alex’s brother. He just stepped outside for a sprig of parsley.’
‘So you grow your own herbs too?’
‘Alex does. I’m not much of a gardener myself. Not much of a cook, if I’m being honest.’
‘That smells wonderful though,’ I said.
He shrugged. ‘I’m just keeping an eye on it. Deputising for the chief.’
I still felt more than a little shaky after the phone call with Phil, but Joe had a warm confidence about him and a steady patter of small talk that put me immediately at ease. Maybe it was a family trait.
‘Fancy a cuppa?’
I smiled at him gratefully and nodded, sinking onto a wooden stool. He poured out a mug of steaming hot tea and brought it over to me. I blew on it, just about to take a sip when the back door opened and Alex came in.
‘Daisy. You’re up!’
I blushed. This didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. I wondered, with a sinking heart, if he expected me to push off straight away.
I gave him a timid smile. Dear God, he was good looking. I had wondered if yesterday’s events, combined with the bump on the head, had clouded my judgement. But no, this morning he looked even better, if that was possible. He was clean shaven, and just to really top things off he had a cute little smudge of flour across the bridge of his nose and dusted through his hair.
Turning to his brother, Alex nodded at the stove.
‘Those should be ready now, Joe.’
After giving a playful salute, Joe scooped a dozen or so plump, fluffy dumplings out of the boiling pan of water with a slotted spoon before sliding them into a pan of sizzling brown butter.
I drifted closer. ‘What is that?’ I asked, gesturing at the pan. ‘It smells amazing.’
‘Gnocchi,’ said Alex from the counter opposite, rolling out an oblong of dough before deftly cutting it into small pieces about the size of a wine cork. He crimped one with the edge of a fork and held it up to show me. ‘Basically, potato dumplings,’
At the same time, Joe was busy spooning copious amounts of butter over the gnocchi, as they slowly turned golden in the pan. My mouth watered as I watched the brothers in action. The smell in the kitchen was out of this world.
‘These are done,’ Joe said, mixing in the tomato sauce.
‘Would you mind taking them out to table three?’
‘Sure,’ he said, balancing plates carefully in both hands.
My eyes hungrily followed Joe out of the kitchen.
‘Hungry?’ Alex said.
Damn it. Wolf had more self-control than I did right now. I rolled my tongue back up into my mouth and tried not to wag my tail.
‘I couldn’t possibly,’ I demurred.
‘How about some toast? We’ve got homemade jam,’ he said, waggling his eyebrows.
‘Well…maybe just a slice. If you’re not too busy?’
‘Not at all. The lunch time rush is pretty much over.’
‘Go on then,’ I said. ‘You’ve twisted my arm.’ If nothing else, it bought me a little more time to say my piece.
‘So, did you sleep well?’ Alex asked, slicing the yummy-looking bread into thick slices.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, ‘I never usually sleep this late. I don’t know what came over me.’
‘Well, you had quite the day yesterday. You probably needed a little extra rest.’
‘Little!’ I said. ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? It’s already past midday!’
Alex laughed. He popped two slices of bread into the toaster then came and sat across from me at the small table. He studied me intently.
‘You look better,’ he said. ‘A lot less flustered.’
‘Don’t you believe it,’ I told him.
‘Your troubles haven’t gone away then?’
‘Nope. They’ve stuck around. One or two of them have even deepened.’
Alex nodded sympathetically. ‘That’s troubles for you. They’re clingy bastards, aren’t they?’
I could feel my bottom lip about to wobble again, so I bit into it and changed the subject completely. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, who’s out front, minding the bookshop?’
‘Ah, that would be no one,’ Alex said. ‘Although we do have the bell over the door and one on the counter, if anyone needs serving. I can normally hear its tinkle out back.’
‘Hardly ideal,’ I said.
‘Not really,’ Alex admitted. ‘Janice comes in two days a week, but there’s not much call for her on Tuesdays. It’s normally pretty dead.’
‘So, no full-time shop assistant, chef, waiter?’
‘Janice is great, but unfortunately she’s moving away from the area shortly, which is going to…well, you don’t need to worry about that.’
I took another sip of tea then set my mug down on the table. If there was ever a good moment to put myself forward, this seemed to be it.
I mustered my courage, sat up straight and plastered on a confident smile. ‘Clearly, what you need to do is find someone reliable and enthusiastic who can hit the ground running…’ I paused for dramatic effect.
Alex leaned back in his chair and studied me. ‘Hmm…you wouldn’t happen to know anyone who fits that description?’ he said.
‘As a matter of fact, I do.’ I lifted a finger and tapped it against my collarbone. ‘This guy,’ I said cockily. ‘Well, um…I mean, girl…obviously.’ Dammit, I need to work on my one-liners.
Alex’s smile brightened. ‘You want to work here?’
‘For a month,’ I said. ‘If you’ll have me. You won’t regret it, I promise.’
‘No,’ he said, beaming broadly. ‘I don’t suppose I would.’
‘Great. Fantastic. I’ll start straight away.’
Alex frowned. ‘Hang on, slow down a minute.’
Dammit—so close. Alex went over to the counter, catching the toast just as the toaster popped.
‘That could be tricky. We have a bit of a cash-flow situation at the moment. I’m not sure we could afford to pay you.’
‘Oh,’ I said, relieved that this was his only objection. ‘I was thinking I could work for room and board.’ Alex popped the plate down in front of me.
‘Well, how about it?’ I asked around a mouthful of toast.
Alex’s frown had disappeared. ‘That sounds pretty great.’
I stuck my hand out again and gave it a little waggle, encouraging him to shake on it. Following my example, Alex gripped my palm, holding it a little longer than was strictly business-like, which was perfectly okay with me.
Daisy Does it Herself Page 7
