He was silent for a moment, as if weighing up his options, how much of himself he wanted to give away. When he spoke again it wasn’t what Dodie had been expecting.
‘I had a girlfriend… was engaged actually. And then when I got back home to Blackpool she told me it was over. I found out she’d been seeing my best friend – cliché or what? But it broke my heart. When I needed her most, when I was already screwed up from my time in the army, she let me down. I thought I could trust her to the ends of the earth but I was wrong. And I thought, if I’m wrong about her, I can’t be sure of anyone ever again.’
‘I’m sorry; that sounds like it was hard.’
‘So, you see, if I’m struggling in your company that’s the reason why.’
‘But we’re just hanging out so there’s no reason to feel scared. I’d like to think we’re friends now and that shouldn’t need to stress you out; it’s just friends.’
‘It doesn’t… the friendship, I mean.’
‘So you know when you go into your man zone you can share it with me? You don’t have to drift off into an enigmatic silence… you can actually talk about it?’
He gave her a slight smile. ‘You have a way with words, don’t you? My man zone? Enigmatic silence? Honestly, though, there’s nothing to say about it. She ripped my heart out and stamped on it and sometimes I’m still pissed off – end of story. I’m moving on.’
Dodie didn’t think that was true at all. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to say it; she felt she might have already pushed him on the subject as far as he could go, and the whole evening was getting a bit too serious. She had enough on her plate worrying about Ryan without worrying about a man she wasn’t even dating.
‘So in your capacity as my new friend,’ she said, steering the subject of his heartbreak away from the point of no return, ‘tell me more about your genius social media plan to find my letter writer.’
‘I’d hardly call it genius,’ he said with a smile, seemingly happy to change the subject too. ‘A simple plea on Facebook or whatever platform you use might get some interest. Ask people to share it , that sort of thing. It might yield nothing – in fact it probably will yield nothing – but you never know.’
‘I suppose it’s got to be worth a try. The one problem is my friends list is pretty small and select.’
‘And you call me a miserable sod.’
Dodie flicked him a grin, feeling as though they were back on safe emotional ground once more. ‘I’m introspective. There’s a difference.’
‘I always thought that was just another name for miserable sod.’
‘No; I’m afraid you’re very much mistaken there. It’s another name for anti-social sod and that’s quite different.’
‘Right!’ Ed laughed. ‘So, what do you think? Worth a try?’
‘Will you help? Post something on your wall for me?’
‘I don’t have a Facebook account.’
‘And you call me miserable!’ Dodie exclaimed. ‘The cheek of it!’
‘I did have one but I closed it down when…’ He stopped, forced away a frown and pushed a smile onto his face. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s better off posted on your wall anyway as you live locally so there’s more chance of you getting a response. Everyone I know is in Blackpool or still away on duty abroad, so there’s not much point in me asking them about a couple who lived in Bournemouth in 1944.’
‘I suppose you might have a point there,’ Dodie conceded. ‘I’ll give it a go when I get back later.’ She retrieved her fork from the noodle box and began to eat again. ‘So, this tour of Bournemouth – where do you want to start?’
He nodded his head at a mulled wine vendor they were passing. ‘How about there?’
Dodie grinned. ‘Looks good to me.’
On reflection, it had been a weird and slightly awkward night so far, but it looked as if it was about to get a whole lot better as she led him over. A bit of her wondered whether, if she could get enough drinks into him, she might hear more about this girl who’d broken his heart. As usual, no matter what her rational brain told her about staying out of things that would only complicate her life, she couldn’t help but get involved. She could feel herself getting drawn into Ed’s world now, despite saying she didn’t want to. But if she could understand what had happened, learn a bit more of his past, then perhaps she’d be able to help him, and that had to be a good thing.
Chapter Nine
Dodie had the distinct feeling that her cunning plan had backfired. The thudding headache of a hangover as her alarm woke her that morning told her as much, and if she’d drank too much God only knew what inappropriate information she’d ended up sharing with Ed. But mulled wine was a sneaky devil and she should have known better; it didn’t taste like ordinary wine and it was easy to underestimate its potency. It was too late for regrets now because she had a shop to open. For once, she prayed for a slow day – or at least a slow morning – so she could pull herself together. Being a Wednesday, she thought she might just be in luck…
But, of course, a freak alignment of the stars meant a steady stream of customers through the morning. She was thrilled, of course, but she couldn’t help but wish she could leave an honesty box on the counter and let them all get on with it while she went back to bed.
Drastic times called for drastic measures, and by lunchtime her usual rule of no smelly food in the shop had gone out of the window; a quick phone call to the lovely owner of the delicatessen a few doors down and one of his teenage daughters had run down to deliver a bacon sandwich, which Dodie devoured in the back room next to a wide-open window in a bid to keep the smell from clinging to the clothes in the shop. When she’d finished, she was freezing, but at least she felt more human again. The chill was nothing that a good hot coffee wouldn’t sort.
Settling back at her seat behind the counter and jotting some expenses into her ledger, she smiled to see a text arrive from Ed.
I had a good time last night. Think I’m going to like Bournemouth.
Me too. I’m glad you like Bournemouth.
And she wasn’t just saying this in response to his compliment – she’d had a great time in his company once they’d cleared the air. He was witty, well-read and chivalrous. She couldn’t get him remotely interested in her extensive library of black-and-white movies but she supposed you couldn’t have everything. She was interested, however, in his thoughts on philosophy and politics. Most people would yawn at the mere mention of politics as a general rule, but he’d managed to make it sound interesting and they’d talked all the way back to the shop as he walked her home.
What else had they discussed? Her gran had made it into the conversation and stories from her childhood. He’d told her about practical jokes in the barracks and the gruelling training sessions during his time in the army. He’d told her he was looking for work but he still had some money from the army to keep him going until he decided what he wanted to do. She’d told him about opening the business and her passion for upcycling and recycling. Had they discussed Ryan? They’d skirted around the issue of the ex who’d sent him running from Blackpool, but had Ryan cropped up? She couldn’t remember. And why did the idea bother her so much?
In the time it had taken to process these thoughts another text had arrived.
Have you put out your Facebook plea?
Not yet, busy in shop but will do it later.
You’re busy? Sorry, hadn’t realised. Sorry for texting.
Don’t be daft! Texts won’t distract me that much! Thanks for asking, I’m going to give it a go as soon as I have a minute to think about what to say.
Good, I’m glad. I’ll let you get on.
Don’t be a stranger.
What does that even mean?
I don’t know!
Dodie waited for a response, but when none came she stashed her phone in the drawer of the counter with a smile. ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’ was playing on the radio and her smile broadened at the memory of the last song played at the b
rass band concert. It had been a great evening in the end, and she couldn’t honestly recall having such a good time on a night out in a long time. Granted, it was hardly debauched nightclub antics or pub crawling until the early hours, but that was also why she’d loved it so much. It was just two friends, getting to know one another in a lovely, convivial atmosphere. As she’d showed him some of the sights, it had felt almost as if she was discovering her town for the first time herself, seeing it the way he saw it. They’d popped in and out of various mulled wine establishments with the excuse that they were keeping warm but had become so tipsy that soon they were unable to resist one, regardless of whether they needed warming. And as there weren’t that many, there was also a strange feeling of déjà vu as they returned to the same ones with alarming regularity but couldn’t quite remember how many times they’d been back.
The shop door tinkled and two teenage girls wearing school uniforms came in. Dodie checked her watch and was shocked to see it was half past three. The day had somehow escaped her and she still had so much to do in the shop. She gave the girls an encouraging smile and turned her attention back to her ledger so they’d be able to browse without feeling awkward, looking up every now and again just to check they were OK. She smiled to herself as their initial shy awkwardness gave way to noisier enthusiasm as they giggled and pulled items from the rail, egging each other on to try them. There probably wouldn’t be a sale in it, but who was Dodie to complain when they sounded so happy?
When the shop had been locked, Dodie checked her phone again. There were no new texts from Ed, but there was a message from Isla saying she’d made up her mind, and one from Ryan asking if she fancied getting together on Saturday night. More to the point, he wanted to get together at the flat on Saturday night, and Dodie couldn’t help thinking that their conversation would inevitably lead to him pushing to move in earlier than they’d agreed, because once Ryan got an idea into his head, there was no waiting. It was immediate with him or not at all. She quite liked the idea of the not at all, although not at all would probably signal the end of their relationship.
Ignoring that text for the time being, she turned her attention to the one from Isla. That was easier to deal with and Dodie was anxious to hear what her friend had decided to do about her long-lost dad.
‘Hey.’ Isla picked up the call on the second ring.
‘Wow, that was fast!’
‘I was just about to phone you actually. The shop’s closed now?’
‘Yep, thank goodness – it’s been a hell of a day.’
‘Busy? But that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘It would be if I hadn’t started off with such a hangover and in desperate need of my bed. It got a bit better by this afternoon but now I think I’m just running on the after-effects of the caffeine I’ve poured down my throat all day.’
‘Where did you get a hangover from on a school night? Ryan leading you astray again? It’s alright for him – he can take a day off, but you can’t.’
‘Nah, this time I can’t blame Ryan. I went to see a concert in the gardens and stayed out late.’
‘And you got drunk? In the gardens? What sort of concert was it?’
‘A brass band.’
‘Jeez, Dodie!’ Isla laughed. ‘A: What the hell are you doing going to a brass band concert? And B: How did you manage to get drunk at one? Is this like an old person’s rave? Were you just rolling around the park on your own necking cheap cider and swearing at passers-by?’
Dodie chuckled. ‘Not quite. I was in the park watching the concert and that guy from Wessex Road just happened to turn up.’
‘What guy?’
‘The one I told you about – Ed. He lives at number eleven now and promised to help me find information about where Margaret’s family is.’
‘And he just happened to be at the same brass band concert as you?’
‘Well, yeah…’ Dodie lied. Even as she said it she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to keep the truth from her best friend. It wasn’t that she had anything to hide or that Isla would judge her. Would she? There was nothing to judge her for. So why did Dodie suddenly feel guilty about her evening with Ed? ‘We ran into each other and decided to get some mulled wine. Quite a lot of mulled wine, as it happens.’
Isla was silent for a moment. ‘That’s so weird. You both turned up at the same brass band concert. Considering you’re both under the age of eighty I don’t think you can fully appreciate the levels of weird that is. I think you may have just found your perfect man.’
‘And I think you may be forgetting that I already have my perfect man. Never mind that, what’s this decision you’ve made?’
‘I’m going.’
Dodie gave a small smile. ‘I thought you might.’
‘Do you think it’s the right decision, though?’
‘If it’s right for you, it doesn’t matter what I think.’
‘So you don’t?’
‘Yes, I do. Because it’s right for you, so it doesn’t matter whether it’s right for anyone else. What did your mum say? You’ve told her?’
‘Pretty much what you’d expect her to say. Threatened to disown me, begged me not to, told me I’d regret it, then hoped I’d get what I deserved by finding out his whole family were hideous… more or less the seven stages of grief.’
‘Wow… So how have you left it with her?’
‘She’s sulking right now, but at the end of the day even she can see that I’m an adult and I have to make my own decisions, much as some of them might pain her.’
‘Just for the record, I’m glad you stuck to your guns. Although I’m not sure I’d have been brave enough in your shoes.’
‘I haven’t gone yet so there’s still time for me to stop being brave. But thanks.’
‘When are you going?’
‘I’m going to book flights today and hopefully go early next week. No point in putting it off, and if I want to be back for Christmas I need to get a move on.’
‘Fancy a quick get-together before you go? If you have time, that is.’
‘Aren’t you fully booked with all your men?’
‘Ha ha, funny. I only have one man and we could always include him in the plans. I know you’re not his biggest fan, but…’
‘I don’t think he’s mine either. Let me know when you’re next seeing him and we’ll work around it. Otherwise, it’s not like I’ll be gone for a hundred years – I can see you when I get back from France and, to be honest, I’ll probably have a lot more to tell you then.’
‘I’m sure you will. I’ll text you later.’
‘Brilliant! Take care.’
‘You too.’
Dodie ended the call. Isla sounded so calm, but they both knew something big, something life-changing, was brewing. A flight to France was just the start, and Dodie could only hope that it was the start of something good, and not something disastrous.
As Dodie was eating beans on burnt toast that she couldn’t bear to throw away, It’s a Wonderful Life in the DVD player, her phone bleeped the arrival of a second text from Ryan.
What are you up to?
She was going to have to reply to the first one soon or he’d get the hump.
Not much, watching TV.
Did you get my text?
Dodie’s finger hovered over the keyboard for a moment. Then she began to type.
Text? You mean just now?
Earlier.
Haven’t seen anything from you today but this one I’ve just replied to. Sorry.
Thought it was funny you didn’t reply. Wanted to know if you want to do something this weekend. Cheap, because it’s nearly Christmas and I have to buy you a present, lol.
That is weird. Don’t know why I didn’t get the text. Must be a problem on the network or something.
She paused. He would expect to see her, and she couldn’t quite understand what was stopping her from just making arrangements. She shook herself and continued.
This weekend good.
Saturday night?
Saturday good. Will be at your place at 8.
She finished by sending him a single kiss, just so he’d know she’d received the last message and that it was OK. She’d wanted to see Isla too but wasn’t sure now whether it was a good idea to have her and Ryan in the same room after all, especially with Isla having so much else on her mind. Maybe she’d try to see her friend on Sunday instead.
Finishing her supper and pushing the plate to one side, Dodie turned off the TV. She couldn’t concentrate on the film now, even if Jimmy Stewart was just about to snog Donna Reed before emphatically stating that he never wanted to get married, while simultaneously proving that he was hopelessly in love and wanted nothing more than to marry her. Instead, she dragged her laptop across the dining table and logged into her long-neglected Facebook account.
Ninety-seven notifications were more than she could be bothered to deal with. Most of them were invites to join some event or game or other, and most people who knew Dodie knew that she didn’t often venture onto social media anyway, preferring to do her socialising in a much more personal way. But others did, and despite her initial doubts she could see the logic in Ed’s suggestion that she use it to get help with her quest to find Margaret and George. In her status box she began to type:
Can you help? I need to track down someone named Margaret (surname begins with a V) who lived on Wessex Road in Bournemouth in 1944 or her family. I would also like to find someone named George who was engaged to Margaret and was fighting in France in 1944. A bit vague, I know, but I have something that I’d like to return to them or their families, if I can find them. I’d be grateful for information or shares. I can’t offer a reward, but you will experience the warming glow of a good deed if you can help!
Dodie checked the post over and then clicked submit. It might do no good at all, but Ed was right, it had to be worth a try.
A Very Vintage Christmas: A Heartwarming Christmas Romance (An Unforgettable Christmas Book 1) Page 11
