by Paige Toon
‘Yeah, twenty-one,’ he replies, checking to see if some of the other loaves are cool enough to move to the display baskets. I don’t think they are, from the look on his face. We appear to be running late today.
‘Didn’t you think about staying in London? Going your own way?’
‘Nah.’ He pulls a face and pats his jeans pocket. ‘I’m going to nip out the back for a fag.’
‘Mind if I join you?’
He looks surprised. ‘You smoke?’
‘No, but if the loaves aren’t ready, I may as well get some fresh air.’
‘Well, it won’t be fresh, but I’ll stay as far away from you as possible.’
We go out into a small courtyard enclosed by a high brick wall. Weeds are sprouting through the cracks in the paving stones. Toby sits down on a low wall that used to form part of a planter box, judging by the greenery growing out of the soil. I sit beside him. He frowns at me.
‘Do you really want to sit there?’
‘It’s fine. I’m used to passive smoking,’ I say as Eliza’s sneaky teenage cigarettes on her windowsill spring to mind. The smoke would often waft into my room, but I didn’t hate it as much as I claimed.
I look up at the sky as he lights up. It’s only a quarter past seven in the morning, but there’s not a cloud to be seen. The forecast said it would be hot today. Perfect barbecue weather. I wonder if Angus owns a barbecue. I haven’t seen one around. I could pick up a disposable this afternoon along with some grub.
‘I moved into a new apartment at the weekend,’ I reveal, bolstered by my plan for this evening.
‘Yeah?’ Toby doesn’t seem that interested, but he’s going to have to put up with my small talk because I’ve worked in silence alongside him for long enough, thank you very much.
‘My mum’s house sale is set to go through a week today. She’s moved into her new place already, though. She’s renting, so that makes it easier.’
‘Yeah, you said.’
‘Did I?’
‘Yep.’
‘Oh.’
We both fall silent again.
‘You’re not very talkative, are you, Toby?’ I tease after a minute.
He glances at me, blowing smoke in the other direction. ‘Not as talkative as you, Rose.’
He keeps a straight face, but he’s teasing me in return and it makes me warm to him.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘I’m sure you will anyway,’ he replies.
‘Where’s your mum?’
His dark eyes widen ever so slightly. ‘She’s at home,’ he mutters, returning his gaze to the wall.
‘Oh.’ I’m taken aback. ‘I figured, as neither of you talks about her—’
‘She’s not very well,’ he explains, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stamping on it. ‘That’s why Dad stayed with her today.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ I say quietly.
‘We should open up. The loaves can’t be far off.’ He stands up before I can ask what’s wrong with her. It’s probably a good thing. I don’t think my probing is going down too well.
It didn’t feel as odd as I thought it would, moving into the apartment that should have belonged to Phoebe. Because she never lived in it herself, she didn’t get the chance to put her mark on it. It makes it easier.
It’s on the third storey of a new-build block near the train station. There’s a decent-sized balcony off the living room with a view that reaches to the park and the doors fold right back, so it feels like you’re outside, even when you’re in.
Angus and Phoebe rented a furnished place in London so everything here was bought by Angus. A stylish marl-grey L-shaped sofa separates the open-plan living area from the dining space, and there’s a cool yellow Perspex coffee table in front of it. I’m more of a Cath Kidston girl, personally, but I can’t deny good taste when I see it. I love the giant orange Anglepoise floor lamp that kinks up and over the dining table, which in turn is surrounded by swivelling multi-coloured chairs.
‘Guess what I’ve got for dinner!’ I say to my new flatmate the moment he walks through the door. He looks momentarily startled to see me there. I wonder sometimes if he expects me to be Phoebe. ‘A barbecue!’ I pull out the disposable tray from the shopping bag and hold it up before going to the fridge. ‘And I got burgers and salads and—’ I glance up at the sound of his footsteps and see his face at the same time. ‘What?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he says regretfully as he rests his elbows on the island unit and gazes at me. ‘I already have plans for tonight.’
On a Monday? ‘Never mind,’ I reply brightly, putting the food back in the fridge. ‘It’ll keep.’
‘I’m so sorry, Rosie.’
I get a tiny dart of pleasure from hearing him call me Rosie. It’s the first time I’ve heard it in way too long. ‘Gus, forget about it,’ I reply in return.
‘Could we do it tomorrow?’ he asks. ‘The weather’s going to hold out all week.’
‘Of course we can.’
He smiles with relief. ‘How about a drink before I jump in the shower?’
‘Sounds good. What do you fancy?’
‘I’ll get them.’ He spies the bottle on the counter on his way to the fridge. ‘You bought Pimm’s and everything,’ he notes with dismay.
‘It’ll keep, too,’ I brush him off, feeling a bit embarrassed now at the effort I’ve gone to.
Even though it’s only been a couple of days, I adore living here with Angus. I might’ve got a bit carried away in my enthusiasm for it.
‘How about one now?’ he suggests.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah! Let’s do it!’ He opens the fridge and pulls out the lemonade and ginger ale that I put in there earlier.
‘I’ll chop up some fruit,’ I say, retrieving cucumber, strawberries and mint.
We stand side by side at the counter and a few minutes later, we’re chinking each other’s glass.
‘Come on, let’s go out onto the balcony.’ He leads the way.
‘This is such a great place,’ I say when we’re both gently reclining on steel designer deck chairs.
‘Yeah, it’s not bad,’ he says. ‘I’m glad you like it.’ He flashes me a warm smile that heats up my insides.
‘What are you up to tonight?’ I ask.
‘Er, just grabbing a bite to eat with a mate from the paper.’ He glances at me and I wonder for a moment if he’s going to invite me to join them, but he doesn’t. ‘How was work today?’
‘It was good,’ I reply. I tell him about Toby and his mum. ‘I wonder what’s wrong with her.’
‘If he wants you to know, I’m sure he’ll tell you.’
‘It’s just that, well, maybe there’s something I could do to help, seeing as I’m a nurse.’
‘I know you want to help, Rosie, but just be careful, okay?’
‘I won’t interfere, don’t worry,’ I assure him.
Mrs Dryden’s hip has healed well enough for her to take care of Bicky herself now, but while I don’t lament picking up after her dog, I have missed my daily walks. When Angus has gone, it occurs to me that I don’t need a canine to go for a stroll, so I lock up the apartment and set off. Before I know it, I’m at the park around the corner from home.
Mum used to volunteer in the gardens here and I think about her as I wander along beside the flowerbeds, bursting with colour. She’s settling into her new place better than even I’d hoped and it is an immense relief. Yesterday when I went over she had just come back from having coffee with one of her neighbours, and she’s already been planting in the garden. I’m glad she’s keeping busy. I hope she keeps it up.
A thought comes to me, then, about Jennifer’s. The outside space is a mess, but with a few plants and a bit of a tidy up, we could put a table and chairs out there during the summer months for the staff to use. Access is through the kitchen so it’s no good for customers, but we could open up the windows and provide a pretty view for them.
Mu
m might give me a hand, if not with the physical stuff, then at least with some suggestions about what to plant.
I walk on with a spring in my step, motivated by my plan. I’ll ask Gavin about it in the morning. If he’s back at work, that is. Toby was knackered this afternoon after being up half the night. I felt quite sorry for him. I really do wonder what the deal is with his mum. Is the bakery named after her? Why does she never come into the shop? What’s wrong with her? Does Toby help to look after her? Is that why he hasn’t left home? He and his dad don’t seem to get on that well, so why do they work together if they don’t have to? Has his dad forced him to stick around? But then, he’s an adult. Surely he could leave whenever he wants.
Up ahead, a guy skateboards towards me along the pavement. I’m about to move to one side when I notice something familiar about his profile.
‘Toby?’ I call as he approaches.
‘Hey.’
He skids to a stop and kicks up the back of his board, spinning it between his fingers as he catches it.
‘Cool move,’ I exclaim, impressed.
He shrugs and I feel a little silly, but then I’m distracted by his face.
‘What happened to you?’ I gasp, taking a step forward to look at the shiner on his right cheekbone. He flinches away.
‘What happened?’ I ask again, alarmed.
‘I walked into a door,’ he says, spinning his skateboard again.
I regard him with trepidation and concern, not about to be distracted by his tricks. The last time a patient told me they’d walked into a door, it turned out to be a domestic abuse case.
‘It really fucking hurt,’ he adds, dropping his board to the ground and hopping onto it, stepping down on the back and balancing the front in the air for a moment. ‘What are you up to?’
‘I felt like a walk.’
‘Me too.’ He pushes away and looks over his shoulder. ‘Coming?’
‘Er, sure.’ I run to catch up with him. ‘Did you put ice on it?’
‘For a bit, yeah.’
‘You should get some arnica cream on it, too.’
‘It’s fine. Honestly.’
‘Hey, I’ve had an idea.’ I’m feeling a little out of breath, now. I wish he’d slow down. ‘How about we turn the back garden into a, well, a garden?’
He gives me a sideways look, his eyes narrowing.
I hastily continue. ‘We could plant a few plants, take the frosting off the windows, put a table and chairs out there...’
He frowns. ‘Sounds great, but who’s got time to do any of that?’
‘I was thinking that I could do it and maybe my mum could help. She loves gardening. She used to volunteer at the park.’
He doesn’t comment and I’ve grown tired of hurrying.
‘Sorry, but this is more like a jog than a walk and I’m really not that fit.’
‘You look fit enough to me.’
I give him a funny look. Is he teasing me? Because it sounded like he was flirting. Neither is appropriate, frankly: I’m way too old for him.
‘See you tomorrow, then,’ he says, smirking at me over his shoulder as he skates away. I stand on the pavement and watch him for a moment before shaking my head and walking on.
He’s a weird one.
Chapter 18
Eliza
‘Hello!’ My voice has gone up an octave. I’m at Roxy’s and Angus has just walked through the door.
‘Hey,’ he replies with a wide smile. He’s with another, slightly older man who looks vaguely familiar. ‘This is my friend Stewart from work.’
‘Hi.’ My brow furrows. ‘Have you been in before?’
‘Yeah, last week with a few of the lads,’ he tells me. ‘The burgers were so good I thought I’d come back.’
‘I hate to ask, but did you make a reservation?’ I glance at Angus, but I already know his answer. He’s not that organised.
‘Sorry,’ he says apologetically as I tut and grab two menus.
‘Come with me.’ I take them to a table for two in my section. ‘I’ll need you out by eight, though, is that okay?’
‘We’ll eat quickly,’ Stewart promises.
I try to disguise how on edge I feel as I take their drinks order. Angus and I went for months without laying eyes on each other and now I’ve seen him twice in one week. It’s disconcerting.
It’s also really lovely.
It’s busier than usual for a Monday because we have a couple of big parties in so I don’t have a whole lot of time to stay and chat, but sometimes I feel Angus’s eyes on me and I can’t help but glance over at him and smile.
‘Eliza is a singer-songwriter,’ he tells Stewart when I go to clear their plates after dinner.
‘What sort of music do you play?’ Stewart chips in with interest.
‘It’s kind of quirky, upbeat,’ I reply.
‘It’s very cool,’ Angus tells him earnestly. ‘But she’s too busy waitressing to line up new venues. Your dad would like her stuff,’ he says casually.
‘Yeah?’ Stewart pays me a bit more attention, looking me up and down.
What’s Angus up to?
‘Stewart’s dad is Joe of Elvis & Joe’s,’ Angus explains. Well, I don’t imagine he’s Elvis. ‘Do you know the place?’
‘Of course I do!’ Elvis & Joe’s is one of the city’s hippest venues. Way out of my league, I’d say.
Stewart reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, extracting a business card.
‘Why don’t you email me,’ he says, handing it over. ‘I can put you in touch with Dad.’
‘That would be great,’ I say, flashing a stunned look at Angus. I glance past him to the clock. It’s nearly eight.
‘Dessert?’ I ask. Bugger the next customers; they can wait. ‘Nah, I’m stuffed,’ Stewart replies. ‘Quick drink at the pub before I get back to the missus?’ he suggests to Angus.
‘Sure,’ Angus replies with a nod.
‘We’ll just get the bill, please,’ Stewart says to me.
I force a smile and hop to it.
After they’ve paid and left me a generous tip, Stewart goes downstairs to the toilet while Angus waits by the door. I need to get back to my customers, but I’m reluctant to leave him.
‘What time will you finish tonight?’ he asks me quietly as I smooth down the front of my red and white uniform.
‘Around eleven, I think.’
‘Can I come back for you?’
My heart flutters, but I speak before I can stop myself. ‘Why? I mean, I usually catch the Metro. It’s no trouble.’
‘I’ll come back for you,’ he says decisively.
‘What are you going to do to pass the next three hours?’
‘Pub with Stew and then maybe I’ll go and see a movie.’
‘Okay.’ I grin. ‘Wish I could come.’
‘Do you?’ His face lights up.
A few people bustle in behind him. I glance over my shoulder to see that they – and I – have my boss’s attention. ‘Gotta go,’ I tell him regretfully.
‘I’ll see you later.’ He touches his fingers to mine.
I’m distracted for the rest of the night. Michelle corners me by the kitchen as I wait for the last of my customers’ dessert order.
‘I thought you didn’t want to see him ever again,’ she says.
‘I didn’t say that, did I?’ I carry on before she continues. ‘If I did, it was in the heat of the moment. If Rose is living with him, why should I stay away?’
‘Aah,’ she says knowingly. ‘It’s the whole competitive sister thing going on.’
‘I’m not competing with Rose.’ Am I?
‘You hate that she’s living with Angus, don’t you?’
I’m about to lie, but I can’t be bothered. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty damn annoying. But it’s typical of her. They were mates in London so it doesn’t surprise me that she jumped right in there.’
‘Well, I’m glad for you,’ she says abruptly.
I flash her a m
ystified look. ‘What did you say it like that for? He’s just a mate. We’re hanging out.’
‘He’s very good-looking, though, isn’t he?’ she says offhandedly.
‘Oh, look, my ice creams are here,’ I say sarcastically, picking them up from the counter and glaring at her as I go back upstairs to my last remaining table.
‘Do you really have to live here?’ Angus asks with distaste when we pull up outside my tower block half an hour later. He cuts the ignition, but the radio continues to play.
‘Yes,’ I reply firmly. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.’
‘I think I’ll always worry about you, Liza.’
I remember him saying something similar to Rose once. He sounded like the big brother we never had. I try not to ponder that thought too much.
‘How’s it going with Rose?’ I ask hesitantly.
‘Good,’ he replies, wriggling in his seat so he’s facing me. ‘She’s easy to live with.’
I experience a spike of jealousy.
‘She wanted to do a barbecue tonight, bless her,’ he continues warmly, and my jealousy intensifies.
‘Does she know you’re here tonight?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t mention it.’
‘Why not?’
‘I didn’t think you’d want me to.’
I nod. ‘Yeah, it’s probably best to keep it quiet. I know Mum was warned not to tell me she was living with you.’
‘Where was Michelle off to tonight?’ he asks. He offered to give her a lift, too, but she declined.
‘She’s staying at her boyfriend’s.’
‘Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’
I’m taken aback by his direct question. ‘No. Are you?’
He recoils. ‘No.’
We sit in silence for a long moment. I still haven’t made any move to get out of the car. Alt-J’s ‘Left Hand Free’ is playing on his stereo. I like this song.
An impulsive thought comes to me. ‘Have you got an early start? Shall we go for a drive?’
We don’t talk much – in fact, I turn the music up and sing instead, and Angus bashes the steering wheel like a drum kit on the more upbeat songs, making me laugh.
It reminds me of how we used to be.
‘Do you remember that picnic we had?’ he asks after about half an hour. We’re already out in the country, winding around the hills of the Peak District on a long, single-lane road.
