by Ali McNamara
‘Hello! Earth to Kate?’
I turn around and see Jack wheeling himself up the very steep tarmac path that runs up the centre of the hill.
‘Oh, hi!’ I wave. ‘Are you okay there? Sorry!’ I say, clamping my hand over my mouth. I’d said the wrong thing again, hadn’t I?
‘Actually, no,’ Jack says, sounding out of breath. ‘I’m not all right. This hill is a killer … but it’s good for the old cardio!’
He wheels himself over to my bench and pulls up next to me still breathing heavily. ‘Got to keep my hand in,’ he says, smiling. He waves his gloved hands at me.
‘Ah, yes,’ I say, relieved I hadn’t put my foot in it again. ‘You have a different chair today?’
‘It’s my sporty model,’ Jack says, lifting the small front wheel off the ground as if he’s doing a wheelie. ‘I use it for exercising. It goes much faster than my usual one, but it’s not as comfortable.’
I look at the wheelchair. Jack’s other chair, in which he’d been sitting the other day at the pub, had two big wheels at the sides balanced by two smaller wheels at the front. This one had a similar set-up except it looked much lighter and more pointed, and the large wheels were slightly angled in at the top.
‘I’ve seen ones like that in the Paralympics.’
‘Yeah, I didn’t quite make it to that level sadly.’
‘Really? You were good then?’ I wonder what sport Jack had taken part in.
‘So-so,’ Jack says, shrugging. ‘I competed at the Invictus Games.’
‘The one involving Prince Harry?’
‘Yeah, that one.’
‘That’s for ex-service personnel, isn’t it?’
‘Yup – army, before you ask. It’s been a while since I competed properly, but I still like to keep my hand in.’
I smile.
‘Good,’ Jack says, grinning, ‘You got my sad attempt at humour this time.’
‘So how long were you in the army for?’
‘Long enough,’ Jack says abruptly, looking out towards the sea. ‘So what are you doing up here this early in the morning? I had you down as a night owl, not a lark.’
Clearly Jack doesn’t want to talk about his time in the army, but I’m surprised he’s given me any thought whatsoever.
‘I’m supposed to be walking him,’ I say, nodding towards Barney, who is now running around in a threesome with the Cockapoo and a small Jack Russell that’s joined them. ‘The crazy-looking Labrador is mine.’
‘Nice,’ Jack says, looking at Barney. ‘Labs are always great dogs.’
‘They know their own minds, that’s for sure.’
‘And their way around a dustbin!’
‘You’ve had one then?’
‘In the past,’ Jack says quietly, and he looks wistful for a second.
Barney’s two friends are called away by their owners, so I whistle Barney back over to me.
‘Impressive whistle,’ Jack says approvingly.
Barney comes bounding over. He immediately looks suspiciously at Jack before proceeding to sniff around his wheelchair.
‘Barney!’ I hiss. ‘Stop that.’
‘It’s fine,’ Jack says. ‘He’s only checking me out. Aren’t you, boy?’
‘I’m more concerned he might pee on you actually,’ I say, looking nervously at Barney.
Jack just laughs. ‘I’ve had worse.’
Barney behaves impeccably, however, and when he’s finished sniffing Jack’s chair, he lies his head on his lap.
‘I think he likes me,’ Jack says, stroking his head.
‘He probably thinks you’ve got treats about your person.’
‘Sorry, Barney, no can do, I’m afraid. My days of having dog treats in my pocket are long gone.’
‘Here Barn!’ I say, throwing him a small dog biscuit. ‘And that’s all you’re getting.’
Barney deftly catches the biscuit in his mouth and chews it hungrily.
‘Anyone would think I didn’t feed him the way he carries on.’
Jack watches Barney affectionately.
‘How’s the shop coming along?’ I ask, to make conversation.
‘Great, thanks,’ Jack says. ‘We should be ready for our grand opening on Friday, all being well.’
‘That’s good. You said we – you have someone to help you then?’
‘Because I can’t manage in this, you mean?’ Jack gestures to his chair.
‘No, I meant like staff actually.’ I fold my arms defensively across my chest. He wasn’t getting me on that one again.
Jack looks at me and grins. ‘Okay, I’ll let you off then. Yeah, I have a part-time member of staff – Bronte.’
‘Is Bronte Poppy’s daughter? Poppy who owns the flower shop.’
‘Yes, I believe she is. She’s back from university for the summer, so it’s only until October, but I guess it starts to quieten down around here then, am I right?’
I nod. ‘Yeah, we get tourists all year round, but it’s not anywhere near as hectic as the summer. It sounds like you’re all ready to go.’
‘I hope so. You’ll come on Friday, won’t you – to the opening? It’s not going to be much, but I think it’s important to mark the occasion.’
‘Of course, yes. Will you have many there, do you think? Friends, family?’
‘Just a few fellow shopkeepers probably – maybe some local press if I’m lucky. There’s not much interest in someone opening an art shop, is there?’
‘Probably not.’ So Jack didn’t have a family then, or a partner …
‘I could pull the wheelchair card, I suppose, to get some press attention, but I don’t really want to do that. As you’ve probably already deduced it’s not really my way of doing things.’
‘Really?’ I smile at him. ‘I’d never have guessed!’
Jack winks at me. ‘How’s your own business going? You looked deep in thought before I disturbed you a few moments ago. In fact, you looked like you had the worries of the world on your shoulders. I do hope I haven’t chosen a bad time to start a business in St Felix? That would be about my luck!’
‘Oh no, the business is fine. I’m sure your shop will do very well. As you know we get a lot of amateur and professional artists coming here to paint, and the Lyle Gallery attracts a lot of arty people too.’
‘So why the long face then?’
‘Got a few things I need to think about, that’s all.’ I didn’t wish to share with Jack the fact that yesterday morning a vintage sewing machine had left a mystery piece of embroidery for me when I came down to open up the shop.
‘I see. Should I leave you to it then?’
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll get to the bottom of it. It’s about time I headed back with Barney now anyway.’
‘Mind if I tag along next to you?’ Jack asks to my surprise. ‘I think I’ve done enough for one morning too. It’s my favourite part now – downhill!’
‘Sure,’ I reply, feeling happier about this idea than I would have expected to.
Barney and I walk alongside Jack back towards the shop.
I’m impressed at how skilful Jack is with his chair. He deftly manoeuvres round the tight St Felix bends and the infamous cobbled streets easily, just as though he was walking alongside us. In fact, as we chat I soon forget that he’s in a wheelchair at all until we come to a set of narrow steps that wind their way down in-between some cottages towards the harbour. Automatically I turn to go down them and then I stop myself.
I turn back to Jack. I’m about to say ‘Sorry’ again, when I stop myself and instead say jokily, ‘I don’t suppose even you in your fancy contraption can get down there!’
Jack shakes his head. ‘Nope, not easily anyway. I guess this is where we part ways.’
‘Not necessarily – Barney and I can go another way back instead.’
‘I don’t want to put you out.’
‘Don’t be daft. The truth is I forgot you were even in a wheelchair or I wouldn’t have tried to go down there.’
/>
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘You should.’
We proceed a little way together in silence.
‘Oh, I know what I was going to ask you,’ I say, suddenly remembering as we pass the antiques shop. ‘You bought some old art equipment from Noah, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but how do you know about that?’
‘I took the old sewing machine off him that came from the same house clearance.’
‘Ah … right.’ I sense Jack hesitating. ‘What sort of sewing machine is it?’
I’m surprised by his question. ‘It’s an old Singer, probably from the early part of the last century.’
Jack nods. ‘Where have you put it?’
‘In my shop. Why?’
‘No reason – I just wondered, that’s all. Does it work, this sewing machine?’
I hesitate now. Technically, no, it didn’t. I’d never seen it work with my own eyes anyway.
‘No, it’s all seized up. Display purposes only.’
‘Oh, shame.’
Again, there’s a short lull in our conversation, and I wonder why Jack is so interested in my sewing machine.
‘Well, this is us,’ I say as we arrive outside my shop. ‘Barney and I live in the flat upstairs with my daughter Molly, who hopefully,’ I add, looking up at the upstairs window, ‘is up and getting dressed for school right now.’
‘How old?’ Jack asks.
‘She’s fifteen, going on fifty sometimes though. Much more sensible than me most of the time!’
Jack smiles. ‘That’s good to know you’re not always so uptight.’
I stare at him.
‘Ah, damn, I’ve put my non-existent foot in it again, haven’t I?’
‘I’m not uptight.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean uptight. I meant … strait-laced.’
I glare at him again.
‘Nope, I didn’t mean that either. Er … tense? Anxious? Guarded? Yes, that’s what I mean – you’re quite guarded, aren’t you?’
‘And you’re not, I suppose?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I mean, when I asked you the other day about why you were opening a shop here you went all silent on me, and earlier you clearly didn’t want to talk about your time in the army.’
Jack thinks about this, then he nods matter-of-factly.
‘Yes, you’re probably right … and, with that, I’ll take my leave. Thanks for introducing me to your dog. See ya, Barney!’ He gives Barney a friendly pat before setting off across the cobbles at speed.
I stand outside the shop, stunned for a moment that he’s departed so abruptly, then I shake my head. What is it with that man? I simply don’t understand him at all.
And why did his behaviour, and how he makes me feel, matter so much anyway?
Eight
The art shop looks busy as I approach on Friday evening, and I can hear a steady stream of chatter filtering through the open door out on to the street. There had been a poster in the window inviting people to the opening all week, and it seems the residents of St Felix have turned out in abundance to support this new local business.
Arty-Farty the sign above the door says, with a colourful little paint palette and brush illustrated below. I smile – the name is very Jack.
‘Hi,’ I say to a couple of people as I squeeze through the door into the shop. ‘Bit crowded, isn’t it?’
I spy Sebastian standing towards the back of the shop with a glass of bubbly, so I make my way over towards him. Luckily, there’s quite a bit of space in between the shop’s many shelves, which are all filled to the brim with tubes of paint, sketch-pads, watercolour paper, and it would seem anything you could want to paint the perfect picture with, so I manage to get through to him without too much fuss.
‘You made it then?’ he asks, looking me up and down. ‘Take you a while to choose that outfit, did it?’
‘No,’ I lie. ‘First thing I found when I opened my wardrobe.’
‘Oh, really?’ Sebastian says knowingly, taking a sip from his glass.
‘Yes, really.’
The truth is I hadn’t known what to wear tonight. I wanted to look casual because everyone in St Felix was relaxed about everything, including their dress, but I also wanted to look like I’d made a bit of an effort for Jack’s special night.
‘Prosecco?’ I hear behind me, and I turn to see Bronte, Poppy’s stepdaughter, carrying a tray with a number of glasses on it. ‘Or we have orange juice?’
‘Hello, Bronte,’ I say, taking a glass of prosecco. ‘How are you?’
Bronte looks at me for a moment in confusion.
‘I’m Kate. I know your mum? I own the craft shop down the road.’
‘Oh, of course. I’m sorry, Kate. Brain like a sieve, me. How are you?’
‘Good, thanks, and you?’
‘Yes, fab. I’m back for the holidays from uni, and I seem to have found myself a little job here for the summer.’
‘Jack said he’d hired you. You’ll enjoy working here amongst all the art equipment.’
‘I’m afraid I might find it a bit too tempting and end up spending all my wages,’ Bronte says with a grimace.
‘All what wages?’ a familiar voice says, and I see Jack feeding his way through the crowd towards us.
Of course. That’s why there was plenty of space to get around in here compared to some of the overcrowded shops in St Felix. It was because Jack had made his shop completely accessible – not only for himself, but for any other disabled visitor who might want to have a browse. That’s why there had been a small ramp outside, to the side of the two small steps needed to access the doorway.
‘I’m not paying you enough to spend your wages in here, Bronte,’ Jack teases. ‘You must have me confused with a generous and kindly employer!’
Bronte, obviously already used to Jack’s ways, just rolls her eyes at him and moves away with her drinks tray.
‘Glad you could make it,’ Jack says, looking up at me.
‘Of course! I wouldn’t have missed your opening.’ I say, smiling down at him.
‘She’s only here to check that I’m not selling any craft equipment,’ he says, winking at Sebastian. ‘Isn’t that right, Kate?’
‘Hilarious,’ I reply, rolling my eyes like Bronte. ‘Have you met Sebastian?’ I ask, putting my hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. ‘He helps me out in my shop.’
‘No, I haven’t. Pleased to meet you, sir.’ Jack offers a hand up to Sebastian and they shake. ‘I bet Kate had a few strong words to say about me when she heard I was opening this shop, didn’t she?’
‘Oh my goodness, she did!’ Sebastian says without thinking. ‘She was pacing and moaning about the shop like a cat on heat!’
‘Oh really?’ Jack says, lifting his eyebrows.
‘I hardly think that’s a fair or accurate comparison?’ I protest, as Jack grins and Sebastian nods enthusiastically. ‘I was simply concerned for my business, that’s all.’
‘And what about after she’d met me?’ Jack asks innocently, looking at Sebastian.
‘Purring like a kitten.’ Sebastian smiles at me, and his smile rapidly drops as I glare back at him.
‘Ignore my colleague,’ I say, my cheeks feeling like they’re the colour of the cadmium red paint I can see across Jack’s shoulder on the shelf. ‘He tends to get a little carried away at times.’
‘I like a man that tells it how it is,’ Jack says, holding his knuckles out for Sebastian to bump, which Sebastian does with much glee. ‘Now I must mingle! I’m glad you came, Kate,’ he says, looking directly at me. ‘Really glad.’ Then he reverses in his chair and swings expertly around to chat to the next group of people keen to talk to him.
‘Well,’ Sebastian says, his eyebrows raised. ‘He certainly has the hots for you!’
‘Shush!’ I say, turning my back to Jack, as if this will prevent Sebastian’s words from reaching his ears. ‘He has nothing of the sort. That’s just his way �
� he’s always trying to wind me up.’
‘He can wind me up any day,’ Sebastian says, gazing across my shoulder. You didn’t tell me he was so fit.’
I shake my head. ‘One, even if Jack were gay, which I’m pretty sure he’s not, he’s far too old for you!’ I whisper to him sternly. ‘And two, I hadn’t even noticed he was … well, handsome,’ I add, using a more appropriate term for me.
Sebastian grins and lifts his glass at me. ‘You may be fooling yourself, Kate, but you’re not for one moment fooling me!’
The opening continues to be well attended with even more people squeezing into the small shop, and it’s good to see everyone from St Felix supporting a new business, like they had at the Lyle Gallery.
Jack makes a quick speech about halfway into the evening, which is well received. Then the guests, having had their nose around and their free drinks and nibbles, begin to thin out a little, allowing me to see more of the interior of the shop.
‘Looks good, doesn’t it?’ Dec, from the Blue Canary Bakery, says to me as I gaze around.
‘Yes, Jack seems to have squeezed a lot of stock into quite a small space, and yet it doesn’t feel too crowded at all.’
‘That’s the problem with the buildings here,’ Dec says, looking around him. ‘They weren’t built for shops that need to carry a lot of stock. The buildings were built for fishermen and their families, and have been reincarnated time and time again over the years to fit whatever business needs to inhabit them.’
‘This wasn’t always a butcher’s before it was an art shop then?’ I ask. I loved hearing about the history of St Felix and how it had changed over the years. There was always someone around who would chat to you about the ‘good old days’ if you wanted to hear about it.
‘I don’t really know,’ Dec says, shrugging. ‘It’s been a butcher’s since I came here. My uncle had my bakery before me.’
‘Oh, that’s right. I remember Ant telling me about it one day when I was in your shop and it was a bit quiet.’
‘Must have been in the winter then,’ Dec says ruefully. ‘It’s never quiet in the summer!’
