by Ali McNamara
‘What about the rest of St Felix?’
‘It’s a nice… no, make that a lovely Cornish seaside town. Probably one of the best I’ve visited. I like the people and the scenery, especially the beaches. I can imagine when all the visitors have left it will be even better.’ I wink at him, but he’s concentrating on the road. ‘Why are you asking me all this?’
‘No reason, I just wondered what you thought to it, that’s all. After coming from London, it must seem like such a change.’
‘It’s very different from London. I don’t think you can really compare them, can you? You’ve obviously been to London?’
‘Oh yes,’ Noah says knowingly. ‘I’ve been.’
‘And what did you think?’
‘Loud, noisy, dirty – everything St Felix isn’t.’
‘You hated it then?’
‘I didn’t say that. There’s a buzz to London that you only get in a big city. New York is very similar. However much I love the calm and tranquillity of St Felix, when the tourists have diminished slightly’ – he winks at me now – ‘it doesn’t have that same unique energy you get from city living.’
‘You lived there?’ I ask, surprised to learn this.
‘For a while.’
‘What did you do there?’
‘This and that.’
‘This and that! What were you – a Cockney wide boy wheeling and dealing?’
Noah laughs. ‘No, far from it. I was in the Met.’
For a second I think he means an art gallery, but then I remember the Met is in New York. ‘You were in the police!’ I ask, a little too incredulously.
‘Is that so hard to believe?’
‘Yes – I mean, no. I…’ I’m not sure what to say. Noah was tall, yes, and I could just about imagine him in a police uniform pounding the beat. He had a long purposeful stride when you were walking next to him, but his general demeanour was not that of an officer of the law. He was too shy, too nervous, too… Then I remember the way he’d dealt with people today: his cool, calm presence and his authoritarian manner. ‘Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to say you were a police officer. Gosh, did you go straight from that to running an antiques shop? I bet that was some leap.’
Noah doesn’t say anything. He pretends to concentrate on the traffic, suddenly feeling the need to check all his mirrors.
‘This traffic is looking quite heavy up ahead. I think I’ll turn off up here and take a little detour. We don’t want to get caught in the evening rush.’
I look at my watch – it said ten to four. Not much chance of an evening rush quite yet, but I just nod and sit quietly in the passenger seat. Noah quite obviously didn’t want to talk any further about his past. In fact, I got the feeling he’d said more than he wanted to already.
‘Thanks for driving me today, you’ve been a great help,’ I tell him, when we eventually arrive back in St Felix. The rest of our journey had been quiet with occasional bouts of polite conversation about things we passed on the road.
‘I’m a good chauffeur,’ Noah says, turning off the engine. He turns to me and smiles.
‘You’ve been so much more than that and you know it. You discovered all the right people to see, and you knew all the right questions to ask them. I couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘Even if we are returning home with no postcards.’
‘But we have another lead.’ I cringe inside – I hadn’t meant to bring up the police again, but I front it out. ‘We just have to hope that this Oliver hasn’t done anything yet with the cards, then he might let us buy them off him.’
‘It’s possible, I suppose.’
‘Have a little faith, Noah. This will work out. I know it will.’
‘You’re a very positive sort of person, aren’t you?’
‘Am I? I don’t think of myself like that at all.’
‘I think you are. It’s quite endearing that you have so much faith that things will come good in the end.’
‘Why shouldn’t they? We’re doing a good thing, aren’t we, attempting to reunite these cards with their owner?’
‘I guess so, but life doesn’t always treat the good all that well.’
‘No, you’re right there.’ I think about Daisy for a moment, then I wonder what he’d meant by that statement. Was he talking about himself? ‘Maybe this time it will. You’ll let me know if Oliver calls?’
‘Of course, the minute he does.’
I reach for the handle on the car door to get out. Then I change my mind and turn back towards Noah. Before I have time to change my mind, I put my hand over his and lean in to kiss him gently on the cheek. ‘Thank you for today,’ I say, squeezing his hand. His face is part shock, part pleasure as I open the car door. ‘See you soon, I hope?’ I add, before stepping down on to the cobbles.
Noah, still looking a little dazed, nods silently as I reach for my keys. I turn away to let myself into my house, and hear the car being put into gear and then slowly pulling away.
As I step inside the cottage I can’t help but look down at my hand. Touching Noah had felt very different from when I’d touched Malachi the other day.
But why?
Twenty
The next day I make the now familiar walk up the hill to see Malachi.
I hadn’t heard anything further from Noah about Oliver and the postcards, except a short text late last night from him to tell me Oliver hadn’t got back to him and if he didn’t by lunchtime today he would phone him again.
It was good of Noah to go to so much trouble for me when he didn’t have to, but now I understand why he seemed to be enjoying our task so much. His previous life as a police officer in the Met must have been a lot more exciting than his current life here in St Felix; perhaps he was relishing the thrill of the chase once more, even if it was only the pursuit of a few vintage postcards. I’d really enjoyed spending time with him yesterday, and I’d been allowed the chance to see another side to him that his guise as mild-mannered antiques shop owner had prevented me from seeing before. However, I couldn’t help wondering what might have changed not only his personality but his career path too.
A car horn hoots behind me, making me jump, and before I have time to turn around a green and cream camper van pulls up alongside the pavement.
‘On your way up to see me, are you?’ Malachi calls through the open window.
‘As a matter of fact, yes, I am.’
‘Want a lift?’
‘Sure.’
I climb into the van next to Ralph, who sits in between Malachi and me on the long leather seat. He gives my arm a friendly lick as I squeeze in next to him.
‘Beautiful day,’ Malachi says, as he indicates and pulls back out into the road.
‘Isn’t it just. I’ve been quite lucky with the weather since I got here – there’s been sun every day.’
‘So what are you on your way to see me about?’ Malachi asks. It’s nice to see him out of his overalls again. Today he’s wearing pale blue jeans, ripped at the knee, heavy Timberland-style boots and a black T-shirt with an obscure heavy metal band’s logo on the front. ‘Or are you just checking up on me?’
‘No, not checking up. I just wanted to see you again —’
‘Stop right there!’ Malachi interrupts, grinning. ‘That’s enough for me.’
‘— to see you again,’ I repeat, ‘to find out how Daisy-Rose is coming along.’
‘Ahh, you know how to shatter a man’s dreams.’ Malachi turns the wide cream steering wheel and we pull up in front of Bob’s Bangers. ‘Can you get the gate for me? I had to lock up before I went out to get parts for your van!’
‘Sure.’ I grin back. ‘Where’s the key?’
‘In the pocket of my jeans.’ Malachi winks.
I hold out the palm of my hand.
‘You can’t blame a man for trying!’ Malachi retrieves the key from his pocket, passes it to me and I go to open the gate for him.
As I follow the van around to the back of the s
hed, I notice that there’s an empty spot where one of the vintage show cars is missing.
‘You sold one then,’ I say to Malachi, after he’s parked Pegasus and wandered back over to me with Ralph. ‘One of the cars out front.’
‘Yes, does that surprise you?’
‘Nope, you’ve certainly got the gift of the gab.’
‘I wish I’d sold a few more. I’m sure Bob will be disappointed that all I’ve managed to do while he’s been away is sell one vehicle and do up another.’
‘Do you know when he’s coming back then?’ Malachi was talking like Bob was due back any day, and I desperately hoped that didn’t mean he’d be leaving soon. I’d got used to Malachi and his ways, and I was enjoying spending time with him while he renovated Daisy-Rose.
‘Nope, he rang the other day to find out how things were going. Said he might be gone some time yet and could I keep covering, which of course I told him I could, just in case you were worried…’
‘No,’ I reply innocently. ‘Why would I be worried?’
‘Ah, you’d miss me if I wasn’t here, wouldn’t you?’ Malachi nudges me playfully with his elbow. ‘Go on, say it! You know you would.’
I turn away from him and pretend to inspect Daisy-Rose. Today she not only looks brighter and a little shinier than I’m used to seeing her, but I notice Malachi has substituted her missing door with a replacement that’s currently pale blue. ‘She’s looking a lot cleaner now, isn’t she?’ I say positively. ‘And she’s almost got all her parts.’
‘She’s a fair bit more than cleaner!’ Malachi insists. ‘You’re only looking at her exterior. She’s virtually had a whole new engine and I’ve ripped out all her old insides, not just the seats like before. Currently I’m in the process of acquiring new cupboards and kitchen equipment for her interior which, by the way, reminds me – you still haven’t told me about the sleeping arrangements yet.’
‘Sorry?’ I ask, turning to face him again.
‘Do you prefer to be on top or down below?’ His dark eyebrows move up and down suggestively.
‘I’m assuming,’ I reply straight-faced, ignoring his innuendo, ‘that you’re talking about a bed for Daisy-Rose?’
‘Yeah… although if you want to share with me those sorts of preferences too, I wouldn’t be averse to listening.’
I sigh heavily and turn away from him again, but secretly I quite enjoy his flirting. It’s a long time since anyone has flirted with me, even if it is just a bit of fun.
I inspect the inside of Daisy-Rose now. Malachi is right – she has had all her old shabby interior removed and I’m quite shocked to see her so empty.
‘She’s stripped bare,’ I say almost to myself.
‘You what?’ Malachi pipes up behind me. ‘Did I hear the words stripped bare?’
‘Daisy-Rose is!’ My face flushes so I keep it turned from Malachi. ‘So what would you suggest in the bed department?’ I ask. ‘For the van!’ I insist, without even waiting for his answer.
‘Daw, party pooper! It’s quite simple really – you have three choices. A rock and roll bed, like we discussed before – by day it’s your back seat, then at night it folds out to become your bed.’
‘Like a bed settee?’
‘Yep, exactly that.’ Malachi jumps up past me into the back of the van. ‘You have two sizes of that – full or three quarter.’ He demonstrates this by holding his arms across the inside of the van. ‘It really depends on how many people you want in the bed at once…’
‘Malachi.’
‘All right!’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Your other options are a bed up in the roof when we put in the pop-up. Kids are often better in those. Or, of course, no bed at all, only seats. But in my experience a seat is never as comfortable as a nice bouncy bed…’
He grins, and I shake my head.
‘It really depends, Ana,’ he says, sounding serious now as he jumps back down from the van, ‘on what you’re going to do with her once I’ve finished the renovations. We’ve talked about the basics but not what we’re actually aiming for.’
‘I’m still not really sure. Perhaps you’d better do it in a traditional fashion with one of those rock and roll beds, then if I end up selling her at least it will be saleable.’
Malachi is strangely silent. He casually leans his back up against Daisy-Rose, his arms folded and his legs crossed.
‘I’m guessing by your silence you don’t approve?’
‘No, not at all. I think a traditional approach is always best with these types of conversions, unless you have in mind exactly what you want to do – like turn your van into a coffee outlet or a sandwich shop.’
‘I’m sensing a “but”?’
‘Your senses serve you well, boss. Didn’t you tell me that your friend Daisy wanted you to do something with this van, something that will make you and others happy?’
I nod. ‘I knew you were going to bring that up.’
‘Even more impressive, telepathic skills too!’
‘But what am I supposed to do with it?’ I say, ignoring Malachi as usual and standing back to look at Daisy-Rose. ‘I’m sure she’s going to look fabulous when you’re finished, Malachi, of that I have no doubt, but driving around in her for more than a few days certainly isn’t going to make me or anyone else happy. I’m not cut out for this kind of living.’
‘Says you.’
‘Are you saying I don’t know myself?’
‘Nope, not at all. What I’m saying is, how do you know until you try?’ Malachi pushes himself away from the van in one easy movement. ‘Right, I think it’s time for coffee. Want one?’
I look at my watch. ‘Sure, why not, coffee would be great, thanks.’
Malachi smiles. ‘I don’t want to hold you up if you need to be somewhere.’
‘No, it’s not that. It’s – Look, why don’t you make the coffee. In fact, why don’t I make the coffee while you unload your parts from Pegasus, and then we can talk?’
‘Sounds good to me, boss! Milk, three sugars please. Heaped ones too.’
I make us two cups of coffee in the little office, which looks very much like I imagine most mechanics’ offices to look – a little bit grubby and a lot messy. There’s a grey metal filing cabinet on one wall and a cheap desk on the other covered in papers. It looks like someone’s left the office in a bit of a hurry there’s so much clutter everywhere, and I hope it’s not Malachi that’s been making the mess in Bob’s absence. There’s a calendar on the wall above the tea- and coffee-making equipment, and I’m pleased to see it doesn’t have a half-naked woman on it but rather a bright red car. According to the calendar it’s a 1984 Audi Quattro.
‘And there you are again,’ I say, acknowledging the eighties iconic car. ‘How come all these eighties things keep popping up all the time? It’s very strange.’
While I wait for the kettle to boil I can’t help but compare this office with Noah’s immaculate offering, which I’d sat in only a few days earlier. The two couldn’t be more different, but then neither could the two men with whom I was spending much of my time here in St Felix.
‘I’ve been very lucky to find both of you,’ I say to the empty office.
The kettle boils and I pour water on to the instant coffee I’ve added to the mugs, then I grimace as I measure three large spoons of sugar into Malachi’s mug. How does he stay so slim if he has such a sweet tooth as this, I wonder.
I couldn’t help but notice this morning Malachi’s rather toned muscly body as I’d sat next to him in his van. His T-shirt was even tighter today, and its sleeves that little bit shorter, so not only was I treated to another glimpse of his fine biceps but also to the beginning of a black ink tattoo on the upper part of his arm. It looked very much like the base of an intricate Celtic cross, but I decide I’d need to see the rest of it first before I could verify that.
I wonder as I walk back across the yard carrying two mugs of coffee if he has any more tattoos scattered about his body – it might be quite
nice to find out one day…
‘Was it warm in the office?’ Malachi asks, taking his mug from me. ‘You look a little flushed.’
‘No, not really,’ I say quickly, hiding my embarrassment. What was I thinking? Malachi’s flirting was starting to rub off on me. ‘I must have stood too close to the boiling kettle, that’s all.’
‘Ah,’ Malachi says, seeming to accept this ridiculous excuse for my pink cheeks. ‘So now, tell me why you’re so concerned about time today?’
