‘So, what do you think of him?’ she asked, trying to sound detached.
‘Very nice,’ said Deb with emphasis. ‘However, we’ll dissect the lovely Mr Broom later. For now, Lou, let’s talk shop. Literally.’
Chapter 32
‘I can’t understand it,’ said Sue Shoesmith. ‘There was a clanking noise I wanted to talk to you about and now it’s gone.’
Amazing that, thought Phil.
‘It may be homesick,’ he joked, handing her a cup of coffee. ‘Black, one sugar, just as the lady ordered.’
‘Thank you,’ she said with a delighted little smile because he had remembered.
‘Please sit down.’ He pulled out a chair for her. And when she shivered slightly, ‘Are you cold? Shall I put the heater on for you?’
He was such a gentleman.
‘No, no, I’m fine,’ said Sue. ‘Don’t let me hold you back from going home, though. It is Saturday night, after all.’
Phil dropped an almost inaudible sigh.
‘Nothing for me to rush home for,’ he said, casting his eyes down to the floor. Time for a quick change of subject and then see how she managed to steer him back to this for further investigation of his home-life.
‘Anyway, how’s the car been?’
‘Fantastic. I’ve seen a lot of heads turn my way recently.’
‘I’m sure you’d see that whatever you drive,’ said Phil, smiling widely with full-on eye-contact.
‘Aw, thank you, that’s so sweet. Anyway, an Audi TT is far more impressive than my little car, isn’t it?’
‘They’re nice cars, yes,’ said Phil, opening up a biscuit tin and taking a few out to arrange on a plate. God, he was good. ‘These are mine and only mine. You’re so lucky even to view them, never mind that I’m asking you if you want to share them.’ Make her feel special, thought Phil. Share was a good word.
She picked a chocolate Viennese from the plate he held in front of her like an attentive waiter playing for a big tip.
‘You were saying you drive an Audi because you don’t have any children to consider?’ she continued.
Ooh, quick work, thought Phil. Well done!
‘No, no kids. My wife was never really interested. We talked about it before we were married but she changed her mind afterwards.’
‘Oh no!’ said Sue with a ‘what-a-total-bitch’ expression.
‘You married with kids?’ asked Phil softly.
‘No. Never met Mr Right,’ said Sue. ‘Met a few Mr Wrongs and a Mr Complete Tosspot, but not Mr Right. Are you still married then?’
Phil nodded slowly. ‘Yes, sort of. What I mean is that we’re joined at the name, but we lead separate lives these days. It’s not what a relationship should be, not in my book anyway.’
Sue nodded in agreement.
‘Gawd–listen to me.’ Phil laughed a little too hard. ‘You’ll be waiting for the “my wife doesn’t understand me” line in minute.’
Nice double bluff.
‘No, not at all,’ said his captive audience.
‘She…sorry, I shouldn’t be saying this, but you know men, we don’t talk things over like you girls do and stuff gets stored up inside us.’
Sue leaned forward supportively. ‘No, please, go on. I’m a great listener.’
Phil took a deep, dramatic breath. ‘She–my wife–had an affair a few years ago. It nearly killed me, to be honest. Of course I don’t entirely blame her. I work too hard and thought I could make my absences all right with a few nice bits of jewellery.’ A man who could admit his faults to a woman was irresistible, and as negatives went, these came across as pretty positive ones. ‘Anyway, she came back but really we both knew there was nothing left to save. She lives at one end of the house and I live at the other.’
Expert touch, implying both separate bedrooms and a massive house.
‘We’re strangers. I don’t even wear my wedding ring any more.’ He presented his hand as evidence. ‘She’s a lovely person, but I feel’ (pat of heart) ‘nothing.’ Never diss the ex. Those women’s magazines of Lou’s always pointed that out as a sign to look for in a total bastard. He read them on the toilet–they were like lessons in women’s psychology and came in very handy.
‘Oh, that’s so sad,’ said Sue with great feeling.
‘I made up my mind that by Christmas we’ll have the house sold and be well on the way to divorcing. It won’t do either of us any good to draw it out longer than that. A New Year and a fresh start.’
Sue’s hand fell on top of his and she squeezed it.
‘Look, I’m a legal secretary. If you need any help with that side of things, I would be only too glad to point you in the right direction. Not that I’m touting for business.’
‘Thank you,’ said Phil, looking very vulnerable. ‘You’re just great and I’m glad our paths crossed. Can I…’ He shook his head as if battling with himself.
‘Yes?’ Sue’s pupils were like open black caves.
‘I was going to say, can I take you out for a drink sometime? But I’m aware I’m still married and I don’t want you to feel awkward,’ said Phil. Then, ‘No, forget it, it was a silly idea. Damn it, Phil–what are you thinking of!’
‘No, no, I’d love to meet up with you again,’ said Sue keenly.
Phil made his eyes light up. ‘Really? Oh wow–that would be just great!’ he beamed.
She stood to go. ‘You have my number.’
‘I do indeed.’
He led her to the door and there he placed a kiss on her cheek, like an awkward teenager would, letting her see the boy inside the man.
‘Goodbye, Phil Winter, you nice man, you,’ she said, and her smile was sparkling.
‘Goodbye, Miss British Racing Green Eyes.’
‘Wow! What a lovely thing to say!’ she said, as breathlessly as Marilyn Monroe singing ‘Happy Birthday Mr President’.
He watched her float to the car. What simple machines women were. They could run for miles on a mere promise.
Chapter 33
Lou parked near Café Joseph on the following Tuesday. The food, as they had experienced, wasn’t the best around, but it was a convenient location for Deb who was in that end of Barnsley for a meeting, and as she had limited time to spare that day, it seemed the most sensible place to convene.
Lou had ordered for her, as instructed, to save even more time. Just as the waiter, Mr Teenage Hormones himself, was coming over with two lattes, Deb threw herself as heavily as someone so slim could, onto the chair opposite Lou.
‘God, I’m glad to be here!’ she exclaimed.
‘Tough morning?’
‘No, just glad to be here. With you. Talking about you-know-what.’
The waiter flashed her a glance. What was ‘you-know-what’, he wondered. Perhaps they were going to have one of those marriage ceremonies. Which one would wear the frock? They both looked pretty feminine to him, although the red-head looked different to the last time he had seen her. Sexier somehow, more straight-backed. She’d looked as if she had 10-ton shoulderpads on before.
‘So, we’ve both had a few days to think it through. What do you say?’ asked Deb.
Lou took a deep breath. ‘I think we should go for it.’
‘Me too.’
‘I can’t believe it, Deb.’
‘I can’t believe it either, Lou.’
They both clapped their hands in glee.
‘I’ve been thinking about the décor,’ said Lou. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t go with the theme we picked last time. If we strip it out totally but put in those American diner sorts of benches, it would work for phase one–the continuation of the transport café–and we wouldn’t have to alter it when the coffee-shop takes over as the main business.’
Deb tried to visualize it. She had always really liked that whole ‘milk bar’ retro concept.
‘It was a belting idea the first time round, Lou, and it still is,’ she said. ‘So we need to see Tom, get some measurements, costs for the le
ase and builders’ quotes.’
‘Then we see the bank,’ said Lou, trying to stop herself from screaming with excitement. ‘I’ll present our case to them exactly like last time. They seemed to think we’d done a pretty good job. I’ve managed to find lots of American diner-type pictures on the internet to inspire us even more, plus I’ve still got stuff from last time in the file. I think we could get away with local joiners rather than anything specialist, though, so we’ll need to get them in to look at the place a.s.a.p.’
‘Then we find a name for it,’ said Deb. For sensitive reasons, Ma’s Café wasn’t fair on Lou.
The sandwiches arrived. The service was quick here, which was another bonus.
‘Have you told Phil?’ asked Deb tentatively.
‘I’ve told him I’m going into business with you,’ said Lou.
‘What was his reaction?’
Lou’s shrug was her answer. ‘Not that I’m bothered,’ she went on, shaking her head. ‘It’s not going to stop me that he thinks I’m making a mistake. That’s just his chauvinistic side saying only men can succeed in business. It’s all right for me to act as his accountant free of charge, though–but I can’t be bothered arguing that point with him.’
‘Things OK between you two?’ asked Deb tactfully, ripping the fatty rind from the slices of sandwich beef.
‘Yes of course,’ said Lou, with a smile that didn’t quite do the job. ‘He’s still a bit annoyed about the weekend before last. I think he blames me for Des not buying that car, even though it was quite obvious he’d decided on that before he walked through the door. I told off the kids and stirred up trouble between him and Celia when I pushed Des away from me in the kitchen. Any closer and we would have fused.’
‘You didn’t stir up trouble,’ said Deb furiously. ‘He shouldn’t keep coming on to you.’
‘Well, that’s it, he’s never really come on to me,’ said Lou.
‘He’s not thick, Lou. He obviously gets off on being so close to the boundary without actually doing anything. It’s a power thing. Weirdo.’
‘From Celia’s reaction that day, I’m almost sure it’s something she’s seen before.’
‘I’ll bet! By him not overtly doing anything, women feel as if they’re overreacting by kicking up a fuss, so he gets away with it,’ Deb said, abandoning the fatty beef totally and just eating the honey bread and salad, which was admittedly very nice. Honey bread. She popped that down on her mental notepad.
‘I don’t know how I managed to upset everyone so much that day. It wasn’t as if I’d loaded up a Tommy gun and shot them all.’
‘You should have,’ said Deb. ‘You did good standing up for yourself for once.’
‘He needed a short sharp shock, didn’t he? Do you think?’ asked Lou, looking for affirmation.
‘He needed a big sodding kick in the bollocks,’ shrieked Deb. ‘Phil should have said or, even better done something about Des a long time ago. It’s a shame you aren’t married to someone who would have sorted him out.’
Lou melted into a little private fantasy where Tom pulled Des off her and catapulted him across the room.
‘Like Tom,’ said Deb, as if Lou’s skull was projecting images out.
Lou’s spine stiffened. ‘Tom?’ she echoed, as if that was the furthest thought from her mind.
‘Yes, Tom. He’s a strong lad, isn’t he? Looks the protective type,’ said Deb dreamily.
‘Yes, I suppose he does,’ said Lou, avoiding Deb’s eyes. ‘Hadn’t really thought of him like that, though.’
‘And whilst we’re on that subject, we’d better ring him and arrange a meeting. Can I leave you with that?’ said Deb. ‘It will be lovely to see him again. He’s nice, really nice.’
Lou sipped her coffee. She was sure Deb fancied Tom, but she didn’t ask if that was the case. She didn’t want to hear the answer.
‘Er, is that Tom?’ asked Lou, knowing that it was.
‘Hello, Lou, how are you?’
How silly was it to feel as if her stomach had just been hit by a big glass of vodka, just to hear him say her name.
‘I’m fine, thank you. And you?’
‘Yes, I’m good.’
‘Great. Smashing,’ said Lou nervously.
‘Lovely.’
Talking to him was almost as bad as being on the phone with Wayne Jessop when they were fifteen and she knew he had rung her up to ask her out. It took five agonizing minutes of these niceties before he actually spurted, ‘Jawannagooart wi’me?’
‘Tom, the reason I rang was, we are really interested in the lease, so if it’s OK by you, can we meet you again and talk over some facts and figures?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Tom. ‘I wish you could have been there today to see the customers queuing out of the door–and that’s with May and her crappy bacon. God knows what business would be like with some decent grub.’
‘Why is she giving it up, if it’s so successful?’ asked Lou.
‘She’s going over to live with her daughters in Australia.’
‘Oh! I hope she’s not taking her clientèle with her,’ said Lou, smiling.
‘I can’t guarantee that. But if it does happen, I’ll refund you three months’ rent.’ He sounded as if he was smiling too. ‘So, time and place then,’ he continued. ‘Er…maybe it would be best if you were to come to my house. I’ve got all the paperwork there and the plans. Oh, by the way, there’s a small flat above the caff. It’s not occupied and I haven’t a clue what state it’s in. When I say small, I mean small. May just uses it for storage. It hasn’t got a separate entrance and that’s why it’s never been rented out.’
Come to my house?
‘Well, I’m sure it would come in handy for storage,’ said Lou.
‘How about Friday at, say, six?’ said Tom.
‘Yes, well, Deb and I will both be home from work by then. I’m sure I can speak for her and say that will be fine.’ COME TO MY HOUSE?
‘OK, then.’
‘Right, well, it’s a pleasure to do business with you, Mr Broom.’
‘And with you, Mrs Winter.’
‘So we’ll see you on Friday about six then,’ said Lou.
‘Friday at six it is…’
‘Bye then!’ Lou flipped shut her mobile thinking she had handled that very well and in a businesslike fashion without any major gaffes. Just as she put it in her bag, it rang and the screen said that it was Tom.
‘Hello again,’ he said. He was grinning, she could tell. What on earth had she done now to make him laugh?
‘Hello.’
‘Don’t you want my address?’
Whoops, thought Lou.
‘Unless you’ve been stalking me and know it already?’
Lou laughed and gulped at the same time. Of course she’d once looked him up in the telephone directory to see where he lived, but his home address hadn’t been there, only the business one.
Lou quickly scribbled the dictated address–The Eaves, Oxworth–it sounded very grand. She suddenly felt like Anne in The Famous Five. This was all starting to feel like an adventure.
Chapter 34
Lou’s head was bursting with ideas for Ma’s Café. She kept having to break off preparing the evening meal just to write things down in her notebook. Phil came in at seven o’clock. He called, ‘Hi,’ peering over her shoulder to see what he had to look forward to gastronomically, and went upstairs to change out of his suit. It was his normal routine–with one notable exception. This was the third night in a row that he had kept his mobile with him and not put it on charge in the kitchen.
Now why would he not leave it lying around? a voice in her head questioned. Lou tried to ignore it. She didn’t want to go down that analytical road to Nightmare Land again. After Phil’s affair there was a time when anything he did out of the ordinary was ripped apart in her head: not finishing a meal, buying new underpants, chewing a different brand of gum–anything. She had found herself in that mad place where women sniffed shi
rts, checked cars for unfamiliar-looking hairs and stayed awake at night to see if he divulged secrets out loud as he dreamed. She had found nothing definite to substantiate the claims her paranoia was making, but still she couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think straight. It was emotionally exhausting, being a nutter. Phil said she was cracking up, and if her behaviour didn’t stop he might as well go and do what he was being accused of. That scared her enough to fight hard against her neuroses. Each day of those inner battles was a living hell. Her mind tore her to shreds with questions. No, she would never go back to those days of obsessive suspicion again. Phil was not having an affair. End of.
But the question of the phone kept poking at her long after Phil had eaten his meal and gone to bed, and swept up in that thought path was his strange behaviour of late–the constant humming, the change of after-shave. Try as she might, it would not be ignored and pushed down. It kept springing up like a really annoying jack-in-the-box that demanded to be heard.
The prosecuting case was flimsy to say the least but she needed to think straight. It was Phil’s way of punishing her about the Des and Celia afternoon, not forgetting her friendship with Deb. The clue was in the timing, her mind reasoned. He was trying to drag her attention back to him and away from the coffee shop. Despite his little pokes at her insecurities in the past three years he hadn’t been with anyone else, she was as sure as she could be of that. But, however hard she had tried to fool herself that she trusted him as much after the affair as before it, that was really a lie she told them both. Trust was as fragile as Humpty Dumpty’s shell. But she could never let him know that she didn’t wholly trust him. He had said that there would be no point in going on with the marriage if there was no trust and that she would have to believe him when he said that he would never do that to her again–and that was that. But a vow in the end is just words–a self-imposed boundary of nothing more substantial than ribbon. And, as such, Lou never quite lost the fear that another Susan Peach was around the corner, waiting to seduce her husband away. Maybe that day was here now and Phil would level at her that she had brought it all on herself with her café ideas and being rude to his family.
A Spring Affair Page 21
