‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said when Si strolled in. ‘Thought for a minute I actually had a customer.’
‘I am a customer.’ He walked over to the reference section and ran one finger along the spines. ‘I’m here with the full intention of buying something from my favourite purveyor of leather-bound goodness.’
‘The bondage gear shop’s up the road. Look for Nanny Whiplash’s World of Pain.’
‘Funny. So do I get a coffee, since I’m here to spend money?’
Clarrie rolled her eyes. ‘Bloody diva book-buyers. Fine, I’ll brew up. Still two sugars?’
‘Yeah, sweet and strong.’
‘Oh Jesus.’
‘What?’ Si said.
‘You’re about to say you like your coffee like your women, aren’t you?’
He grinned. ‘Thinking about it.’
‘Well don’t. You get barred for bad jokes in here, bookshop policy.’
‘Killjoy.’
But she heard him whisper ‘like I like my women’ as she headed through the door to the kitchen-diner.
‘Here you go,’ Clarrie said when she came back out, handing him a watery instant coffee.
‘What, no muffin?’
‘It’s not Waterstone’s. You can have a Rich Tea if you want.’
‘Plain or chocolate?’
‘Plain.’
‘Rubbish.’
Clarrie headed back behind the counter. ‘So how come you’re not at work?’
‘Six-week holidays, isn’t it? We broke up last Friday.’
‘Oh yeah.’ She started flicking idly through her accounts book. ‘You teachers and your long holidays. So unfair.’
‘And what do you do all day apart from sitting on your arse reading your stock?’ He pulled a few books off the shelf and started making a little pile by his feet. ‘Anyway, I’ve got a load of lesson planning to do.’
‘When’d you get so grown up anyway? With your mortgage and your job and your…’ She scanned him for further evidence of grown-upness. ‘… face.’
‘Not sure I did.’ He came over to the counter and dumped his stack of books in front of her. ‘Right. I’ll take this little lot.’
Clarrie glanced at the spines. The Biggest Trivia Book in the World, 1001 Pub Quiz Questions…
‘Oh no, Si.’
He grinned. ‘Going to win, Clar.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe you.’
‘Well, you should,’ he said, handing her a couple of notes. ‘Go on, ring it through. Maybe you’ll make enough to buy us all a round at the next quiz.’
She tallied up his purchases then handed over his change and a dirty look.
‘So? Have I earned this biscuit?’ Si said.
‘All right, come into the kitchen and get it then.’
The bell jangled just as he ducked to follow her through to the kitchen.
‘Bloody hell, another customer? You’ll be able to take early retirement at this rate.’
‘Yeah, maybe at ninety-four I can finally quit the rat race. Biscuits are in there.’ She pointed to an old Quality Street tin on top of the fridge. ‘I’d better see if they need help.’
Clarrie poked her head round the door to peer at that rare thing, the lesser-spotted customer.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked the petite, fashionably dressed woman browsing the self-help section.
‘Have you got a copy of Sex and the Single Mum?’
‘No.’
‘Pity. Have you got a hug for your mother then?’
Clarrie smiled. ‘That I can manage.’
She came out from behind the counter and gave her mum a hug.
‘Hiya, Kath,’ Si said, coming out of the kitchen nibbling a biscuit. ‘You okay?’
‘Hello, Simon.’ Kath squinted one eye at him. ‘What’re you doing here then? You’d better not be trying to get your leg over with my little girl while she’s working.’
‘Nah, she won’t let me.’
Kath shrugged. ‘She always was an idiot. Takes after her father.’
‘I can actually hear you, you know,’ Clarrie said.
‘Got a hug for me then, young Dewhirst?’ Kath asked Simon, ignoring her.
‘Always.’ Si grabbed her in a bear hug, lifting the tiny woman off the ground.
‘All right, enough, you daft beggar,’ she said, laughing as she pushed him away. ‘You know, you don’t half look like your dad at your age.’
‘Yeah, I get that a lot.’
‘He was a good-looking sod as well. Had all the girls swooning over him in school.’
Si grinned. ‘You too, Kath?’
‘Mind your own business.’
‘All right, Si, bugger off now,’ Clarrie said, trying and failing to suppress a smile. ‘I can’t do with you chatting up my mum first thing in the morning, it gives me a migraine.’
‘Fine. Got some reading to do anyway.’ He grabbed his books off the counter. ‘See you, girls.’
‘What’s with all the books, Simon?’ Kath called after him.
Si jerked his head towards Clarrie. ‘Better ask your darling child.’ The bell tinkled jauntily as he left the shop.
‘So why’re you here?’ Clarrie asked her mother. ‘The usual?’
‘Yep.’
Clarrie groaned. ‘Okay, let’s get it over with. Come on through.’
In the kitchen, she flicked on the kettle.
‘All right, who is it this time?’ she asked, plopping a teabag in one mug and a spoon of coffee granules in the other.
Kath manoeuvred herself into one of the dining table chairs. ‘That bloke Greg from the chemist.’
‘Oh God, what? The guy with the weird facial hair?’
‘It’s not weird, it’s… well, all right, it is weird. But I’m past the point where I can afford to be picky, Clarissa.’
‘Don’t call me Clarissa, Mother. And you’re not, you know.’ Clarrie slid her over a mug of thin, half-brewed tea and sat down with her coffee. ‘You look great. I mean, for an old lady. Why don’t you let me do you a profile for online dating?’
‘You must be joking. You’d probably set me up with some serial killer.’ Kath peered into Clarrie’s mug. ‘Since when did you start taking your coffee black?’
‘Since you and Si just had the last of the milk.’
‘God help us, the eternal student,’ Kath said, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. ‘What’s going on with that boy then? Not buying books just to keep you in milk and beer, is he?’
‘No. Oh, that reminds me, can you lend us a tenner?’
‘What, again?’
She shrugged. ‘Things are a bit slow at the moment.’
Kath fished in her handbag for her purse and handed over a note. ‘Here’s a fiver. You can have the other half when you tell me what Simon’s up to.’
‘Ugh. You had to ask.’ Clarrie let her head sink onto her folded arms. ‘He bet me a night out we win the quiz league,’ she said in a muffled voice.
‘Oh God, you’re not serious.’ Kath shook her head. ‘Will you two ever stop playing games and grow up?’
‘This game’s different.’ She lifted her head to take a mouthful of coffee. ‘I think he might mean it, Mum.’
‘Wanting to take you out on a date, you mean?’ Kath said. ‘Of course he does, why wouldn’t he?’
‘Because he’s Si, isn’t he? A girl in every port – well, pub. The man’s practically got a revolving door on his bedroom.’ She swirled the bitter coffee. ‘And I’m… me.’
‘Exactly. He’s him and you’re you. You’ve been inseparable since Reception.’
‘Christ, all right, no need to get the photo albums out again.’
Kath smiled, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘Adorable little pair you were, holding hands at the school gates like butter wouldn’t melt. Hard to believe these were the same devil children who once stole and scoffed a whole trifle out of my fridge.’
Clarrie grimaced. ‘God, yeah, we were vomiting custard for days
. Si put me up to that, by the way.’
‘Funny, he told me it was your idea.’
‘Oh, I bet he did. The little bugger probably got me grounded.’
Kath shook her head. ‘I’ll never get my head around why you won’t give that boy a shot. If it isn’t going to be him, then who?’
‘I dunno. No one, probably.’
‘You know, Mira’s son’s home from trekking in Nepal,’ Kath said, casually examining her nails. ‘I was round at hers last week. Good-looking lad, very buff.’
Clarrie raised an eyebrow. ‘Buff?’
‘That’s what I said. Loves his Formula One too, she was telling me. It sounds like you two could have a lot in common.’
‘Please God, Mum, not another blind date. Last time I agreed to that I ended up with Ed.’
‘And what was wrong with Ed? He was a nice boy.’ Kath looked stern. ‘Clarrie, you’re twenty-six. Get out there and enjoy yourself, your youth will be over in a wink. Trust me.’
‘I’m fine. I’m always enjoying myself. Queen of the good-time girls, me.’
‘That’s a big fib.’
‘Well, I don’t need a date anyway.’ Clarrie groaned faintly. ‘Mum, when I think about the boyfriend thing – I just don’t have the energy for it any more.’
‘Not even for Simon?’
‘Especially not for Simon. Come on, you get it. Look what happened with Dad.’
‘That’s different.’
‘You were mates, weren’t you?
‘At school we were, yes. But people change, Clarrie. We both grew up… grew apart.’ Kath tossed back the last of her tea. ‘And one of us grew into a total git. So what’ll you do if Simon wins this daft bet then?’
‘He won’t. We never win.’
‘What books did he buy?’
‘Trivia books. 1001 Quiz Questions, that sort of thing.’
Kath shook her head. ‘You know, I’m not sure you’ve really thought this through. He’s a brainy sod.’
‘Yeah, but he’s not bloody… Rain Man. There’re a million questions that could come up.’
‘And what if his questions do come up? Have you thought about how you’d feel if he won?’
Clarrie snorted. ‘Are you kidding? When do I ever think about how I feel? You’d know if I’d tried that because I’d be foetal under a duvet, screaming.’
‘I’m serious, Clarrie. What if he wins?’
Clarrie stared moodily into her coffee. ‘I’ll have to go out with him, won’t I?’
‘Right, so you’re resigned to it, good. Then why don’t you skip the drama and go out with him now?’
‘I just… look, this feels… okay, this is going to sound really weird. But it feels… arranged.’ She let out a gasp of panic, the familiar underwater sensation in her brain. ‘Like – sounds ridiculous, but like it’s being guided, you know? And if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Serendipity.’
‘You daft thing. When did you start buying into all that?’
‘I didn’t. I just… I don’t know. Si said I could let fate decide if I was too scared to do it for myself and – well, it kind of helps me cope, feeling like the decision’s out of my hands now.’
Kath examined her with concern, tracing the familiar panic symptoms twitching in her daughter’s face.
‘This isn’t healthy, Clarrie. Did you look at those leaflets I got you?’
‘Yeah. Well, I glanced through them.’
‘Come on, you promised me you’d read them properly. There’s a helpline.’
‘Just let me get through Luke’s wedding on Saturday before I give myself anything else to worry about. I will read them, honest.’ Clarrie pushed away her coffee and whispered a sigh. ‘Can I have a hug, Mum?’
‘Course you can, sweety pie.’
They stood up and Clarrie sank into a comforting Mum hug, absorbing the familiar combination of scents. Her mother always smelt the same: tropical fruit, hint of Olbas oil. Clarrie stood a head above her tiny parent, the height genes from her six-foot father softened into a more petite five-eight.
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Clarrie patted her head fondly. ‘You know, you’re not so bad.’
‘Ta. And don’t pat me, I’m your mother.’
‘No you’re not. I’ve disowned you till I get that other fiver.’
Kath rolled her eyes. ‘All right, here’s a twenty,’ she said, fishing a note from her purse. ‘Don’t spend it all on beer.’
‘Oooh. Cheers.’
‘Bet I’m the only mother to a twenty-six-year-old who still has to give out pocket money.’
‘Pay you back, don’t I?’
‘Eventually,’ Kath said. ‘So. Greg. Are you coming round to meet him?’
‘What, has it gone that far already?’
Kath shrugged. ‘I fast-tracked him through the early dates. We’re neither of us getting any younger here.’
Clarrie groaned. ‘What do I have to do this time then?’
‘I was thinking family dinner, just the three of us.’
‘Oh, what? Can’t I bring someone?’
‘You can bring Simon if you want.’
‘He’d probably class it as a date. What about Gem?’
Kath shook her head. ‘Sorry. Family only.’
‘Si’s not family.’
‘He practically is. Anyway, he makes you look good.’
‘Fine, I’ll ask him. When’re we doing it?’
‘A fortnight Friday,’ Kath said. ‘And no smoking, either of you, and no swearing. We’ll be on the wine as well. I don’t want Greg thinking my only child’s a bawdy lager lout who stinks of fags.’
‘Why not? He might as well find out now while there’s still time to back out.’
‘See this?’ Kath set her mouth into a firm line and pointed to it. ‘That’s the face of your mother not laughing. Just try to pass yourself off as a lady for five minutes, okay? I’ve got a good feeling about this one.’
‘Oh, go on, Mum. The man’s got a Freddie Mercury ’tache. He looks like a seventies porn star.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Kath said, angling innocent eyes to the ceiling. ‘Anyway, if it all goes well I’ll invest in a razor for him.’
8
‘Clarrie. Glad you could make it.’ Luke scanned what she was wearing. ‘And in a dress too. We are honoured.’
‘You should be. This is probably the first time I’ve gone sans jeans since graduation.’
She brushed her hands over the cocktail dress Gemma had lent her, feeling conspicuous in the crowded hotel bar. The four inch difference in their heights meant the hem was just skimming her knees, and Clarrie was suddenly very aware of the length and number of her legs. There were still two of them, and they still went right up to her arse.
‘How do girls wear these things without catching their deaths of cold?’ she asked Luke’s new wife, Joanna, who was clinging to his arm in a figure-hugging white silk gown as they welcomed their guests. ‘They’re so bloody drafty.’
Luke laughed. ‘Don’t mind Clarrie,’ he said to Joanna. ‘That’s just her sense of humour.’
Joanna’s brow had furrowed into a puzzled frown, but she quickly recovered herself. She beamed at Clarrie.
‘It’s fine, absolutely. Thanks so much for coming, hun.’ She tilted her lips up, and Clarrie tried not to flinch as she ducked down to offer her cheek for a kiss. She was never one for being touchy-feely with anybody other than close friends and family. A strange touch made her flesh prickle.
When she drew away, Joanna was still puckering. Clarrie stared at her for a moment before realising she was waiting for the other cheek.
‘Oh. Right. Didn’t realise you were French,’ she said as she offered the other side of her face.
Luke laughed again, a little uncertainly this time. ‘Like I said, Jo. You get used to her.’
‘So how do you know Luke?’ Joanna asked.
‘Ex-girlfriend,’ Clarrie said, just a fraction of a second before Luke chimed in with ‘f
riend from university’.
Joanna’s full-beam smile dropped a notch. ‘Ah. Okay.’
Clarrie winced. God, could this get any more awkward?
‘Er, long time ago. Really, really long time ago,’ she said with an apologetic grimace. ‘So how did you two meet?’
‘Oh, it was a whirlwind romance.’ Joanna cast a loving look at her husband. ‘We met nine months ago at a thought leaders’ conference. Two months later, he popped the question and, well…’ She waggled her third finger, glittering with engagement and wedding bands. ‘Here we are.’
‘Hope he didn’t knock you up,’ Clarrie said, laughing.
Joanna looked blank. ‘Er, no. He didn’t.’
‘Not for want of practice, I bet. He always was a randy git. I remember this one time during Rag Week when he—’
‘Right! Let’s go find you a drink,’ Luke said, grabbing Clarrie’s elbow to guide her away. ‘Back in a sec, darling,’ he called to Joanna over his shoulder.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ Clarrie asked as Luke led her to the bar, glancing back at Joanna’s shell-shocked expression.
‘She’s not used to you, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Oh. Right. Do I need getting used to?’
‘Well…’ Luke’s face had the pained expression of someone trying to stay diplomatic against the odds. ‘It’s just, not everyone thinks that stuff’s funny, Clar. I mean, shotgun weddings aren’t usually something you joke about with the bride at her own reception. Likewise her husband’s sexual indiscretions as a nineteen-year-old.’
‘No, I…Okay, I see that,’ she said, flushing with shame. ‘Sorry, Luke. I’m nervous, that’s all. I make bad jokes when I’m nervous.’
Luke patted her arm. ‘I know. And I know things like this are well outside your comfort zone. Means a lot that you came.’ When they reached the bar, he raised a hand for the barmaid’s attention. ‘Look, get yourself a drink and try to relax. I have to meet and greet, but some of the uni gang are over there, they’ll look after you.’ He nodded to one of the tables. ‘You remember AJ and Danielle?’
‘Yeah. Still as loved up as ever, are they?’
‘Even worse these days. You should see their joint Instagram.’
She looked up to meet his eyes properly for the first time. Luke had changed a lot since university – the fair hair she remembered as side-swept and lustrous was shaven now, covering for a prematurely receding hairline, and the broadened chest and shoulders testified to a new interest in rowing. But his eyes were the same: dark and kind, with a slight twinkle. It was his eyes that had first drawn her to him, back in the second year when they’d sat next to each other in Chaucer lectures and snickered over the dirty jokes in The Miller’s Tale. He did genuinely look pleased to see her, if a little worried.
A Question of Us Page 6
