‘Old man Unwin is a funny one – don’t take any notice,’ said Frank in a low voice, as if old man Unwin had bionic hearing and could pick up what he was saying. ‘He’s Daisy’s uncle.’
That figured, thought both May and Lara together.
‘His wife is in charge of the school clothes shop,’ Frank went on. ‘That’s likely to shut up too if you try to venture inside.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame. I’d run out of black plimsolls and was going to call in.’ Lara laughed, wondering why May wasn’t joining in with the conversation even though she and Frank Hathersage couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.
‘We’ve had lots of your bacon since we’ve been here,’ said Lara, scrabbling around for something to say now, seeing as May wasn’t helping. ‘Absolutely delicious.’
‘I’ll drop some off to you at the cottage, if you like.’
Lara was going to say not to trouble himself but she thought that May might like that very much.
‘That’s kind of you. If you’re passing.’
‘I’ll make sure I am. Well, enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Lara, Miss May.’
He knew their names. The whole village probably knew more about them by now than they knew about themselves.
‘And you,’ said Lara, giving May a nudge.
‘Yes, the day, enjoy it all of it,’ said May, sounding like a defective talking doll.
Frank drove off with a toot of his horn and Lara raised her eyebrows at May.
‘You fancy him,’ she said with a grin. ‘You’d better keep right out of Daisy’s way. It won’t be just your foot she runs over with her wheelchair.’
‘Oh, shut up, Lara, and let’s get a coffee,’ said May, marching off. Yes, she fancied Frank Hathersage like mad and was trying not to. She knew they would get on like a house on fire if they were left to it and her thoughts had escaped to him often. But she’d already been with one man with a so-called disabled partner and her heart had been mashed to a pulp in the process. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
Chapter 39
Jenny was delighted to see their faces, that much was obvious. The café was empty so they could sit at one of the lovely tables in the window. They were only going to order a coffee, but the menu was so tempting that they found themselves requesting afternoon tea as well.
‘No one ever orders afternoon tea,’ said Jenny with glee thick in her voice. ‘It’ll be a pleasure to make it.’ She wobbled off behind her counter, rubbing her hands as she went.
A three-tier cake stand arrived, the top layer packed with tiny cream scones and pastries stuffed with custard and crème patisserie, and on the other two plates were dinky sandwich triangles: egg, cress and spring onion, cheese and pickle, crisp cucumber, ham, crushed celery and tomato.
‘Blimey, I’ll never eat all this,’ said Lara.
‘No, you won’t. You’ll eat half.’ May reached for a cheese and pickle. ‘Tuck in.’
‘We’ve just had ice cream.’
‘So?’
‘You’ve suddenly found your tongue now that Frank Hathersage isn’t around.’ Lara winked at her.
May sniffed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Lara.’
‘Where’s your other friend?’ asked Jenny, bringing over a big old pot of tea and two delicate blue and white cups.
‘Swimming,’ Lara replied through a mouthful of egg sandwich. ‘She’s part mermaid, that one.’
Jenny dropped the tray of tea. One of the cups smashed and boiling water splashed onto May’s leg.
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ said May, rubbing at her bare leg and trying not to show that it did actually hurt quite a bit.
Lara was on her knees picking up bits of crockery. The teapot had survived, surprisingly. Jenny returned with towels and a sweeping brush.
‘You should have left that for me; you might have cut yourself.’
‘It’s fine, Jenny, really.’
Jenny’s soft grey eyes were brimming with tears as she sponged up the water. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘No harm done at all.’ Lara squeezed her shoulder. ‘Why don’t you sit down with us and steady yourself?’ Lara pulled a chair from another table and patted the seat. She gently pushed the shaking Jenny down onto it.
‘Want a sandwich?’ asked May, trying not to think about the throbbing spots on her leg. ‘They’re delicious. I can recommend the chef.’
‘No, I’m all right, thank you,’ said Jenny, blowing her nose on a napkin and then smiling gratefully at May’s kind comment. It was quite obvious that the young woman didn’t have a lot of confidence in herself.
‘Is this your own café, then?’ asked Lara, trying to cheer her up with some conversation.
‘Well, the village owns it but I suppose you could say it’s mine, yes.’
Lara couldn’t help thinking that was a weird way of putting it.
‘So you don’t own it?’
‘No,’ said Jenny, having considered her answer before giving it, as if worried she were being trapped by a trick question.
Not something else weird, please, thought Lara.
‘It’s a grand little business,’ said May. ‘Lovely food. Did you go to catering college?’
‘No!’ Jenny laughed as if that was a totally absurd suggestion. ‘My mum used to run it. I took it over when she and Dad retired last year. I just picked up how to cook from her.’
‘She must have been a very good cook.’
‘Yes, she—’
The door to the café opened as if a battering ram had been placed behind it. In a way it had been – it was Daisy’s wheelchair. This time she was followed in by a reed-thin woman wearing thick glasses, a sour expression on her very plain face and a knitted top that even Lara’s granny wouldn’t have been seen dead in. Jenny leapt up from her seat as if she had been caught red-handed fraternizing with the enemy, which she had, really. The air seemed to chill around them.
‘Hi, Daisy, Pauline,’ called Jenny, with hopeful buoyancy in her voice that they’d play nicely.
If looks could kill, Jenny would have been impaled like a human dartboard.
‘Two cappuccinos, sprinkles, and two pieces of chocolate dream cake,’ said Daisy, her nose wrinkled up with disdain.
‘Please,’ added the mousey Pauline, getting out of the way whilst Daisy wheeled herself into position so her legs were underneath a table. She was making a lot of crashing noises as she did so. Lara didn’t hold out much hope for the long-term preservation of Jenny’s furniture if Daisy Unwin were a regular customer.
Daisy and Pauline immediately started to gossip, their heads close together, the object of the game clearly being to unsettle the other customers. So Lara and May remained steadfastly unsettled by it.
Jenny brought out replacement cups and a fresh pot of tea, setting them on Lara and May’s table before she delivered the cappuccinos and cake to the gossips. That didn’t go down well. May heard some very disgruntled mumbling coming from Daisy’s mouth when Jenny took over the cutlery and serviettes.
The atmosphere in the café had changed with the arrival of Daisy and her crony. The temperature had plunged and there was a perceptible crackle in the air of electric disapproval. May and Lara nibbled on their sandwiches, certain that Daisy wouldn’t be able to resist making her feelings audible. They were right.
First the exaggerated sniffing started. This was followed up by:
‘Jenny, are your drains okay? There’s a funny smell in here.’
Lara did an involuntary snort. She was suddenly catapulted back to her junior school days sharing a class with Cassandra Wath the class bitch and big-mouth. The last time Lara had seen her – at Christmas, when she visited her parents – Cassandra had been stocking up freezers in Iceland – the shop – and had a spot on the side of her nose the size of Iceland – the country. She had grown into the face she deserved: a permascowl that said, ‘This woman is too mean to be happy.’ It was the sort of face
Lara thought Daisy would have in a few years’ time. She was starting to get it already.
Jenny didn’t answer.
‘There were some gay boys in town today, apparently, Jenny,’ Daisy said loudly. ‘One had pink hair. Offcumdens. Lowering the tone of the place.’
‘I think she’s bracketing us in there.’ Lara giggled, setting May off.
At last Daisy made a direct approach. ‘I don’t know what’s so funny. You aren’t welcome here. No one wants you here.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Lara, drying her eyes on a serviette. If Daisy Unwin wanted a battle, then Lara would pick up her gauntlet. ‘But Gene Hathersage wants our money. So we’re staying.’
‘How long for?’
‘Three months at least,’ replied Lara, as sweet as sugar. ‘We may even move in. With our families.’
Pauline started choking on her cappuccino.
‘Gene Hathersage is an idiot,’ spat Daisy.
Lara wasn’t going to argue with her on that. But she did feel like throwing a few mischievous twigs onto the fire.
‘His brother is very handsome, though. We like his meat,’ she purred.
This time Daisy started choking. Jenny disappeared behind the counter like a bartender in a western.
‘You stay away from my Francis, you pair of sluts,’ screamed Daisy. ‘And you can tell the witch to stay away as well. Fuck off, the lot of you, back where you came from.’
‘Calm yourself, Daisy,’ Pauline said, as firmly as her thin voice could manage. ‘Come on, deep breaths.’
‘I’m not well,’ Daisy barked, a furious tremor in her voice as she breathed in and out deeply. Enough was enough. Lara wasn’t feeling the fun any more. She didn’t want to goad Daisy into an asthma attack. She put twenty-five pounds in notes on the counter in front of Jenny, telling her to keep the change. As she and May left the café she heard Daisy’s dulcet tones behind her: ‘And good riddance. She puts me off eating with the scar on her face.’
Incensed, Lara turned on her heel to go back in but May caught her arm.
‘Leave it, Lara.’
‘How dare she . . .’
‘Don’t rise to it. She wants us to react.’
‘Ooh, I want to slap her so hard,’ growled Lara. How dare the bitch say that about May. It was cruel and unnecessary. Even more so coming from a woman in a chair who must know what it was like to have a stigma.
‘Poor Frank. I think he’s going to end up more unhappy than his future wife,’ said Lara, letting May lead her away from Jenny’s café.
May didn’t answer. She merely followed Lara through the village and up the hill, wishing she were worthy enough to deserve someone as gorgeous as Frank Hathersage.
‘Guess where the second set of steps downstairs leads to?’ said Clare, as soon as May and Lara walked into the cottage. ‘I’ve been dying for you to get back so I could tell you. Only Raine’s cottage on the headland.’ Clare couldn’t wait for them to answer.
‘How did you find that out?’ asked Lara, kicking off her shoes. ‘Don’t tell me you climbed up the second set of steps and there was a door at the top?’
‘I did indeed. And there was,’ Clare replied, with a proud nod of the head. ‘I tell you, there’s something really strange about this village. I mean, really strange. If you heard the conversation I heard through the door to Raine’s cottage, you’d feel the same.’
May crossed the room to put on the kettle. ‘Go on, then, Sherlock. Intrigue us.’
‘Well,’ began Clare, making herself comfortable at the dining table. ‘I overheard the old lady – Raine – talking to someone. Raine was saying she was a curse on the village and the other person was saying that she was a blessing actually and that she wouldn’t have been born if Raine hadn’t done what she’d done.’
‘Which was what?’ asked Lara.
‘I don’t know. Raine went on to say that the other woman might have had sisters had it not been for Raine, instead of brothers.’
May and Lara exchanged blatantly amused glances.
‘Are you sure they weren’t reading out a play script?’ suggested May.
‘Don’t be daft. Of course they weren’t.’
‘Well, you go and enjoy deciphering all that creepy stuff,’ Lara said jokingly. ‘Meanwhile, I’ll have a life.’
‘And talking of creepy . . .’ said May. ‘We bumped into mad Daisy in Jenny’s café.’
‘She was foul,’ shuddered Lara. She didn’t repeat what she had said about May’s scar as she knew it would embarrass her but it was still really annoying her. ‘We all have to stay away from Frank, she said.’
‘Oh, okay. I’ll try very hard to resist his advances.’ Clare laughed, but there wouldn’t be any danger there. She had her eye on the Hathersage brother who was capable of shaking up her staid existence and exorcizing the ghost of nice, safe Lud.
Chapter 40
Lara took a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and went outside to the terrace. In the distance, where there were none of those ridiculous clouds overhead, the sea was dappled with sunlight. There was a light and warm breeze that made her shiver with delight as it touched her skin. Her parents had a lovely south-facing terrace at the back of their house. Her dad had built it because he and her mum liked to sit outside whenever there was a hint of sun. They’d all had many a happy tea sitting at the iron table on the terrace, a fire-pit warming them as the night grew chilly.
Was it really eight months ago when I last visited my parents? Lara retraced the year – but no, she hadn’t been up to Yorkshire since Christmas. And even then she had shot off on Boxing Day to get some prep done before she returned to work the following day. She felt a huge wave of shame wash over her. She was an only child and hadn’t seen her mum and dad in all that time. Where the hell had the year gone? In fact, where had the last few years gone? Had she done anything except rush from appointment to meeting to appointment? Even her relationship with James was shoehorned into their mad working lives. And when she did free up some rare couple time in the evenings he was still working. Well, she’d thought he had been working. He obviously had enough time to squeeze in Tianne frigging Lee. Literally.
She loved her parents and loved her friends and yet how much real time did she spend with them? She’d seen more of Keely and Garth than she had people she liked. Her priorities were all to cock. A tear dropped on her jeans and she dabbed at her eye to poke back any others with intentions of following. She didn’t want May or Clare to see that she had things on her mind.
Her mum and dad would love it here, she thought, listening to the silence broken now and again with the shrill squawk of the seagulls – it sounded as if they were laughing at the offcumdens as they flew overhead. Her parents had never had a lot of money but they had saved to put her through university and were so proud of her every achievement. They’d be gutted to find out that inside their successful, power-suit-wearing daughter was a lonely, unloved woman with nothing in her life but a job that she really didn’t want to do any more.
Clare joined her. ‘Wotcher,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve just heard a van outside so I’ve come out here to leave May alone in the house to answer the door. I think she has a bit of a soft spot for Frank and, from the way he looks at her, I think it’s mutual.’
‘Witch,’ said Lara, smiling, glad of her company.
‘Oh, don’t you start. I heard a bit of gossip from . . . from the old lady, Raine.’ She lied about the source.
‘Go on,’ said Lara, shifting round in her seat to face Clare.
‘It appears that Frank caused the accident that crippled Daisy. A car accident. They hadn’t been going out that long and, well, he’s obviously so guilt-ridden that he’s decided to do his duty and look after her.’
‘Poor Frank,’ said Lara. He appeared like an honest, decent man. Maybe if he hadn’t been so much of a good man, he could have cut and run from Daisy and been happy. Sometimes, Lara thought, having a conscience could be a right old bummer.
They heard a knock on the outside door and Clare giggled. ‘He’s here, with his big meaty package.’
‘Shhh,’ said Lara, giggling too.
‘Can you get the door, May?’ Clare called. ‘We’re a bit busy.’
‘Er . . . can you get it? I’m busy too.’
‘No, we’re busier. Sorry.’ Lara clamped her hands over her mouth to stop the laughter exploding out.
May started flapping. She shot to the long mirror on the wall to check her face and brush her hair forward on the left over the silvery line of scar. Then, after arranging herself, she took a steadying breath and opened the door to Frank, looking the picture of calm.
‘Hi, Frank, come in.’
Frank had to bend to come through the door and even when he was inside, his head wasn’t that far off the ceiling beams. He looked like a giant visiting a child’s Wendy house. May tried not to think about those big arms closing around her.
He was holding a couple of bags. ‘There’s some bacon in here for you, some fillet steaks and chicken breasts. I’ve also put in a couple of my pies – I’m told they would be award-winning if I ever entered any of the butchery competitions.’ He put it all down on the table next to the teapot.
‘Oh, that’s wonderful, Frank, thank you,’ said May, aware that she was wiping her hands on her dress, something she always did when she was nervous. ‘How much do we owe you?’
He waved away the suggestion that he wanted any money. ‘Call it an apology after Daisy’s behaviour. Wouldn’t mind a cup of tea, though. Haven’t had a chance to stop for one all day.’
‘No, we can’t let you—’
‘I insist. My charge is a cup of tea. And that’s the end to it.’
‘Thank you, then. That’s awfully kind of you. Please sit down.’ May turned the kettle on, hoping that he wasn’t looking at her bum. The kettle seemed to take hours to boil.
‘I think it’s on a go-slow,’ she said, turning to Frank.
‘I’m in no rush now. I’ve nearly finished for the day,’ he said.
‘There’re some biscuits in the cupboard.’
It's Raining Men Page 20
