by Gil McNeil
Everyone’s been so kind, offering to help and coming over in the playground at school to ask how it’s going; apart from Annabel Morgan, of course, who was looked faintly pleased until she heard me say that we’ll be opening up again as soon as we can. I wish I could see her face when she hears Grace has agreed to come and cut the ribbon at the grand reopening ceremony when everything’s properly finished. Which reminds me, I must ring Max and ask her what we should get for Lily’s birthday. Last time I spoke to her she was balancing her laptop on her knees on location somewhere, trying to track down snow machines and let everyone know the party’s been moved to the last week of December because the filming is running late, and Grace doesn’t want to do it in January because she’ll be in America. So it didn’t seem a good time to ask her about birthday presents.
Martin and Jeffrey are busy tacking up plastic sheeting under the holes in the roof, and the rest of us are washing down walls and pouring filthy water down the drain outside the shop. It’s already starting to smell fresher, and I’m trying to salvage the balls of wool that were still in their plastic packets, or tucked in the back of shelves, and chucking anything damp into black bin bags. It’s rubbish day tomorrow so I want to get rid of as much as I can, although I’m putting the more expensive yarns to one side because I can’t quite bear to throw them out: it’ll be a lot of washing and rewinding, but I’m sure I can salvage some of it, even if it’s only for me to knit up at home.
I’m completely knackered by lunchtime. My sleeves are soaking wet from washing down shelves, and I’m grimy and cold, although somehow Gran’s still managing to look fairly pristine. But even she’s starting to look tired, so I should probably be organising some sandwiches or something.
‘Does anyone fancy a cup of tea?’
Elsie’s brought the kettle downstairs and we’re making tea when Maggie arrives from the library, offering to help during her lunch hour, and then Cath comes in with homemade pea-and-ham soup, followed by Tina and Mrs Davis with rolls and pasties.
‘Linda will be in later; she’s finishing off a perm but she said she’ll be along and she’s happy to help, and you can put stuff in our machine in the salon if you want, and we’ve got the tumble dryer too, so you can use that as well.’
‘Thanks, Tina. I’ve taken the curtains home, but there are a couple of cushions upstairs, if you’re sure.’
‘I’ll take them back with me.’
Jeffrey finishes his pasty.
‘Lovely pastry. Who made them?’
Mrs Davis smiles.
‘My boys have always liked my pasties.’
Elsie sniffs.
We’re eating and chatting when Betty arrives with rock cakes and Angela arrives with home-made mince pies, and it turns into a rather jolly party, albeit with a rather grubby backdrop.
Everyone’s very keen on the café idea, especially Betty.
‘There used to be an ice-cream parlour along the front, and it was ever so nice.’
Ice cream. Brilliant.
‘That’s a great idea, Betty. If we’ve got a fridge for the cakes we could do ice cream too, couldn’t we, Con?’
She smiles.
‘We can do sorbets too; Mark makes an apricot one – one taste and you’re addicted. For ever. It’s one of the reasons I married him.’
Betty pours herself some more tea.
‘You’ll have people queuing down the road, love; make a change from all those lollies from the kiosks. You should do those smoothlies too. I had a lovely banana one last week, from Sainsbury’s, I think it was.’
Connie nods.
‘Mark wants a new juicer for the pub, so maybe we buy two?’
‘Great.’
I’m stacking bin bags of the soaked-beyond-rescue stuff outside on the pavement when a Labrador starts licking my feet.
‘Hello, Lady Denby.’
‘Hear you’re opening a tea shop. Excellent news. Hasn’t been anywhere to get a decent cup of tea round here for years. Just wanted to say well done, and do let me know if there’s anything I can do. Still have a bit of sway with the council, so if there’s any problem with permits or anything, you just let me know. Ridiculous nonsense, most of it. Didn’t have to wear special hairnets in my day to serve food, and it got us through the Blitz so it can’t have been that bad.’
She steps into the doorway.
‘I see you’re all busy. Stop that, Clarkson – you’ll have to stay in the car if you can’t behave.’
Clarkson is going into a frenzy of floor-licking, for some reason, and is edging towards Elsie’s feet.
‘I don’t know what gets into him, I really don’t. Anyway, I wanted to say well done. Jolly good. Must be off; got to get George some new glasses. Claims he can see for miles, silly man, but he keeps breaking my china. Keep up the good work everyone. Good afternoon.’
Gran’s chuckling, and Elsie’s recovered from being stuck mid-curtsey whilst trying to avoid having her feet licked.
‘That was nice of her.’
‘Yes.’
‘She still has a lot of pull with the council, you know.’
Great; so now I’ve got half the town on my side, plus our local aristocrat ready to take on the council on my behalf. And we’re doing smoothlies and ice cream too. Sounds like a winner to me.
We’ve almost sorted the shop by the weekend, and I’ve had my appointment with the midwife to reassure Gran that my blood pressure hasn’t gone up, which it hasn’t, so I’m in the shop on Sunday morning, trying to finish the new window display. Martin and Reg are upstairs tacking up more plastic sheeting. It rained last night, so Elsie was round first thing emptying buckets and trays; she’s been really brilliant in the past few days, and she seems almost as excited about the café as Connie and I are, which is great.
‘There, that’s all done. Should last until we get the tiles up now.’
‘Thanks, Martin.’
‘I think you should leave the shop counter where it is; when you do all the building work for next door, it’s such a lovely piece.’
Reg nods.
‘I can remember old Mrs Butterworth standing behind that counter. Maybe you could make something similar for the café, Martin?’
‘I could try.’
They’re measuring and scribbling on pads of paper when the shop door opens, and we all turn as a man walks in.
Jesus Christ.
It’s Daniel.
‘Hello, angel. How’s it going?’ He’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and looking tanned and rather glamorous.
Christ.
He walks towards me, and kisses me.
‘Hello, Daniel.’
My voice sounds strange.
Dear God, what’s he doing here?
‘Are you redecorating or something?’
‘No, there was a fire.’
‘But everything’s all right?’
‘Yes, a huge mess, but –’
‘I meant with the baby.’
‘Oh, right, yes. Fine.’
‘Good.’ He stands back, and looks at me. ‘You look great, darling. I thought I’d buy you lunch. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?’
‘No, but I need to get the boys, and –’
‘It’s fine, love – you go and have lunch. Me and your Gran will see to the boys.’
‘Daniel, this is Reg, and –’ I turn and realise Martin’s disappeared upstairs.
‘Nice to meet you, Reg.’
There’s an awkward silence.
‘Come on then, angel, I’m bloody starving, I’ve come straight from the airport. In the world’s smallest car. A twango something. Totally hideous.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Is there anywhere local, so we can walk?’
‘There’s the pub, but they get very busy.’
‘Sounds great.’
We drive to the pub in the end because it’s starting to rain. The world’s smallest car turns out to be perfectly normal-sized, even if it is a rather horrible
turquoise colour.
‘I’m sorry about this; it was the last one they had at the car-rental place.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘I’m on my way to New York for a job. But I thought I should call in, see how you’re doing.’
‘Right.’
There’s a silence. God, I don’t know what to say to him. Apart from please go away, I can’t do this now. There’s too much going on, I can’t cope with anything else.
‘Should I have called?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Before I turned up?’
‘No, it’s fine.’
‘Good. Look, I’m sorry angel. I know I should have called you but I’ve been putting it off. Although you could have called me, actually. Why didn’t you?’
‘I didn’t want another letter from the lawyer’s.’
‘Right. Sorry about that – I panicked.’
‘I know the feeling.’
‘You look great.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I didn’t realise you’d be so … so …’
‘Huge?’
He laughs.
‘Pregnant. So pregnant.’
‘The baby’s big.’
‘Right. Well, that’s good, yes?’ He’s smiling.
‘Yes. Putting on weight and doing all the things they’re meant to do.’
‘Great. So do I park in here?’
‘Yes, or there are more spaces round the side.’
Connie finds us a table at the back by moving a reserved card. She hands Daniel a menu.
‘I’ll just be a minute.’
‘Thanks, Connie.’
‘No problem.’
‘Excuse me a minute, Daniel – I won’t be long.’ I walk towards the ladies and Connie joins me in about thirty seconds flat.
‘Is he?’
‘Yes. Daniel.’
‘Porca Madonna.’
‘With knobs on. He just turned up, at the shop.’
‘OK, but this is good, yes?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants yet.’
‘Yes, it’s good; he wants to talk about the baby.’
‘I think so.’
‘Of course he does. Why else would he be here?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘If he upsets you Mark will hit him. I will tell him.’
‘Great.’
She kisses me.
‘It will be OK, but remember, you give me the winking and I will get Mark.’
‘Great.’
Christ, so now I’ve got to remember not to wink, on top of everything else.
* * *
‘I think I’ll go for the steak and kidney pie; the food’s good here, right?’
‘Brilliant.’
‘Great. Look, I’m sorry about just turning up like this. I know I should probably have a plan, but I’m not that hot on planning. I just didn’t want you to think I’m not bothered. I have been thinking about it.’
‘OK.’
Connie comes over to take our orders, and makes me have lamb stew when I try to order a salad.
‘She’s a friend of yours, I take it?’
‘Yes.’
‘She seems nice.’
‘She is. Her husband does all the cooking.’
‘Is he Italian too?’
‘No, but they met over there.’
God, this is strange, sitting chit-chatting with him, like we’re just old friends meeting up for Sunday lunch.
‘So are you OK for money?’
‘Fine, thanks.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes. Definitely.’
‘We’ll have to sort something out about that. It’s just, well, I wasn’t up for anything like this. Babies haven’t really been part of my plans. I’m just not ready. I think that’s the problem. And I’m so fucking busy with work you wouldn’t believe it.’
‘I know the feeling.’
‘Sorry, angel. I do realise this is tough for you.’
‘This isn’t really about me or you, Daniel, is it?’
‘No, I suppose not. Only it’s difficult for me right now, angel.’
‘How are things with Liv?’
‘Fine. Great, actually. But –’
‘You still haven’t told her?’
‘No. It’s never seemed the right time. Her first husband had kids, and it was complicated.’
‘I didn’t realise she’d been married.’
‘Twice.’
‘Oh, right.’
There’s another silence.
‘But I don’t want you thinking I’m some callous bastard. I want to do the right thing here.’
‘Only you’re not sure what that is?’
‘Exactly.’
The food arrives, and I can tell he’s surprised at how good it is.
‘Did Grace say something to you when you saw her?’
‘No.’
‘Really?’
‘Nothing specific. She was treating me like I was radioactive, so I asked her what her problem was.’
‘And?’
‘Big mistake.’
‘Oh.’
‘Made me think, though.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Not much, just that she didn’t think you’d let me anywhere near the baby since I’m such a fucked-up loser.’
‘Oh.’
He grins.
‘Sweet girl.’
‘She is, when you get to know her.’
‘Sure. So will you? Let me see it? The baby, I mean.’
‘Of course I will.’
‘Good. I thought maybe I could come down here sometimes … actually, maybe London would be better. I could buy a house. What do you think? I love London. I don’t suppose you fancy moving?’
‘Where to?’
‘I could buy a big house, use it as a base when I’m in town.’
‘What, and we’d live in it? How would Liv feel about that?’
He grins.
‘She’d go ballistic’
‘You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?’
We both start to laugh.
‘Christ, I’m trying to do the right thing here. How am I doing so far?’
‘Not great.’
‘I love her, that’s the trouble. If I didn’t, I’d dump her and move in with you, play happy families for a while, see how it goes.’
‘No, you wouldn’t.’
‘I would. Seriously. Might be just what I need. Would you, if I asked you?’
‘Would I what?’
‘Give it a go. You, me and the baby.’
‘And the boys.’
‘Sure.’
‘What do you mean sure? They’re not an optional extra. Look, this is silly.’
‘I’m just trying it out for size, exploring all the options.’
‘Well, don’t. Don’t tell me maybes, tell me what’s happening. I’m too pregnant for maybes.’
‘Sorry, darling.’
‘It’s OK.’
‘The thing is, I never know what’s happening next week, never mind next month.’
‘I know.’
‘What about if I was like an uncle, who turns up once in a blue moon?’
‘Once in a blue moon doesn’t really do it for babies, Daniel. And I don’t want anything clandestine; it wouldn’t work, and it wouldn’t be fair on the baby.’
‘No, I suppose not. Look, I’m sure we can work something out. I’m due in New York but then I’m back for a few days. Leave it with me and I’ll call you, yes? When I’ve talked to Liv.’
‘OK.’
He looks at me.
‘It suits you, being pregnant. I’d love to take some pictures. Maybe we can go for a walk – the light’s great down here. Is there a beach near by?’
‘Yes. But if you think I’m prancing about posing for photographs in this weather you can think again.’
He grins.
‘Fair enough. Let’s order pudding. I’m assuming pregnant gi
rls are into puddings, yes?’
‘Now you’re talking my language.’
After he’s dropped me off at home and I’ve told Gran that nothing’s been decided, much to her annoyance, I call Ellen.
‘I’m with your Gran. What a wanker.’
‘No, I think it was good; at least he’s thinking about it.’
‘Like how he tells his bloody girlfriend is your problem.’
‘I know, but he reminded me of how I used to be with Nick; you don’t know what you think about anything until it’s been filtered through them. I mean obviously I wish he’d stop being so hopeless, but in a way I feel sorry for him.’
‘For God’s sake get a grip, darling.’
‘He doesn’t know how to handle this, and I think deep down he really minds.’
‘Well, he’d better get over it then, and start being useful. Did you talk about money?’
‘He said he wanted to sort something out, but we didn’t talk about anything specific’
‘Christ, you really haven’t got the first idea.’
‘Ellen, you know how I feel about the money thing: it’s not the point.’
‘Yes, it bloody is. Why should you be worrying about the bills while he swans round being creative? Bastard. Next time you talk to him remind him I’m keeping a close eye on him, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Poor old Dovetail. He just disappeared?’
‘Yes. And we were meant to be cooking roast chicken, so the poor thing hadn’t had any lunch either. Do you think I should ring him?’
‘And say what?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Probably not then.’
‘It’s all so complicated. I think I need to wait until the baby’s born; that’ll uncomplicate things, won’t it?’
‘I’m sure it will.’
‘Christ, I’ve just thought. What if Daniel tells Liv and they decide they want the baby? Joint custody or something like that. Maybe Liv might want to adopt – that’s very fashionable now, isn’t it – especially if you’re a film star with a tiny waistline to protect.’
‘Stop it, darling.’
‘Yes, but they might, and then I’d have to get a lawyer and have press camped outside the door like Grace, only I won’t have Bruno and electric gates to protect us.’
‘Sweetheart, there’s no way that’s going to happen.’
