by Sue Fortin
‘Okay, I’ll see you later.’
I call after him through the serving hatch. ‘If you’re in for breakfast in the morning, it’s on the house, by way of a thank you.’
Kerry turns and, with what I can only describe as a cheeky grin, followed by an even cheekier wink, calls back to me, ‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement!’
*
Kerry wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his overalls. It was a hot day for May and working inside the poorly insulated workshop wasn’t pleasant. The air was still and the humidity high.
‘Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a storm coming,’ said Kerry.
‘You want a cuppa?’ asked Joe, putting down the spanner he had been using.
‘Got anything colder?’
Joe went over to the fridge in the corner of the workshop and opened the door.
‘Beer, water or can of Coke?’
‘A Coke will do,’ said Kerry. He stepped forward and caught the can that Joe chucked his way. ‘I’m going to sit outside for five minutes. You coming?’
Joe followed him out. Kerry plonked himself down on the back seat from an old car, which had long since been separated from the vehicle and abandoned in the far corner of the yard. Joe grabbed a wooden crate to perch on. Skip, Kerry’s little terrier dog, came trotting out of the workshop and jumped up onto the seat beside his owner.
As Kerry leaned back, grateful for the shade of the workshop, he glanced over at the service road, which ran along the back of Seahorse Café. His attention was caught by the sight of the willowy figure of Erin bringing out a bag of rubbish and lifting the big industrial lid of the wheelie bin to sling in the bag. Her chestnut hair, although tied back in a ponytail, seemed to shimmer down her back in the sunlight.
‘Aha! Caught you!’ At Joe’s jibe, Kerry snapped his head back to look at his cousin. Joe nodded in the direction of the café. ‘Admiring the scenery, were you?’
‘What’s that?’ said Max, coming out of the workshop and wandering over to them.
‘Kerry here, ogling the new waitress at the café. I think he’s got the hots for her.’
Very rarely did Kerry ever feel like punching his cousin. Today, however, was one of those occasions. Annoyed that he had, indeed, been caught looking at Erin, Kerry didn’t want to let on, otherwise he’d never hear the last of it. Instead, he made a great effort to keep his voice nonchalant as he replied. ‘What? Oh, Jim Hurley’s daughter.’
Joe laughed and mimicked Kerry. ‘Oh, Jim Hurley’s daughter.’ He turned to his dad. ‘Like he doesn’t know what her name is after hanging around the café for half an hour this morning, getting all hot and steamy in the kitchen.’
Max grinned at Kerry and raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so? You been rattling her pots and pans?’ Father and son laughed.
Standing up and squashing his cigarette under his foot, Kerry gave Joe a shove on the shoulder, sending him sprawling backwards off the upturned wooden crate. ‘That mouth of yours will get you in trouble one day.’
This seemed to fuel Joe’s laughter even more. He picked himself up and, righting his makeshift seat, settled himself back on it. ‘Touch a nerve, did I?’
Later Kerry was relieved to hear Joe down tools and announce he was finished for the day. Max had already gone and Kerry was left to lock up. He needed to get the bike he was working on ready for the customer to pick up in the morning.
Kerry wheeled the bike out into the rear yard and started the engine. Leaning over it, he revved the throttle several times, listening carefully to make sure the engine was firing properly. Then he left it to tick over for a few minutes, again listening for any stuttering in the rhythm of the rumble. At tick-over it chugged at a nice steady pace; no hesitation, no lumpiness.
After a few minutes he was satisfied everything was okay and, cutting the engine, took the bike back inside.
As he locked up the workshop doors, he glanced over to the café and suddenly fancied a coffee. Of course, he could simply go up to his flat and make a cup of instant, but that wasn’t the same as a freshly made Americano. What the heck? It was only a coffee.
Kerry gave his hands a quick look and determined them presentable enough, having managed to get most of the grease off and dirt out from under his nails.
‘Come on, Skip,’ he called to the little terrier. ‘Let’s get a coffee.’ He headed round to the front of the café. He had just taken hold of the handle when the door swung open and out bustled a very tired-looking Erin. She gave a little yelp of surprise.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,’ said Kerry, feeling a broad smile spread across his face. A few tendrils of hair had escaped from Erin’s ponytail and had curled slightly.
‘That’s all right,’ she replied, touching her hair, as if checking it was in place. ‘I was just about to close up. Did you want something? Please say no.’ She clasped her hands together as if in prayer.
‘In that case then, no?’ replied Kerry.
‘Is the right answer,’ Erin laughed, then added, ‘For God’s sake don’t tell my dad I’m turning away customers. He’ll have a fit.’ She moved round him and began stacking the outside seating.
‘Here, I’ll do that,’ said Kerry, taking hold of the chair Erin now had in her hands.
‘Tell you what, I’ll do the chairs and you do the tables.’ Erin gave the chair a little tug and then a much stronger one as Kerry realised he was still holding onto it. She raised her eyebrows slightly, a small smile turning the corners of her mouth upwards.
Kerry shook himself mentally and, letting go of the chair, turned to focus on the bistro table instead.
‘So, how was your first day?’ he asked, carrying a table in behind Erin.
‘Not so bad in the end. It’s been really quiet this afternoon. Not sure if it’s always like this, but it was hardly worth being open.’ They put the furniture to one side.
‘It will probably pick up more in the summer, though,’ said Kerry, holding the door open so they could go back out and collect some more tables and chairs.
‘I suppose so. If it’s like this tomorrow, I might close early.’
‘When do you think you’ll go back to London?’ Kerry hoped he sounded only mildly interested.
‘I need to see how things go with my dad first,’ she said. ‘There’s still no change in his condition. The doctors were having a consultation amongst themselves today to decide the best way forward.’
‘Is that good or bad?’ asked Kerry, although he acknowledged it didn’t sound good.
She shrugged and looked as if she was struggling to find the right words for a moment. He watched her swallow hard and then look up at him. ‘I really couldn’t say.’
Kerry placed another table inside the café. He felt he should comfort her with a hug or soothing words, but he got the distinct impression Erin didn’t want a fuss made. He decided best to leave it. As he turned to get the last of the tables, he saw a familiar figure heading towards the café, their eyes fixed firmly on the back of Erin as she stacked the last few chairs
She wasn’t hard to track down. She was going to be one of three places. At the hospital. At her sister’s or here, at the café. It wasn’t like she had loads of friends to catch up with.
Roisin neared the café, her thoughts solely on Erin. It wouldn’t be so bad, but after what happened, Erin had no right to disappear and start a new life, washing her hands of her old one, just because it didn’t work out the way she wanted it. Got herself a rich boyfriend in London and thought she was the bee’s knees. Sure, she had barely been back here. What sort of daughter was she?
But, hey, look at her now, waiting on tables. Serves her right. Roisin was so looking forward to wiping that smug look off her face and making Erin admit to what she really did.
‘How the mighty fall.’
Kerry looked from her to Erin and back again. His eyes were wary. He clearly wasn’t sure how things stood between the two of them.
Erin
put the chair down and turned to face Roisin. ‘Hello, Roisin. I’m sorry but the café’s closed now.’
Sure, she wasn’t sorry at all. Erin knew Roisin wasn’t here for a cosy catch-up over a one-shot-skinny-latte, or whatever it was she drank. Probably some detox green-leaf crap, knowing her.
‘I’m not here for a coffee,’ said Roisin. ‘I didn’t get a chance to speak to you before, not with me mam there.’
‘I’m a bit busy right now,’ said Erin, glancing back at Kerry.
‘You got yourself a new job?’ Roisin asked, looking at Kerry.
‘Just being neighbourly,’ said Kerry.
‘Clearly. So, in the spirit of being neighbourly, has Erin been telling you all our secrets?’
‘That sounds dangerous,’ said Kerry.
The trouble with Kerry, Roisin could never read him. He could be so deadpan at times. She didn’t care; it gave her another opportunity for a dig at Erin. Roisin quite liked the way Erin had that look of uncertainty in her eyes. She had no clue as to what Roisin might say next.
‘Secrets are always dangerous,’ said Roisin. ‘Aren’t they, Erin?’
‘I need to get on,’ said Erin, ignoring the comment.
‘Yes, I’m sure you do,’ said Roisin. ‘Oh, meant to say, I got your text message…in the end.’
Erin looked up at her. ‘Good.’
‘It was too late, though,’ said Roisin, enjoying the doubt on Erin’s face. ‘Maybe we can catch up another time? There’s so much we need to talk about. Not least, why you did a disappearing act.’
‘It wasn’t a disappearing act.’ There was a snap in Erin’s voice and Roisin was rather pleased with herself. She had got the conversation to a place where she wanted it. A place Erin wasn’t happy to be: talking about her past. Erin turned her back on Roisin and picked up the last of the bistro tables. ‘I need to get finished here and go up to the hospital to see my dad.’
Before Roisin could reply, Kerry spoke. ‘Sorry, we must be holding you up. We’ll let you get on. Come on, Roisin, let’s go for a drink at The Smugglers.’ He whistled for Skip to follow.
Roisin went to protest, but Kerry took her elbow and whisked her away.
‘Sometimes, Kerry, you’re a proper gentleman,’ said Roisin, as she fell into step with him. ‘A drink is nice, although I’m not sure for whose benefit the offer is.’ She looked back over her shoulder and called out before Erin disappeared inside. ‘Don’t worry, Erin, there will be plenty of time for us to catch up. I’ll be in touch. Very soon.’
Chapter 7
Kerry always enjoyed spending time at Apple Tree Cottage. Joe and Bex always made him feel at home. No one stood on ceremony. Their home definitely had a lived-in feel, but one that was warm and welcoming; just as Kerry thought a home should be.
Kerry was in the garden with Joe, watching him fiddle around with the lawn mower. Skip was laid flat out on the grass, basking in the warm May sunshine.
‘Aren’t you fed up that you keep having to fix that old thing?’ said Kerry as Joe made yet another attempt to start the petrol mower. ‘Why don’t you admit defeat and buy a new one?’
‘No, there’s plenty of life left in it yet,’ said Joe. He knelt down and took the cover off the engine.
Kerry leaned against the shed and surveyed the garden at Apple Tree Cottage. Laid to lawn mostly, there were deep flowerbeds either side in which Bex, Joe’s wife, had randomly planted traditional cottage-garden plants. There was a semi wildness about it, much like Joe and Bex themselves, thought Kerry. The rear of the garden was fenced off, a small gate leading to the vegetable plot. Bex embraced the whole home-grown, organic ethos and could often be found tending to the many varieties of vegetables and fruits. Even with the recent birth of their second child, Bex was still a dedicated gardener.
The other side of their garden was home to free-range hens, which Bex had rescued from a battery farm. Only last week, Kerry had helped Joe make another hen house to accommodate the recent additions to Bex’s poultry sanctuary.
‘You’re wasting your breath trying to persuade him to buy a new one,’ said Bex, coming out into the garden. ‘I’ve been telling him for the past two years, but he likes a challenge.’ She smiled as she spoke.
‘I was thinking maybe we should go for the meadow look,’ said Joe, as he picked up a spanner from the ground and began tightening a nut. ‘Is Breeze asleep?’
‘Yes, I’ve just fed her,’ said Bex. ‘She’s gone straight off. It’s hard to believe she’s only a month old, she’s such a dream.’
At that moment, their three-year-old son came tearing out into the garden, dressed in a Superman outfit.
‘Watch out,’ said Kerry, sidestepping the youngster. ‘Superman Storm’s arrived. Hey, buddy, who are you saving the world from today?’
‘Marshmallow Man!’ called back Storm as he raced around the garden, stopping by the path to have an imaginary fight with his adversary. Skip raised his head to see what all the fuss was about, but the warmth of the sun was a more tempting option and he rested his head back down.
Bex turned back to Joe. ‘Why don’t you borrow your dad’s mower?’ she said. ‘We can’t go for the meadow look, we’ve got the barbecue soon and then a couple of weeks after that it’s Breeze’s naming ceremony.’
‘I’m…not…giving up,’ muttered Joe and then cursed as the spanner slipped from the bolt and clattered to the floor.
‘Want me to take a look?’ said Kerry. He pushed himself away from the side of the shed.
‘Nope. It’s not going to win,’ said Joe. Picking up his spanner again and issuing a series of threats to the machine, he set back to work.
‘I’ll take that as my cue to leave,’ said Kerry. He turned to Bex. ‘Shall I take Superman out for an hour for you? I’ll get him an ice-cream or something.’
‘Oh, would you?’ said Bex. ‘That would be great. I’ve got a load of nappies to wash out.’
‘Definitely my cue to leave,’ said Kerry.
‘You can leave Skip here,’ said Bex. ‘He’s no trouble. Won’t be much fun for him sat outside the café.’
‘Okay, thanks,’ said Kerry. ‘Hey! Superman! Do you want to recharge your powers with a bowl of ice-cream?’
‘Ice-cream! Ice-cream! Yes. Ice-cream!’ Storm ran over to Kerry and danced around his feet.
‘That’s a yes, then.’ Kerry gave Bex a peck on the cheek and Joe a pat on the shoulder. ‘Catch you later, cuz.’ As he headed out of the garden, holding Storm’s hand, he called back over his shoulder. ‘You may want to turn the fuel supply on!’
He laughed out loud as he heard Joe curse at him. By the time Kerry stepped out onto Corkscrew Lane, he heard the mower’s engine rumble into life.
Erin placed the bowl of ice-cream, vanilla with strawberry sauce, on the table in front of Storm. ‘So, Storm and Breeze,’ she said. ‘They’re unusual names. A bit like yours and Joe’s.’
‘Blame our mums for that. They collaborated,’ said Kerry with a smile. ‘As for this generation of Wrights, Bex says she named them after her pregnancies. A difficult first pregnancy and an easy second one. Plus the fact Bex is into all that being-at-one-with-nature business.’
‘I remember she was a bit hippy looking when we were younger.’
‘She’s very environmentally friendly, loves nature, makes her own bread and keeps chickens. Very bohemian. You get the picture.’
‘Hugs trees? Protests against urban development and smokes roll-ups?’ suggested Erin.
‘Something like that,’ replied Kerry, smiling.
‘She was a year below me at school,’ said Erin. ‘She’s married to Joe? Neither of them left the village, then.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that. I like living here, actually. There’s a real sense of community. Everyone’s really friendly.’
‘Hmm, nosey, you mean.’
‘You’re really not a fan of Rossway, are you?’ said Kerry, aiming a spoon of ice-cream in the direction of Storm’s open
mouth. It reminded him of the wildlife programmes where the birds came back with little grubs to give to the eager, open-mouthed chicks. ‘Why don’t you like it?’
Erin shrugged. ‘Just don’t. Anyway, I’d better get on. Do you want anything else?’
‘No, I’m good for now. I’ll have something later.’ He held her gaze for a moment, the little smile now a broad grin. He didn’t miss the small flush of colour to her cheeks before she turned away.
‘What you doing two weeks Sunday?’ The question brought Erin to a halt.
She turned to face him. ‘Why?’
‘Bex and Joe are having a barbecue. Didn’t know if you fancied coming. You could catch up with Bex, maybe. It’s all very casual and low key.’
‘I’ll be busy. I’ve got something on.’
Kerry raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? You’ve got something to do in Rossway.’ He could tell she was being evasive. It intrigued him. ‘Come on, you never know, you might enjoy yourself. Or is it that you don’t want to associate with the locals?’ He gave a wink to show he wasn’t being totally serious.
‘It’s not that.’
‘So…,’ prompted Kerry. ‘You going to enlighten me?’
‘I hardly know you, for a start.’
Kerry let out a small burst of laughter. She dipped her head but he could see the smile on her face.
‘Okay. I’m twenty-six. My star sign is Aries. My favourite food is Indian. I like rock music and ride a motorbike. I love the sea and hate the gym.’ He rattled the facts off like a machine gun in rapid-fire mode. ‘Oh, and I was kicked out of the Scouts for setting fire to a tent…by accident, of course. What more do you need to know? Come on, say yes.’
‘Normally, I would say yes,’ said Erin.
‘Just say it, then,’ said Kerry. ‘It’s not hard. Y. E. S. Yes. Go on, give it a try.’
‘I have a visitor coming. From England,’ said Erin. The smile slipped from her face. ‘My boyfriend.’
Kerry hadn’t been expecting that, but then he wasn’t entirely surprised. Why wouldn’t she have a boyfriend? ‘Bring him too,’ he said. Not because he especially revelled in the idea, but a certain morbid curiosity had swept over him. He’d like to see what sort of fella had won Erin’s affections.
