by Jenny Kane
‘I do want to. For my sanity’s sake really. But only part-time. No point in having a child if you never see them.’
Max picked up Cass’s spare keys, and passed them to Beth. ‘Go and have a look tomorrow. Just the two of you; on your own.’
Finally alone with Max, Abi was trying hard not to show any form of excitement on her face at the prospect of their best friends becoming their neighbours in case Beth and Jacob decided not to take up Cass’s offer. ‘We could help with babysitting.’
‘We could,’ Max said. ‘And we wouldn’t have to worry about not getting on with the neighbours, or having people to Sadie-sit if we wanted to have another romantic weekend away.’
‘Which we would.’
‘Which we would.’ Max got up and held out his hand. ‘Bedtime.’
Allowing herself to be escorted to the king-sized bed that was just large enough for Max, but massive for Abi, she said, ‘They could say no.’
‘Will depend on the rent, I suppose.’
‘Cass wouldn’t make it too expensive, would she?’
‘No idea, but I doubt it. She probably won’t insist on a deposit either. That’s usually the sticking point with renting.’
‘It’s funny,’ Abi sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off her T-shirt, ‘half an hour ago I was sure our new neighbours would be Cass and, eventually, Dan. Now I want our neighbours to be Beth and Jacob. I like Cass and everything, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if…’
‘Out of our hands, lass. Out of our hands.’
Max had just returned from delivering Stan and Dora back to Chalk Towers, and Abi was getting ready to go and open the gallery, when Sadie got to her feet seconds before the humans heard the knock on the front door. ‘They can’t have looked around already?’
Following Max into the kitchen Beth and Jacob’s faces were flushed with excitement, as Abi, desperate to hear the verdict said, ‘You can’t have decided already?’
Jacob laughed. ‘We only got as far as the living room and kitchen.’
‘Why, what happened?’ Abi was confused. ‘You can’t have got lost. The house is a mirror image of this one.’
Beth’s eyes were wide with joy. ‘Basically, we got to the kitchen, looked at each other and simultaneously wondered who we were kidding. Of course we want to live there.’
‘You do?’ Abi’s face lit up. ‘For real?’
‘For real.’
‘Forgive me, but can you afford it?’ Max asked. ‘And what about your flat? Will you rent it?’
‘Cass left a note with the expected sale and rental price. We can’t buy it, but we can rent it.’ Jacob oozed delight as he spoke. ‘In the meantime, I know someone who might want to rent our place.’
‘You do?’ Abi had to fight back a childish urge to jump up and down with excitement.
‘Dan.’
‘Oh, yes!’ Max clapped his huge palms together. ‘Dan was only saying the other day he wanted somewhere to live out of Chalk Towers, so he could have time away from the place when he was off duty.
Abi began to rummage in her coat pocket. ‘Come on!’
Beth and Jacob were confused. ‘Come on where?’
‘Into the garden.’ Abi rushed to the bench where the best phone signal could be found. ‘I know we’re supposed to be opening the gallery, but it can look after itself for another hour or two.’
Following Abi with bemusement, Beth, Jacob and Max watched as she hammered a number into her phone. ‘Chalk Towers first, then we’ll call Cass.’
Beth rubbed her bump as she looked at Max for an explanation, but he just shrugged as Abi’s call was obviously answered.
‘Stan!’
Beth smiled as she understood; nodding her approval at Abi, as she hugged Jacob and Max at the same time.
‘Stan, guess what? Beth and Jacob are going to move into Miners Row. They are going to be our neighbours! Are you and Dora free this afternoon? I can feel an enormous Cornish Cream Tea coming on.’
THE END
Read on for a taste of …
One
July 2006
Shrugging off her khaki jacket, Amy bent to pick up the pile of post that lay waiting on her doormat. As her hand reached to retrieve the small brown package half-buried beneath some junk mail, Amy froze. She knew that handwriting. She also had a funny feeling that she knew what was going to be inside.
But why return it now, after all these years?
The poorly wrapped parcel broke open as her fingers fumbled at the sticky tape, and a music cassette fell into her hands. The cover was unmarked, just as it had been when he’d taken it from her. Amy stared in disbelief, the blood draining from her already pale face. She remembered recording at least two tracks onto it herself. Maybe there were more now.
Amy’s brother had given her the blank tape as she’d been climbing into their parents’ car, about to be driven away to start her new life as a student. She hadn’t seen Mike since he’d moved to Australia not long afterwards, but she could still picture his face clearly as he’d passed over the unusual gift. ‘To record your musical memories along the way,’ he’d said with a grin. Back then Amy had had every intention to fill her gift with each musical memory associated with her student life, but the reality of actually living through those experiences had left her with little time to record more than a couple of tracks.
Flustered, Amy shook the torn packaging in her hunt for a note of explanation. A small white envelope fell to the floor. Jack’s familiar spidery scrawl stretched across its front.
Dearest Amy. Please listen to the tape BEFORE you open this. The letter will explain afterwards. J x
With a feeling that she was outside of what was happening, detached, as if she was a spectre floating above herself, Amy walked into her tiny living room and put the tape down on her coffee table, as gingerly as if it was an unexploded bomb.
What was on it now? She knew she couldn’t avoid this unexpected intrusion for long – but, on the other hand, a brief delay in order to clear her head suddenly felt essential.
Taking refuge in the kitchen, Amy placed her palms firmly onto the cool, tiled work surface, and took a couple of deep yet shaky breaths. Forcing her brain to slip back into action, she retrieved a bottle of white wine from the fridge, poured a large glassful and, squaring her shoulders, carried it through to the living room.
Perching on the edge of her sofa, her throat dry, Amy stared suspiciously at the tape for a second, before daring to pick it up and click open its stiff plastic box. Two minutes later, her hands still shaking, she closed it again with a sharp bang, and drank some wine. It took a further five minutes to gather the courage to re-open the case and place the tape into the dusty cassette compartment of her ancient stereo system. It must have been years since she’d seen a cassette, she thought, let alone listened to one. She wasn’t even sure the stereo still worked …
Swallowing another great gulp of alcohol, Amy closed her eyes and pressed Play, not at all sure she wanted to take this trip back in time …
The hectic bustle of the place had hit Amy instantly. Being brought up by parents with a serious café habit, the energy buzzing around the student coffee shop had felt both newly exhilarating and yet comfortably familiar. She’d instantly enjoyed walking anonymously through the crowds with her plastic mug and a soggy salad roll.
Sitting in the coffee shop one day, during the second week of her first term as a student archaeologist, Amy noticed two lads, whom she’d seen in her Prehistory lecture only ten minutes before, struggling to find seats. Surprising herself by inviting them to share her wobbly plastic table, Amy recalled how she’d been even more surprised when they’d accepted her offer.
With that one uncharacteristically impulsive gesture, Amy had met Paul and Rob. Those cups of strong black coffee in the overcrowded student café were only the first of many coffee stops they shared over the next three years …
The first track, which Amy remembered recording herself, was only halfway t
hrough, but her wine glass was already empty. With closed eyes Amy thought of them now. Rob was married with three small children. Paul was travelling the world, his archaeological trowel still in hand. Both were miles away. Their friendships remained, but were rather neglected on her side, she thought sadly. The sigh which escaped Amy’s lips was a resigned one, as the sound of Bryan Adams’ ‘Summer of ‘69’ continued to fill the room.
Amy sighed again, but couldn’t help the hint of a smile as she remembered how the student coffee shop had only appeared to own one CD, which it had played on a continuous loop. It had quickly become traditional for Amy, Paul, and Rob to time their departure to the sound of Adams belting out the last lines of his song.
As track one of her tape died away, and the second began, Amy realised she’d been holding her breath. Expelling air slowly as the first notes hit her ears, Amy’s racing pulse was calmed by the recollection of a happy memory that had led her to record the song fifteen years ago …
The Another Cup of … Series
Jenny Kane
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