by Karen Clarke
‘Ooh, that’s good,’ said a passing woman. ‘Will you do me?’
‘How much?’ asked Jonty’s mum, rummaging out her purse. I was about to wave her away, when Gwen shouted from behind the counter, ‘Special price for one day only, ten pounds, cash,’ and, within the hour, I’d earned a handful of notes.
‘You can do me for free if you like,’ Gwen offered, as another satisfied customer departed, but not before showing the drawing to her partner, who laughed rather meanly and told me I’d captured her ‘witchy’ nose.
Gwen plonked herself on the vacated seat, sturdy legs akimbo, face mangled by a forbidding frown. ‘Do your worst,’ she said, placing her hands on meaty thighs that strained at the material of her trousers. ‘I already look like a cartoon.’
Mum whirled past, a proud little smile on her face, and for a second I imagined that this was my career: tucked away in a corner of the café, drawing people for money.
‘Is that it?’ said Gwen when I’d finished, her mouth tugged down at the corners. I’d more or less drawn her straight, worried she’d lamp me if I exaggerated what was already pretty scary. ‘Coward.’
But she took it anyway, and flashed it at Dad when he asked to see it.
‘Wow, you really went to town there,’ he chortled, stopping abruptly when he realised his mistake. ‘It’s almost four if you want to go and catch your bus,’ he said, looking chastened, and Gwen vanished without another word.
By the time I got home, I felt as though I’d done a day’s work, which was odd when I’d been sitting down for most of it, while Mum and Dad ran rings around me at the café.
When they arrived home half an hour later, I was on my laptop at the kitchen table, ordering a set of watercolour pencils, unusually energised. By contrast, they seemed tired, their usual cheerful banter noticeable by its absence.
‘Everything OK?’ I ventured, looking up as I completed my purchase. Mum had her head in the fridge, as if hoping a meal might magically assemble itself, while Dad was fiddling with the dials on the radio on the windowsill, flipping between stations. They both still had their coats on, and even their hair seemed less buoyant than usual.
‘Fine,’ Mum said, turning to flash me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
‘All good, Pumpkin.’ Dad switched the radio off, and stared out of the window before moving across the kitchen and slapping the light on.
‘What did you do that for?’ Mum slammed the fridge and stamped over to turn the light off.
‘Sorry, love, I thought it was a bit dark in here,’ Dad said.
The sun had been swallowed by a tumble of grey clouds and, for the first time in hours, I remembered it was games night.
‘Why don’t you go and get ready and I’ll cook something quick,’ I suggested.
‘Ready?’ Poised by the doorway, they turned simultaneously to stare. I was reminded of a spooky film I’d once seen, about androids who looked like people, but didn’t react normally.
‘Ready for what?’ Dad said blankly.
A ripple of apprehension ran down my spine. ‘The games night?’
‘Oh god, I’d forgotten about that.’ Mum’s expression morphed into dismay. ‘I just can’t face it, love.’
‘What?’ Shaken, it was my turn to stare. Mum always faced things. She’d been facing things for decades. ‘It’s only a few board games for a couple of hours,’ I said, aware of a weakness around my knees, even though I was sitting down. ‘I thought you were looking forward to it.’
‘We did tell you that we liked our evenings in,’ Dad said quietly, resting a hand on Mum’s shoulder as if to stop her fleeing. ‘Apart from quiz nights at the pub.’
‘But…’ I’d been going to say it was only one measly night, but they were looking at me almost timidly now, as if I might go ballistic and start chucking things around. ‘Are you ill?’ The words burst through my lips before I could stop them.
‘Ill?’ Dad looked at Mum, as though verifying he had the right word.
‘Why would we be ill?’ Mum’s face crumpled. ‘Do we look ill?’ She rushed to the toaster and studied herself in the chrome surface. ‘I don’t think I look any different, do I?’ She pulled at the skin on her cheeks. ‘Maybe I should get my eyebrows done again, but it was so painful.’
‘You’re both being really weird,’ I said, wondering whether to mention overhearing their earlier conversation. ‘Is it Nan?’
‘Nan?’
‘Getting rid of her stuff and going environmental.’ I decided not to mention the bit about her preparing to meet her maker, in case they didn’t know.
‘You know we fully support your nan,’ Mum said, and Dad nodded his agreement.
‘Why are you being off, then?’
‘Oh, love, I’m sorry.’ Mum rushed over and hugged me from behind. ‘It’s just that we were kept awake last night by… a noise, like an alarm going off somewhere outside, weren’t we, Ed?’ I sensed her looking at Dad for confirmation.
‘That’s right.’ He nodded slowly, finally removing his anorak. ‘Quite piercing.’
‘I didn’t hear it,’ I said, not adding that I’d been awake half the night too.
‘It was out the front of the house, maybe a car alarm.’ It didn’t stack up, but I was too relieved that neither of them appeared to be ill to contradict him. ‘We’re absolutely fine,’ he added, nodding for emphasis. ‘Aren’t we, Lydia?’
Mum gave me a final squeeze before straightening up. ‘Nothing a nice hot shower won’t solve.’
‘And of course we’ll be there tonight.’ Dad became jaunty, tossing his coat into the hall, but it missed the hook and crumpled onto the floor. ‘It’ll be fun.’
Mum nodded, but her smile had a slightly pinched quality and I was overcome with guilt. They’d been on their feet for most of the day and were clearly tired out. It wasn’t fair to expect them to go back to work.
‘You don’t have to,’ I said firmly. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to manage on our own. Won’t we Robbie Robot?’ I said, as he came in, whistling.
‘Manage what?’ He threw his rucksack down and scanned our faces, and I guessed he was wondering whether I’d spilt his secret.
I threw him my best ‘I promised I wouldn’t tell and I meant it’ look and, seeming to understand, he gave a little nod. ‘The café, for a couple of hours this evening, so the parents can do whatever it is they do when they’re alone.’
‘Thanks for that image,’ Rob said.
‘Cassie,’ Mum scolded. ‘We certainly won’t be doing anything lewd.’
‘Lewd,’ Rob repeated and sniggered.
‘That’s a disappointment,’ Dad said, playfully tapping Mum’s bottom as she went into the hall, and Rob made a grossed out face that made me giggle. I kept forgetting how nice it was, us all being together. How much I’d missed the in-jokes and shorthand of family life.
‘Anyway, I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’m seeing Emma tonight.’ The look he gave me was loaded with significance. They must have baby stuff to moon about, and I could hardly argue with that.
‘I’ve told you, we’ll be there,’ Dad said, rubbing his hands together. ‘We want to support you.’
‘No.’ I’d made up my mind. It would be easier to network if they weren’t around. ‘Will Meg be coming in?’
‘Yes, and Tamsin,’ Mum said. ‘She was keen for a couple of extra hours’ work.’
‘Then we’ll be fine.’
‘But—’
‘Mum, I’ve helped in the café before, I can do it again.’
‘But not for years, and you’re supposed to be in charge of the event.’
‘The event will take care of itself,’ I said. I was beginning to wish I hadn’t arranged the event in the first place. It would have been nice to crash out in front of the television and have a think about my painting commissions – Evelyn’s daughter had already emailed a photo of Boo-Boo, a sad-eyed greyhound wearing a diamanté collar – but it was out of the question.
&nbs
p; After a dinner of reheated macaroni cheese, I donned a work outfit of narrow black trousers and an ivory blouse with a pussy bow, and once I’d retrieved all the board games from the cupboard under the stairs and reassured Mum and Dad that I wouldn’t set the café alight or let any burglars in, they handed over the keys with surprising ease. Rob had borrowed their car to drive to Emma’s, and, as it was raining again, I took Sir Lancelot. I cursed the weather, worried that no one would bother turning out.
Meg and Tamsin were waiting when I arrived, and Meg gave a squeal of pleasure. ‘Just you?’ she said, when I’d let us in, and we’d put down our cake tins and board games.
‘I’ve relieved my parents of their duties,’ I said, and she gripped me in a Sumo-wrestler hug that felt nice. ‘Thanks for coming in.’ I included Tamsin, who gave a pleased little smile and a tiny wave, before going to hang up her silky bomber jacket.
‘Don’t be silly, it’s nice to have an excuse to get out in the evening.’ Meg let go of me. ‘It was either this, or looking at possible wedding venues again.’
‘You don’t sound too excited.’ I put my bag down, admiring the way her hair always behaved itself, while mine wouldn’t stay put for more than ten minutes. And I couldn’t carry off a fitted dress the way she did. ‘Aren’t you supposed to have turned into Bridezilla?’
‘God, no.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Is there such a thing as Mumzilla? If so, Sam's mother's it.’
‘Scary,’ I said, casting a critical eye around the café, unable to help a squeeze of pleasure when I spotted my artwork again.
‘I still can’t believe they’re yours.’ Meg had seen me looking. ‘I told Tilly, and she’s coming to have a look.’
‘Honestly, they’re nothing special,’ I said, but it was still nice to hear. ‘I might be doing some new stuff.’ I told her what had happened earlier, and she clasped her hands, the way she used to when she was really excited about something. ‘That’s amazing, Cassie,’ she said. ‘But should you be accepting commissions if you’re going back to London, soon?’
London. She might as well have said the moon. ‘I might be staying a while longer, I haven’t decided yet.’
‘Oh!’ Her eyes flicked wide. ‘I mean, that’s brilliant, but… this place?’ She scouted the room. ‘It’s not exactly what you’re used to, is it?’
‘No,’ I said, feeling something building inside me, but before I could say anything silly like ‘It’s better’, there was the sound of knuckles rapping on glass, and I turned to see a familiar figure, waving a Scrabble box in a plastic bag, and my heart did a triple somersault.
‘It’s Danny Fleetwood,’ said Meg, peering over the counter.
‘So it is.’ I smoothed back the annoying bit of hair that never went into my ponytail. ‘And it looks like he’s brought his mum.’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘I told you I was good,’ said Danny, adding up his score.
‘I can’t believe that quetzal is a word.’ I was embarrassed that the best I’d come up with was ‘lame’.
‘It’s a tropical bird from Mexico,’ said Danny, pronouncing it Me’hico. ‘Look it up if you like.’
‘I will.’ I got my phone out and jabbed the word into a search engine. Of course, he was right. ‘It’s pretty,’ I said, admiring its green and red plumage and yellow crest.
‘He saves up a new word for when we play at Christmas,’ said Maggie, giving Danny an affectionate shove. His mum was nice. Quietly spoken, with eyes the same shade as her son’s, and short blonde hair shot through with highlights. There was a wariness in her gaze, dispelled whenever a smile bloomed over her face, which was often. It was obvious she thought the world of Danny and that they had an easy relationship.
‘I’ll go and order more refreshments and be back to thrash you again.’ He bowed deeply, before heading over to the counter, and I realised I still hadn’t thanked him for hanging my paintings, and he hadn’t mentioned them either. There hadn’t really been time, as his arrival had been followed by the arrival of several more, and I’d found myself herding people to tables, and taking orders for drinks and cakes.
The café was almost full once again, couples and families playing everything from Monopoly to backgammon. A large group of students had corralled some tables and were indulging in a noisy but friendly game of dominoes, and opposite them were a handful of pensioners, playing whist.
Meg and Tamsin were rushed off their feet, but didn’t seem to mind. Meg’s cakes had almost sold out, and Tamsin had definitely got the hang of the coffee machine, her cheeks flushed candy-pink with pleasure.
I realised I was having a genuinely nice time. Usually, I’d be too busy checking and double-checking that everything was running according to plan, knowing the success of the event would impact on future business, and that even a tiny disruption would spoil everyone’s enjoyment.
Admittedly, I hadn’t done any networking, and people might assume that Mum and Dad had organised the evening, but it was too late now. I’d look like an idiot if I started going round saying, ‘Oh, by the way, if you’ve enjoyed this evening’s event and would like me to arrange something similar, preferably within the next fortnight, maybe you could give me a call.’ Which reminded me… I really, really needed to order some business cards.
‘Danny says he knew you at school,’ Maggie was saying, and I realised I’d been watching him as he chatted easily to Meg. He had his hands in both his pockets so his jeans pulled tight across his buttocks.
‘That’s right.’ I turned to meet her inquisitive gaze, which was unnervingly similar to Danny’s. ‘Though I didn’t actually know him that well. We only shared art classes during our final year.’
‘It was a difficult time for him, back then.’ Maggie’s fingers twisted a delicate gold chain just visible beneath the neck of her navy-blue jumper. ‘He’d had quite a lot of time off school.’
‘Oh?’ My focus sharpened. ‘Was he ill?’ I tried to imagine him pale-faced in a hospital bed, but it wouldn’t stick. A fractured leg, maybe. I could imagine him leaping out of a tree, or falling off his bike. Now I was picturing him as a little boy, pedalling along a street in hazy sunshine.
Maggie gave a sad little smile. ‘No, he’s been lucky that way, but his father… ’ She paused. ‘He’d been in the army for years, and was discharged with post-traumatic stress disorder. It was a bad time. Danny helped to take care of him, once we’d settled in Kingsbridge.’
‘Right,’ I said easily, reeling a little. ‘That must have been really tough.’
‘It was.’ Her eyes grew shadowy. ‘We did get help, but it wasn’t always enough. Danny was an absolute rock. I probably shouldn’t have relied on him so much, but his sister was away at university, so it was just the three of us. His dad’s much better now, but it had a big impact on Danny.’
‘I can imagine,’ I said, trying to picture it. Mum and Dad had never involved Rob and me in their problems, if they’d had any, and I realised how lucky we’d been. ‘You’re obviously very close.’
Maggie smiled. ‘He’s an absolute diamond, but unfortunately his school work suffered a bit,’ she said, just as Danny returned with tea for three and a plate of buttery shortbread. ‘Not that it’s done him any harm.’
‘Talking about me?’ Danny switched seats so he was next to me instead of Maggie, and I tried not to sneak looks at his Scrabble tiles. His proximity was having an odd effect, as if I’d drunk a few glasses of wine, instead of a cup of weak coffee and a peppermint tea. He smelt like outdoors after a rainstorm – Why was I going all poetic? – undercut with something like moss and old leather. His boots maybe, which looked enormous next to my size four feet. I experienced a surge of tenderness, thinking of him helping to take care of his father, and how hard – and frightening – it must have been.
‘Cassie?’
I snapped my gaze away from his feet. ‘Hmmm?’
‘Do you want to play another game?’
I knew I shouldn’t. I hadn’t intend
ed to get sucked in in the first place, but once Danny had introduced me to Maggie and slung his jacket, which I’d remembered to bring with me, over the back of a chair and opened the Scrabble box, I’d found myself chatting about the weather, and accepting Danny’s offer to buy coffee and cake.
‘Fine,’ I said, watching him sort out the tiles for another game, smiling when I caught Maggie’s eye. I hoped she didn’t think we were on some sort of date, and wondered what he’d told her about me, other than we’d been at school together.
‘I admire what your grandmother’s doing,’ she said, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Danny’s been telling me all about it.’
‘She certainly knows her own mind,’ was all I could think to say. ‘It’s just a shame that she thinks she’s a burden to my dad, and won’t ask for his help with anything, because she feels guilty.’ I wasn’t sure why I’d blurted that out, but Maggie nodded with an empathetic smile. I flushed, wishing I hadn’t used the word ‘burden’ after what she’d told me about Danny helping out when his father was ill.
‘If you’re worried, talk to your dad,’ said Danny, shifting his cup away from the Scrabble board. ‘Does he know how she feels?’
‘He just thinks she’s happy with her fads, which she is, but I can’t help thinking this latest one’s a bit drastic, and that she’s actually a bit lonely.’
‘Sometimes, people need to hear that they’re cared about,’ he said. Guessing his family were the sort that discussed their feelings, I felt a beat of envy. ‘When they’re gone, it doesn’t matter how loud you shout, they won’t hear you.’
‘Is that a quote?’ I did a little eye-roll. ‘I know someone else who lives her life by them.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with living by certain codes,’ said Maggie, a light rebuke in her voice. ‘Danny knows his own mind.’
He was biting his bottom lip, as if regretting what he’d said, and a rush of guilt engulfed me. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean… it’s just a bit of a cliché, that’s all.’
He’d turned his attention to the wall. ‘I see you sold some of your paintings.’ Was that a subtle hint that I should be thanking him, not criticising?
