‘Too many times to count.’ When I smile, to my relief, she returns it. I think we’re okay.
Then I notice Nick and Callum. ‘Look, they’re chatting by the door,’ I tell June. ‘That’s good. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Callum is really nice.’
We get the bill when they return. That’s when June suggests the pub for one more.
Nick and I are nodding, but Callum says, ‘Ah, sorry, you go ahead. I’ll need to be up stupidly early tomorrow for work. I’m sorry, June, is that okay?’
‘Of course it is!’ she says with false cheer. ‘You get your beauty sleep. Talk to you tomorrow?’
‘Definitely.’
He gives her another scorcher of a kiss and sends the three of us off to our local to talk about him. I really do feel bad for what I said before. That’s probably why I spend the whole time saying how perfect they are together, until the barman calls last orders.
Chapter 16
There’s been a vague weirdness between June and I ever since dinner last week. She claims we’re fine, that she’s just extra busy getting the new residents settled in. But I know freezer burn when I feel it. Also, we’ve fallen out before, as lifelong friends will. The symptoms are familiar.
She has to talk to you some time, Mum would advise. So, pester her until she does. Eventually she’ll get tired of putting you off. That was always her approach. Barb Stockton never met a hurdle she couldn’t leap over, climb under or bash through. This was the woman who started her own building company. She wasn’t even a builder herself. Dad was involved too, but he would have kept working for himself if it wasn’t for Mum. It was very much her business, and she was a master at wearing a person down. That’s why Dad usually gave in. It’s why we all did. Mum is right again.
But I’m too much of a coward to bring it up with June. I had to go and open my mouth about her not being herself. That wasn’t the time, right in the middle of her telling me how much in love she was. How would I have felt in her shoes, if I’d just handed her that precious, amazing, wondrous fact and she’d told me I’d lured my boyfriend under false pretences? Poor show, Phoebe, poor show. And after she’d gone out of her way to invite Nick too. She’d done that just for me.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s a relief when June leaves for the day. I’m not quite tiptoeing around her, but I haven’t gone looking for her, either. Her office hours are regular, where mine are early till late, with long breaks between meals. It means around nine hours of actual work for me, though I don’t always go home on my time off. Especially for the lull between breakfast and lunch. It hardly seems worth the bother when I’ll only have to come back in a few hours.
Plus, the women need me right now. Complaining about the new residents to June probably feels too official, so I’m the unofficial peacekeeper. I wear my blue hat reluctantly, but I can’t leave my friends to fend for themselves. It’s a big disruption to suddenly have all these men underfoot. They’re not coping brilliantly so far.
‘I thought we left all this behind in school,’ I murmur to Nick as we watch Sophie, Dot and Laney lead the other women into the dining room. Those three have always been close, but since the men arrived, they’ve moved into thick-as-thieves territory. They’re up to something.
‘Cliques are cliques,’ Nick says. ‘Everyone wants to belong. I get that. Weren’t you in a clique?’
‘It was always just me and June. I don’t think that counts as a clique.’ As I say this, a little jab of guilt gets me right in the chest. ‘What were your friends like?’
‘Well, you met them,’ he says quietly. His usually gorgeous lips thin into a tight line.
He’s thinking about me ‘meeting’ Seth. Well done for reminding him.
Then I remember that I’m not the only one at fault around here. ‘Maybe neither of us should be judged by the company we keep.’
He looks like he’s about to say something but stops himself.
As the women go to their usual tables, the penny starts to drop around the room. Dot marches towards us. ‘What’s happening here?’ She points at the ‘Reserved’ signs I’ve laid out in front of a chair at each table.
As it happens, they’re the signs they made to keep the men segregated at mealtimes. ‘Feel free to spread yourselves around the tables tonight. Just leave the reserved seats free.’
‘For whom are they reserved?’ she asks. She’s not about to let a little anger ruin her grammar. ‘We have teams already.’
I laugh at that. ‘Since when have you ever played Scrabble in teams?! Just leave the reserved places free, please.’
She goes back to report to the others. They must know what’s coming. Or whom.
The men arrive right on time, with Terence at the lead and Tamsyn hanging off his arm. I can barely get her to set foot in the dining room to work, yet here she is strutting in with her grandfather like she’s going down the red carpet. ‘Where do you want to sit, Grandad? Here’s a nice chair, right here.’
‘And what makes it so nice, hmm?’ he snaps. ‘Does it compliment me on my arse when I sit down?’
Tamsyn titters with laughter. ‘Oh, Grandad, you are funny!’
‘God hates a bootlicker,’ he tells her. ‘So just leave off, will you? You’re worse than your father. I’ve got a good mind to leave everything to the cat’s home when I go, so don’t push me.’
Tamsyn blanches.
Believe it or not, Terence actually seems to be lightening up. At least when he’s around the new residents rather than his family. We’ve got six men altogether now, but June could only convince three of them to come to Scrabble night. One of them is Mr Campbell, the one who sat through all of Rosemary’s photos.
‘Oh, good, come in, gents,’ I say. ‘Welcome. Please find any reserved seat you like.’
‘Not this table,’ Dot tells Terence as he goes to sit between Laney and Sophie. Judy is their usual fourth, but replacing the reigning Scrabble champion isn’t what’s got Dot so cross. She might be tiny compared to Terence’s tall frame, but she looks like she’d bite his head off if she could reach.
‘Oh, come on, don’t be such a spoilsport, Dot. Afraid I’ll beat you?’
‘I am not.’ Dot sits in the chair opposite and glares at him. ‘You may frighten the others, but I’m not intimidated by you, Terence Greene. Far from it.’
I’m afraid that Dot’s show of resistance could whip up everyone else. ‘Hey, Dot?’ I call over. ‘Can I ask your advice about something in the kitchen? I think the elderflower cordial might be too watery. Come see?’
As soon as the kitchen door swings shut behind us I say, ‘What is wrong with you, Dot? It’s like you hate Terence or something.’
She crosses her arms. ‘I do hate him.’
‘But why? Was it something to do with Mrs Greene?’ I know how I’d react if someone hurt June. ‘Did he cheat on her, or treat her badly?’
Dot sighs. ‘I’d rather not talk about that if you don’t mind.’
That’s her schoolteacher tone. ‘I do mind, though, Dot, because I don’t want you to be upset. Isn’t there anything I can do?’
‘Are you able to rewind time by sixty years? No? I didn’t think so. Then there’s nothing anyone can do. Thank you.’ She takes a swig of the cordial. ‘That tastes fine.’
Back in the dining room, Laney and Sophie are taking the table reassignments better than Dot. Maybe a little too well, in Sophie’s case. She’s been to the hairdresser’s, and her dramatic dark eye make-up is especially startling in her pale, powdered face. She reminds me of something – not an owl this time – between her pallor and the black dress that’s hugging her stout frame.
That’s it! Mum once got a mime for Will’s birthday party. A plain old clown wasn’t sophisticated enough, she thought. He’d made some of the kids cry with fright.
Sophie could be stuck in a glass box, silently trying to get out.
Dot notices. ‘What are you all dressed up for?’
‘Ca
n’t a person want to look nice?’ Sophie gives Terence a shy smile.
‘Not bad,’ he says.
You’d think he’d crowned her Miss Universe with the way she’s beaming.
Meanwhile, Laney’s been staring at Sophie. ‘I think you look nicer when you’re normal.’
Come to think of it, aside from Zumba class, I haven’t seen Sophie in legwarmers since the new residents got here. She must disappear upstairs straight after exercise to change.
‘Where are your glasses?’ Laney asks, watching Sophie squint as she pulls the board as close to herself as she can.
‘Oh, I don’t really need them.’ Even the powder can’t keep her blush from showing.
Her nose is nearly touching her tiles.
‘This is too painful to watch,’ Dot murmurs as she lifts the golden chain over her head. ‘For God’s sake, just use my glasses.’
Things settle down as the games get going. Normally I’d play too, but with the new additions, all the tables are full this week. Which is why it’s absurd that Tamsyn has her chair jammed up next to Nick’s. As if Scrabble is meant to be some kind of spectator sport.
‘Phones aren’t allowed, Tamsyn,’ I tell her.
‘But I’m not playing,’ she says. Proving my point that she’s got no business sitting there.
‘No phones at the table. That’s the rule.’
‘Fine.’ She makes a big show of putting it away. ‘Actually, this is boring. I’m off anyway.’ She starts for the door. ‘Nick? Don’t forget tomorrow.’
‘What’s tomorrow?’ I ask him as he studies his tiles. I probably shouldn’t, when knowing the truth only makes me feel bad. Sad. Mad.
‘I don’t know, Thursday?’
He can see that I’m not about to be put off that easily. ‘She needs a ride to work, that’s all,’ he finally admits.
The rest of the table is watching Nick now too. ‘You’re blushing,’ says Shirley.
‘She fancies him,’ her sister adds.
‘That’s because he’s irresistible!’
Nick laughs. ‘What can I say?’ Then he shakes his head. ‘Nah, really, it’s not like that.’ He stares at me. ‘It’s not.’
What is it like, then, Nick? I want to ask him. I know what it looks like from here.
It’s not bad enough that he’s giving her rides home at night. Now he’s going to get her in the morning too? Why can’t she just get a ride from her father, when he’s got to leave for work anyway?
Because maybe she’s not at her parents’ in the morning, and that means Nick isn’t going anywhere to get her. Maybe they’re leaving from the same place.
No. I cannot let myself jump to conclusions like this. I’m liable to drive myself mad.
‘Well done, Dot!’ Laney cries. The games go on as if I’m not in the midst of a crisis of confidence. ‘And a double word!’
Dot is pleased with herself as I read her word. ‘Zinc. Well done.’
‘Thank you. That’s thirty.’ She glares at Terence.
He studies his tiles. ‘Thanks, Dot, I’ll take that.’ He lays i-t-e at the end of her word. ‘Eighteen for me. Still beating you, I believe.’
‘Only by three points.’
At least she’s speaking to him.
But when it comes around to his turn again, I wish she wasn’t.
‘What’s pen-il-ee?’ Laney pronounces a long ‘e’ at the end.
‘You are a vile man!’ Dot cries. ‘Leave it to you to lower the tone.’ She looks like she’s about to flip the board. That’s never happened in the history of games night, and things can get heated here when they start going for the triple-word spaces.
‘It’s penile,’ Sophie murmurs to Laney.
Terence feigns surprise. ‘I don’t know why you’re getting so upset. It’s not “bollocks” or “fucker”. Not that I have a “k”, anyway. Dot, you’re not usually such a prude.’
‘How do you know what I am?! Don’t pretend to know me, Terence.’
He shrugs. ‘Do you see another one I could make with those letters?’
She glances at the board. ‘What’s wrong with senile, right there?’
‘Nothing, except that it’s a lower score. I’m fine with my word, thanks.’
‘You’re vile,’ she says again.
‘Maybe so, but I’m still ahead of you.’ When Terence smiles, Dot turns away.
It’s after nine when I ring my brother. Hopefully he’s not still in his office. I’m one to talk. I’m just coming home from work myself, and I’m not even getting paid for it. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing my twenties right. Other people we know have big groups of friends that they’re out with all the time. I never had time when I was at the bistro. Chefs work nutty hours. I didn’t miss it, either, with June always there. Now I do question whether it’s completely healthy that the vast majority of my friends are old enough to ride the buses for free.
I’m not really expecting Will to pick up. He claims he doesn’t screen calls, but I’ve seen him do it. It’s stupid that I feel honoured when he answers. It’s just my pillocky brother, not Prince Harry.
‘I’m just checking in,’ I tell him.
‘You mean checking up. Worried about me?’ But he laughs. ‘Well, you should be. I’ve lost my job.’
‘Oh, no, Will, I’m sorry!’ He may be a pillock, but nobody deserves that awful feeling. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Will you go to the office and break my boss’s nose?’
‘I’ll bring my rolling pin if you want,’ I say.
‘You’re deadly with that thing.’ It has been almost twenty years but he still hasn’t forgiven me for sending him to A&E at Christmas. Mum and Dad gave me my very first rolling pin when I was eight or so. It was acid green with my name in big purply letters along the roller. I’d never loved anything as much as I did that rolling pin. I didn’t let it out of my sight. I even slept with it. The only time I had to leave it behind was when I used the bathroom. That’s when Will took it. As I was wrestling him to get it back, I might have swung it at his face.
‘Phoebes, I need you,’ he says.
Finally, he admits it. My heart goes out to him. Once the shock of being out of a job wears off, the Why Mes are going to get him. Those are the worst.
‘I need you to smooth things over with Dad,’ he goes on. ‘He didn’t take it well when I told him.’
‘But you’re the one who got sacked, not him.’
‘Thanks for that. He doesn’t understand that it’s nothing I did wrong. And I wasn’t sacked, I was made redundant. It’s different. It’s just a numbers game in banking. I wasn’t the only one. It’s LIFO.’
‘What-o?’
‘Last in, first out. I knew I shouldn’t have switched jobs last year. But I wanted to trade up. No risk, no reward.’ A little of my sympathy dies with every word he utters. He’s better off out of banking if it makes him talk like that all the time.
‘Make him understand, will you?’ Will asks. ‘I don’t need him judging me on top of everything else.’
‘Oh, poor baby. I’m sorry Dad is judging you, probably for the first time in your life. Try being me.’
‘Great, you’ll talk to him, then?’ My sarcasm is completely lost on him.
Of course, I’ll help smooth things over with Dad. I know how it feels.
Chapter 17
June isn’t crying yet, but I can tell she’s thinking about it. And at work too. This is really serious. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I tell her again. I don’t know what else to say. We’ve been over the details with a focus that would make a murder enquiry look haphazard.
It started first thing this morning when I burst into her office to blurt out how sorry I was about what I’d said at dinner the other night.
Actually, no, technically it started last night with Dad’s phone call.
‘Phoebe, this is your father ringing.’
‘Hi, Dad, I was going to ring you. You’ve heard about Will’s job?’
�
�He told me. Bloody stupid.’
‘You don’t mean Will, right? Because this doesn’t sound like it’s his fault. He said it’s LIFO. Go easy on him, Dad, can’t you? You don’t know what it’s like to lose your job. Believe me, it’s the worst. When the bistro closed down it really knocked me.’ I do feel for Will. I didn’t tell my parents about the restaurant fire until I’d found another job. I couldn’t face them – especially Mum – using it as another excuse to get me to do something with my life.
‘It’s hardly the same thing,’ Dad said. ‘He’s not a lunch lady. Jobs like his aren’t easy to find.’
‘As it happens, Dad, I’m not a lunch lady either.’ That’s what Mum used to call me sometimes. She claimed it was to motivate me to do better. You can imagine how well that worked. ‘That’s mean, by the way. Really, Dad, you know I ran the whole restaurant. Like I run it now at the home. Have a little respect.’
‘I’m not being mean, darling. I just mean that he’s a specialist in complex financial instruments, not lasagne.’
‘Oh, right, as long as you’re not being mean. Why don’t you say what you really think about my career, Dad?’ He’s no better than Max, thinking that I just heat up ready meals.
‘I thought we were talking about your brother, Phoebe, not you?’ Dad said.
‘Well, seeing as you’ve belittled my job, again, we’re talking about both.’
Dad did apologise, but I was still stinging from the call when I rang June. The conversation with my father had been the perfect eye-opener of how I’d probably made her feel at dinner. It was time to say sorry.
But she didn’t answer. I hoped she was out with Callum, being in love and not ignoring me.
‘Where were you when I rang last night?’ I’d asked when I got into work this morning. I assumed I’d hear good news.
‘I was screening,’ she admitted. ‘Not just you. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Except Callum, and he wasn’t ringing.’
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