by Katie Ginger
‘This is lovely,’ he said heading down the hall and examining each room. ‘Wunderbar.’ At the end of the hall he spun on the spot so his long leather duster fanned out like Batman’s cape. ‘This’ll be perfect for my writing. I can feel the inspiration already.’
‘You plan to write while you’re here? Isn’t that a bit of a busman’s holiday?’
He gave a slight chuckle as he dropped the luggage at his feet. ‘My work is my life,’ he replied sincerely, his eyes becoming doe-like. Then he relaxed. ‘That sounded very dramatic, didn’t it? I apologise. Sometimes I can’t help but write when the mood takes me. The words dance around my head like music and I just have to write them down no matter what time of the day or night it is.’
Stella smiled, trying to figure out how old he was. He must have been younger than her but not by much. He had faint lines around his mouth but there was a youthfulness caused by his soft-looking skin. Clearly keeping out of the sun was good beauty advice after all. ‘There’s a welcome basket in the kitchen and I can swap the red wine for white if you’d prefer it.’
‘A bottle of red will be lovely, Stella, thank you. Perhaps you’d join me for a glass this evening?’
Stella’s mouth formed a circle of surprise. Had the world suddenly gone mad? She’d spent the whole of her life as a wallflower except for a handful of dates before she met her ex-husband and none since they’d separated. It seemed for all Carter Nicholas’s appearance of self-conscious quiet he was fairly forward when it came to asking someone out. ‘That’s really very kind of you, but I’ve actually got plans this evening,’ she lied. The only plans she had were with Frank and her own bottle of red wine, and right now that’s all she wanted.
‘Of course, you have. My apologies.’ He gave a slight bow as he pressed his hand to his chest and Stella shuffled uncomfortably under his gaze.
‘Well, I’ll leave the keys with you, Mr Nicholas—’
‘Please call me Carter.’
‘Carter, then.’ She handed over the keys explaining which one was for the flat and which one was for the front door then made her goodbyes.
When he responded with, ‘Goodbye, beautiful lady. I can already feel the salt sea air pulsing through my veins. Did you know Shelley drowned at sea? I wonder if his soul lives in the waters still.’
Unsure what sort of response was required here, Stella said, ‘Well, I hope you have a wonderful time.’ And left trying to repress a giggle.
What a strange man, she thought as she turned the shop sign back to open. Frank was awake and barking when she walked in and she leaned down to give him a big fuss. Thinking of Carter’s face again there was something quite attractive in that Byronic love-lost persona. Perhaps it was the tired puppy-dog eyes. She decided to have a look on the internet for Carter Nicholas. It would at least make the last couple of hours go quickly.
***
On Saturday morning, Stella was up early and in the shop, changing a display after a sudden flash of inspiration the night before. After changing some of the teacups around she decided to head to Raina’s and get her coffee before Carter had the chance. Since arriving on Monday, Carter had delivered a morning coffee to her at precisely 9 a.m. when she opened the shop, along with a phrase of poetry from one or other of the great Romantics on a torn sheet of lined A5 paper. Each time he renewed his offer of a drink that evening, which Stella politely declined. She had no intention of mixing business with pleasure after how well it had gone with Jay. She was a business-only girl from now on. The pile of love notes Carter had delivered so far sat under the shop counter weighed down by the hole punch.
‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ Stella said to Lexi, as she snuck into the café checking behind her in case Carter was up and about. The man kept such strange hours Stella wondered if he ever slept. Lexi smiled, somehow still looking amazing, even at this time of the morning.
‘Carol called in sick. She’s got a terrible cold so I said I’d cover. Will’s having the kids for me this morning and I’m only here till lunchtime. Morning, Vivien.’ Stella turned and Vivien arrived looking resplendent in a long red coat, wide-leg trousers that dwarfed her tiny frame and a bow-tie blouse. Her hair was, as usual, perfect. She waved, shuffled to a seat using her stick for support and sat down. ‘You’re early today, Vivien. Everything all right?’ Her voice carried a note of concern that Stella immediately picked up on.
The old lady huffed. ‘Oh, I couldn’t sleep so I decided to treat myself to breakfast out and then I’ll have a nap later if I need it.’
‘Good idea,’ Lexi replied, relaxing a little. ‘Do you want your usual?’ she asked Stella.
‘Yes, please.’
‘Usual for me too,’ called Vivien and Lexi smiled.
‘I knew that already, m’lady.’
‘How are you, Vivien?’ asked Stella, joining her at the table. ‘Do you mind if I join you for a minute?’
‘Not at all, dear. And I’m very well, thank you. I’m going to get some shopping and I thought I might stop in at that nice little deli and get myself something posh for lunch.’ Her small hands were laid delicately in her lap.
Stella was growing fonder and fonder of the old lady. ‘Why not – you should definitely enjoy your retirement. I’m sure all those years in the opera had you working very long hours.’
‘Oh, they certainly did. And we played hard as well as worked hard.’ She sat back and patted her hair. ‘They were very good times. Anyway, who have you got staying this week?’ Lexi came over and deposited their drinks on the table then pulled out a seat and joined them for a moment.
‘I’ve got a poet called Carter Nicholas.’
‘Never heard of him,’ Vivien replied.
‘No, I hadn’t either. So I searched for him on the internet and it turns out he’s quite well-known. There were a few newspaper articles about him and he’s won some posh prizes too. I didn’t get a chance to actually read any of his poetry though.’ Stella had been quite surprised at the findings and at having a prestigious poet staying in her humble holiday let. She just wished he’d stop with the poetry lessons every morning.
‘Is he young?’ asked Lexi.
‘He’s about my age I’d say. Maybe a bit younger.’
‘I knew a poet once,’ Vivien added with a dreamy, faraway look in her eye. ‘His name was Gus and he wrote the most beautiful things. He was a little too obsessed with death though, for my liking. But most poets are, aren’t they?’
‘Was he one of the ones who proposed?’ asked Lexi, sipping her coffee.
‘Oh, yes, dear. Poor thing fell madly in love with me and was utterly heartbroken when I broke it off.’ Stella suppressed a smile. It was difficult to tell how much of what Vivien said was actually true and how much of it was made up, or to be kinder, embellishments of the truth, but regardless, Stella loved listening to her stories. ‘There’s something rather wonderful about a poet’s soul,’ she continued. ‘They’re so romantic and turbulent. My affair was rather exciting for a while, then it all got quite tedious and I told him that he couldn’t keep behaving like a hormonal teenager and had to grow up.’
‘What happened next?’ asked Stella, the strong flavour of her coffee waking up her taste buds.
A rather smug expression came to Vivien’s face. ‘He called me a cow and told me I didn’t understand him. So I threw a vase at his head.’
Stella laughed. ‘Sounds like you were quite tempestuous yourself.’
‘I was. I was.’ Vivien picked up her cup and saucer and sipped her tea.
‘Let me get your toast,’ said Lexi.
‘And I’d better get back to work,’ Stella replied. ‘Here’s hoping for a busy day.’
Just then there was a knock at the window and Stella looked up to see Carter peering through the glass, waving at her. He opened the door and came in.
‘Good morning, beautiful creature. Good morning.’
‘Good morning, young man,’ replied Vivien. Stella didn’t have the heart to say
he’d been referring to her. He’d taken to calling her that and no matter how many times she asked him to stop, he didn’t.
‘May I join you?’ Carter asked Vivien, flicking his hair back out of his eyes.
‘Of course. You must be Stella’s poet.’
‘He’s not my poet,’ she said, quickly. Then felt herself blushing.
‘I am indeed.’ Carter glanced over his shoulder at Stella and she had to admit his eyes were rather sparkly. ‘Would that I were more than her merest poet but alas …’ He let the sentence trail away with a sad look in his eye. ‘And you are?’ he asked Vivien.
‘My name’s Vivien Griffen. You may remember me. I was an opera singer you know.’
‘The name does ring a bell.’ He was clearly lying to make her feel better, which was quite sweet. Stella decided to rescue him.
‘Do you need anything, Mr Nicholas?’ she asked.
‘Carter, please. My dearest lady, I have asked – nay pleaded – that you call me Carter. Mr Nicholas sounds so old-fashioned.’ At this Stella had to bite her lip. It was truly ironic given that he spoke like something out of a Shakespeare play. ‘And no, not really. As you’ve beaten me in purchasing a finely made beverage for yourself this morning, I thought I’d drop this in to you.’ He handed her the latest love note. Stella gave it a cursory glance as her cheeks began to flame in embarrassment. ‘And I thought I’d see if I could tempt you to join me in a glass of wine this evening?’
Oh, for goodness’ sake, thought Stella. Why wouldn’t he just stop? ‘That’s really, very kind of you, Mr Nicholas—’
‘Carter.’
‘Carter. But I’m afraid I already have plans for tonight.’ This time she wasn’t lying. She was going to Lexi’s and had no intention of cancelling.
‘Oh, dear, that is a shame. Well, I shall try again tomorrow. “Faint heart never won fair maid,”’ he proclaimed, raising a finger in the air. ‘Perhaps next time.’
‘Yes. Sorry.’
Carter sighed dramatically. ‘Well, then I shall continue on with my walk. I can feel the souls of Byron and Shelley calling me towards the sea. It’s doing wonders for my creative juices.’ He flashed his eyes as he spoke and Stella heard Lexi hide her laugh behind a spluttery cough. Men didn’t normally mention their juices to her. He waved goodbye to them all with a theatrical flourish and after the door had closed behind him and he’d walked off down the street, she turned to Lexi and rolled her eyes.
‘That man never gives up. He’s asked me every day if I’ll have a drink with him and every single day I say no and he acts like I’ve never rejected him at all. He’s either got the hide of a rhinoceros or he’s deaf.’
‘He must like you very much,’ said Vivien.
‘He can’t do, he doesn’t even know me. And anyway, I’m just not interested.’
‘He was very handsome though.’ Vivien leaned forwards trying to catch a glimpse of him as he went off down the street.
‘Was he?’
‘Yes, he was,’ said Lexi. ‘Definitely.’
‘Oh.’ Stella had never thought to look at him like that but he was a very nice, gentle man, even if he did speak like Ian McKellen. The love notes he gave her daily caused her acute embarrassment but were well-chosen romantic lines. Thinking now, his face had got some colour since coming to stay. The fresh air and brisk walks had brought a pinkness to his cheeks so his skin wasn’t so sallow, and the dark circles had lessened his look of illness.
‘I would,’ said Lexi, with a mischievous grin.
Stella was agog. Not only was it too early in the day for this conversation but she’d never really considered how attractive Carter might actually be. ‘Would you?’
‘I would too,’ replied Vivien. ‘If I was twenty years younger.’
Stella’s wide-eyed gaze shot to the older woman and Lexi giggled as she replied. ‘If you were twenty years younger, Vivien, you’d still be forty years too old.’
‘Cheeky girl,’ Vivien harrumphed.
‘Right, back to work for me,’ said Stella, grabbing her coffee cup and taking it to the counter. ‘I might have a top-up before I go though, Lexi. I think with Carter around I’m going to need it.’
The day was bright and sunny and though the air was still slightly cool, life felt exciting and full of colour. Spring was bursting into life all around her and the breeze carried a faint tang of salt from the sea. Across from her, the blossoms on the trees in the churchyard were growing from tiny pink spots to sweet little flowers. Even better, the shop was busy and time passed quickly.
Stella had made some good sales and moving around the stock had resulted in a few more of the older pieces Herbert had left finally leaving the building. By the time the evening came, Stella couldn’t wait to kick back with Lexi and have a good chinwag over a bottle of wine. They were meeting at Lexi’s at seven, after the kids were in bed. Stella had a sneaking suspicion the kids wouldn’t be sound asleep when she arrived, but having seen them a few times in the café and a couple of times in the shop she didn’t mind. In fact, she liked them very much. As much as she liked her own niece and nephew, if not more. Ralph and Taylor hadn’t developed the sense of entitlement her niece and nephew sometimes had, according to her sister. The product of having money, Stella presumed.
Lexi had kindly said that Stella could bring Frank and so, at just gone half past six, Stella zipped up her coat, popped Frank’s lead on, and they headed off for Lexi’s house. Just as she was leaving the shop, Carter came out of the apartment clutching some papers.
‘Hello, dearest, most beautiful creature. I was hoping to catch you.’ His dark eyes had a slight twinkle to them, Stella noticed, as he flicked his hair back from his face with that odd, yet endearing movement.
‘I’m just going out I’m afraid, Carter.’ Stella pulled Frank back from sniffing Carter’s long leather coat. She was a little worried he might start chewing on it.
‘Oh. Oh, I see.’ His eyes dropped to the floor and this time he seemed genuinely crestfallen. ‘That’s a shame. I’ve just written something amazing and I did so dearly want you to read it.’
‘Me?’ Why Carter would want her to read his poetry was beyond her. She hadn’t claimed to know anything about poetry or even to particularly enjoy it. ‘That’s very kind of you but I’m sorry, Carter, I’d be a terrible critic. I know absolutely nothing about poetry.’
‘But you don’t need to be a critic, you just need to tell me if you like it.’ He rolled the papers in his hand. Stella noticed how his smile was slightly lopsided. Perhaps Lexi wasn’t so crazy after all, but she had to get on.
‘Sorry.’ Stella smiled apologetically. ‘But I really have to get going or I’m going to be late. I’ll see you later.’ She pulled Frank’s lead and guided him forwards. ‘Walk on, boy.’ She didn’t turn around, afraid that Carter might be stood there dramatically clutching his scribblings to his chest. Stella pressed her lips together trying to stop the smile but once they were a good few paces ahead she let it engulf her. She couldn’t wait to tell Lexi what she’d found on the internet about Carter Nicholas after a little more searching today.
The walk to Lexi’s house gave Stella the chance to see other parts of Swallowtail Bay she hadn’t explored before. As she walked the length of the cobbled high street and came out the other side towards roads filled with houses, the sun had almost set. An inky darkness flooded the sky with heavy stripes as she left the larger, more exclusive homes behind. Further on, it was clear she had left the posh part of town as the grand Victorian terraces were replaced with bungalows and quiet cul-de-sacs. Swallowtail Bay had been a small fishing village but as it had grown, the outer edges had housed a mining community thanks to the coal mine a couple of miles away.
Lexi’s house wasn’t quite on the edge of town, but it was a good mile from Stella’s. Lexi had told her that all these houses were built for the coal miners and their families and had been little communities of their own. Stella could imagine it well: everyone knowing everyo
ne else, neighbour looking out for neighbour. Even now, it seemed friendlier than the poshest part of town where Miles and Stella lived, where the houses, like their owners, seemed to look down on each other. The small patch of lawn in front of Lexi’s house, enclosed by a tatty fence, was scrubby and littered with an assortment of footballs, some flat, some still round. Stella knocked on the door and Lexi opened it looking a little flustered.
‘Hi.’ She stood to one side. ‘The kids should be in bed but they’re not going quietly.’
Knowing how excited they got when they saw the fat little dog, Stella said, ‘I’d better hide Frank then.’
‘Yes, might be best. Come this way.’ Lexi led Stella through the house to the back door and opened it to reveal a tidy back garden, half decked and half lawned. Two kids’ bikes were leaning against the high fence that went all the way around. ‘He can’t get out,’ she said. ‘You’ll be fine to let him off the lead.’ Lexi started walking back into the house and Stella noticed how at ease she felt already. She unclipped the lead and Frank tore off to the bottom of the garden to chase a bird that had swooped in and immediately thought better of it. She left him happily sniffing his way around and went back inside just as Lexi shouted up the stairs. ‘And if I have to come up there again you’ll both lose your TV time tomorrow. Do you hear me?’ A muffled grumble came back in reply. ‘Hey babes,’ she said, as she turned to Stella, all traces of the annoyed mum voice gone. ‘I might have to murder my children but you don’t mind, do you?’
Stella laughed. ‘Not at all. How are they?’
‘They’re both being absolute dicks. It’s like a tag team. As soon as one starts settling the other plays up. I’ve told them if they come down again I’m going to make them live in the attic with the spiders.’
‘Mum?’ called Ralph from the top of the stairs.
Lexi took a deep breath. ‘Yes?’
‘Can I have something to eat?’
‘No!’ Her hands shot to her hips. ‘I’ve already told you twice, you’ve had dinner, pudding, two oaty biscuits, a yoghurt, a banana and a glass of milk. You’re not having anything else. You’ll only moan and tell me you’ve got tummy ache. Now go to bed, please.’ She turned to Stella. ‘I might as well have his ears surgically removed for all the good they are.’
