Regan and Chris both nodded. Lying down she was good at and, after a few nights scrunched up like a hamster in Cleo’s chair, the opportunity to lie out flat was a welcome one. She stretched out and was pleased with how comfortable the mat was. She wondered if they’d miss one if she borrowed it for a bit.
A few people produced pillows and took off their shoes. Cressy waited until everyone was settled. ‘Close your eyes. Empty your mind. I want you to focus all of your attention on your feet … Specifically your left foot … and your big toe …’
Regan grinned. This was all a bit bonkers. ‘Keep your focus on your big toe … Think about how it feels.’ Cressy had a melodic voice, which thankfully was pleasant to listen to, and whilst Regan found herself tuning in and out she did try, as Cressy suggested, to keep pulling her attention back.
Cressy moved their focus from the big toe to other parts of the foot, and eventually over the whole body, until they were focused on their breathing. When someone on the other side of the room snored, Regan couldn’t stop a snort of a giggle. Cressy continued unperturbed. Despite the giggles, Regan did feel calmer; she probably wasn’t far from nodding off herself. She was interested by how difficult it was to keep her mind focused on Cressy’s voice, and how easily it was distracted by the minutiae of life that littered her brain like plastic in the ocean.
They finished the body scan and Cressy went on to tell them about practical ways of using the techniques. She suggested losing your temper was a good opportunity to deploy mindfulness. Regan had a sly look in Charlie’s direction and he was staring straight at her. Rude. She didn’t make a habit of pummelling people’s heads on revolving doors, but, in his defence, he didn’t know that. She smiled and he smiled back. Cressy went on to teach them some other practices, but then all too soon the session was over and people were packing away their mats.
‘So, Reg,’ Charlie appeared at her shoulder, ‘what did you think?’
‘Hmm.’ She wanted a moment to consider her thoughts.
‘Actually, let’s get a drink and you can update me. Okay?’ He was already walking for the door.
She had nothing else planned. ‘Why not?’ she said, with a lazy shrug. She didn’t want to look too keen.
She suggested her usual coffee shop and they walked through the bustle of the Saturday market. The market always had a vibrancy that buoyed Regan. Whether it was the sights, smells or banter of the stallholders she wasn’t sure, but there was something about it that brought her to life. When they neared the coffee shop, she spotted Kevin hunched in a doorway. He was hugging his knees and rocking. Elvis was leaning against him as if trying to comfort him.
‘I’ll get the coffees,’ said Regan, when they went inside and joined the short queue.
‘Sorry. The rule is that whoever suggests it pays. So I have to pay.’ Charlie nodded sagely.
‘Thanks, but I want to get a couple of extra drinks for my friends.’ She nodded towards the doorway.
‘That’s cool, I’ll get theirs too. It’s near payday so I’m flush. Order away.’
Regan thought about standing her ground, but with only a few quid in her pocket she wasn’t in a position to be stubborn. ‘Cheers, that’s kind of you.’ And generous, she thought.
Penny wasn’t about so another woman took her order. When the drinks arrived on the end of the counter, Charlie took his and Regan’s. ‘Shall I get us some seats? I’m assuming you’re not going to run out on me.’ He gave a pout, which made him look rather sexy.
‘I’ll come back, I promise,’ said Regan, giving him an equally flirty look. This was fun.
She almost bounced over to Kevin and crouched down next to him. Elvis towered over her and was very excited that she was within licking distance. She scratched his head to try to keep him occupied, although his focus was on the paper cups. Kevin’s eyes were tight shut and he was muttering something inaudible. ‘Kevin, you okay?’
His eyes popped wide open in an alarming fashion, making Regan almost topple backwards. ‘Birds,’ he said, in a whisper.
‘Birds?’ She looked about her. There was a pair of wood pigeons pecking about nearby.
‘They get in my head.’
His hunted expression was bothering her. ‘Here, have a coffee. I got milk for Elvis.’
Kevin blinked a few times and seemed to almost come to. ‘Thanks … I bet you think I’m mad, don’t you?’
‘No, but you had me a bit worried there.’
He smiled at her. And then he froze. ‘Listen.’ There was a buzz of background noise from the hubbub of the nearby market.
‘Yeah, always noisy on a Saturday.’
‘No. Listen to the birds.’ His eyes were wide and he was worrying her again.
Regan closed her eyes and concentrated. Could she hear birds? ‘I can hear a pigeon.’ Its rhythmic coo of ‘da-dah-da-da-dah-dahhh’ was easy to pick out.
‘Yes, yes, that’s it.’ They listened together. ‘Can you hear what they’re saying?’ Regan gave a slow and slightly bewildered shake of her head. Kevin spoke along to the pigeon’s tune. ‘You can’t do it, Kevin. You can’t do it, Kevin!’
Regan would have laughed if Kevin’s face hadn’t been etched with horror. ‘Come on,’ said Regan, helping him up. She needed to find him somewhere away from the wood pigeons; all the scraps from the market must have drawn them in from The Level, so they’d be there for a while.
They walked until she found him a wall to sit on. ‘There are no birds here.’ She gave him the drinks. ‘Here.’ The dog was now slathering wildly and had not left her side.
Kevin’s eyes darted anxiously about and then he seemed to relax a little. She sat next to him while he sipped his drink.
‘Not seen you this week. You been on holiday?’ asked Kevin, now seemingly almost back to normal.
‘No, I quit my job.’
‘For a better one?’ Kevin tilted the milk cup for Elvis and he wolfed down the contents.
‘Er … no. I’m in between jobs. But it’s okay.’ She nodded and Kevin nodded too.
‘I wouldn’t want to be cooped up in an office.’ He was staring straight ahead. ‘I enjoyed working in the fresh air too much. The smell of the sea.’
Regan was curious. ‘What line of work were you in?’
‘Engineer.’ His voice had taken on a clipped tone.
‘Did you enjoy the work?’
Kevin looked at his scarred hands. ‘Yeah, most of the time.’ He snapped his head back. ‘Anyway, thanks for this.’ He held up Elvis’s empty cup.
‘You’re both very welcome. And thanks for taking care of me the other day. It was kind of you.’
Kevin shrugged a shoulder. ‘Ditto.’ They smiled at each other. ‘Well, carpe diem.’
She figured that was her cue to leave. ‘You too.’ Seeing Kevin kept reminding her that she was only one more bad decision away from being on the streets herself, and it scared the life out of her.
Charlie was watching the door when she returned and looked relieved to see her. She sat down and picked up her drink. ‘That’ll be cold by now, let me get you a fresh one,’ he said, getting up from the table. She noted his empty cup. ‘I need another coffee anyway.’ She didn’t argue.
He returned with the drinks and a couple of muffins. She went to protest but he waved it away. ‘I was hungry. Okay?’
‘Okay.’ She picked up the cake and began eating. It tasted divine but it crumbled everywhere. She could see Charlie was amused by it. So unlike Jarvis, who would have been on level two tutting by now.
‘So,’ he said, when he’d finished eating his, ‘are you coming back to Mantra?’
She tilted her head to one side. He was one big incentive to go back, and not just because of the free muffin. He was very easy on the eye and, from what she could tell, he appeared to be totally lovely to the core. It was hard not to compare him with Jarvis. He was so much more easy-going. And he was patient. There was no way Jarvis would have waited in a café on his own like Charlie had d
one. Charlie was generous too, she thought, whilst she savoured her muffin. He was so much more fun than Jarvis. She liked the easy rapport they’d quickly developed.
So was she going back to Mantra? ‘Yeah, I think so. It was a bit weird but I liked it.’
‘The trick is to practise. It’s like any new skill; you need to keep doing it and you’ll get better.’
‘How long have you been doing it?’ She noticed his eyebrows twitch. It had been ages since she’d flirted, and it was like flexing a little-used muscle. She popped the last of the muffin in her mouth and mourned its end.
‘Five months. I miss a few because of shift patterns but I’m usually there most weeks.’ Now she knew where she’d be most Saturday mornings too. ‘What’s new with you?’ He looked bright with anticipation and she hated to bring down the mood.
‘Not a lot. I’ve been looking for a job but it’s tricky with no WiFi, no computer and no fixed abode.’
His expression changed to concerned. ‘You said you had somewhere to stay.’
‘Yeah, I do, but it’s a friend’s business premises. Living there is against the rules and she doesn’t know I’m doing it. It’s all a bit precarious.’ When she thought about it she got a bit panicked so she sipped her drink to try to distract herself.
‘Did you know the computers at the library are free to use?’
‘Thanks, that’s good to know.’
‘Look, Regan. I know we’ve only recently met, but if you’ll let me I’d like to help you get back on your feet. What happened to you was really …’ He looked like he was searching for the right word.
‘Shitty,’ she offered.
He laughed. ‘Exactly. What do you say? Will you let me help? No strings.’
Right now she could do with people she could trust on her side. He’d been right about the mindfulness and it couldn’t harm to have a police officer on her side. Especially one with such a long list of positive attributes. ‘Sure, why not?’
‘Okay. Let’s have a look at local jobs.’ He scooted his seat round to her and cosied up, and she noted he smelled of aftershave and coffee. He pulled up a website on his phone. ‘HGV driver? Maybe not.’ He eyed her cheekily.
‘You don’t know. I might be qualified,’ she said, making him tilt his head in question. ‘I’m not, as it happens, but I do like a Yorkie. Next.’ She leaned over his screen and got another whiff of aftershave. This was a good way to spend a Saturday.
‘Sous chef or carpentry lecturer?’
‘A bit niche.’
‘Recruitment consultant. How ironic,’ he said. ‘Assistant drainage engineer?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘What’s a production operative?’ she asked, touching the screen. They both read the details together. Picking, packing and labelling boxes. It wasn’t glamorous but it was probably the only one she didn’t need qualifications or experience for. He took a screenshot of the details, they swapped full names and phone numbers and he sent it to her. She typed his name in next to his number – Charlie McGee.
Chatting with Charlie was making her feel buoyed and ready for action. She’d had a great time with him but now it was time to leave. As they were exiting the coffee shop, a man the same size and shape as the doorway loomed over him. Regan feared there was about to be trouble.
‘Hey Debbie, what you up to?’ he asked.
Regan was confused. Had he mistaken her for someone else? But, before she could question him, Charlie spoke. ‘Hiya, Beanstalk,’ he said. ‘Beanstalk, this is my friend Reg.’
Regan didn’t argue; everything was already too strange. ‘Nice to meet you, Beanstalk.’
‘You too, Reg.’ He gave an unsubtle head tilt in her direction and winked at Charlie.
‘Bye, Beanstalk,’ said Charlie, slapping the large fellow on the back when they passed in the coffee shop doorway.
Beanstalk turned back for a second. ‘Hey, Debbie, I heard you got a bollocking from the station commander about Thursday’s shout. Tough call,’ he said with a wince, before disappearing inside.
‘You wanna tell me what went on there … Debbie?’ asked Regan, failing to hide her amusement.
Charlie screwed his face up. ‘It’s a work thing. Pretty much all of us have nicknames.’
Regan grinned. ‘And yours is Debbie?’ By comparison, Reg didn’t seem bad at all. ‘Oh, Debbie McGee.’ The penny dropped. ‘That’s genius.’ She laughed.
‘Isn’t it?’ said Charlie, not looking that impressed; but he’d likely witnessed this reaction before.
‘And what did you get a bollocking about?’ It was reassuring to hear about others making a hash of things at work, although it was unlikely to be on the same scale as hers.
Charlie rubbed his stubbly chin. For a moment he appeared vulnerable, making her warm to him even more. ‘I didn’t exit a burning building when I was instructed to.’
Regan was surprised. ‘A burning building? Like one on fire?’ How brave was this copper?
Charlie looked like he was chewing the inside of his mouth. ‘I may not have been entirely truthful with you when we first met.’ He looked suitably chastened. ‘I said I was a police officer so that you’d listen to me and stop pummelling that bloke’s head in. But I’m actually a firefighter.’
‘Right,’ said Regan. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about this news, but her instant reaction was one of distrust. Clearly he wasn’t totally trustworthy or he would have owned up to this a lot sooner. ‘So you lied.’
‘I figured you wouldn’t take any notice unless you thought you were about to be arrested,’ said Charlie. ‘I’d forgotten about it, which was why I didn’t put you straight. I’m sorry.’
Regan didn’t need people she couldn’t trust. He no longer looked quite so appealing. ‘Yeah. Me too,’ she said, with a disappointed smile and she walked away.
Chapter Nine
Sunday in the studio was lonely. Its location was off the beaten track but in the week there was the sound of traffic to make her feel like she had some connection to the rest of the universe. On Sundays, not so much.
Yesterday, thanks to Charlie, she had gone to the library after she’d left him and got herself registered so she could use the computers. She’d managed to produce a reasonable-looking CV and fire it off for a couple of vacancies, as well as uploading it to some job websites. She’d also been able to check out some books, which at least meant she had something to do in the evenings other than stare at bare walls or nipples.
This morning she’d been to the gym, taking care to avoid Jarvis’s usual timeslot, and had really enjoyed her time on the bike and the treadmill because she’d been able to watch some telly, which now seemed like such a treat. She’d used the yoga area to have a go at practising her mindfulness technique and ended up having a little nap. She’d also had a shower so she was clean too – she had a lot to be thankful for.
The spring weather was notoriously changeable and it had turned a bit chilly. The drop in temperature was noticeable in the studio: its high ceilings whisked away any warmth and, whilst the boiler was doing its best, the two radiators didn’t provide much heat. She moved the chair so that she could lean against a radiator, got out one of the library books and started reading.
Three lines in, her phone rang. It was Charlie. She considered cancelling the call but she knew she’d probably acted a little hastily yesterday. ‘Yep,’ she said, her tone curt.
‘Delivery for Reg Corsetti. Where should I deliver to?’
‘Delivery of what?’ She was more than suspicious after his revelation.
‘Chinese takeaway and chocolate cake. It’s my way of apologising.’
Regan knew it was going to be hard to stay mad with this guy for long, especially when he brought food as an apology. Could this be a match made in heaven? She gave him directions to the studio on the proviso he wouldn’t alert anyone to the fact she was living there.
Regan tidied her stuff into the corner and covered it with the throw, because old habits d
ied hard. She waited excitedly for her knight in shining armour to appear, complete with chicken chow mein.
There was a gentle tap on the door and she whipped it open making him flinch slightly. ‘Shhh,’ she said, beckoning him inside and shutting the door quickly. It was raining and a chill wind was picking up. Charlie put down the bags on the drainer and looked about.
‘Welcome to my temporary abode.’
He was giving reassuring head bobs but she could see he was taking it all in. He pulled two bottles of wine from one of the bags. ‘I didn’t know if you preferred red or white, so I bought one of each.’
‘That is exactly what I prefer,’ she said, getting two mugs off the mug tree.
Charlie gallantly let Regan have the chair, whilst he perched on an odd little wooden stool with a round seat that you had to spin to get it to go up or down. Regan had forgotten to point out that she didn’t have any plates or cutlery, but Charlie had brought free chopsticks and passing the containers to each other and eating directly from them was actually quite fun.
‘See, no washing up,’ she said, when she could eat no more. ‘Although I will wash up the chopsticks – they’ll come in handy.’ They were a step up from the coffee stirrers.
Charlie sipped his wine and surveyed the studio. ‘I know you said it was basic but … I kind of expected you’d have a bed.’
‘Nope. This is it. But it’s more than a lot of people have.’ A picture of Kevin out in the wind and rain instantly sprang to mind.
Regan tidied up the cartons and used an odd-looking arty tool of Cleo’s she’d found to cut the cake into slices. ‘So, firefighter, huh?’ She took a bite of the cake to stop herself from making any lame jokes about firemen’s poles or long hoses.
‘All my life, apart from brief stints as a waiter and a dustman.’
‘That is pretty awesome, being a firefighter … not a dustman.’
Charlie gave a modest shrug. ‘I’m not academic but I’ve always known I needed to have a job with a purpose. Something that added some value to other people’s lives.’
Regan felt instantly inadequate. She’d never felt like that at all. She was starting to think her dad was right about the whole Nissan Micra analogy. ‘I don’t know what the hell I’ve been doing with my life.’ She finished her cake and licked her fingers.
Meet Me at Pebble Beach: Part One – Out of the Blue Page 7
