by Alix Kelso
“It’s fine,” Chrissie said and turned to Poppy who she was rocking on her hip. “What do you think, gorgeous girl? Is Granny’s new curtain rail alright?”
Poppy squealed and waved the toy she was clutching. Gregor gave the curtain rail a final examination before climbing down from the step ladder.
“All good to go, Chrissie,” he said, tucking the screwdriver back into the toolbox.
“It’s definitely secure up there, is it?”
“Yes.”
“And I can hang my new curtains?”
“Yes.”
“You definitely used the correct screws, because these curtains are a little heavy and—”
But Gregor held up a hand. “It’s all good, Chrissie. I checked and rechecked.”
“Hmm.” Chrissie peered up at the new rail.
“Gregor,” Alison said, “why don’t you get these tools cleared away and I’ll help Mum hang her curtains?”
Gregor picked up the toolbox and gave a mock salute before disappearing from the room. Chrissie set Poppy down on the rug in the middle of the floor with her toys before joining Alison in fitting the plastic hooks into place along the curtain tabs.
“Sorry again about breaking your curtain rod,” Alison said.
“It’s fixed now.” Chrissie popped on her glasses while she fiddled with the curtain tabs and peered over them at her daughter. “How’s the search going for a new place of your own?”
Alison gave a sheepish smile. “Not good. We haven’t looked at anything in ages. Everything’s too expensive or too small or too dingy. I think we got discouraged and just stopped searching. Gregor’s been working such long hours, it’s been hard finding time to go to viewings. I know we need to try harder. You’ll be looking forward to seeing the back of us.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly. But I won’t miss my house being destroyed. Gregor’s been a DIY nuisance since the day he arrived, but I still don’t know what’s got into you these last few days.”
When Alison said nothing, just continued working the plastic hooks into the curtain thread, Chrissie paused and watched her. But Alison quickly turned the conversation back to Chrissie.
“I don’t like thinking of you being on your own in this house once we’ve gone, Mum.”
Chrissie shrugged. “I was on my own for a year before the three of you moved in. I like being on my own.”
Alison appeared to consider this, as if it might not really be true. “I saw the sketch of your design for the wedding cake competition. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“The brides who hire you to make their wedding cakes are really lucky.”
“That’s a nice thing to say.”
Alison fussed with the plastic curtain hooks. “Mum, do you ever regret… I mean, do you ever wish you’d found someone and got married?”
Surprised, Chrissie looked up from the curtain thread. “Not really.”
Alison gave her a curious look. “You don’t wish you had someone to share everything with?”
“It never happened for me, so I don’t think about it,” Chrissie said, hauling the curtain over to the window.
Alison steadied the ladder base as Chrissie stepped on to it. “I know you almost married my dad.”
Chrissie paused on the second step and turned to Alison.
“Mum, I know we don’t talk about him—”
“We can talk about him anytime you want. But you never wanted to.”
“I know and I don’t want to talk about him now. He was never part of my life and he doesn’t mean anything to me. But sometimes I think I’d like to talk about what it all meant to you. I’ve never asked and I feel bad about it.”
Chrissie laughed. “I hope you haven’t been brooding over something so silly.”
“Not brooding, just wondering. Now that I’ve got Poppy, I can’t help thinking about what it must have been like for you, bringing me up by yourself. I’ve got Gregor, and he’s the best dad in the world, but the pair of us still manage to get into a mess with Poppy.”
“That’s nonsense. You’re both great parents. Terrible houseguests, but great parents.”
Alison laughed, but it quickly died away, and as Chrissie pulled the curtain into place and began hooking it on to the new rod, she was aware of her daughter’s gaze on her.
“I know he left you at the altar,” Alison finally said. “I know I’m not supposed to know about it, but I do.”
Chrissie turned on the ladder and stared. Alison shrugged at the unspoken question.
“I found some old things in the loft when we were putting boxes up there when we moved in. An old wedding invitation with you and… well, him, listed as the bride and groom. I asked Gran about it and she made me promise not to tell you that I knew because she didn’t want you reopening old wounds. But I wondered why you’d never told me.”
Chrissie finished hooking the curtain on to the rod, and then stepped down from the ladder and shifted it to hang the curtain on the other side. “It wasn’t a conscious choice. I got busy being a mother and raising you and working, and then learning how to be a college teacher, and then learning how to run my own business. You’d be surprised how quickly twenty-five years can fly by. By the time you were old enough to understand what it meant to be a bride left standing at the altar, it was all so far behind me that it didn’t much matter anymore.”
“You never met anyone else you wanted to be with?”
“No, I didn’t. There wasn’t time to go out and meet men when you were young. And once you were older, there was never anyone who interested me enough to want to bother.”
“That makes me sad.”
“Well, it shouldn’t. Look, all that’s in the past. I am where I am and I’m happy with my lot in life. And anyway, I’m not decrepit just yet. Who knows what might lie ahead?”
Chrissie was surprised to discover that this wasn’t an entirely theoretical statement; as she said these words, she was thinking of Keith McGraw. How strange, to be thinking of this man whom she’d only just met. Strange and probably a little silly, too. She thought of how they’d arranged to meet again tonight, beneath the cherry blossoms. How ridiculous. And what was even more ridiculous was that the suggestion had been hers. She blushed to think of it, and kept blushing when she realised she was actually looking forward to seeing the man again.
It was a minor revelation. Everything that she’d told Alison was true – once Chrissie had finally found time to start thinking about relationships, she’d never managed to meet a man with whom she’d be even remotely interested in having one. There’d been dinners and drinks with a few prospects once Alison was safely into her teenage years, and Irene had certainly done her fair share of setting Chrissie up with any number of men who were the sons or nephews of the women in her wide circle of meddlesome friends. But not a single one of them had held Chrissie’s interest enough to go much beyond a second or third get-together.
She hadn’t been particularly sorry about this, either. She liked her life and felt no desperate absence because it didn’t contain a man. And God knows, her cake shop and her family kept her busy and occupied. Even now, with her daughter grown and her cake shop on a firm footing, Chrissie struggled to see how she’d find time for any kind of relationship. Between Irene putting her into this silly cake contest and Alison and her family currently living in her house, Chrissie knew she was lucky to get a second to herself.
Still, something about Keith McGraw had caught her interest, although she wasn’t sure exactly what. What she did know was that she liked those few stolen moments they’d shared these past two evenings, and she wanted to steal even more.
Yet, the man did have three ex-wives to his name, one of whom was currently living with him. That should set alarm bells ringing, surely? But Chrissie found that it didn’t. In fact, the situation with the ex-wife turning up at his door was wryly amusing, as Keith himself seemed to acknowledge, and made her want to know more about this man w
ho was big enough and good enough to take pity on the woman who had broken his heart.
Chrissie shook her head at her own foolishness, and then finished hanging the second curtain and came down from the ladder. She stepped back to look at the new curtains in the window.
“They’re nice, Mum,” Alison said, peering up.
“They are, aren’t they?”
As soon as she’d said it, there was a cracking sound and the curtain rod sheared away from the wall and crashed to the floor, bringing with it the tangled bundle of newly-hung curtains. From her spot on the rug on the other side of the room, Poppy let out a squeal and began laughing.
Alison turned to Chrissie and winced. “We’ll fix it.”
Sighing, Chrissie shook her head and checked the time. It was already seven o’clock. “I’m going out for a bit.”
“We’ll have this fixed in no time, Mum. You don’t have to leave. Please don’t be angry at us.”
Chrissie laughed. “I’m not angry at either of you. I’ve given up being angry.”
“So where are you going?”
“Just to see a friend,” she replied, and as she headed for the door, she was amused to discover that the smile on her lips seemed only to be spreading.
16
Keith checked his watch. It was ten minutes past seven and Chrissie hadn’t shown up. As he sat on the bench beneath the cherry blossoms, a sinking feeling twisted in his stomach.
She wasn’t coming. Of course she wasn’t coming. He’d got his hopes up as usual, but it stood to reason that Chrissie wouldn’t be interested in spending time with the likes of him. He was past his best. Plus, he’d gone and told her that he had not one, but three ex-wives behind him. There was no way she’d get mixed up with a man with so much mess in his past. Chrissie Sullivan was an attractive and independent woman who could quite clearly have her pick of men. The idea that she’d want him, of all people, was ridiculous.
He was about to return to the pub when he heard a voice behind him.
“I made our coffees Irish tonight.”
Turning, Keith saw Chrissie approaching. She wore a bright pink raincoat and a pretty green scarf at her neck, and seeing her made him light up inside.
“I was beginning to think you might not be coming.”
Sitting beside him on the bench, she handed him one of the coffee cups. “My daughter’s boyfriend decided to have another attempt at destroying my house and I lost track of time sorting it out. I popped into Valentino’s to pick these up and then cut into the park through the side entrance.”
Keith lifted the lid from the coffee. “Irish, you say?”
“Hope that’s okay.”
“Fine with me. So, what happened at home?”
She waved a hand and smiled. “I’m not about to rehash the whole thing. Suffice to say, I’m considering increasing the accidental damage cover on my home insurance.”
Keith laughed and sipped his coffee. “This really is Irish.”
“I got double shots.” She crossed her legs and smoothed her trousers before turning to him. “How did it go today with your ex-wife? Did you manage to talk to her?”
Keith arched an eyebrow and drank more coffee. “Oh, we talked alright. Doubt she heard anything I said, though. She spent most of the day in tears.”
Chrissie scowled. “What on earth did you say to her?”
“She’s not in tears because of me! She’s in tears because her slimy ex chucked her out of her house. I ended up driving her over there this afternoon to collect her stuff. She was in bits about it and acting weird with me. I tried to explain to her – gently – that absolutely nothing will happen between us.”
“And what did she say?”
Keith sighed. “She put her arms around me and gave me a cuddle.”
Chrissie gave him a look and laughed. “And did you cuddle her back?”
“I didn’t want to, but I was holding a shoebox at the time.” A puzzled expression crossed her face. “She was crying, too. I could hardly shove her away, she’s an emotional wreck. And all this touchy-feely stuff is probably only happening because she’s an emotional wreck, rather than because she has any real feelings for me.”
“Well, there you go, then.”
“On the other hand, this being Janice, it’s hard to know one way or the other.” He drank more coffee and shrugged. “Anyway, how did it go with your cake competition plans today?”
She smiled. “I practised a little in the afternoon. I’m trying this technique involving buttercream icing. It looks simple, but it’s not. After two hours fiddling around with my shaping tools, I’m no closer to getting the hang of it.”
“Do you think you will get the hang of it?”
She shrugged. “In my head, I know what I need to do. Actually doing it is harder than I thought. But I’ve got time to keep at it. If I still haven’t nailed it in a few days, I’ll swap the design for something easier.” She turned and gave him an eye-roll. “Exciting stuff.”
“It is exciting. You’re doing a big thing.”
“Nah, it’s small stuff.” Chrissie sighed quietly and sipped more coffee. “I know this cake competition is just a publicity opportunity for local businesses who want a piece of the wedding market. It’s not like I’m trying to win the Bake Off, for God’s sake. But it’s got me going, all the same.” A smile crept to her lips. “I want to do well. I don’t just want to take part in this thing. I want to bloody win it.”
“Good for you.”
She laughed, and it was a deep, rich laugh that made Keith grin.
“Yesterday, I was terrified of coming last,” Chrissie continued. “Now, I want to win. I feel a bit ridiculous.”
“Rubbish, of course you want to win. You take pride in your work and you want it to be acknowledged. And it will be, I’m sure of it.”
She laughed again. “Think I’ll make it on to the winners’ podium?”
“If you don’t, there’s been a stitch-up.”
Chrissie laughed once more before slanting her eyes, and the way she studied him made Keith’s skin tingle.
“You said you’ve been married and divorced three times,” Chrissie finally said. “How come none of them ever stuck?”
“Ah, now there’s a question for the ages.”
“I’m serious. You seem like a nice man, Keith. You’re funny, apparently solvent, and not bad to look at.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “This is high praise, Chrissie, keep talking.”
She grinned and shifted on the bench. “Tell me what happened.”
“You really want to know?”
“I really want to know.”
“Why?”
“Keith, if you don’t know the answer to that question, then maybe you’re not as good at the romance stuff as I’d hoped.”
Her answer, and the intense look in her eyes, made his throat go dry. He took a swig from his coffee cup, grateful that there was enough booze in there to give him courage.
“You’re checking my credentials.”
“I am.”
“Because you’re thinking that maybe—”
“Because I’m thinking that maybe.”
When she smiled and tilted her head, Keith laughed. “Okay, I’ll tell you what happened and hope it doesn’t send you running for the hills.” He waved a hand at nothing in particular – the flower beds in the park; the traffic out on Shaw Street; the bustle of Fairhill on a busy Saturday evening – and thought about the best way to summarise the series of monumental catastrophes that constituted his various married lives.
“I was young when I married my first wife, Lorraine. I was twenty and in love and thought I knew everything there was to know. We had a few great years together. And then one day, she told me she didn’t love me anymore. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was only after she was gone that I discovered she’d run up mountains of debt against my pub and left me to deal with it.”
Chrissie’s expression turned shocked. “Oh, no.”
“Nearly bankrupted me and my business. I’d only just got started at The Crooked Thistle and I almost lost it all. That was a wake-up call. I was crushed by what Lorraine had done, but decided I’d never, ever let my business be at risk again. I wished I could’ve learned that lesson another way, but I did learn it, and my pub has gone from strength to strength ever since. Silver linings, and all that.”
“Your pub’s got a good reputation around here, Keith.”
“And yet it’s never been enough to bring you through my doors on a regular basis.”
Chrissie grinned. “I’m not one for sitting around in pubs on my own. Anyway, get back to your story.”
“If you want more misery from the vaults, fair enough. After Lorraine, I steered clear of women for a while. I was in my thirties when I met Sharon. I thought I was set for life when we got married. We even talked about having kids. She’d been married before, like me, and it hadn’t worked out. We were kindred spirits, I suppose, and it was good having one another to talk to about the things that had happened to us. But a few years down the line, something changed. I couldn’t figure out what. It was like suddenly living with a stranger. She said everything was fine and I was worrying about nothing. Every marriage has its tough times and I wanted to believe that’s all it was.”
Keith gave a sad smile and shrugged. “One day I found her in tears in the bedroom and she told me that she’d bumped into her ex-husband a few months earlier. They’d met for a drink, just for old times’ sake. But one thing had led to another and she’d decided to go back to him. My heart broke that day. Of all the women I’ve known, I loved her the most. It took a long time to get over her.”
There was quiet for a moment before Chrissie spoke. “But you did get over her.”
Keith shrugged. “I don’t think you ever get over a broken heart, do you?”
A flicker of unease troubled her expression, and as she glanced away, Keith saw violet flashes in the depths of her green eyes.
“Maybe you don’t,” she said. “But you eventually married Janice, so you must have got over it a little.”
