Secrets and Tea at Rosie Lee's

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Secrets and Tea at Rosie Lee's Page 3

by Jane Lacey-Crane


  ‘Are you feeling better?’ Liz asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t have any lunch, that’s all. Too busy dealing with some irritating party planner who kept changing her mind about cake flavours right up until the last minute.’ I threw her a pointed look. ‘Two glasses of champagne on an empty stomach – I’m just a lightweight, I guess.’

  ‘Yes, you are. Now—’ she reached across and punched me on the arm ‘—you never told me you knew Jack Chance!’

  ‘Ow! That hurt!’

  ‘Serves you right for holding out on me. Spill the beans.’

  ‘I promise you, Liz, it’s a very small can of beans. We were just kids when his family moved away. I didn’t know he was the man you were working for. You said he was from Boston. I had no reason to think it might be some boy I used to know from school.’

  ‘It’s like the beginning of a movie. I can see it all now.’

  ‘Shut up, you daft cow. He won’t even remember who I am.’

  ‘You didn’t see his face when you had your funny turn. He looked really worried about you.’ Liz had a dreamy look in her eyes and a stupid smile.

  ‘You’ve read too many books.’

  I stood up, still a little unsteady on my feet. ‘I really do need to get home. I think these knickers you lent me are trying to kill me. Maybe they’re the reason I went a bit dizzy – they’re cutting off my circulation!’

  Liz laughed. ‘Okay, now I know you’re better – you’re making jokes. You should think about keeping the dress though. It looks way better on you than it ever did on me.’

  I was about to object when I heard Jack’s voice coming from behind me.

  ‘I agree. You look amazing.’

  I turned and saw him leaning on the door jamb. His voice was low and his gaze was fixed on my body. I could feel it travelling up and down and I was suddenly very self-conscious.

  ‘I don’t think this is a very practical look for my kind of work, do you, Mr Chance?’ I emphasised the ‘Mr Chance’ in a way that made him smirk a little.

  ‘Surely you must socialise sometimes, Ms Turner. Or are you just locked in your little café all the time with no thoughts of fun and games?’

  ‘My last name is Cowan, not Turner. Not anymore.’

  I didn’t elaborate on my response; I just wanted to get out of there. The kitchen had become very hot all of a sudden. When I didn’t offer any more information, I could see him mentally putting two and two together and coming up with five.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Cowan, I didn’t see a wedding ring. My apologies.’

  I didn’t correct his mistake and I could see Liz frowning at me. Oh, yes, it was definitely time to leave.

  ‘No problem, it’s fine. But I do need to be going so if you’ll excuse me?’ I tried to move past him but he grabbed my hand. I felt a jolt of something, like an electric shock, fizz through me at his touch.

  ‘You almost passed out just now. I’m not letting you drive yourself home, Abigail, no way. Just wait and I’ll take you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, I’m fine. I’m not going to drive, I’m not that stupid. I can just grab a cab. This is your party. You can’t leave now.’

  He was still holding onto me; he looked down at my hand in his, but he didn’t speak. Neither of us moved for a few seconds. I could feel the warmth of his touch so keenly and my mouth was suddenly dry. I swallowed and Jack lifted his gaze from our joined hands to my throat. My insides turned to liquid as he raised his eyes – those beautiful enormous eyes – to look at me. Then, without a word, he let my hand drop.

  A strangled ‘Thanks’ was all I could manage as he turned and walked away. I heard a man’s voice call out to him and then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd. I turned back to Liz, who was staring at me, open-mouthed.

  ‘Good Lord, I thought he was going to rip that dress off and have you right there on the lino! What the hell was all that about?’

  ‘You should go back to the party too, make sure everyone eats all those bloody tarts. I didn’t do all that work for nothing, you know.’ I ignored her shocked expression and tried to give her a gentle shove back out to the party, but she wasn’t quite done with me.

  ‘Why did you let him think you were married?’

  ‘What? Oh, you mean the name thing. I don’t know, just easier, I guess. I wasn’t about to start giving him a potted history of my life. I barely know the man.’

  ‘Bollocks.’ Liz possessed a very finely tuned bullshit meter and, despite being one of the poshest people I knew, her language was sometimes more akin to a dockworker than a duchess.

  ‘Oh, shut up. Just get back in there and do your thing. And see if you can find my proper clothes at some point. I’m going to try and get a cab outside and you better hope I don’t get mistaken for a hooker in this outfit.’

  She feigned mock horror. ‘I’m appalled! You’re more high-end call girl than hooker, if you please. That little lot cost a bloody fortune!’ She smiled and gave me a hug, before turning on her heel and striding away.

  I left the warmth of the building and stepped out into a damp, drizzly London evening. Bloody perfect – finding a cab in central London, in the rain, was almost impossible! Figuring I’d probably have more luck up by the station, I started to walk but it soon became obvious that Liz’s nosebleed-inducing high heels were going to be the death of me; I was walking like Bambi on an icy pond. Holding onto a nearby lamppost for support, I took them off before I fell and broke my ankle.

  ‘Abigail! Wait!’

  I looked up to see Jack striding purposefully towards me clutching a long coat of some sort.

  ‘I said I would take you home.’ He moved to place the coat around my shoulders but I shrugged it off.

  ‘I don’t need that, thank you. I just need to find a cab.’

  Clutching my shoes in my hand, I made a move to walk away but he blocked my path.

  ‘I said I would take you.’

  ‘It’s really not a problem, Jack. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.’

  By now the drizzle had turned into a full-on shower and I was getting soaked, the red velvet dress was clinging to all my curves and I had to admit I was starting to shiver a bit. Jack looked at me as if he wanted to throw me over his shoulder and march me back inside – I could see the tension in his jaw, as if he was grinding his teeth.

  ‘Fine. Have it your way.’ He stepped away from me and over to the kerb. I was about to tell him that it was pointless trying to get a cab here when he stepped into the road and immediately managed to wave one down. Flash git. He held the door open for me as I tried to climb in without flashing too much leg. I don’t think I managed it as I saw him smiling as he closed the door. Walking to the front window of the cab, he leaned in to the driver. I couldn’t hear what he was saying but the driver was nodding. He stepped away from the cab and waved, before walking back inside. I gave the driver my address. I was hoping that Liz wouldn’t be cajoled into telling him too much about me, but she’d always been a sucker for a pretty face. What if he turned on the charm? She wouldn’t be able to resist. I needed to tell her to keep her trap shut but my heart sank as I remembered I didn’t have my phone. I’d left it with my clothes and keys back at the party venue. You could go back to the party, said a voice in my head. No way, I knew trouble when I saw it and Jack had grown up into a very fine specimen of trouble.

  I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything else besides what had just happened. It was impossible. Jack’s face kept swimming into view. Admittedly he looked good but that just made me even more annoyed. How was it fair that he looked better now? After twenty years? Couldn’t he at least have been overweight and balding? The injustice made me want to spit. Twenty years on and all I had to show for it were wrinkles, bags under the eyes, cellulite and a few grey hairs! Bastard! Don’t get me wrong, I knew I wasn’t quite ready for the knacker’s yard. I was only thirty-seven and I generally scrubbed up all right when I put the effort in
, it was just that there hadn’t been much call for it lately. I spent most of my working days with my shoulder-length blonde hair scraped up in a ponytail and my less than perfect body hidden behind an apron. I had curves where all the magazines told me I shouldn’t and I wouldn’t have been able to squeeze myself into skinny jeans if my life depended on it. My mum liked to blame it all on the fact that I’d ‘had a hard life’. She told people this by way of an explanation for my apparent lack of interest in my appearance. Always so tactful.

  My life to this point hadn’t exactly been the stuff of fairy tales, that was true. Pregnant at nineteen, then a single parent. I inherited my café from Ted and Rose. I’d started working for them as a Saturday girl when I was fourteen, and I was overwhelmed when they generously left me the premises and business when they retired. They told me that I was the daughter they never had, and I considered them as much my family as I did my mum and brother. When my dad disappeared and my mum lost the plot, Ted and Rose and their little café provided me with a reason to be out of that house; away from a mother who hid in her room all day with the curtains drawn and grandparents who’d been reluctantly roped in to look after all of us. They were my mother’s parents and they never missed an opportunity to remind my brother and me that they were only there because our ‘useless layabout father’ had buggered off and left us.

  The sudden appearance of Dad in my mind made me sit up. I hadn’t thought about him for a long time; I was surprised by how long actually. There was a time when he was all I could think about: where had he gone and why? Would he ever come back? But time passed and thoughts of him gradually became less of a daily occurrence and more of an occasional nuisance. Thinking about him left me feeling confused and frustrated so it eventually became easier to just not think about him.

  ‘Damn you, Jack,’ I muttered.

  ‘What’s that, love? Did you say something?’ The cab driver was looking at me through his rear-view mirror.

  ‘No, nothing, sorry.’ My stomach was churning; maybe I was coming down with something? That would have explained the dizziness. It had nothing to do with seeing Jack again – it was the start of the flu! Yes, that definitely made more sense than me getting all flustered at the sight of him. That would be too pathetic. But I could still feel his hand in mine and see the way his eyes had burned when he’d looked me up and down in Liz’s dress. Oh blimey! No one had looked at me like that since, well, probably since I last saw him. Lucy’s dad never gave me the impression he was burning with desire for me, but Jack had always been different. Even as a teenager, he’d had an intensity that most boys his age lacked.

  *

  ‘Direct hit!’

  ‘Hey! Watch the jacket, it’s new!’

  I duck down behind the bench, laughing uncontrollably.

  ‘Shh! He’ll hear you,’ says Jack.

  I try to stop but the harder I try, the more I giggle. That last snowball I threw landed right between Kevin Warner’s purple-nylon-clad shoulder blades. His new tracksuit is now sporting a very fetching damp patch on the back. I sneak a look over the top of the bench. I can see Kevin brushing down his jacket and trying to see where the attack came from.

  ‘Serves him right,’ I say. ‘He shouldn’t have taken the piss out of me in class this morning.’

  Jack stops squishing snowballs together and looks at me.

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘It was nothing. He just made some stupid comments about my blazer. He said it was a hand-me-down from my brother and that it suited me ’cos I look like a boy anyway.’

  ‘He’s a twat. That doesn’t even make sense. You’ve got long curly hair. How do you look like a boy?’

  I’m too embarrassed to answer so I just cast a quick glance downwards to where my boobs have obviously not materialised yet. I’m fifteen, I’ve got lank hair, mild acne and armpit fuzz but I remain resolutely flat-chested. Jack looks at my chest then quickly looks away again. He coughs and then mutters something under his breath.

  ‘What was that?’ I say.

  He fidgets around, tossing a snowball from one hand to the other, before standing up and lobbing it at the back of Kevin’s head. Satisfied that he’s achieved his goal, Jack comes back to sit beside me on the ground.

  ‘I said, you’re gorgeous. Kevin Warner is an idiot.’ Jack turns to face me, his expression intense. ‘Ignore him. Ignore anyone who tries to tell you that you’re anything other than perfect.’

  *

  Jack had been right; Kevin Warner was an idiot. And thankfully my boobs did eventually turn up – the devastatingly uncomfortable bra I was squeezed into at that moment was testament to that fact. But Jack had gone by then and I had been left at the mercy of those other stupid teenage boys. None of them had ever made me feel the way Jack had; a fact that had, apparently, not changed in the last twenty years. Fan-bloody-tastic.

  I could see I was almost home and it dawned on me that I had no money to pay the cab fare. What the hell was I going to do?

  ‘You can drop me here, just on the right.’

  The driver indicated and pulled smoothly up to the kerb. I was about to confess to having no way to pay him when he said, ‘That gentleman sorted out your fare, no need to worry, love. But if you want to give me a tip I won’t say no’. He flashed me a big nicotine-stained toothy grin. What? How? Jack must have paid the driver when he leaned in to talk to him. Part of me was incredibly relieved but the other part was furious that Jack assumed I wouldn’t be able to pay my own way.

  ‘R-right,’ I stuttered. ‘Thanks’. I hopped out of the cab and walked towards the stairs that led up to my flat above the café.

  ‘I’ll take that as a no to the tip, shall I?’ the cab driver shouted.

  Ignoring him, I took the stained concrete stairs two at a time, clutching my shoes to my chest and trying not to think about what I might be stepping in. I made it to my front door and knocked, silently praying that Lucy was home to let me in. Please let the universe be on my side today – just this once. To my relief the door opened and I was greeted by my surprised-looking daughter.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mum, what are you wearing? And where’s the van?’

  Chapter 4

  ‘So, you just left the van and all your clothes there?’ My daughter Lucy was stirring milk into my cup of tea and looking at me as if I were some sort of freak.

  ‘Yes, I already told you. Your Auntie Liz forced me into this little get-up so I could meet people, I couldn’t find my stuff, so it was just easier to get a taxi home.’

  She brought my tea over to the kitchen table and plonked herself down in the chair opposite me. With her dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy topknot, Lucy’s resemblance to my mother was striking. Tall and slim, she had graceful hands that fluttered about when she spoke and piercing blue almond-shaped eyes that could fix you with the same penetrating stare my mum had.

  ‘Who did you meet, then?’ she asked.

  ‘What? No one, why? What do you mean?’

  ‘You said Auntie Liz made you wear that to meet people. I was just asking who you met.’ She gave me a quizzical look and I instantly became very interested in my cup of tea. Looking at the small bits of scum on the surface, I abruptly decided that this would be a good time to descale the kettle. I got up and went to the cupboard under the sink, pulling out a packet of limescale remover and some yellow rubber gloves. I could feel Lucy watching me fuss around in the kitchen.

  ‘Mum, you can’t clean in that dress. What’s the rush to do that now anyway?’

  ‘It needs doing. But you’re right about the dress – it deserves better. I’ll just go and change.’

  As I headed to my room, I prayed that Lucy wouldn’t follow me. I knew if she saw the underwear I had on under the dress, I’d never hear the end of it! No such luck. It had been just the two of us since she was a baby so it was normal to wander in and out of each other’s rooms whenever we wanted. Sure enough, she followed me straight into my room and flopped down onto my b
ed.

  ‘Nan called earlier. She wanted to know where you were and why you didn’t go round yesterday.’

  ‘I never told her I would see her yesterday.’ Did I? Visits to my mum were usually only undertaken when I’d run out of excuses. Between work, Lucy, cleaning the toilet, defrosting the freezer, there really wasn’t much time left to visit; at least that was what I told myself. I loved my mum, in my own way, but our relationship was difficult. To say the least. When my dad left she locked herself away in her room for two years and when she eventually emerged, I’d learned how to take care of myself. I found that I didn’t need her, not in any practical sense at least. At the time, to my young mind anyway, what she did to us was almost as bad as what my dad had done. He’d left us to fend for ourselves and so had she and I’d never really forgiven her for that.

  My brother, Matt, who was two years older than me, had always been much closer to her than I had. He’d always seemed more willing to forgive and tried to play peacemaker. He wasn’t ever able to convince me though. As far as I was concerned, I’d managed just fine without her for two years, so when she’d tried to slip back into that maternal role I’d fought her at every turn. Our relationship had got better as the years had passed but that was because I tried not to let her get too involved in my life; there was always a part of me that was frightened to rely on her just in case she faded away again. She was a good grandmother to Lucy though, and I made sure that their relationship wasn’t tainted by my feelings. It was hard at first – seeing how close they were used to make me feel sad and envious – but I got over it. There was nothing I could do about it now anyway – too much time had passed and I couldn’t go back and change things. No matter how much I might have wanted to at times.

  ‘You’re being weird, Mum. What’s going on?’

 

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