by Hazel Osmond
‘Here you go,’ Liz said, putting the cup in front of Fran. It was, even by Liz’s standards, vile-looking. He watched as Fran took a sip and waited for the normal effort not to gag. The sudden lowering of the cup to reveal a smile that took in the whole of Fran’s face was completely unexpected.
‘Oh, Liz,’ she said, ‘you make coffee just like my mother used to. It’s rare to find someone who has the knack. Thank you so much.’
Liz was peering at Fran as if she suspected the piss was being siphoned off in industrial quantities, but that delighted expression was unmistakably guileless. As they watched, it settled into something that had a slug of sadness mixed in with it – Fran was swallowing more times than she was sipping.
Tom was embarrassed all over again, but this time because it felt too intrusive to be an observer. He wondered whether that need to slow down that she’d talked about earlier had something to do with her mother?
It was likely Liz was thinking the same, as her combative expression was fading. ‘That’s all right. Glad you like it,’ she said, resting her backside against the desk just along from where Fran was sitting. She watched her face for a while, before adding, ‘So, you’re going to help us out with the nature pages then? What did you have in mind? Tom says you’ve got a seal and a fox stashed in that bungalow of yours.’
There was one more deep swallow from Fran. ‘It sounds funny when you put it like that.’ She handed back the coffee cup and Liz peered into it as if checking it really was empty.
‘You want me to go and get Felix and Derek?’ Liz asked, one eye still on the cup, and when Tom said he did, she went off without a murmur.
That left Tom and Fran alone again and, even with the door open, Tom felt weird about it. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. Fran appeared to be self-conscious too and started to look through her handbag as if hoping to find something to fill the silence. She pulled out a tissue and wiped her nose.
‘Comforting to have your daughter with you while you work,’ was the only thing that she did say, just before Felix bounded into the room. She was staring at the paperweight on his desk. ‘Quite right too,’ she added. There was a brisk nod of her head and a further application of the tissue.
Tom looked at the glass dome with a photo of Hattie at the base and was left with the impression that he’d passed some kind of test, but didn’t know what it was.
*
Felix wanted to go for a three-page spread and ideally feature another animal along with the seal and fox.
‘Ah, that’s easy,’ Fran said, ‘I’ll do a red squirrel to give it a real Northumberland flavour. If I can track one down and finish sketching it by the weekend, I should have the actual sculpture completed towards the back of the following week. Does that give you enough time for the photography, Derek? Felix?’
‘It’ll be quite …’ Derek said, doubtfully, before Felix chipped in with, ‘Do-able.’
‘And what about the copy?’ Liz had on her Eeyore voice.
‘I’ll see to that too,’ Fran said, brightly. ‘A tiny little bit about me – and then a lot about the animals – where to find them in the area, their habits etc.’
‘Sorry to sound rude.’ Tom made sure he looked it. ‘But we need someone who can write to a high standard – plus the piece has to show a real knowledge of the area. And what with you not being a local—’
‘Oh I’ve made quite a study of this part of the world, Tom. I’m sure I can give it the Northumberland flavour you want. And yes, I can write to a very high standard.’ She paused. ‘Although I use a slate, obviously …’
‘A slate,’ Derek repeated, ‘why do you use a …?’
‘I was just pulling Tom’s leg,’ Fran said, patting Derek’s and making him jump. Tom wondered if a woman had ever patted anything of Derek’s before.
‘But joking aside,’ Fran carried on, ‘would it be acceptable for me to come into the office to work? It’s always nice to feel part of something.’
‘She could have Charlie’s old desk,’ Liz suggested.
‘Charlie’s old desk? No … I …’
‘It’s a dumping ground for all sorts of crap. I’ll get Jamie to clear it for you.’ Liz stood up. ‘And, if you’re going to be part of the furniture, let’s get you introduced.’
The meeting broke up then and Tom re-applied himself to checking the ever-increasing pile of proofs on his desk. When he looked up, he saw Victoria standing by Charlie’s old desk, talking to Fran. He wondered what the two of them would make of each other.
Next time he glanced up, Fran was chatting to Jamie with the same look on her face as she’d had outside the bookshop. Smitten.
He re-applied himself to the proofs.
He’d moved on to something from Monty when there was a knock on the door frame.
‘Look at you,’ Natalie said, ‘captain of industry.’
‘Yeah, thanks. Have you come to babysit one of my staff?’
She glanced back over her shoulder. ‘That’ll be Jamie then.’
Behind her, Tom saw Jamie bend over his keyboard, his face already going red.
Natalie came into the room. ‘I’m here to pick up Fran. Thought I’d pop my head in, say hello, and ask if you wanted me to pencil in next Thursday for babysitting?’
He looked back down at his work, avoiding Hattie’s eye in the paperweight. ‘It’ll depend how next week pans out – whether I can get away.’
Code for: it depends on when Grietje texts me.
‘No problem.’ Natalie had moved over to the bay window and was running her finger over the sill. ‘What are you paying your bloody cleaner?’
‘I’ve no idea … You said you’ve come to collect Fran?’
‘Yeah. Off into town, see a couple of bands. Ah … here she is.’
Fran was in the doorway.
‘Ready to go?’ Natalie asked.
‘Yes, all set. And, Tom, I’ve given Liz my mobile number if anyone needs to contact me. I’ll let you know how I’m getting on.’
Tom wanted to ask what bands they were going to see, but was afraid he wouldn’t have heard of them and would look even older than he already felt. And he wanted to ask how the two of them had got together again after that initial meeting outside the bookshop.
And would calling it a ‘concert’ mark him out as a real old fart?
He heard Natalie winding Jamie up one last time as she passed by and then it was Victoria loitering about near the door. ‘She’s a one-off,’ she said, obviously feeling she didn’t need to explain who she was talking about.
‘Certainly genuine,’ Liz said behind her. The barb was not lost on Victoria, who did that elegant pirouette of hers and went back to her desk.
‘Liz,’ Tom said, ‘easy on the loaded comments.’
Liz snorted and did a parody of Victoria’s pirouette, which was ruined by having to steady herself on the door frame as she came to a halt. ‘I think I’m going to like her, Fran. Mad as a box of frogs, obviously, but a lifeboat kind of person.’
‘Lifeboat?’
‘Yeah. She’d help you catch fish and collect rainwater. Whereas Victoria would club you to death and eat you.’
Tom got up when Liz had gone and looked out of the window. Suddenly Kelvin was at his elbow, standing on tiptoe to get the last possible glimpse of Fran and Natalie before they turned the corner out of sight.
‘I would,’ he said, ‘wouldn’t you?’
When Tom ignored the question, Kelvin added, ‘Very sexy – pert, hell of an arse.’
‘You want to stop dribbling down my arm, Kelvin? And can I just remind you, that’s my daughter’s babysitter you’re talking about. Told you before, I don’t like the sexist stuff.’
‘I wasn’t talking about Natalie. Her family’s trouble. I was talking about the one in the dress. She’s like a posh Debbie Harry.’ Kelvin was screwing up his face as if considering that and added, ‘How she was in the eighties, obviously, not like she is now. Don’t tell me you didn’t knock one o
ut every time Debbie was on the telly?’
‘Well done, Kelvin. Ageist and sexist in one disturbing parcel.’ Tom moved so that the desk was between them. ‘Anyway, you’re ten years older than me and Debbie Harry was white-blonde. Now, bugger off.’
Fantastic. Not only did he have an image of Debbie Harry in his head, but also a much worse one of Kelvin as a teenager.
CHAPTER 22
Wednesday 21st May
1) Acting strangely can be a result of being frightened (see point 2) and/or because when you walk into an office, you are aware that you are walking in the footsteps of ghosts.
2) On first meeting, Liz seems blisteringly scary. It is only later that you realise she is a woman who wants to be:
A. Taken seriously
B. Not taken for granted and
C. Freed from having to babysit people who might be weird or hopeless at their job or both.
3) You can have a bottom covered in plaster dust that nobody notices until your friend points it out to you on the street. Even Kelvin did not notice because I’m sure if he had, he would have tried to brush it off for me (see point 9).
4) When I am nervous, I not only blurt out tactless things, but seem to have developed a love of architectural detailing. Especially creaking floorboards and dusty old plaster grapes which you leap on as if they were the Holy Grail (or should that be grille? – sorry, poor joke). I could not work out if I was inhabiting the soul of Kevin McCloud, or in the case of Tom’s window, Johnny Depp. (Window is magnificent, though, can imagine Hattie and her eye-patch take up position there on a frequent basis.)
5) No amount of telling yourself beforehand that you will not, repeat, not tell anybody that you are home-schooled, will work in the face of Tom’s nosiness. Tom’s ability to ask questions and remember the answers is worrying.
6) Tom is not easily stared out, but I think another minute and I would have done it.
7) It is amazing how the taste of over-stewed, too-strong coffee can make you want to put your head down on a desk and weep.
8) It is also amazing how your reaction to the taste of old, too-strong coffee can make a woman who you thought was going to be very tricky indeed become someone you would very much like to have by your side in an emergency.
9) Tom has an interesting mixture of staff and it is too early to say what I have learned about any of them. Except for Kelvin. I have learned not to stand too close to him or to bend forward without first putting your hand modestly to the neckline of your dress. He made the lads drinking three shots for five pounds in town later seem very well behaved – although that could have been because I was a ‘friend of Natalie’s’. This is not the same as being a ‘friend of Dorothy’s’.
10) There are worse people to have a staring competition with than Tom Howard.
CHAPTER 23
He was beginning to think that the bookshop was some kind of magnet for people he knew. This time it was the unmistakable shape of his mother that he saw standing outside with her trusty wicker basket over her arm.
‘You do know they don’t sell cleaning products in there, don’t you?’ he asked, coming up behind her and making her jump. He should stop doing that.
‘Idiot,’ she said, swiping his arm with the back of her free hand. ‘And don’t be so cheeky, I can read. I can even do it without moving my lips.’
He looked into his mother’s basket for some clue to what she might have bought, but was distracted by an A4 envelope with her name on it.
She must have seen him looking. ‘Just been to a meeting with the Secretary of the Show to discuss the Mrs Egremont incident,’ she explained. ‘We’ve all been given new guidelines.’ There was a pull down of his mother’s mouth.
Tom nodded in what he hoped was a sympathetic way.
‘Anyway, enough of that,’ his mother said. ‘I’m meeting Kath in a minute. So tell me quickly, what’s going on with your brother?’
‘In what respect?’
‘Stop playing the fool, Tom. You know what I mean. I understand that he’s worried about Kath and the baby. Why wouldn’t he be? But it seems to have got worse recently. Are you telling me you haven’t noticed?’
Tom found it relatively easy to lie to his mother about the massive things in his life – the state of his marriage when it was dying; why he had brought Hattie north – but he had never been able to lie to her about his brother. It would have felt as if he was betraying the tightly knit, triangular relationship that had been the bedrock of their lives after his dad had died.
He told her about the latest conversation he’d had with Rob, but omitted to say it had taken place in the cemetery, or the comment about ‘talking to Dad’.
Patting things into a less worrying shape didn’t count as lying, did it?
‘I’ll have to have a chat with him,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I won’t drop you in it. He’s going to suck all the enjoyment out of this for Kath. I mean, she’s nervous too, but she just gets on with it.’
‘To be fair to Rob, he realises that.’
A brisk nod. ‘Leave it with me. Slowly, slowly, khaki monkey.’
She shifted her basket from her left to her right arm as if to underline the truth of that statement and Tom was thinking that was a good mash-up of words, even for his mother, when he noticed that the contents of her basket had shifted too. The envelope had slipped over enough to reveal a steak, all snugly wrapped in its plastic tray.
His mother had been a vegetarian since she was a teenager.
‘You know what we need for Rob,’ Tom said, looking pointedly at the steak, ‘someone with good listening skills. A counsellor, say, or a vicar …’
His mother raised her chin and gave the basket a jiggle, perhaps in the hope the steak would get covered up again. It didn’t.
‘They have a good choice of books in the shop,’ she said, turning to look in the window. ‘I might bring Hattie—’
‘Or,’ Tom went on, ‘what would be even better, would be one of those retired vicars who has more time to devote to him.’ He moved so that he was in his mother’s sightline again. ‘Hey, just had a brilliant idea – someone like Rev. George would be perfect. He’s retired, isn’t he? Now … if only we knew how to get in touch with him.’
His mother looked as if she was losing her patience and then her expression changed to a smug one. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘here’s Kath. Just when I was getting a headache …’ There was a hawk-like stare at him before she was all smiles for her daughter-in-law.
To Tom’s eyes, it seemed as if the baby was ready to come at any moment and there was definitely a trudging look to Kath’s walk, but she said, ‘Playing truant?’ cheerily to Tom and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. Her skin felt hot, even though the sky was mostly overcast today.
‘Hope you’re ready for some serious shopping,’ she said to his mother. ‘I want to get a couple more sleepsuits and take a look in that shop near the estate agent’s. They’ve got some lovely little knitted hats.’
Tom never failed to be touched by Kath’s optimism. He just wished his brother would catch some of it.
‘Sounds expensive,’ he said.
‘It’s my treat.’ His mother put her hand up as if she knew Kath would remonstrate and the basket over her other arm wobbled.
He saw from Kath’s face that she had spotted the steak.
‘That’s really kind of you, Joan,’ she said, ‘but only if you let me treat you to lunch.’ There was a cheeky look Tom’s way. ‘The cafe on the corner does a nice steak and onion pie.’
Tom nodded his head. ‘That’ll get you revved up, Mum.’
He saw Kath press her lips together and look away.
With what she probably thought was a great amount of subtlety, his mother rearranged the contents of her basket so the steak was no longer visible.
‘Sometimes,’ she said, giving them both a sour look, ‘you two talk complete gibbonish. Now come on, Kath, I’m sure Tom has to be back at the office.�
�
*
Tom was still wondering if his mother’s mangling of words was going to be completely primate-themed from now on, when he pushed open his office door to find Liz sitting in his seat.
‘You’re breaking our agreement,’ he said. ‘It still counts as leaping on me as soon as I get in even if you’re sitting down.’
‘Verbal agreement, Tom. And I had my fingers crossed behind my back when I said it.’ She stood up and, with a grin, thrust a piece of paper at him. ‘Thought you’d want to see this as soon as possible. It’ll cheer you up.’
Jamie’s copy. Tom’s irritation slowly changed to surprise as he read. This was good. Interesting. Punchy.
‘How has he suddenly improved so much?’ Tom looked towards the open door where he could see Jamie sitting at his desk, slowly and methodically eating a bar of chocolate and staring at the far wall. The way he was swivelling his chair made his fringe flop. It suggested he was feeling more light-hearted than usual when faced with a keyboard.
‘You didn’t help him with this, did you, Liz?’
She made a ‘Did I bollocks?’ face. ‘Fran was in this morning. Said she’d had a brainwave about how to make her feature look even better – drop flowers over the page and fit the copy round them. Should have heard Felix and her, like they were going to orgasm together.’
Tom wished Liz hadn’t placed that image in his brain. ‘Not sure where this is going, Liz?’
‘Where it’s going is that after she finished talking to Felix, she came down here. She wanted to do some research about red squirrels. That’s where she is now, up at Slaley Forest, just finishing off her drawing of one of the little buggers. Anyway, I got stuck into something else, and Jamie and her were chatting away, heads together. When she leaves, Jamie hands over the wundercopy.’
They looked out at Jamie again. He was trying to tie the empty chocolate wrapper in a knot. One particularly energetic swivel of his chair brought him round to face them. He saw them looking, might even have seen the paper in Tom’s hand. He was soon eyes front, hands on his keyboard.