Evie ran down the stairs to where her grandparents were waiting, seated around a tiny wooden table in front of the fire.
‘We usually eat on our laps,’ Mavis explained, ‘but because you’re here we thought we’d get the table in.’
Evie sat and pulled in her chair, scraping her knees against the underside of the tabletop. She rubbed her legs, then lifted her hands and looked at them. ‘This table is covered in cobwebs.’
‘Oh, is it? Well, that’s probably because it’s been outside all winter.’
‘It’s your patio table? Gran, you didn’t have to bring it in for me. I’d be perfectly happy with a tray.’
‘I want to do things properly. Frank, didn’t I ask you to give it a clean before you brought it in?’
Frank mumbled something unintelligible and picked up his fork.
‘Frank’s still in a mood about Bob Peacock and his horse,’ Mavis told Evie. ‘Cheer up, you old git,’ she said, giving her husband a kick under the table. ‘Evie doesn’t want to look at your miserable face. You’ll put her off her dinner. Shepherd’s pie?’ She scooped a large serving onto Evie’s plate. ‘Without the shepherds, I’m afraid.’
Evie grinned – it was an old family joke, a response to her childhood questions about what went in Granny’s dishes.
‘Will we be having cottage pie this week as well?’ she said.
‘No, I couldn’t crush up the bricks small enough.’ Mavis smiled back, and Evie was relieved to see the sunshine had returned to her eyes.
‘Who lives at number eight now?’ she asked, loading up her fork with mince and potato.
‘That’ll be Sarah Lowrie. She’s a lovely girl, lived there about five years.’
‘Her husband, is he some kind of builder?’
Mavis shook her head and swallowed a mouthful. ‘She hasn’t got a husband. Sarah’s what we used to call a spinster. Although she’s only in her thirties, so I suppose there’s still time …’
Mavis tailed off, and Evie put down her fork. Frank looked from one to the other and groaned.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, not this again. You two, you’re always the same when you get on this subject. Mavis, for the last time, will you leave the poor girl alone. If she wanted to get married she would – look at her, she’s beautiful and successful, she’s got her career and all. It’s not as if she can’t actually get a man, is it? She’s just choosy, aren’t you, my love?’ Frank patted Evie’s hand. ‘There’s nothing wrong with being a single woman these days. You make the most of it. Married life’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ Mavis stood up, nearly knocking the rickety table into Evie’s lap. ‘I’ve been a wonderful wife to you, Frank Stone, and if you don’t appreciate me you can bloody well go and–’
‘Gran? Come on, sit down. He’s only winding you up.’ Evie gave her grandfather a sharp stare, and he responded with a shrug and an innocent expression.
‘I was just saying, that’s all. Women are more able these days. They don’t need a man to make them complete.’
‘Well, of all the … I’ll have you know I don’t need a man to make me complete either.’ On her feet again, Mavis glared down at her husband. ‘If I had my time again, to think what I could do with it. I could have been anything – a dancer, an actress.’
‘You’re not wrong about that,’ Frank said in a low voice, raising his eyebrows at Evie, who fought back a grin and held out her hands to her gran.
‘Please, just sit back down and finish your lunch. We’ve got enough going on this afternoon without you two arguing.’ Evie cast around for a change of subject. ‘So if this Sarah person isn’t married, who was the man I just saw leaving her house?’
‘Man?’ Mavis sat down and looked interested. ‘You saw her with a man?’
Evie smiled. ‘I did. Just now. He was wearing overalls and had a tool bag. I assumed it was her husband – she looked kind of attached to him.’
Frank grinned and nodded to Mavis. ‘He’s a dark horse, isn’t he?’
‘He sure is.’
‘Who?’ said Evie. ‘Who was he?’
‘I reckon it must be Tim.’
‘No way. Woolly? Tim Woolly Robinson? I’d have recognised him, wouldn’t I?’
Frank said, ‘Blue overalls? All starched-looking, like they’ve barely seen the light of day?’ Evie nodded. ‘That’s him alright.’
‘But he looked so …’ Evie stopped and stared down at her plate. She had been about to say “old”. Of course he was older. Time passed, and when you had been away from a place it was ridiculous to think people would stay the same. But Tim, looking so worn down and middle-aged.
‘I remember him when he first started working at the Woolworths in town. So proud, he was, so full of himself.’
Tim was five years older than her, and she’d had a crush on him at one point during her early teens. He’d been one of those guys who was always first – the first to pass his driving test, the first to buy a car. The first to get into a management training programme and really make it in the world.
‘So what is he doing now? Did he retrain or something?’
Mavis shook her head. ‘When he lost his job the spark went right out of him. It’s been four years now, but he still hasn’t found anything else.’
‘Of course. Woolworths closed all its stores, didn’t it? The end of an era.’
‘It affected him really badly,’ Mavis said. ‘It was his whole identity.’
‘And he never married? No kids?’
‘Married to his job, he always said.’
‘But Sarah and him – they’re close?’
‘Oh, no. Just friends. We all find jobs for Woolly to do. I keep inventing things – the other day I pulled the waste pipe off from under the sink just so I could give him a bit of money. And I’m sure I’m not the only one.’
Evie wasn’t convinced about the “just friends” part, not after the way she’d seen Sarah Lowry look at Tim earlier. ‘Does he mind being called Woolly? Isn’t it a bit insensitive?’
Frank put down his knife and fork and pushed back from the table. ‘Can you two eat up, do you think? We need to leave in ten minutes.’ He gave them both a disgusted look, then marched out of the room, through the kitchen, and out of the back door. Evie raised her eyebrows at her gran, who gave her a sad little smile and shook her head.
‘Take no notice. He’s stressed, is all. And he hates it when I gossip. But then, he’s a man. Men don’t understand anything, really, do they?’
Mavis tucked into her food with relish, and Evie couldn’t stop her thoughts turning, like an old record stuck on a loop, to Michael. What had he understood? He must have known she liked him, and he certainly gave enough signals that he liked her. Asking her to dinner, not leaving her side all evening. Saving a seat for her at breakfast. And those moments when he’d looked at her, not with longing exactly, but with more than just idle interest.
‘Evie?’ Mavis spoke with her mouth half full and her eyes fixed on her plate. ‘I’m sorry if it seems like I’m giving you a hard time about … well, you know. I just want you to be happy.’
‘I am happy. Mainly because I’ve given up on men completely.’
‘Completely!’
Evie nodded and chased a pea around her plate with a fork. ‘Totally and completely.’ She looked up and found her grandma staring at her, her expression unreadable. ‘I honestly don’t think there are any decent men out there, Gran. After James left me, something just broke, you know?’
Mavis tipped her head and laid down her cutlery. She reached across the tiny table and touched Evie’s hand.
‘The worst thing is, I know it’s my own fault. I’m a terrible judge of character, and I always seem to trust the wrong people. And I never meet the right kind of men, anyway. I always seem to attract the ones who need fixing in some way. Who need–’
‘Rescuing?’
Evie shrugged. ‘It’s been said more than onc
e.’
‘I blame your mother. If she hadn’t been constantly getting herself into scrapes, dragging you into things, expecting you to pick up the pieces–’
‘Gran?’ Evie interrupted. ‘Can we not do this now? Let’s just focus on this afternoon. We can put the world to rights another time. Okay?’
Mavis pressed her lips together and drew an imaginary zip across them. ‘But I’m not promising to keep my mouth closed for your whole stay, young lady,’ she said.
Evie laughed. ‘Honestly, Gran? I’d be astonished if you did.’
*
Public planning events were held at the council’s HQ in the city centre, but as this was only an initial meeting – Community Involvement was the council’s fancy name for it – it was being held in the local community centre on Fox Avenue. The building doubled up as a church and a play group, and was built from block concrete and topped with a glass roof lantern that Evie couldn’t help admiring.
‘It’s a bloody eyesore,’ Frank told her. His mood hadn’t improved much since lunch.
‘Is everyone here?’ Mavis had been fussing since they arrived ten minutes ago. She’d brought a flask of tea and a tin of custard creams. Evie could feel the tension buzzing around her like static.
‘According to Gramps, yes. Everyone except Stig. There’s no sign of him yet.’
‘Oh, he won’t come,’ Mavis said, tutting. ‘He hardly ever goes out anymore. I don’t think I’ve seen him in months.’
‘Shouldn’t someone check on him? An old man, living alone – I thought you were this big old caring community in Cupid’s Way.’ But Evie could tell her gran wasn’t listening – she was fluffing up her hair and looking over Evie’s shoulder with a very odd expression on her face.
‘There’s young Zac,’ Mavis whispered. ‘I told Frank he’d be here. He’s our newest resident. Very eligible young man, very good looking.’ She gave Evie a meaningful look. ‘He’s a real man – a builder, so he doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.’ She laughed, throwing back her head, then tipped her face forward and peered in Zac’s direction.
‘Gran! Are you trying to flirt with him?’ Evie turned around to see what all the fuss was about. There was quite a crowd gathered in the community centre, and Evie wasn’t familiar enough with all the residents of Cupid’s Way to know who was who. She recognised Bob Peacock, keeping out of Frank’s way by the looks of it, and she recognised Tim Woolly Robinson and Sarah Lowry, who were standing together by an enormous rubber plant. The community centre was packed; it clearly wasn’t only the residents of Cupid’s Way who had decided to attend. She spotted a few young families she assumed were from the new housing estate, and a whole group of suited businessmen. What happened here would have an impact on more people than just her grandparents and their neighbours. For the first time since she’d heard about the planning application, Evie began to feel worried.
‘Which one is Zac?’ she said, but Mavis hissed and pulled Evie down onto one of the fabric-covered chairs.
‘He’s talking to Councillor Martin. He’s the one who arranged this meeting. I don’t trust him, Evie. He has a hidden agenda. You can see it in his piggy eyes.’
‘Gran, you can’t judge people based solely on the size of their eyes. Look at what you were like with that financial adviser.’
‘And I was right not to trust him, wasn’t I? He ran off with all that money.’
Evie shook her head in despair. ‘It was never proved, and you know it. You know, that’s one thing I don’t miss about this place. You lot can be very judgmental.’
‘It was in the papers,’ Mavis said, as if that proved the matter beyond any doubt. ‘Anyway, Councillor Martin definitely can’t be trusted. Look at his tie. It’s pink, Evie. Never, ever trust a man who wears pink.’
‘Well, I’m sure glad you told me that, Gran. To think I’ve been trying to make it in the world without that essential piece of information.’
But despite herself, Evie leaned to the side to try and see the councillor. Truth be told, it was Zac she wanted to get a look at – she was curious to judge for herself her gran’s idea of a “real” man. Probably he was some shaven-headed thug with a vest and tattoos. She spotted the councillor’s pink tie, but her view of the man he was talking to was blocked by a couple wearing tie-dyed shirts in shades of purple. She got a glimpse of blue jeans and a white T-shirt, but that was it.
She sat back and looked at her grandmother, who was pleating together the fabric of her trousers with pale fingers. Today’s leisure suit was cobalt blue, coupled with white furry snow boots. Evie said, ‘You know, it wasn’t my fault, what happened with James.’
‘Well, I know that.’
‘I tried my best to make him happy. It just didn’t work out.’
‘He was a nice lad, though.’
In fact, he wasn’t. But her gran didn’t need to know the details.
Mavis shook her head and sighed. ‘I just want you to be happy, Evie. Like me and Frank.’
‘Ha! You two argue all the time.’
‘There’s the passion,’ Mavis said, elbowing Evie in the ribs. ‘It’s never left us.’
‘Ugh. I really don’t want to think about that.’ She paused for a moment, then said, ‘You know, I met a nice man yesterday.’
‘Really? Tell me more.’ Mavis sat up and leaned in.
‘Well, his name was Michael and he was at the conference.’
‘Ah, so that’s why you blew us out and stayed over.’
‘It was not. I couldn’t get here because of the weather.’
‘Yes, the weather,’ Mavis teased. ‘That old excuse.’
‘Gran, you should listen to the news. There were winds of over eighty miles an hour. South Wales was practically shut down.’
‘The news is too depressing. Tell me more about this Michael chap.’
Evie smiled. ‘He was pretty gorgeous, actually. A proper knight in shining armour. We had dinner, and then he escorted me to my room – I’d had a bit too much to drink, to be honest.’
‘This is promising.’
‘And then he left me in my room – alone.’
Mavis pulled a face. ‘Shame.’
‘Not at all. In fact, it proves he was a real gentleman. Anyway, I’ll probably never see him again, so it’s just as well nothing happened. But he was nice, and it was nice to be, you know, in a man’s company again.’
‘I know, sweetheart.’ Mavis smoothed her hand over Evie’s hair and cupped her cheek. ‘You are a lovely girl. And I only want the best for you. As I said to your mother just the other day–’
‘My mother? Oh, jeez. What’s she up to now?’
Mavis nodded. ‘She’s having a bit of a problem with–’
‘They’re here.’ Frank appeared, his expression grim. He gestured towards a pair of double doors at the far end of the room. ‘The enemy has arrived.’
‘I’ll fill you in later,’ Mavis whispered. Evie didn’t answer – her mum was the last person she needed to think about right now. She linked arms with her grandparents, one on either side.
‘Now remember, this is only a preliminary meeting. It’s just to let local residents know what’s being planned. Whatever you do, stay calm and don’t panic. And don’t,’ she added, looking at her grandfather, ‘lose your temper. That won’t help anyone.’
Hustled along by the crowd, they found themselves seated at the front of the room facing a long trestle table with four chairs placed behind it in a row. In front of each chair was an identical grey folder and a plastic goblet of water. Evie turned to the back of the room and craned her neck to get a look at the new arrivals.
And saw Michael talking to Councillor Martin.
Well, of course it wasn’t really Michael. Evie rubbed her eyes and shook her head. Talking about him to her gran, thinking about him all morning – she was getting obsessed. It was one thing to be wondering if he’d ever call, but imagining she was seeing him in the flesh was not healthy.
She loo
ked again. The party of four were making their way down the centre aisle now, among the whispers and accusing glares of the residents. The man by Councillor Martin’s side was so like Michael it made her heart race. She swallowed. It couldn’t be him, of course it couldn’t. He must have a double, that’s all. Michael-Michael. It was just a coincidence. And she had been so taken with her Michael she was imposing his image on the first man she saw who bore him the faintest resemblance. Which wasn’t a good sign, however you looked at it.
Except, as the man passed by her row, Evie had to admit it was more than a passing resemblance.
The man took a seat at the end of the table, next to the councillor and almost directly opposite Evie and her grandparents. The only woman in the party – blue suit, air-hostess scarf, bright red lipstick that showed the lines around her mouth – said something under her breath, and the man nearest to her laughed. The man-who-looked-like-Michael glanced towards the woman and smiled. His cheeks dimpled in the cutest way, and just for a moment his eyes lit up with mischievous humour.
Evie felt the room contract, the edges of her vision darken. She looked down at her hands and noticed she was holding a half-eaten custard cream. She looked back up at the man at the table. He’d changed into a different suit since breakfast, and he looked more polished, but maybe that was just the late afternoon sunlight beaming in through the enormous roof lantern. There was no point in trying to deny it anymore. The man sitting opposite had to be Michael.
Unless he had an identical twin.
Evie clasped her hands together as Councillor Martin stood up and began to introduce the members of the panel. When he got to Michael’s twin, she held her breath.
‘And last but not least,’ the councillor said, his voice taking on a slightly fawning tone, ‘we are very lucky to be joined here today by the CEO of Dynamite Construction himself – Mr Michael Andrews.’
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