Stirred with Love

by Steele, Marcie

  She stretched her arms above her head while her eyes vaguely wandered over the garden, the view far more appealing than the textbooks spread out in front of her. On the desk, her mobile phone beeped and, unable to resist the lure of a message, she picked it up. But it was only from Christian, her man of three dates.

  Well, hardly a man at all, Chloe sighed, that was the problem. Although they were the same age, Christian seemed so juvenile and immature. Chloe wanted a man with a car who could take her out to places, not a student with a Saturday job in the Virgin shop. Her friend, Manda, always went on about her lack of interest in boys her own age. But then again, Manda hadn’t had to grow up as quickly as Chloe.

  Chloe was seven when her mum, Christine, had been killed. The family were on their way home from a wedding when a newly qualified driver had flown around a blind bend, hurtling towards them at sixty miles an hour. On the wrong side of the road, he’d hit the passenger side with a tremendous thud.

  Because she’d been strapped up in the back of the car with Ben, the two of them had both escaped injury. Their father, Graham, pulled his neck, his lower back muscles were strained and his left arm was broken. Christine was trapped unconscious in the car. Chloe could still clearly remember sitting in the back of the ambulance whilst the firemen worked to free her. She’d played nurses happily throughout the noise of the machinery, a friendly ambulance man showing her how to fix a sling to her dad’s arm. Ben, at twelve, too big to sit on his dad’s lap, sat on it anyway.

  Eventually the paramedics had insisted that the three of them should go on ahead to the hospital so that they could get checked out. It had taken another hour until they’d finally freed Christine from the indistinguishable mound of metal. Unfortunately, she’d taken the brunt of the impact and, although the medical staff that treated her refused to give up for what seemed like ages, she was pronounced dead at the hospital. The young slip of a boy who crashed into them had been driving his father’s new car. He received a six months suspended jail sentence and a small fine. They received a life sentence of grief and unfulfilled opportunities.

  All things considered, Graham had brought them up well. Chloe really admired him for what he’d done. It must have been hard for him to put his children first when he was suffering so much pain. She knew it was his manners and calm attitude that had made her into the strong redhead she was today. Her hair, with its natural spirally curls, was forever being swept up from her face in a gesture so much like her mother, her dad often looked away in a daze. Her eyes were the same shade of green, her stature tall and thin. Often, Graham took to pulling her near in a way she knew he felt close to her mum. Yet, although he was the best dad possible, Chloe still wished she had a mum to share her dreams with. Even after all these years she regularly woke up, the images of that night still vivid.

  The mobile phone beeped again as another message arrived. Not bothering to open it, Chloe pushed the phone across the desk and reached for her books again. Four more weeks and it would all be over. At least then she would be able to relax and take it easy for a while.

  Reluctantly, she turned the pages again but her mind kept wandering back to the advertisement she’d read earlier. Someone was after waitresses to work in nearby Somerley. Chloe fancied doing something different over the summer. She stared through the window again while her mind worked its way through the finer details. She imagined the café in Somerley to be a favourite meeting place – and a place where she could make some money of her own. It might not be too boring, just enough to keep her interest until the university term started. And she was sure she could sell the idea of a summer job to her dad, Mr Workaholic.

  But, hang on a minute, Chloe thought. Let’s not get too carried away. How many times had she heard her friends complain about the menial work they did for a pittance of a wage? So was a job waiting on tables really what she wanted to do, even if it wasn’t going to be forever?

  Chloe checked her watch. Seven thirty. It wouldn’t do any harm to ring for some information. Never one to let the grass grow under her feet, she reached for her mobile with eagerness this time.

  Lily Mortimer checked over her list and made a few changes before swapping the notepad in her hand for a mug of hot chocolate. Only then did she contemplate what she was about to do. Making decisions again was one thing, but re-opening the café?

  She moved her tiny frame to get comfortable on the chair, becoming more sensitive to the gloominess around her. The room she sat in needed much more than a lick of paint to brighten it up. Once it had been bursting with life. Twelve tables, full of chattering customers all enjoying her homemade cakes and Bernard’s thickly sliced toast. Even without closing her eyes, Lily could see him dashing around, clearing the debris and complaining about the weather, making customers smile with anecdotes of his time working on the railways.

  It had been tough for her to see how illness during the last few years of his life had dragged him down. Only three months had passed since his death in February and Lily could still feel his presence. When she woke up, the first thing she thought of was Bernard. During the day she could sense him watching over her. When she went to bed, she rubbed her hand across his pillow. She knew he was there, watching her every move as she closed her eyes, having endured another long day without him.

  Would he be proud of what she was about to do? Or annoyed with her for meddling? Lily knew what a huge risk it was. What would happen if her plan failed? What if she couldn’t make things work on her own without Bernard beside her? So many places sold food in the town now. Even the newsagent around the corner made sandwiches. Maybe that had been the reason why Lil’s Pantry had dwindled over the past few years?

  No, Lily told herself as she took a sip of her drink. The business had dwindled because Bernard had been dying. It had been left to die with him. But new blood would change that.

  She knew it seemed a strange plan, but what did the future hold for her? Time spent alone was the last thing she needed. Re-opening would be her way of dealing with Bernard’s death. Instead of sitting around feeling sorry for herself, she would do something.

  She popped out two aspirins from their silver packaging, hoping to alleviate her aches and pains. Then she picked up the notepad again and, before she could change her mind, added another item to her list.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Nick hadn’t arrived home that night until quarter to eleven. By that time, Kate’s frustration had turned to blind rage and an accusation of him not wanting to come home for some reason was all it had taken for them to end the day sleeping back to back.

  Things seemed no better the following morning. In the icy atmosphere of their bedroom, Kate whistled when she heard Rosie pattering about downstairs.

  Nick frowned as the dog dashed past his feet. ‘Don’t let her jump on to the bed. She’s just been out in the garden.’

  Kate waited until she heard Nick going down the stairs and patted the duvet defiantly. Rosie jumped up without a moment’s hesitation.

  ‘Good morning, my lovely.’ Kate ruffled the dog’s fur under her chin. At least Rosie was always pleased to see her.

  Eight years ago, Rosie had been abandoned in one of the properties owned by Kate’s employers. The tenants had made a run for it without leaving a forwarding address. Rosie and her three brothers had been left behind too. When the housing officer had brought them to the office to await the arrival of the dog warden, Rosie had won Kate over as soon as she’d picked her up.

  Rosie licked Kate’s hand a couple of times before promptly curling up in a ball to doze off again.

  Kate gently tugged at her collar. ‘Not this morning, I’m afraid. Places to go and people to see.’

  Dressed and showered thirty minutes later, Kate drew back the curtains and noticed that Nick’s car still stood in the driveway. Her shoulders dropped. Great, that’s all she needed this morning, his miserable face putting her off her cereal. Carefully, she arranged the heavy muslin into two perfect arches and then made h
er way downstairs to face him.

  Nick was sitting at the table when she walked into the kitchen. He met her eye for a moment before he turned away and continued with his drink.

  Well, sod you, thought Kate. She flicked on the kettle, grabbed a mug from the rack and raised the volume on the radio.

  Rosie headed straight for her bowl. Kate spotted the morning’s newspaper folded over on the table. She reached across for it.

  ‘I want that,’ said Nick.

  ‘Oh, it does speak then,’ Kate replied.

  Nick didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he snatched the paper from out of her grasp.

  ‘But I want to flick through it before you go to work,’ she protested.

  ‘I’m going in a minute.’

  ‘I’ll only be a minute.’

  Nick slammed down his mug, the contents dripping over his clean, white shirt. Kate hid a smirk as he tried to brush them off with his hand.

  ‘Why do you always have to wind me up, Kate?’

  ‘Oh, take the blasted newspaper if it makes you feel better!’

  ‘Don’t be so pathetic.’

  ‘Don’t be so childish then.’

  ‘Me? You’re the one who’s childish. The one who thinks she’s still sixteen. Single with no responsibilities. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? Your single life back, so you can openly flirt with every guy that you fancy? You could even become a clone of your wonderful friend, Louise.’

  ‘Why do you always bring Louise into the conversation?’

  Nick frowned. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Kate popped two rounds of bread into the toaster and deliberately kept her back to him. ‘Is it because you’re jealous that we spend the odd hour together every now and then? Time I should be spending with you?’

  ‘Oh, grow up, Kate.’

  ‘No, come on, hotshot,’ she encouraged as she stirred her coffee. ‘Tell me what’s really bothering you.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want to hear it.’

  ‘Try me.’

  Nick stood up, shoved the newspaper inside his briefcase and clicked the lid shut. Much to Kate’s annoyance, he then switched off the radio. She stared at him until he lifted his eyes to meet hers, his look dark and menacing. But she refused to be warned off.

  ‘Come on, try me,’ she repeated.

  ‘Okay then,’ said Nick. ‘You make me feel like you don’t want to be around me anymore.’

  Kate kept her eyes locked on his, for fear of giving her inner most secrets away. Could he read her mind?

  ‘You only make an effort when you’re going out with your friends.’

  ‘No, I don’t!’ she cried, insulted by its very meaning. ‘You know I never leave the house without mascara and lipstick. And I always try to look –’

  ‘I meant making an effort for me.’

  ‘That’s laughable when you’re hardly at home for me to make an effort for.’

  Nick raised his hands in the air. ‘See what I mean? You’re going to twist everything I’ve said now around to your advantage. That’s so fucking selfish.’

  He walked past her as if to leave the room, but Kate stopped him with a hand on his arm. In the moment she took to take a breath, her eyes skimmed over every familiar characteristic of his face: the small chip in his front tooth that used to make him look sweet and innocent, indigo eyes that used to bewitch her, lips that she used to love to nibble.

  In the moment Nick took to catch his breath, Kate could see herself beginning to despise him. The scowl on his face did nothing to deter her and she carried on regardless.

  ‘If you really want to know what’s wrong in Kate’s world, I’m tired of all this arguing,’ she admitted. ‘I’m tired of coming home to an empty house. I’m tired of finding things to do to occupy my time. Our sex life has become so infrequent that it reminds me of a scheduled trip to the dentist. I’m fed up of you never finding time for me when you find time for your friends –’

  ‘That’s because you’d rather moan at me and –’

  ‘Don’t try and change the subject!’ Rosie flinched and jumped into her basket. Kate lowered her voice before continuing. ‘I know you’ve had the perfect childhood, brought up by parents who still love each other now as much as when they first met. But our marriage can’t be a carbon copy of that, no matter how hard we try. I’ve been brought up differently. I’m not prepared to wait in for you every night while you’re out all the time enjoying yourself. I’m too independent for that and I’m not going to apologise for it. It’s what attracted you to me in the first instance.’

  Nick faltered. ‘You know that’s not what I meant. I –’

  Kate moved away. ‘I want to spend more time with you but sometimes I feel like I don’t know you anymore. I want us to have fun together, like we used to, going out for the day, lunching, enjoying each others company. And if that’s not what you want anymore, then I’m…’

  Kate stared directly at him, her emotions beginning to bubble to the surface, ready to explode. The thud, thud of her heart and the uncontrollable shaking of her hands made her recognise that with the mention of a few choice words she would blow her cover and burst into tears. She couldn’t give him the upper hand. Quickly, she chose a few words of her own.

  ‘Then I’m leaving.’

  Just before eleven that morning, Chloe steered her car into the lane which would take her towards Somerley. Her foot slammed on the brake as the traffic lights worked against her, but at least it gave her time to check the slip of paper on which she had drawn an array of arrows and circles. Number Eleven, Church Square, was where she was heading, if she could only get off this ridiculously large traffic island.

  Chloe had been surprised when she’d felt excitement begin to bubble up inside her about five miles from Somerley. Before she’d started out, she’d done some research on the internet and found out that the northern city of Hedworth was made up of four towns, Somerley being one of its most industrial areas and Hedworth the largest at the centre. It was famous for its transport museum built in the late eighties, but Chloe hadn’t wanted to know anything regarding its history. She’d quickly clicked onto the link that would inform her of Hedworth’s nightlife and had been pleasantly surprised to find that the city had a population of 165,000, four colleges of further education, a university, five decent night clubs and a four star rating when it came to a night out in its many pubs and wine bars. Perfect.

  She drove on and factories and warehouses began to be replaced by neat rows of pre-war semi-detached houses. A sharp left, and another and a final right gave her a tiny glimpse of Church Square up ahead. Once she’d parked, she hot-footed back and out into the open space, spotting her first piece of grass in an otherwise concrete jungle.

  That and not much else to her liking.

  She ran her eyes along the row of properties in front until they rested on number 11. Confused, she looked down at the paper in her hand and back up again. It seemed to be the right place but the closed sign wasn’t the only unwelcoming sight. Swirls of orange and yellow framed each of the windows, café-style nets hung forlornly in front. As she drew closer, Chloe became conscious that it wasn’t closed for lunch. It was closed for the day, the week. Maybe it wasn’t even open.

  She crossed the road and stole a peek through the smaller window on the right. The large room was dark, as if somehow forgotten. The furniture looked old and drab, chairs stacked precariously on top of tables. She found it much easier to imagine how it might have been rather than how it could be, with the smell of ground coffee fighting for a share of air with freshly baked scones.

  ‘Hello. You must be Chloe.’

  Chloe stepped back from the window and looked down to see someone standing at her side. It took her by surprise. She hadn’t expected anyone so old. The woman was small and thin, wearing a navy skirt and matching jacket. Her mouth curved into a smile, the clear blue of her eyes looking out of place inside the creases of her skin. Grey hair was cut short with roller
curls in an elegant style.

  As Chloe smiled at her, the woman held out a wrinkled hand, the nails decorated a similar colour to her lipstick.

  ‘I’m Lily,’ she said. ‘And I know what you are thinking. Everyone I’ve interviewed has had that same look on their face. What I want to see is if it’s still there when you leave. Why don’t you come in? It’s not as bad as it seems.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘I don’t know how you’ve put up with him for so long,’ said Louise, fighting her way through the busy wine bar to a quiet corner she’d spotted. She put down two glasses and a bottle of wine before hoisting herself onto a tubular bar stool. ‘I’d have left him a long time ago.’

  ‘I’m sure you would.’ Kate glanced at Louise as she climbed onto the stool beside her. ‘But you know me, Lou. I’m gutless.’ She turned away before she could add anything else. Talking about Nick was the last thing she wanted to do.

  It seemed a little strange being in one of Brentside’s local wine bars yet apparently being away for the weekend. Kate couldn’t get her head around the logic but Stacey, so engrossed with her wedding, had decided that she didn’t want to be far away in case anything went wrong on the weekend before her big day – as if it mattered where you were, with only a few days to go. So Stacey had booked them all into the Grand Hotel, smack in the middle of the town, and ordered them to attend a girlie shopping spree tomorrow as well as today, including a boozy Sunday lunch. It certainly beat waiting for Nick to get home from football training.

  They’d only been in Liberties Wine Bar for half an hour yet the hen was slightly inebriated to say the least. About a dozen girls had turned up, all congregated noisily around the bar in the middle of the room. Seeing Stacey dressed in a white dress, tiny veil and a L-plate attached to her chest had reminded Kate of her own hen party. She’d bought a new dress for the occasion and absolutely refused to parade around in silly bridal things. But six women had forced her into the ladies’ and pulled it off regardless. A few minutes later, she’d emerged looking even more ridiculous than Stacey. She’d been mortified and had taken no part in the dressing up of Louise on her big night out with the girls.