She smiled to herself, examining one of the hooks more closely. It had taken on a rich dark patina that was really beautiful, after all those years sitting in the box. Turning it over in her hands, she could remember how excited she’d been doing the deal to secure a load of spare fixtures they’d had sitting in warehouses.
It had been her idea to get in touch with the main supply centres, the moment the privatisation of British Rail was announced in the papers, knowing it could lead to some spectacular finds. They’d made a lot of money from old station signs. ‘Waiting Room’ had been particularly popular, for some reason.
Tessa sighed. She’d forgotten how much she used to enjoy the game and chase of salvaging. How you had to think laterally and constantly keep ahead of the competition. That’s why they’d called it Hunter Gatherer. You had to use all your animal instincts. The name had been her idea too.
Standing in the dark dusty shed she felt a sharp pang of regret, remembering how involved she’d once been with the business. She’d allowed it to slip away so gradually, her role decreasing further with the arrival of each child, when the plan had always been for her to combine motherhood with working for Hunter Gatherer. Which had seemed ideal, with it being right behind the house, but, somehow, she’d lost her focus.
Engrossed in the forgotten treasures, Tessa didn’t hear the office phone ringing. Jack did and ran off to answer it, sticking his head around the door a couple of minutes later to tell her it had been her mum on the phone saying the ‘PR bloke’ had arrived.
Tessa froze, her right hand holding a brass door handle. Oh god.
‘Right,’ she said, dropping it as though it had suddenly become red hot in her hand. ‘We’d better get over there.’
Stepping out of the barn into the bright daylight, Tessa noticed her hands were blackened from poking around in boxes which hadn’t been opened for years and she asked Jack to wait for her while she popped into the staff loo to wash them. It was essential she arrived with him, as part of a professional team.
Trying to get the dirt out from under her fingernails, Tessa glanced up and caught sight of herself unexpectedly in the small mirror hanging on a nail over the sink. Without thinking about it, she realised she’d turned her head to the side and lifted her chin. She was appraising herself. Checking out how she would look to Simon.
Leaning forward, she put her forehead against the cool of the tiled wall and groaned quietly. Why wasn’t she in control of herself in this situation yet?
She turned off the tap, dried her hands, and looked at her reflection more deliberately, smoothing her hair and wetting a corner of the towel to rub a smear of dirt from her forehead.
I’m a businesswoman, she told herself. Preparing for an important business meeting and I want to make the best impression, as any professional would. Then, wishing she had a lipstick in her pocket, she headed out to get it over with.
Simon was sitting at the kitchen table with Joy, a mug of tea and a plate of flapjacks in front of him. It was Archie’s SpongeBob mug, Tessa noticed, the whole scene quite bizarre with Simon in his city suit, perfectly combed hair and shiny shoes. One of Hector’s baby drawings of a dinosaur was stuck on to the wall just behind him, giving him a kind of halo of bright green felt tip.
He sprang to his feet when Jack and Tessa walked in, hearing himself say ‘Aha!’ like Winnie the Pooh coming across an unexpected Heffalump. Get a grip, Rathbone.
‘Hello, Simon,’ said Tessa, feeling her cheeks growing hot. Not blushing on top of everything else. Please no. She practically pushed Jack in front of her. ‘This is Jack, who manages Hunter Gatherer for us … Jack this is, er, Simon Rathbone & Associates.’
Not seeming to notice her muddled introduction, Simon was pumping Jack’s hand and, seizing the initiative, Tessa reached over and took hold of Simon’s hand when he let go of Jack’s, shaking it very briefly before pulling away, greatly relieved she had solved the social kissing issue, which had been worrying her for days.
Simon felt a frisson through his whole body from the brief warm contact with Tessa’s palm, then, just while he was registering how brilliantly she’d solved the nightmare of the kiss, which he’d been obsessing about on the drive down, their eyes met.
Fail.
It was all Tessa could do not to make a noise as she felt herself falling under the power of that oddly vulnerable gaze. Simon licked his lips and swallowed as he locked onto the green eyes looking up at him.
Joy saw it all.
Good heavens, she thought. What a connection there was between those two – and why had she never noticed it before? But then, when she thought about it, she realised she’d never actually seen Tessa and Simon together until now.
As she watched, they broke their gaze, and Simon turned to talk man blether to Jack, but Joy could see they were still bound to each other. It was as though their spirit selves were still gazing into each other’s eyes, while their physical bodies went through the motions of appropriate social normality, like puppets.
What on earth was that all about? Whatever it was, it couldn’t be right. Joy felt the equivalent of a warning siren go off in her head. Code Red, she thought, remembering the drills Tessa’s father and his Cabinet colleagues had to learn at the height of the Cold War.
Manoeuvring herself carefully on her crutches, Joy got up from the table, saying that she needed to keep her hip moving, but really wanting to be able to observe from a slight distance.
The three of them started discussing the business, with Simon making notes, and on the pretext of wanting to get a piece of flapjack for herself, Joy hobbled over to the table, so she could have a look at his handwriting. Even in biro, it was a lovely hand. Bold, spikey and forward leaning. Creative, but very precise. Strong. Keen sense of himself, but then straight down tails on the Ys and Gs. Unfinished business.
Back by the cooker, standing on her good leg and propping herself against the kitchen counter, she started cutting the vegetables for lunch, putting her mind into neutral so it would tune in and out of their conversation. That way it would pick up what really mattered without her actively trying to figure it out. Let the subconscious do the work.
‘So tell me more about the customers who come in,’ Simon was asking Jack, whom he was finding rather unforthcoming. ‘What age range are they? Do they come alone, with friends, or in couples? Or, at the weekends, is it a family outing? And what proportion of them would you say are trade, as opposed to private customers?’
‘Well, I don’t give them a census to fill in,’ said Jack, looking pleased with himself, ‘they’re just people who need stuff. I sell it to them. I don’t see why I’m supposed to know what star sign they are.’
Simon tried not to show his irritation. Tessa looked anxiously from one man to the other.
‘No, quite,’ said Simon, ‘but it would be very useful to get a more detailed picture of the current customer base, so we can determine which kind of media would reach them most efficiently with the PR campaign and, more importantly, how we can broaden the range of customers. Then you can sell more stuff.’
Jack was looking blank. Maybe he was just stupid, thought Simon. He’d better not use too many long words.
Joy was wondering whether to bake some beetroots separately in tinfoil and then mix them in with the roast butternut and red onion at the end. She decided she would and as she was wondering if she would be able to bend down to get the foil out of the lower cupboard, she heard Tessa’s voice chiming in.
‘There’s been a lot more women coming in since Tom’s been on the television,’ she said. ‘They ring up all the time as well, don’t they, Jack?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I should tell them Tom’s not here, but I’m available.’
He laughed loudly. Simon didn’t. Tessa managed a weak smile.
‘Interesting,’ said Simon. ‘The ones who come in – the fans – do they buy anything, or is it just celebrity tourism?’
‘They buy small things,’ said Jack. ‘
Knobs and knockers …’
He smirked. Definitely stupid, thought Simon.
‘And didn’t you say lettering is very popular with them?’ threw in Tessa, increasingly alarmed at the bolshie attitude Jack seemed to be taking towards Simon. She’d wanted him on her team, but not against Simon in this way.
‘Yeah,’ said Jack. ‘The chicks like lettering.’
‘Souvenirs then,’ said Simon. ‘There might be some interesting things we could do with that. Do you have any reference to the TV show around the place?’
‘God no,’ said Tessa, vehemently.
Now Simon and Jack both laughed. Joy looked over her shoulder at them. Tessa was blushing. Something she’d never done much. That wasn’t a good sign, thought Joy, not at all. This would require very delicate investigation.
She gave up on the beetroot, she couldn’t reach the foil, they’d have to do without it, then started to make her way over to the door which led into the main hall. She needed to lie down and she wanted to meditate on this situation.
‘I’m just going to have a rest,’ she told them, as she passed the table.
‘You’re not overdoing it, making lunch for us all, are you Mum?’ asked Tessa.
‘I’ve done what I can, Tessa, love, but I’ll have to leave it now,’ said Joy, putting her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. She could feel the hot emotion pulsing beneath her skin. ‘Can you put the butternut squash in the oven for me? And if you can be bothered, wrap the beetroots in foil and stick them in too. It will be ready about two, to give you time to get on with some work. Does that sound all right?’
‘Perfect,’ said Tessa.
‘I’m so looking forward to eating your wonderful food again, Joy,’ said Simon.
She smiled at him. She really liked the man, but she wasn’t happy with the situation she was witnessing here. It couldn’t possibly be good for Tessa, which was her main concern, but she didn’t think it was at all what he needed either. He already had that horrible damage to his aura. He needed simplicity in his life, not more complication.
‘That’s very kind of you, Simon,’ she said. ‘I’m really only a sous chef at the moment, but I’ve got to do what I can or I’ll go mad with this hip. I’ll see you all a bit later.’
They stayed at the table a little longer, with Simon asking Jack what the bestselling items were currently and after being told ‘dunno, different stuff …’ he started addressing his questions directly to Tessa, but that wasn’t a great success either, because it meant he had to look at her – and also because it was clearly making her uncomfortable too.
‘What do you think have been the most consistently strong trends in salvage over all the years the business has been going?’ he’d asked, thinking it was quite a simple opener, but it seemed to throw her into a spin.
Tessa’s mind had gone blank. She hadn’t expected Simon to suddenly turn his attention on her like that, so she didn’t have her guard up properly. She realised she’d been gazing at him passively, while he’d been talking to Jack, just enjoying the view.
‘Well, you know, um, it’s a long time since I’ve been really involved in the business properly,’ she started, hearing how pathetic it must sound to both of them as the words came out of her mouth. If she knew nothing about it, what was she even doing sitting there? Why had Tom done this to her? Was it some kind of punishment? She just wanted to run away and do some painting and not have to analyse things and talk to people.
‘Floorboards,’ she said suddenly. That was the answer. Floorboards, it had suddenly dawned on her, when she’d stopped thinking about it.
‘Yeah, that would be right actually,’ said Jack, finally getting animated. ‘That’s pretty regular, people wanting old floorboards. We can’t keep enough in stock, we’ve got about 1200 square metres at the moment, across different woods, but …’
‘And wash basins,’ said Tessa, butting in before he started going on about floorboards again. ‘The preferred styles change – matching coloured suites are coming back now – but people have always liked the wash basins. Old radiators were very popular for a while, but that’s rather died off now. People have realised how much space they take up.’
Tessa felt better. She’d proved she wasn’t completely out of the loop, she just needed to get her salvage head on properly again. Simon smiled at her, happy that she’d been able to recover herself. He’d seen the look of pure panic cross her face at his direct question and knew this was hard for her. Rachel had warned him that she’d lost all her confidence about the business and he didn’t want to stress her out any more than necessary.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I think that’s probably enough talking for now, why don’t we get over there and have a good look at it all? I’ve only been round the yard quickly one time with Tom and it would be really good to see it from your point of view, Jack, you being the most closely involved day to day,’ he added, making another effort to get the meathead on side.
They stood up and Tessa headed out of the back door, but Jack paused for a moment looking at Simon, a not entirely friendly smile on his face.
‘Haven’t you got anything to change into?’ he said. ‘It’s not exactly clean in the sheds, you’ll wreck your fancy suit.’
Simon looked down at himself, feeling pretty dumb. The city version of the country bumpkin. What had he been thinking, coming down to a working salvage yard dressed for lunch at The Ivy? He knew exactly what. He’d been thinking how good he felt in this suit. Comfortable and razor sharp at the same time. It was his lucky suit. His get lucky suit.
Tessa had stuck her head back into the kitchen.
‘Something wrong?’ she asked.
‘I was just telling James Bond here, he’s going to wreck his party clothes in the yard.’
Tessa’s eyes immediately shot over to Simon. He felt naked, standing there in his stupid suit. Why the hell hadn’t he put some old clothes on? It wasn’t like he didn’t know what to wear in the bloody country. He went there every flipping weekend.
‘I’d lend him something,’ said Jack, ‘but my stuff would be too big for him.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Tessa, with an unusual decisiveness coming from the utter terribleness of the situation; Jack’s appalling rudeness – and the impossibility of her standing there looking at Simon, so magnificent in his beautiful suit. It was very important she didn’t do that for one more moment. ‘I’ll go and find something,’ she said, practically running out of the door which led through to the laundry, where she was relieved to see one of Tom’s old blue boiler suits hanging over the drying hoist. She grabbed it, snatched a wooden coat hanger off a hook on the back of the door and then headed over to the boot room to look for some suitable shoes. She picked up a pair of Tom’s work boots and some old trainers of Finn’s.
‘This should do it,’ she said, walking back into the kitchen and thrusting the boiler suit at Simon. ‘What size are your feet?’
‘Ten,’ said Simon.
‘I’m afraid it will have to be Finn’s trainers then,’ said Tessa, laughing as she handed them over, glad of the light relief. ‘I’ll run a Geiger counter over them first. You can change in the laundry out there and here’s a hanger for your suit.’
‘Thanks,’ said Simon, feeling like the boy who had arrived at a new school in the wrong uniform, as he headed off towards the door Tessa had indicated.
She turned to Jack. ‘You go ahead with Simon when he’s ready and I’ll see you over there in a minute, I’ve just remembered something I’ve got to do,’ she said, not feeling the need to tell him it was lying face down on her bed for a while, in the hope of gathering herself for the next round of this torture.
‘And Jack,’ she added, putting a hand on his arm, ‘can you please be a little more cooperative with him? I know it’s not your thing, but this was all Tom’s idea and we just have to get on with it, OK?’
He nodded, looking a bit sheepish, and Tessa headed out of the kitchen. As she passed the open door of the
library, she glanced in and saw Joy sitting on the bed, her good leg bent up in the lotus position, the other one straight out, hands joined in prayer at her heart centre, her eyes shut. Tessa wondered for a moment what she was meditating on so deeply and then put it out of her mind as she concentrated on getting her own thoughts in order.
Despite a few minutes of precious solitude and splashing her face with cold water, it didn’t get any easier for Tessa when she got out into the salvage yard with Simon.
It helped a little bit having Jack there – it stopped her immediately leaping at Simon and wrestling him to the ground – but it didn’t help to make her less self-conscious about everything she did. She couldn’t walk normally if she thought he was looking at her, she didn’t seem to have proper control of her limbs, like a new-born foal.
Simon felt like a total prat in Tom’s bloody boiler suit. It was a bit small, which didn’t help. It was grabbing his bollocks and he’d had to leave it unbuttoned a lot lower than he would have preferred, and it was still stretched pretty tight across his chest.
Shame he wasn’t wearing a medallion, he thought, catching sight of his pectorals down the open neck, as he looked at some roof tiles Jack was droning on about. Perhaps he should have left his shirt on underneath? But he felt enough of a berk as it was.
Bored with Jack’s detailed explanations of how many tiles equalled one pallet – who cares, you moron? The important thing is what they look like and will people think that owning them might make their empty lives a little more complete? – he glanced across the yard to see Tessa bending over, looking at something on the ground, her dress riding up the back of her legs.
He looked away immediately. At least she didn’t wear tight skirts, like Rachel, but what kind of deviant was he? Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be a woman’s shapely backside facing him and making him think like a monkey. Oo oo ooo. A language Jack would probably understand.
Secret Keeping for Beginners Page 23