by Helen Lowrie
‘Who the fuck is Jamie?’
My blood turned cold, my discomfort forgotten, at the sneered sound of that name on Vic’s lips. ‘W– what?’ Squinting in the glare of the overhead light I drew my thin dressing gown tighter around me and lifted one hand up – partly to shade my eyes and partly to protect my face should my husband lash out again. How could he know about Jamie? He couldn’t – I was always so careful – no one knew about Jamie but me.
‘Are you deaf? I said – who the fuck’s Jamie?’
His name was a knife in my heart – my own secret talisman being wielded like a weapon against me – and I had to fight to keep the hurt from my face. A furtive glance towards the kitchen reassured me that the freezer was closed and there was no sign of the fish-finger box. ‘I don’t know – I don’t know what you’re talking about; what time is it?’
‘You said his fucking name in your sleep,’ Vic slurred. ‘Who the fuck is he, eh?’
Oh so that was all. I’d been watching a documentary on gifted children before I dozed off and wondering if Jamie was still good at maths – it was no surprise I’d dreamt about him. ‘I don’t know, Vic – no one – I was asleep.’ Vic was looming over me with his fists clenched but his eyes were bloodshot and he was unsteady on his feet – weighed down with drink and weariness. The breakfast news was not on the TV yet but I thought it must be close to dawn. Carefully I edged away from him, tensing my leg muscles ready for flight.
‘I find out you’ve been fucking about,’ he warned, jabbing a finger in my direction.
‘Oh don’t be stupid,’ I snapped.
My retort surprised him but then his eyes narrowed in an exaggerated attempt at intimidation and I was struck by how pathetic he looked standing there, swaying, accusing me of things he knew nothing about. ‘What? It’s not enough that you control where I go and who I see – you want to control my dreams now too?’
He lunged at me with a snarl but was too slow and I leapt sideways on the balls of my feet, beyond his reach.
‘I’m telling you, Vic, I don’t know anyone by that name. It was just a random dream – probably something I saw on TV.’
He stared at me hard but his general lack of energy was sapping his anger.
‘Look, the sun’s almost up; why don’t you go lie down – get some rest.’
I could tell this idea appealed – despite himself – and he glanced towards the bedroom before turning back to me. ‘If I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll slit your fucking throat.’
Pressing my lips tight together I nodded in understanding and, with a final glare, he staggered into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him.
Belatedly I realised it was Thursday today – James’s day for coming to the market. I’d picked the wrong day to incite Vic’s temper but thankfully he had not done anything to keep me from opening the cafe as usual. The sun was not yet visible above the roof tops but enough light filtered in through the bathroom window for me to see myself in the cracked mirror above the sink. At first glimpse I looked the same as ever – plain and drawn, as the strain of yet another fight receded from my features. But at a second look I noticed a strange glint in my eyes – a hint of the girl I once was and hadn’t seen in my reflection for years.
It was rare for me to talk back to Vic like that – it was a risky thing to do when he was riled up and looking to inflict pain. So what had made me do it this time? Was it Jamie’s name that had activated an old instinctive reflex to protect him – to keep him safe; keep him hidden – or was it more than that? It could so easily have been James’s name I’d said in my sleep and the thought of Vic hearing that scared me to death – made me defensive. James’s visits were special to me; they made me happy but they also made me more conscious of the life I was missing. He made me wish I was younger, prettier, single and carefree – things I couldn’t be – but he also made me want to be bolder and braver. Was that why I’d recklessly provoked Vic? If so just knowing James was getting dangerous.
It was a beautiful, warm, bright, sunny day outside but to my dismay there were still three customers in the cafe when James turned up soon after 10 a.m. as usual. Worse still, Cherry was one of them.
James was clean-shaven but had dark shadows under his eyes and a hunch to his shoulders as if carrying the weight of the world. I knew that he had quit his insurance job a fortnight ago and that he was currently working out his notice while also part-managing his dad’s garden centre in the country – effectively working two jobs – but he had been doing that for weeks. Today he looked more tired than usual and I worried that something in particular was bothering him but, of course, I couldn’t enquire in front of Cherry without arousing her curiosity.
‘Morning Rina,’ James said, his smile temporarily erasing any trace of trouble from his face.
‘Morning. Just the usual?’
‘Just some toast and coffee today, thanks.’
The fact that he had less appetite than usual only made me more concerned, and I was tempted to whip him up some eggs regardless, but I nodded and entered his order into the till while he seated himself at the counter, two places along from Cherry.
‘I haven’t seen you in here before have I?’ she said.
‘I don’t know, have you?’ James replied with a polite smile. ‘I come by every Thursday morning.’
‘Ah yeah, no, Wednesday nights are normally busy for me so I don’t usually come in till the afternoon. Anyway, I’m sure you’d remember me if we’d met,’ Cherry added with a wink and a smile.
James grinned at her. ‘You’re right, I would.’
Cherry regarded every man as a prospective client – old, young, single or married – only overtly homosexual males evaded her attention. For the most part she was fairly discreet – letting the men come to her – but good looking, potentially wealthy and successful men were by far her preferred clientele. As she proceeded to flirt with James all the goodwill and gratitude I usually reserved for her was quickly replaced with loathing.
‘So what brings you to this part of town on Thursdays,’ she said, shuffling to the edge of her stool and leaning closer to James, offering up a good eyeful of her cleavage.
James kept his eyes trained on the coffee cup I was filling in front of him and cleared his throat. ‘I just deliver goods to the market, that’s all.’ With a lazy shrug he raised the cup to his lips and took a scolding sip, without having added any milk. The briefness of his answer surprised me. He didn’t look embarrassed and I’d have expected him to take the opportunity to promote his wares. But he didn’t describe to Cherry the planted pots and hanging baskets that were so lovingly prepared by his staff at the garden centre, or refer to the blazing red pot of dwarf tulips on the counter, which he’d set there the week before. And it made me glad. I didn’t want everyone knowing James the way I did – a childish part of me wanted to keep him all to myself.
Cherry opened her mouth to say something else but I cut her off by addressing her directly. ‘Cherry, if you’re here to see Vic you’re in for a long wait. He won’t be down before midday – at the earliest.’
‘I know – he never is – lazy bugger. I’m only here ’cause I’ve got an appointment at the clinic in fifteen minutes. I’ll be back later.’ I could feel James watching me as Cherry and I carried out this exchange but I avoided his eye.
For the next ten minutes I kept Cherry talking while I buttered toast for James, accepted payment from the other two customers and cleared the used crockery and cutlery from their table. It was a huge relief when she finally sashayed out the door and into the sunshine on her stiletto heels, leaving James and I alone.
‘So that’s why I never see your husband – because he’s asleep upstairs?’
‘Yes.’
‘What does he do?’
‘Oh, various things – minicabs, nightclub security. He works late hours so –’
‘So you’re left to open up the cafe.’
‘Yes.’
James refraine
d from asking about Cherry’s acquaintance with my husband and there was no judgement in his eyes when he looked at me, only sympathy, but seeing that was almost worse. I knew my marriage was not a happy one – everyone around here must at least suspect that by now – but I still didn’t want James to feel sorry for me. Moving along the counter I started tidying the boxes of confectionery and straightening the lines of canned and bottled drinks. ‘Are you OK? You look tired,’ I said.
James stretched out his arms and then rubbed his face with both hands. ‘Yeah, I’m OK.’
‘Busy at work?’ I prompted.
‘Yeah but I’m coping – there’s less and less for me to do at the office now that everyone knows I’m leaving – and Leah seems to have a good handle on things at the garden centre; sales are up.’
‘That’s great.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So what is it?’ I said, fixing him with a gaze across the counter.
A strange, half-bemused smile spread across his face. ‘I can’t fool you, can I?’
I shook my head, returning his smile.
‘It’s not me – it’s my mate Liam.’
‘Go on.’
‘We’ve been best friends since school days – we hang out, play rugby together. He’s a great bloke – really down-to-earth and kind and sensible, y’know?’
Nodding, I refilled James’s coffee cup.
‘He’s had this girlfriend, Cally, for years. I don’t know her that well but she’s always seemed nice – quiet and a bit shy but friendly enough. They always seemed great together – well-suited; happy; settled, I guess – and I always assumed they would end up married eventually. Anyway two weeks ago Cally just walked out on Liam and disappeared.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Did she leave a note?’
‘Yes, but no indication of where she was going or why. It has completely knocked Liam for six, as you might imagine, and I’ve been spending what little free time I have trying to help him track her down. With no success whatsoever I should add.’
I felt sorry for James’s friend Liam – it sounded as though he hadn’t deserved to be dumped so callously – but there was a part of me that admired this girl, Cally, for doing exactly as she pleased – for walking out of her life and simply leaving it all behind. I envied her freedom. Was she happy wherever she was now? Was she safe? ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Maybe she’ll just turn up when she’s ready.’
‘Yeah, maybe. The thing is they’re such good people and seemed so content together. I can’t help wondering – if they can’t make it – what hope is there for the rest of us sinners?’
‘Is that what you are? A sinner?’
James snorted and I was pleased to see his smile return. ‘Almost certainly.’
‘Are you Catholic?’
‘No. My mum was Church of England – my dad too – but after she died he stopped going to church altogether. I don’t know if that was because he only ever went to keep her company or because, after her death, his faith was shaken.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, saddened to discover that both his parents were dead.
He shrugged. ‘Are you a believer?’
‘No.’
‘No, me neither, but I was once given a book of Bible stories when I was a child and it left me with a healthy fear of Hell.’
His wry smile was soothing despite the heavy topic of conversation and I found myself shaking my head and smiling back.
‘Oh shit, no way!’ James was gawping at me with his mouth open and pointing at the radio, which was on low in the background as usual.
‘What?’ As I listened I caught some of the lyrics from the song that was playing and realised the vocalist was, in fact, singing about Hell.
‘Turn it up, turn it up!’ James said. Impelled by his sudden enthusiasm I automatically reached out and turned the volume dial and James burst into song – shouting out the chorus to ‘Highway to Hell’ loudly, repeatedly, and horribly out of tune. My hand to my mouth I doubled up with laughter, clutching at the counter with my other hand for support. Thankfully the song was already nearing the end and I was able to pull myself together and turn the radio down again, wiping tears from my eyes.
‘What were the bloody chances of that? Do you think it was a sign?’ James said, still grinning.
Before I could reply the door opened and one of my regulars sauntered in, head bent in concentration over the mobile phone in his hand. The sight brought me back to reality with a bump and I reflexively checked the time, silently hoping that Vic was still unconscious and had not heard James singing.
While I served my new customer, James – checking his own wristwatch and realising our moment was over – quietly finished his coffee, paid and then said goodbye and left. But I was pleased to note, as he stepped out into the blazing sunshine, that he looked less hunched and far happier than when he had arrived.
Chapter Sixteen
On the first Thursday following the May Day bank holiday I was late getting to market. A large delivery of specimen topiary plants I’d ordered from Belgium needed signing off at the garden centre, delaying my departure for London by an hour. I apologised to Gary for my tardiness, as I unloaded the van in the pouring rain and helped him display the dripping-wet planted containers on his stall, but he didn’t seem too put out. The person I really regretted being late for was Rina.
Max had offered to do the weekly trips to market for me – he was our official delivery driver after all – and now that I had finished working out my notice and left the insurance industry for good, I had no other reason to be in London on a regular basis, especially while Jasmine was monopolising the flat. But seeing Rina was the highlight of my week. She was so easy to talk to; so wise and honest and reassuring. Despite spending less than an hour in her company a week our conversations felt more real to me than those I’d had with any of my girlfriends over the years. Somehow Rina, with her understated beauty and enigmatic eyes, gave me more confidence in myself, while also distracting me from my ongoing battle with Jasmine and vain searches for Kitkat and Cally. Rina was the one person in London I was reluctant to leave behind. I had to keep seeing her; I wasn’t ready to give her up yet, no matter how married she might be.
Today I was keen to run my coffee shop ideas past her, and get her unique perspective on the plans I’d roughed out, but when I got to the cafe it was busy with customers sheltering from the rain and every stool at the counter was taken.
Having placed my breakfast order, I took a seat at a table in the corner and watched Rina from afar, as she dexterously served and chatted to the other customers with only the occasional, sympathetic smile thrown in my direction. The greasy spoon was damp with condensation today; the front windows completely steamed up and the worn lino floor treacherously slippery under foot. The fluorescent strip lighting overhead struggled to combat the cloud-dark day; the radio was completely drowned out by the sound of people talking over each other to be heard, and the air hung heavy with the stink of fried food. Looking at it properly for the first time, I realised the place was depressingly low-budget, shabby and unappealing and yet, right there, floating amongst it all, was Rina, moving with the practical grace and benevolence of an angel and appreciated by her customers, even if they didn’t show it. I had come seeking her help and guidance with my plans but, now that I was here, I only wished there was some way in which I could help her.
Half an hour later the rain stopped and, although there was no sunshine peaking out from behind the clouds yet, the cafe finally emptied, leaving me free to approach the counter and pay for my breakfast. I collected up a few other dirty cups and plates along the way and Rina looked surprised.
‘Thank you, that was delicious, as always,’ I said, setting down the crockery and passing her a twenty pound note. ‘Keep the change.’
She raised an eyebrow at me before extracting the correct change from the till and placing it neatly on the counter top. With a swipe of my hand I swept up the cash and stubbornly dropp
ed it into the tips dish. Her lips tightened but she didn’t comment.
‘It’s brightening up outside now; why don’t you take a break? We could go for a walk and get some fresh air?’
‘No I – I can’t do that.’
‘Why not? I won’t come with you if you’d rather be alone but you deserve a break.’
‘I’ve got too much to do here.’
‘You could close up for just a few minutes, surely.’
‘Maybe later,’ she said turning away to load the dishwasher.
I was torn between wanting to get Rina out of the place and not wishing to offend her. ‘Can I assist with the clearing up then? I could –’
‘No, of course not!’ she said turning back to me, looking appalled at the idea. ‘Shouldn’t you be going anyway – it’s getting late?’
‘Actually, now that I’ve worked out my notice, I don’t have to rush back.’ In truth I had a massive to-do list, waiting for me back at the garden centre, but I was my own boss now and nothing appealed more at this moment than spending time with Rina.
‘But people will talk if you stay too long.’
‘Which people?’ I said, glancing over my shoulder. ‘There’s no one else here?’
‘You know what I mean – another customer will be in any minute and people round here just love to make up gossip and spread it around.’
I did know what she meant and the last thing I wanted was to make life difficult for Rina but it still hurt that she was pushing me away. ‘OK. I’ll go,’ I said.
‘But I’ll see you next week?’
I smiled and she smiled back, her whole face softening with warmth and light. ‘Yes. Oh, I almost forgot – I brought you some books. They’re in the van – I’ll go and get them.’
‘Books? What books?’
‘Last week you said you liked reading fiction so I brought you some of my favourite books to borrow –’
‘I can’t accept them,’ she said, cutting me off.
‘Why not? You haven’t even seen them yet.’
‘Please – I don’t want Vic to get the wrong idea.’ Her voice had lowered to a whisper, as if she were confessing – admitting to something unspoken between us; something that she didn’t want her husband to know about.