“Nooo,” insisted Jack, rooting his feet to the ground, but she noticed he started hopping again as soon as she turned away.
“Are you sure?”
“Yesss,” he said, furious. “I don’t need a wee.”
Kate insisted on paying for a double espresso, a cup of tea, and a huge hot chocolate with an unfeasibly high swirl of whipped cream, marshmallows, and chocolate shavings. Daniel swiftly and surely sliced through the dithering families with the tray in his hands. Like a snake-hipped Italian waiter he wove his way among them, miraculously arriving at one of the sought-after tables with padded banquettes just as a family was getting up to leave. He put down the tray by way of marking his territory, encouraging Kate to sit down. After he had helped the departing family clear away their mess, he returned and slid in beside Kate, with Jack beyond her in the corner.
Just as she was gratefully lifting her steaming mug to her lips, Jack announced, “I need a wee, Mummy.”
“You are kidding,” she said, without rancor. “Do you want to go on your own?”
A flash of mild panic crossed Jack’s face.
“If I take you, we’ll have to go in the ladies’ loo,” she told him.
“I’m not going in the girls’ toilets,” he said, horrified.
Daniel got to his feet but then froze, looking at Kate for approval. “I could take him if that’s okay? You drink your tea while it’s hot. Plus, there’ll be a massive queue in the ladies’. Zoe was always telling me that. She’d make me take her into the blokes’ loos. She didn’t care.”
Kate laughed. “Thank you,” she said. “That would be great.”
Daniel looked relieved. “Right, come on you,” he said, his hand resting on Jack’s shoulder, gently steering him.
Jack had got to an age, already, where he was very reluctant to let Kate touch him in public. If that had been her he would have wriggled away, she thought, watching the two of them walking away: Daniel with his broad shoulders and brown hair curling onto his collar, Jack heartbreakingly small, his bobble hat bobbing up and down as he practically skipped with joy at how his day was panning out.
As they disappeared Kate’s phone quacked. It was a text from Seema: Me and Krish are at Brandon Park, fancy joining?
Clearly Seema had managed to wangle a day off too, thought Kate, with delighted surprise. Maybe she had eaten a legendary dodgy prawn as well. There was a lot of it about, clearly.
There was a line of three men at the urinals.
“Want to go in the cubicle?” whispered Daniel. He had always found standing at the urinals as a boy a daunting prospect.
Jack nodded and took himself off obediently.
Daniel leaned his shoulder onto the wall and folded his arms. Luckily the cold weather had neutralized the usual smell.
“You waitin’ for somethin’?” A belligerent voice sounded close to his ear.
He turned to see a scowling, bald-headed man in a football scarf. He looked remarkably like a gorilla. He appeared to have no neck and underneath the leather jacket there was a general impression of bulkiness that hinted at some overly macho gym work along with too many pints and pies.
A spirit of mischief filled him. “I’m waiting for a little boy,” he said, meeting the man’s eye and cocking his eyebrow.
The man’s scowl deepened. “I know your type,” he growled, but just then, the lock snicked and Jack emerged from the cubicle.
“Ah, found one,” continued Daniel. “He’ll do.” To Jack, he said, “Don’t forget to wash your hands.”
Gorilla Man turned to Jack. “Is this your dad?”
“No,” he replied happily, squirting too much soap onto his hands. “I just met him.” Jack looked around conspiratorially and lowered his voice, leaning toward the man. “He told me Father Christmas wasn’t real . . .”
Gorilla Man threw Daniel an outraged look. “Did he?” he said, squaring his shoulders, but after giving it a couple of seconds of consideration, he clearly couldn’t decide what to do next. “I’m watching you,” he told Daniel as he brushed past him, deliberately knocking him off balance.
“Is that man your friend?” said Jack, slipping his hand into Daniel’s.
“I don’t think so, no.”
“Look who I found?” said Kate as they re-joined her at the table.
“Krish!” said Jack delightedly. “You’ve got hot chocolate too? Cool . . .”
Kate introduced Seema to Daniel, kicking Seema under the table as she cooed, “Well, hello, handsome, which Christmas tree did Kate find you under?” She held out her arm, hand limp at the wrist.
“Hi,” said Daniel, in return, shaking it firmly.
Kate admired him for not kissing it, although Seema clearly wouldn’t have minded.
“Krish and Jack are at school together,” explained Kate.
“Kids are a great way to meet people,” agreed Daniel. “Kids and dogs, apparently.”
“And how about you?” Seema went straight in, without shame or embarrassment. “Do you have kids? Dogs? A ‘friend’ you are—how shall we say?—particularly close to? Like Kate, for example?”
“Seema!” gasped Kate, kicking her again, but she just laughed and moved her legs away.
Daniel laughed too, a proper laugh that creased the skin around his eyes. “No, on all charges, although my sister was with you on the dog thing. She was always pestering me to get one because she said I could use it to pick up random women.”
“Did she want you to pick up random women?” asked Kate, intrigued.
“She didn’t want me to be lonely when she . . .” he stopped.
“I’d love a dog,” interrupted Jack, overhearing. “Mum says we can’t, though. Because we live in a little flat with no garden and she’s out at work all day.”
“One day we might, darling,” she replied, ruffling his hair, which was spiked wildly now he had taken off his woolly hat. “One day . . .”
Jack had finished his hot chocolate now, scooping out the last bits of foam with his spoon and then wiping his mouth on his coat sleeve.
“Can we go up the Tower,” he clamored. “Me and Krish?”
The Cabot Tower, a brick Victorian folly, stood at the highest point of the park, with a steep, spiral staircase to the top. Kate resorted to it when Jack really needed to burn off energy. The views were amazing when you got to the top. But today the two women groaned in unison.
“You’ll kill me,” said Seema to Krishna, his dark brown eyes alight with excitement at the thought. “I’ve already done my workout this week.”
“We can go on our own,” said Jack.
“I don’t think so, darling. Surely you haven’t got the energy after all that sledding?”
“I have, I have,” his lip wobbled slightly, his emotional state made fragile by too much excitement and too much sugar.
“I’ll go,” said Daniel, smiling.
“You can’t! It’s really a tough climb, believe me. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Listen, I’m a Bristolian,” he said with a laugh. “I know about the Tower. I’ve been up those steps man and boy. And I need to get some exercise.”
“Well?” insisted Seema loudly, before Daniel was even out of earshot. “Where did you find him?”
“Have I ever told you how subtle you are?” said Kate. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you. Your diplomacy. Your tact . . .”
“Yeah, yeah.” Seema dismissed Kate’s sarcasm with a wave of the hand. “Tell me absolutely everything about you and this über-fit man. Starting from the beginning.”
Children were fun but God they were exhausting, thought Daniel as he and the boys traipsed, seemingly endlessly, up the narrow tower. The climb was always a pain in the arse, the winding stone steps, the squeezing against the wall to let people who were coming the other way get past. Doing all that while herding two excited boys had added an extra challenge. At the top, the iron railings seemed inadequate to keep them safe. The usual almost enjoyable r
oller-coaster lurch in the pit of the stomach at looking down over the edge seemed magnified today, as if he was experiencing it on behalf of his young charges too. He made himself feel better by holding both of them firmly by the scruff as they stood, looking out over the city to the snowy hills in the distance. He hadn’t been up here for years. It was worth it. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the cold, crisp, enlivening, and cleansing air. Amazing.
“I need a wee,” announced Krishna.
“You go back to your mum and tell her we’ll be with you in a minute,” he told Jack as he steered Krishna toward the toilet block.
“So! Now you’ve got another little boy,” sneered a voice as Krishna disappeared inside.
Daniel turned, and there—again—was Gorilla Man with a triumphant leer on his face. “I suppose you’re going to tell me this one’s your son, an’ all.”
There was the small matter that Daniel had not, in fact, told him Jack was his son, but he decided to let that one go.
“What’s your point?” he said, dangerously quietly.
“My point,” said the man, putting out a finger as if he was going to prod Daniel in the chest but then thinking better of it, “my point is that here you are, hangin’ around a public toilet, again. And this time you can’t even tell me this boy’s yours—because he can’t be, can he?”
The man clearly felt his logic was unimpeachable.
Daniel put his head on one side, pretending to think. “Sorry,” he said, “am I misunderstanding, or are you saying—and correct me if I’m wrong—this boy can’t possibly be my son because—what?—because he’s darker than I am . . . ?”
“Yeah,” the man sneered, his head back, lip raised in a snarl. “That’s what I’m sayin’.”
Daniel took a moment. His instinctive response was tempered by the knowledge that Krishna was just about to come out and expected him to be a safe, reliable adult. Instead of punching Gorilla Man on the nose—which would have been extremely satisfying—he leaned in close. “Right, so I’ve had enough of you now,” he announced with chilling calm. “I don’t care if you fancy yourself as some one-man anti-pedophile vigilante superhero or what your bloody problem is, but if I hear any more of your vile, nasty, evil-minded, and also frankly racist poison I will lose my temper. And this is a family show so—believe me—you don’t want that. Got it?”
Gorilla Man paled. For a moment his lips tightened and his jaw jutted, but then he met Daniel’s eyes and he recoiled physically.
“Yeah. All right, mate,” he said, stepping back, holding his hands up in submission. “No offense.”
“Mum says Daniel lives on a boat,” announced Jack to Krishna when they got back to the table. It was clear the women had been talking about Daniel, because they hastily shut up when they saw him coming. Kate was blushing.
“Can we go and see your boat?” pleaded Jack. “It sounds really cool. Mummy’s seen it, haven’t you, Mummy . . .”
“Have you?” said Seema, doing a double take, eyes wide, like a pantomime character.
Kate didn’t kick her this time. There was no point; it didn’t stop her misbehaving.
“I had a cup of tea with Daniel in his boat,” she said primly. “It was very nice. I’m not sure I’d like to be there in this weather, though. Aren’t you cold?”
“Not with the woodburner,” said Daniel. “And I’d love you all to come, but it can’t be today I’m afraid. Even though the office is closed, I have to do some work this afternoon and then I’ve got a meeting this evening, so . . . we’ll have to arrange another time, all right boys?”
“Absolutely,” said Seema, satisfied. “I think a trip to the boat is a really good idea, Daniel. I am delighted you are getting to know Kate better. And Jack,” she added.
“Likewise,” said Daniel, winking at Kate.
“See? Dead subtle,” muttered Kate, sarcastically, missing his wink because she was too busy grimacing at Seema.
“Now, I’m sorry guys,” Daniel went on, this time to Jack, “but I had better get you and your mum home.”
He dropped by Paul’s house on the off chance that Paul would be home and, ideally, Cara wouldn’t. He was in luck.
“I nearly decked the bloke,” Daniel admitted to his friend, troubled at his reaction in the public toilets.
“Not like you, mate,” agreed Paul. “You’re always the one who’s all calm and lovely and sweet. At least that’s what all the girls who’ve ever dumped you have said. They all secretly want a bad boy—and that’s the truth.”
“I’m just not a ‘ten pints looking for a punch-up’ kind of guy. That’s you, if anything. At least it was you before Cara got hold of you and civilized you.”
“A bit harsh, mate.”
“True though, I was always having to get you to let it go ’cos you’re tanked up and some bloke looked at you in a funny way, or something.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“No, well you wouldn’t.”
“So, you felt rage then,” said Paul, returning to the point and away from his own shortcomings. “Like the Incredible Hulk, all green and bursting out of your shirt, yeah?”
“Yeah, kind of,” admitted Daniel, remembering his altercation with Gorilla Man. Normally he would brush off that kind of episode without it even raising his pulse.
“You know what it is, don’t you?”
“Obviously no, or I wouldn’t be asking you,” said Daniel with conspicuous patience.
“You’re defending them. Defending this Kate girl, her son, her son’s friends . . . they’re your ‘tribe.’”
“My ‘tribe’?”
“It’s a primal instinct. You may not be admitting to yourself that you feel this connection, but your instincts are telling you to protect her, them, the whole lot . . . They’re your people. Your ‘tribe.’”
“Who knew?” said Daniel, wonderingly. “And the most remarkable thing is,” he admitted to Paul, “I think you might actually be right about something at last.”
Leaving Paul’s house in the snow, Daniel wondered if the meeting between the shop owners at Christmas Steps would still be on, but with their own businesses to run they evidently had to be made of sterner stuff. He reported to the café ten minutes early but his friend from the wedding dress shop was already there.
“Daniel,” she said. “You came.”
“Grace,” he said. “I did.”
“This is Daniel,” she explained to the four others who had arranged themselves around the largest table in the café. “He doesn’t really know why he’s here, but I thought he should come. He’s helping Noel find a new tenant, plus he’s got all this inside info about rates and stuff. It’s literally his job.”
“Yes, I really am that boring,” agreed Daniel. “Thanks for having me. I understand things are a bit tricky here at the moment.”
“I’m Adrian,” said a thin, elegant man in his fifties who was wearing an impeccably knotted yellow tie and matching silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. “You’re right. We’re glad you’re here.”
“You run the gentleman’s outfitters?”
“That’s correct. It was my father’s shop and his father’s before him. We’ve got history. I’m hoping I’m not the one who oversees the end.”
“Me too,” agreed Daniel. “Have your rates gone up too?”
“They have. All of us have now had letters. It’s been a dramatic rise.”
The rest of them nodded in agreement.
“I’m Jenny,” said the woman nearest him, gray-haired but with a youthful yoga-toned figure. “I’m the florist. The Lavender House.”
“I know the one. I don’t know much about flowers though,” admitted Daniel. “Grace mentioned you own your shop?”
“And I live in the flat above. So, I’m like Noel,” she explained. “Obviously we aren’t worried about rent. We’re lucky, but—even so—the higher rates are a blow. I’m already working on narrow margins.” Stifling a yawn, she laughed apologetically.
“Sorry. We florists have early mornings, collecting our stock from the markets. This is a late night for me.”
“I’m Graham,” said a bearded man, coming out from behind the counter and sitting down with the rest of them. “This is my gaffe. I’ve seen you before.”
“Yeah, I’ve been in here a few times. You’ve got a good memory though. You must see thousands of people.”
“I don’t know about thousands, but the footfall’s not bad,” he said. “We have a good reputation locally—it’s fine—but if the rents are following the rates, which I’m guessing they will, it’s a case of ‘Houston, we have a problem.’ I’m not going to be able to sell enough Portuguese custard tarts to cover that.”
“Those custard tarts are good, though,” said Daniel, remembering the ones he and Zoe had always enjoyed with their coffee there. If Graham remembered her, he wasn’t saying, and Daniel was grateful for it.
Instead, Graham went on: “I’d like to do more outside catering for events, small events, maybe up to fifty people—private parties, funerals and stuff . . . I’m not sure we’re doing enough to let people know we’re up for it, though.”
“I didn’t know,” admitted Daniel, “but don’t judge it on me. Like I said, I don’t know much.”
“Tell us about rates,” prompted Grace.
“I will,” said Daniel, wrapping his hands around the mug of tea she handed him. “But first . . .” he looked inquiringly around the table.
“Louise,” said the remaining woman who was sitting next to Jenny. She had striking red hair, green eyes, and a plump, curvaceous figure which her fifties dress showed off to perfection. “Cakes,” she said, economically, giving him a little wave.
“Ah, yes,” said Daniel. “Posh cakes. Wedding cakes.”
She nodded with a smile.
“You’re an eclectic bunch, then.”
“With one common goal,” said Adrian, “finding a way to steer ourselves out of this catastrophe waiting to happen. Our landlords don’t seem to appreciate that we are trading on a knife-edge here. Christmas Steps is really special. We’re a little bit of a tourist draw, but also, these small shops this close to the center of town are a precious resource for independent traders. There are plenty of big expensive units in Broadmead and at Cabot Circus for the chains and the big boys. Let us keep our diversity here.” Adrian had gone quite red in the face, and when he finished he bowed his head, seemingly needing to collect himself. Daniel guessed he didn’t normally allow much to ruffle his demeanor. Louise patted his hand and he turned his head to smile at her gratefully.
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