by Sharon Booth
"I suppose we just clicked," he said, smiling at her. "I thought, even then, that I'd like to ask her out, but it were a bit awkward, what with you lot to consider. Any road, I made a point of seeking her out at work, and after a couple of weeks, I plucked up courage to finally ask her out."
"And I said yes," Mum said, beaming at him. "I'd begun to think he was never going to ask me."
"But when do you see her at work?" I said, puzzled. "She goes in early, and it's rare I bump into the cleaning team, at all."
"Aye, well, funnily enough, I had to go in to work early for a few weeks. Very early." Don winked at us all and squeezed my mother's hand.
I felt a lump in my throat. There was something in the way they looked at each other that made me feel suddenly so alone. As Olivia and David grinned at each other, I realised I was the odd one out. No one looked at me the way David looked at Olivia, or the way Don was looking at my mother.
I cleared my throat. "So, who's going to chippy, then?"
Don nodded approvingly. "Now you're talking. I'll go, and David can come with me. Make us a list of what you all want. It's on me. My treat." As we all started to protest, he waved his hand at us. "No arguments. I've said it, and that's that, so make up your minds what you fancy."
When he and David had finally left the house, note clutched in Don's hand, Olivia and I turned to our mother excitedly. "Oh, my God! Don! Why on earth didn't you say?"
"Do you mind?" Mum asked, sounding worried. "I know it's a lot to take in."
"I can't believe it," Olivia said. "Don, of all people!"
"Is it the age gap?" Mum frowned. "Thirteen years is a lot, isn't it? Do you think it's too much? Do you think I'm being stupid?"
"Don't be daft." Olivia took her hand. "It's nothing, at all. Don's always seemed middle-aged, anyway. It's brilliant news." She looked sharply at me. "Isn't it, Marley?"
"Oh—oh, yeah. Great." I was still absorbing the shock of it all. Only a couple of days ago, I’d been sitting in the canteen with Don, pouring out our family secrets, and he hadn't breathed a word. No wonder he'd been so interested.
Or was I being unfair? Don would have listened, anyway. He'd always been a friendly, kind sort of man. I was doing him an injustice, I knew it. Even so, the thought of him with my mother was a bit ... well, nauseating.
"Have you two ...?"
"Marley!" Olivia gaped at me, then turned slowly to Mum. "Have you?"
"No! I told you. He's only kissed me once. Well, kissed me properly. You know. With tongues."
"Ugh!" I felt sick. How was I going to face my battered sausage now?
"Don, giving French kisses." Olivia giggled. "Well, I think it's fantastic, Mum. He's a lovely bloke, he really is. I couldn't be happier for you. He'll fit right in with this family."
"Hey, steady on, love," Mum said, eyes widening. "I'm only courting him. No one said anything about him being part of the family."
"But one day—”
"Woah!" Mum put her hands up, as if to fend off the very suggestion. "I'm not ready for all that, yet."
"Not ready?" Olivia raised an eyebrow. "It's been sixteen years, Mum. How much longer do you need?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "It doesn't always seem like sixteen years, you know. Sometimes, it feels like only yesterday."
There was a moment's silence. I thought about my father, visiting Great Uncle Charles to beg for money. He hadn't been near, nor by, the rest of us. He couldn't give a damn about us. Why should my mother continue to put her life on hold for someone so undeserving?
I took a deep breath. "Don's a good man, Mum. He's worth ten of Dad, really he is. Give him a chance, eh? Don't throw this away for the memory of someone who really doesn't deserve any consideration, at all."
Mum and Olivia both stared at me, clearly astonished. Olivia blinked. "Er, well, yeah. What Marley said. Don's great, Mum. Don't keep him at arm's length, will you?"
"I never had Marley down as a relationship expert," Mum said, smiling. "What's brought this on?"
I shrugged. I wasn't about to tell them about Dad's heartlessness. They didn't need to know. "Just think, you know, a good man is worth hanging on to."
Mum surveyed me thoughtfully. "Not like you, love. Is there something you haven't told us?"
"Of course not."
"Maybe," Olivia said, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "it's having Kit Carroll back in her life. Remember how she pined for him, when he went to that posh school, Mum? All those years, never seeing him, wasting away through unrequited love. I reckon that's why she's never had a boyfriend. She's been waiting for him, and now that he's back, he's reawakened the romantic streak in our Marley."
"Oh, shut up. The only thing he's awakened is worry about the future of the factory," I said crossly, beginning to wish I'd never opened my mouth. Although, I couldn’t help but notice, with some alarm, that my stomach fluttered just at the mention of his name. "He just announces he's stopping production of LuvRocks products, and then swans off to God knows where with God knows who for a couple of days. Absolutely typical. All right for some, isn't it?"
It really rankled with me. No explanation, no lead-up. Just, ‘I'll be away for the next two days. I'm sure you can cope 'til I get back.’ Charming. He was the most selfish man I'd ever met.
Well, I had coped. I'd coped just fine. I was used to it.
"Reckon it's the with God knows who bit that's got her rattled," Olivia said, nudging Mum knowingly.
"Is that right, love?" Mum looked delighted. "Are you still carrying a torch for little Chrissie Carroll?"
"It's Kit," I snapped, even though I never thought of him as anything but Christopher. "And of course I'm not! For goodness sake, it's bad enough that I have to see him at work. Do you honestly think I give any thought, at all, to him when I don't have to? I never think about him, once I leave the factory, and that's a fact."
Except, it wasn't. More and more, the image of him, looming over me as I lay on the floor of The Blue Lamp, came back to me, and each time I embellished it a little further. His hand no longer just brushed my hair back, but stroked my face lovingly. His eyes didn't just look at me with concern, but with something else—a look of love that sparked into desire. And Sadie's annoying cleavage didn't interrupt proceedings—instead I experienced the feel of his lips on mine, as he bent over and kissed me.
My dreams were becoming clearer and more urgent every time. Igniting something within me that was most inconvenient, and totally unexpected. Not to mention confusing. How could I still fancy someone so much, and yet hate him at the same time?
Because I did hate him, and I would never forgive him. He was the last person on earth I should’ve found attractive. It was all completely baffling.
Realising, uncomfortably, that my mother and Olivia were watching me intently, I felt my face start to burn. Don's and David's return from the chip shop came at just the right time. Everyone became far too absorbed in unwrapping food to question me any further, which was a huge relief, because what on earth could I say?
"Battered sausage and chips," Don said, handing me a package. "Extra-large. Get your laughing gear round that, kidder."
He was all class, I thought. Olivia was quite right. He'd fit into our family perfectly.
Chapter Twelve
Christopher was sitting at his desk, when I popped my head round his office door early the following morning. I was a bit taken aback to find him staring intently at his laptop screen, typing as rapidly as anyone could manage with two fingers.
Why didn't he just ask me to do whatever it was he wanted? Though, of course, everything was on a need-to-know basis lately. I still couldn't quite believe that he was in charge. Properly in charge. Not just put there as some sort of puppet by Jack, but that he actually owned the place.
"Did you know?" I asked Don later. He had, after all, worked at the factory since he left school, and he was quite high up. He’d had a good working relationship with Jack, and I thought it was a fair bet that if
anyone knew, it would be him.
We were standing by the vending machine in the canteen. It was tea-break time for Don, and although I had no reason to head to the canteen for coffee, not when I had facilities in the office, I’d wanted to escape the stifling presence of the boss, which emanated from beneath his door and permeated my room in a most unnerving manner.
The canteen was practically empty. Plenty of other people were having a break, too, but they’d gone outside, having a quick cigarette in the shelter that had been purpose-built for them when the new laws about smoking in the workplace had come into force.
I shivered at the thought. They must’ve been freezing out there. Talk about dedication.
Don collected the plastic cup from the machine, and together, we walked slowly over to the nearest table, holding our steaming hot coffees carefully. "Know what?"
"About Christopher owning Carroll's Confectionary? Did you know the place wasn't Jack's, at all?" I hadn't mentioned it to him before, worrying that to do so would be indiscreet. After all, Christopher may not have intended anyone else to know about it. Curiosity, though, was getting the better of me, and besides, I could trust Don. He was practically family since dating Mum. I'd simply tell him to keep it quiet, and—
"'Course I knew!" He placed the cup on the table and laughed. "Thought everyone did. Didn't take much working out, to be honest. He is the eldest son, after all, and everyone knows he got the house in the will, and the house and the factory have always gone to the eldest, so .... Mind you, I will admit, I'd assumed he'd signed it over to Jack after he moved abroad again."
"He owns the house, too?" That hadn't occurred to me. Knowing Christopher's feelings about the factory, and knowing his determination to have nothing to do with the place, I'd simply assumed that his father had sidestepped him and left everything to Jack. When James Carroll had died, though, I'd been living in Whitby with a couple of girls from the insurance company. By the time I knew about his father's death, Christopher had already been home, and gone again. I hadn't even set eyes on him. If he'd caused any sort of gossip by handing the factory over to his brother, I'd missed the whole thing. "What happened? Why didn't he start work here?"
Don shrugged. "’Far as I know, he wanted to continue travelling. It wasn't a big deal. I think it was all sorted very smoothly, no fuss. He had work abroad, and he never took much interest in this place, whereas Jack did, so he clearly thought the best plan was to leave his little brother in charge and go off and do what he wanted to do."
"All right for some," I muttered. "Swan off abroad, while his poor brother does all the work."
"And gets handsomely rewarded for it, don't forget," Don pointed out. "Doubt very much Jack did it all for love. And he got to live in the big house, an' all. Besides, Jack's happy working here, so it wouldn't have been hard to persuade him."
"But now he's so worn down with it all that he's had to disappear abroad himself," I said crossly. "And Christopher comes back here, knowing absolutely nothing about the business, causes mayhem, and then swans off himself for a nice little jolly away for a couple of days."
"Nice little jolly?" Don frowned. "What you on about? He's been at a trade fair in Liverpool, working bloody hard to try to win us some new contracts. You've got him all wrong, Marley."
I sipped my coffee, feeling a bit wrong-footed. "Okay, well, he may have been at a trade fair, but that doesn't mean he knows what he's doing, does it?"
Don put down his cup and leaned towards me. "Strikes me, you're not willing to give him any sort of chance. You weren't at that meeting the other day. I was. He's determined to turn this place around and restore it to its glory days. He's got big plans, and he's willing to learn. Believe me, he's not afraid to ask for help and advice."
Except from me! I bit my lip, feeling even more cross. Why was he being so weird with me? It was me who should’ve been rude to him, not the other way round, and there I was, making every effort to be professional, in spite of wanting to slap his annoyingly attractive face every time I saw it.
"Do you really dislike him that much?" Don said. "Or is there something I don't know?"
"It's nothing to do with whether I like, or dislike, him," I protested. "It's simply that I don't think he's good for this company, that's all. I just wish Jack would come back."
"Aye, well," Don leaned back in his chair and sighed, "I'm sure he will soon enough. And when he does, let's hope we've got good news for him about this place, eh? We all need to pull together, Marley. Try to give Kit the benefit of the doubt, eh?"
Well, that was harsh. I wasn't the one being difficult, making things awkward, was I? Nevertheless, I nodded and resolved to try harder with Christopher—if only for the sake of the company.
Back in the office, I kept myself busy, noting the door to his office was firmly shut. He didn't come through, or call for me, at all, and the morning passed quickly.
As lunchtime arrived, I stood up, intending to head to the canteen, but a sudden impulse made me pause. I poured Christopher a coffee and knocked gently on his office door, then opened it. He didn't even look up, which annoyed me, but I forced myself to sound pleasant as I carried his cup over to the desk. "Thought you could use a drink," I said, a fixed smile on my face. "It's lunchtime, you know. You really need to take a break." Why, I thought crossly, was my heart thumping so loudly? I wasn't scared of him!
He finally managed to glance up at me, his fingers still over the keyboard. "Thank you." He sounded surprised, which cheered me up a bit.
Spotting the tired look in his eyes, a momentary stab of compassion for him hit me. So he'd been at a trade fair? I'd foolishly imagined he'd been at some swanky hotel, or spa, or something. Maybe with a woman. Did he have a girlfriend, I wondered? It would be amazing if he didn't, come to think of it. That dark hair, those liquid eyes, that rather appealing mouth .... I blinked as I realised he was staring straight at me.
"Was there something else?" he asked.
Crap! What was I supposed to say to that? No, I was just thinking how gorgeous you still are, and how unfair it is that you're not hideously ugly, considering how cruel and selfish and arrogant you are? Hardly.
Luckily, a phone call I'd taken earlier that morning provided a flash of inspiration for me.
"Er, yeah, I was just thinking about the staff Christmas meal."
He frowned. "The what?"
I sat down on the chair at the opposite side of his desk and switched on a dazzling smile. "The Christmas meal. I was wondering when you wanted to take everyone out this year? Only, we always hold it at Miller's restaurant, and Mr Miller rang this morning to ask when we intended to confirm the final date. He's got three availabilities for us, and if you want to take a look at—"
Christopher held up his hand, silencing me. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
I tried— I really tried—not to feel irritated. "Every year," I explained patiently, "Jack treats the workers to a hot buffet at Miller's. It's his Christmas present to them all. Mr Miller and his staff always put on a great spread. It's usually the week before Christmas, and Mr Miller is holding three dates for us, but wants us to make a final decision. Usually," I admitted, "it's all sorted and paid for by now, but with Jack going .... Anyway, Mr Miller's very kindly allowed us extra time, and I really think we need to get moving on this as soon as possible. Today, preferably."
"Forget it." Christopher's voice sounded strange.
I peered at him. "Forget what?"
"This! This whole, treat the workers thing! We're not a charity, you know. This is a business. Tell Mr Miller he can release the dates."
I blinked. "You're kidding, right?"
"Of course I'm not kidding. Why would I be kidding?" He frowned. "Are you really going to make a big deal out of this, too?"
I felt a surge of anger. "What do you mean, this, too?"
"Everything's a battle with you," he said, standing up. "Right, if that's the way it's going to be, time to make another announcement."
"Oh, no! You can't! Are you deliberately trying to cause trouble?" I stared after him as he walked out of the office, then ran to join him. If he was determined to commit professional suicide, the least I deserved was be there to watch. I couldn't wait to see how the workers reacted to this latest announcement.
If Christopher was nervous, or had any doubts, he didn't show it. He marched straight over to Liz and demanded that she turn off the music, as he had something to say. Liz clearly knew better than to argue for a second time.
Giving him an annoyed look, she turned off her CD.
Forks dangled in the air, knives paused in spreading butter, cups halted halfway to lips, as the whole canteen stopped.
I realised I was trembling and wondered why. It wasn't my fault he was about to cause a riot. Whatever was coming to him, it was only what he'd brought upon himself.
"It's come to my attention that you're all expecting to be taken to Miller's within the next couple of weeks," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. "I just wanted to tell you that this won't be happening." He held up his hand, as the wave of protests began. "I should explain that this Christmas meal is not official Carroll's policy. It was a personal gift from Jack to you all, and as Jack isn't here, it won't be taking place this year. What goes on between you and my brother is entirely separate to factory business. My way of doing things isn't Jack's, and that's all I have to say on the matter."
I watched, open-mouthed, as he turned and left the canteen. God, he had a death wish.
As the explosion of anger erupted in his wake, disgust and fury spread over his employees' faces. Even Don looked a bit annoyed, but then he would. He loved the hot buffet, and was always first in line for the chicken wings.
Casting a quick look around, I made my decision and headed after Christopher.
He was halfway up the stairs when I caught up with him.
"What are you doing?" I grabbed his arm, pulling him to a halt.
He looked at me, then at my hand on his arm, then back at my face again.