In Just One Day

by Helen Mcginn

  ‘Are the children OK? I mean, do they know?’ Tilda glanced across at them, doing a quick headcount as she did.

  ‘I don’t think so. They might have picked up on something, I suppose. To be honest, there’s no real communication, but then there hasn’t been for such a long time, I’m not sure they know any different.’ Susie picked up a pebble, turning it slowly in her hand. ‘I guess I just need to hang on in there for a bit longer, until the kids are a bit older perhaps.’

  ‘But if you’re unhappy…’ Tilda ventured.

  Susie turned to Tilda, shaking her head. ‘It’s not that simple. But I promise I’m fine; the children are good. Honestly, if I need help, I will ask.’

  ‘Well, we’re here whenever you need us. Aren’t we?’ Flora looked at Tilda.

  ‘Absolutely. And anytime you need us to polish off another bottle of his very expensive champagne you just let us know.’ Tilda raised her glass and an eyebrow.

  ‘Thank you.’ Susie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

  Having bribed the children out of the water with the promise of biscuits, they left them wrapped in towels on the rug and walked together down to the edge of the water to wriggle their toes in the shallows, the movement of the water constantly shifting the sand beneath their feet. Susie tossed the pebble she held in her hand into the sea. Together they watched the ripples it left behind as it sank to the floor.

  When they had made their way home, Flora walked into the house, following the trail of wet towels and swimming costumes dropped by the children, like a line of soggy breadcrumbs leading to their whereabouts. Picking them up as she went, she headed to the kitchen. Johnny sat at the table, the top of it covered with paper.

  ‘How was it?’ He smiled up at her.

  ‘Glorious, actually. Susie sweetly brought – well, stole – a bottle of very lovely champagne to toast finishing my exams. And the kids all went in the sea.’ She dropped the towels by the washing machine. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Well, I think we’ve done as much as we can. This…’ he gestured at the papers surrounding him, ‘is my best guess at how we can maximise sales from the range we’ve got. We haven’t got much to go on, given that Mack didn’t have an online shop before now – God knows how he’s managed to keep it going for so long without it – but having gone through the last few years’ transactions I reckon we’ve got a small number of loyal customers with a pretty high spend.’ Johnny tapped at the keyboard as he spoke. ‘What we need to do is work on getting more engaged new customers, ones who’ll be willing to spend a bit more. Basically, we’re always going to have some customers who, I reckon, want nothing more than a cheap bottle of Pinot Grigio in their fridge door or a cheap bottle of Spanish red on the side in the kitchen. And that’s fine; we’ve got wines for them. But if we’re going to grow the business, we need to focus on building up this middle bit,’ he pointed at a coloured pyramid on the screen, ‘and in time, move them into our loyal customer group.’ He reached for a piece of paper, holding it out to Flora. ‘See this?’

  She took it and tried to figure out what she was looking at. ‘Give me a clue.’

  ‘Projections. On the left is what will happen if we carry on as we are. We’ve got six months before our cash flow dries up. But on the right…’ Johnny pointed to a column of numbers, ‘… is what could happen if we really work at it. I mean, we won’t be retiring anytime soon, but it does mean we’ll be making more than enough for the shop to wash its face and some left over to invest and grow the business. Perhaps eventually open a café at the back of the shop and roll out the events side.’ He looked up at her.

  Flora took a deep breath. ‘Are we completely mad, doing this?’ She couldn’t help but voice her doubts out loud.

  Johnny stared back at the screen. ‘Possibly, yes. But, what do they say? You never know if you don’t try. And I’m all for giving it a go.’ He looked up at her, his eyebrows raised, a smile on his lips. ‘How about you?’

  She slid herself between the table and his chair, sitting on his lap facing him, arms wrapped around his neck. ‘Count me in.’ She kissed him.

  ‘Ew, really?’ Pip walked into the kitchen, a book in her hand.

  ‘I am allowed to kiss him, you know.’ Flora climbed off Johnny’s lap.

  ‘I know but still, gross.’ Pip pulled a face.

  ‘Hey, Pip, I hear the beach was good fun.’ Johnny started collecting up the papers.

  ‘Yeah, it was good. Water was cold but Tilda gave us a whole packet of Jammie Dodgers to share.’ Pip picked up an apple from the fruit bowl on the table and wandered off again.

  ‘Ooh, that reminds me.’ Flora went to the cupboard, taking out a packet of pasta and a tin of chopped tomatoes. ‘I did have a thought at the beach. How about we get some proper music for the party? You know, a small band or something?’

  ‘I think a band might be pushing it. We haven’t really got the budget for that.’ Johnny shut the laptop.

  ‘I could ask Billy if he knows of anyone. He usually does, when it comes to this kind of thing. It was just a thought…’

  ‘Good idea, if he knows of any DJs – not expensive ones – that would be amazing.’

  ‘Great, I’ll message him in a mo.’ She called down the hall. ‘Can you clean yourselves up, please? Food in fifteen!’ She put on a pan of water.

  Just then the phone rang. Flora knew it would be her mother, because she was the only person to call on the landline. She saw the familiar number on the screen. ‘Hi, Mum, how are you?’

  ‘It’s Dad, actually. How are you?’

  ‘Dad! I’m fine, is everything OK?’ Flora instantly felt panic in her chest.

  ‘Yes, all fine, darling. Your mother asked me to call to see if there was anything else we can do to help with the party next week. I know you’re very organised but if there’s anything, you will let us know, won’t you?’

  Flora closed her eyes. She hadn’t told Johnny what she’d seen at the station. She knew he’d try to reassure her there was probably a perfectly innocent explanation. But she knew what she’d seen, and it hadn’t looked innocent at all. In fact, it had looked loaded, as if there was a whole history and a whole story that she didn’t know about. Part of her didn’t even want to know; wished she had been just a few more steps behind so she hadn’t seen her father at all.

  But the fact was she had seen him. And she knew that at some point she would have to ask him about it. She’d have to know the truth eventually but she wasn’t ready yet.

  Tom came into the kitchen. ‘How long till we eat?’

  Flora took the phone from her ear. ‘Not long. Didn’t you hear me call? Go and wash your hands.’ She shooed him out of the kitchen. Putting the phone back to her ear, she tried to think of something to say.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Her father sounded completely normal.

  What were you doing with that woman? Why did you look so comfortable with her? How could you do that to Mum? Flora wanted to shout at him. But the words wouldn’t come out.

  ‘Yes, all fine, thanks, Dad. I think we’re pretty sorted, actually. If anything, please can you just make sure you’re not too late? I know Mum’s late for everything, but I think we’ll do a little speech early on and I’d love for you to be there for that.’

  ‘Of course, we’ll be there. Looking forward to it. See you then.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad, see you then. Bye.’

  She put down the phone. Pouring the pasta into the now boiling water, she wondered if she’d ever pluck up the courage to ask. Or was it easier just not knowing and hoping that, over time, it would get easier to ignore? Having set the timer on the oven, she kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot into the garden. Deep down, Flora knew, like a stone in a shoe, what she’d seen would be impossible to ignore for long.

  12

  The morning sun found its way through a small gap between the bottom of the blind and the windowsill, falling on Kate’s face. She opened her eyes slowly, stretched her
legs, before swinging them round and down to the floor, feeling for her slippers. She crossed the bedroom quietly, picking up the silk dressing gown draped across the small chair in the corner as she passed.

  She padded downstairs, Monty trotting close behind her. Robin didn’t approve of Monty sleeping in their bedroom but had long given up arguing over it. Kate looked at him, the dog’s big brown eyes peering up at her expectantly. ‘Come on then, my little sausage.’ Opening the French doors, Kate followed Monty out into the garden. Dew still covered the grass, and the birds were already busy at the feeders.

  The tulips in the borders had started to shed their petals like fat confetti onto the lawn. Before long the irises, Kate’s favourite, would start to come through. She adored this time of year in the garden, so full of promise. Sweeping her gaze across the lawn, she breathed in the cool morning air. She glimpsed the river below as it snaked past, the angle of the moored boats giving away the direction of the tide. Looking behind, back up to the house, her eyes settled on the upstairs window, her and Robin’s bedroom. She wished she could sleep as deeply as her husband, but she’d woken early, as usual. She had been thinking about Flora’s launch party – worrying about it – although she didn’t really know why. Picking a few flowers on her way, Kate wandered back up to the house. She put the stems in a jar, popped them on the side and started laying the table ready for breakfast.

  She pottered a while, emptied the dishwasher, finished washing the pots leftover from the night before. Finally sitting at the table, she tried to distract herself with the crossword from the previous day’s paper. But she couldn’t concentrate. What had started as a fleeting thought when she woke up was now filling her mind. She tried to push it out, summoning other things to fill its place. But no matter how much she tried, she knew it wasn’t the party worrying her. Kate closed her eyes, gently shaking her head as if to rid it of the thoughts now flooding in. She threw her head back and opened her eyes again, determined not to let the tears fall. Monty’s front paws appeared on her knee. She scooped him up.

  ‘Am I a fool, Monty?’ she whispered to him. He looked at her briefly before settling down onto her lap. ‘Perhaps I am. But he’ll never leave me. So really, who’s the fool?’

  They both sighed heavily. She gently stroked his soft head, waiting for the uninvited thoughts to leave her mind so she could get on with her day.

  ‘Tea?’ Ruby stood wearing Billy’s shirt from last night, her voice a little too perky for his liking at this time in the morning. But given that it had taken quite the effort to win her back round after their temporary split, he knew he was lucky to have her there at all.

  Billy pushed his palms into his eyes, rubbing them, desperately trying to wake himself up. He sat up, reaching for the mug of steaming tea. ‘I could get used to this.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, sunshine. Your turn next time.’ She slipped back under the covers, nestling into him.

  ‘Hey, careful!’ He laughed, putting the mug back down on the table.

  ‘Do you really have to go to that meeting?’ Ruby ran her hand across his chest, kissing his skin softly.

  ‘Yes, very annoyingly I do. And I’m not going to be back here until at least nine tonight, which means I’m going to have to miss Flora and Johnny’s launch party.’

  Ruby sat up, hair falling across her face, her eyes wide. ‘You have told them, right? Please tell me you have.’

  He grimaced.

  ‘Oh, Billy, no! That’s really, really rubbish. Why can’t you move the meeting? Or just say no, you can’t go at such short notice? Flora’s going to be so disappointed, not to mention bloody furious, you didn’t tell her before. And as for your mother…’ Ruby reached for her cup of tea.

  ‘God, I know. But the client brought it forward from next week and now it’s a site visit too. I really can’t get out of it. I’ve got to be there. It’s the biggest project I’ve got on at the moment.’

  ‘Well, call Flora this morning and tell her. You must.’

  ‘I know, I know. I will, promise. And Mum. But – and I’m not saying this gets me off the hook – I have organised a surprise for the party, even if I can’t be there. Well, not a total surprise, but Flora asked if I knew anyone who might be able to sort out some music. So I’ve called in a favour from a couple of mates, brilliant DJs. They mix jazz, reggae, you name it… Last time I saw them they finished their set with a reggae version of “Wish You Were Here”.’

  ‘Sounds bloody awful, if you ask me.’ Ruby blew gently on her tea before taking a sip.

  ‘It sounds better than it, well, sounds. Honestly, they’re perfect for this kind of thing.’ Billy put his mug down on the table beside him. ‘Now, the good news is I don’t have to leave for another hour…’ He grinned at her and slowly slipped below the covers.

  ‘Billy, no, come on, I’ve got to get to work.’ She laughed, wriggling underneath him. Resisting Billy was never easy. Ruby resigned herself to being late for work. Again.

  Mack poured himself another coffee and carried it outside to the small courtyard at the back of the shop. The air outside was cool, the sun yet to reach it. He took a seat in the corner, the smell of the young lavender plants hanging gently around him. With Kate’s help, Flora and Johnny had transformed the flower beds that ran around three sides, clearing them of weeds, filling them with fresh earth and planting them up. Kate had produced a huge antique outdoor mirror from a reclamation yard and it hung on the back wall, reflecting light back into the space.

  He looked up at the window above, remembering with a jolt how his own son would sit on the windowsill, watching the grown-ups below. Changing the records so that the music wouldn’t stop and, more importantly, the party wouldn’t end. Which in turn meant he could stay up that little bit longer. The familiar stab of love and pain filled Mack’s chest. How he wished Elizabeth would appear at the back door, gently chiding him to get a move on, finish his coffee and get the shop opened up.

  The last few weeks had taken their toll on him. Not just the physical demands of sorting out the shop, but emotionally, too. Of course, he was relieved not to be carrying the business on his own any more, but there was also a sense of it moving on without him. As much as Johnny and Flora insisted his involvement was invaluable, he couldn’t bear the thought that they might just feel sorry for him. And though he knew it was time to slow down – the ache in his bones after shifting so many boxes reminding him of that with every move he made – he didn’t know what he would do without the shop. It had been his companion for so many years; a constant when those he’d loved had gone. His alibi when he hadn’t wanted to engage with the world outside the walls of it.

  Now, a brand-new sea-green awning hung in place over the front of the shop. The new window display consisted of wooden boxes painted in bright colours and piled high with various bottles perched on the top (Kate’s idea; Flora had been dubious at first, but they all had to admit it looked fantastic).

  Inside, the mix of Mack’s original wooden shelves with the new tasting table, copper-topped counter and thoughtfully positioned, warm spotlighting (all Johnny’s work) had transformed the space. Mack had got so used to climbing over boxes, he hadn’t registered the fact that they stopped customers actually being able to get to some of the shelves. But he loved how it looked now. He just wished Elizabeth was here to see it, and he knew she’d have loved it too.

  A loud banging on the door brought him out of his reverie. Making his way towards it, he saw a smiling face at the window, waving. It was Colin, all in green. In his arms was an enormous Tupperware box.

  Mack unlocked the door. ‘Colin! Come in. What are you doing here so early? We’re not open yet.’

  ‘Morning, Mack. I know, my sincere apologies for not giving you warning but I wanted you to be able to smell these whilst they’re still warm.’ Colin nodded his head towards the box, putting it down on the counter. ‘Oh, my word, look at this! It looks fantastic in here, Mack!’ Colin took in the spruced-up surroundin
gs. ‘I love this…’ He tapped the new counter-top, then looked around again. ‘And look at the tasting table, so clever!’

  ‘Well, thank you, Colin. Flora and Johnny—’

  ‘And who did these?’ Colin peered down at the cards on the shelf near him, started reading. ‘“If you like Sauvignon Blanc, you’ll love this crisp, fresh English white wine from a wonderful producer in Devon, made from the Bacchus grape…” Oh, that is very good – did Flora write these?’

  ‘Yes, she did. It must have taken her hours. She’s done them so beautifully… Would you like a coffee, Colin?’

  ‘No, no, not stopping. I just wanted to drop these off, as I said.’

  ‘Ah, yes… what’s in there?’ Mack peered at the box.

  Colin lifted the lid with a flourish. ‘My much-loved, though I say so myself, home-made Parmesan biscuits. Thought they might go down nicely tonight at the party. I’ll need the box back but I hope there’ll be enough for everyone to have one or two. How many are you expecting?’

  ‘They look absolutely delicious, thank you. You really didn’t need to do that, you know.’

  ‘Oh, come now, it’s the least I could do, after all these years you’ve kept my glass topped up.’ Colin put the lid back on the box, clearly delighted with the praise. ‘I thought they’d go a treat with our drinks tonight. I assumed you’d be serving something sparkling?’

  ‘Yes, of course, thank you. I think we’re about fifty people so plenty enough for a good party.’

  ‘I’d say so. Well, I am very much looking forward to it. I’ll leave you to it now, but do let me know if there’s anything I can do to help later. I’d be so happy to.’

  ‘I think Johnny and Flora have got everything well under control, but thank you. Just come along and enjoy the celebration, try some new wines. And you’re very welcome to bring a friend.’