Valerie
Page 9
Only when she dodged past a chugger in the precinct did she realise where her instincts had taken her. She slowed as she approached the café, unnerved by the number of customers on the ground floor. Maybe this was a weekday morning rush, but she couldn’t see herself walking through the door and getting past all those pensioners without embarrassing herself. She was still equivocating when a hand brushed her elbow and she spun around to find Max breathless in front of her. The sight sent a wave of fury crashing through her body that she didn’t completely understand.
‘You followed me,’ she growled.
‘Amy –’ Max began, but she cut her off.
‘Drew said you weren’t seeing anyone. Is he right?’
‘Just calm –’
‘Is he right or am I right?’
Max scrubbed at her forehead. ‘You’re right.’
The words blunted her anger and she stared at the woman who Valerie had kept from her. Maybe her unkempt hair had grown since the taxi ride, but, other than that, she looked exactly as Amy remembered. But there was a disconnect in her brain – she couldn’t imagine Max even standing in the same room as Valerie, let alone anything else. It made her head whirl and she fumbled for one of the café’s external chairs to stop herself from tumbling over.
‘Steady on,’ Max mumbled then she shifted her weight. ‘So, how did you find out?’
Amy clenched her fingers around the metal backrest. ‘I came home early on Friday and heard her on the phone. I thought . . . I don’t know. She’s been strange about taxis in the past. I guess I just put two and two together. Until I walked in there, I didn’t realise . . .’
‘That I’m a woman.’ Max plunged her hands into her pockets. ‘Not surprising.’
‘With Valerie, nothing should be a surprise. You expect the unexpected! The second you think you know what she’s going to do, that’s when she lets rip and does something so crazy that you can’t believe you were gullible enough to give her the benefit of the doubt in the first place. What lies has she told you about me?’
‘Nothing but good things –’
Amy snorted. ‘Oh, yeah, right. I bet she’s said she’s this miserable, misunderstood woman who’s just trying to make a difference to the world. And I’m the horrible daughter who left her so why would you have anything to do with –’
‘It’s not like that,’ interrupted Max. ‘I swear, she’s spent half her time telling me how brilliant you are, how much she loves you.’
‘You’re lying,’ Amy muttered.
Max exhaled, glancing along the bustling precinct. Then she looked back and shook her head.
‘All right . . . You’re set on studying law at Durham. You got into it because of your dad, but your mum’s not keen on the idea. She saw how hard he had to work and she’d rather you had something of a life. You’re clever, she says. Though she reckons you don’t get any of that from her and I disagree. You’ve got a scar on your left knee from falling off your bike when you were eight. You were off school for a couple of weeks and she took the time off work. So, you spent days watching Sabrina the Teenage Witch and you couldn’t stop calling her “Zelda” after. Your favourite colour’s red, you hate prawns, you’ve been eighteen for five days, and she got you an iPad for your birthday, even though you’ve kept saying you don’t want one. I was sitting next to her when she ordered it.’
She fell silent with an anaemic smile, but Amy couldn’t return it. Her fingers were still coiled around the chair until it slipped away from her and clattered to the floor. They both jumped and Amy’s eyes flicked sideways towards the window. Ed had spotted the commotion and was watching, along with a gaggle of pensioners who probably had her pegged as a vandal.
A fresh wave of anger hit her as she righted the chair. She twisted back towards Max with her legs quivering.
‘And what has she told you about why I don’t live with her, hmm?’ she demanded.
Max hesitated just long enough for the truth to shine from her face.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Amy snapped as she pushed the café door open. ‘She’s playing you, Max. Don’t be an idiot, don’t fall for it.’
Chapter 13
Clarke Hospice wasn’t exactly the heart and soul at the best of times, all curtained windows and sombre faces. Max had done more than her fair share of runs down here in the past, covering for the lads who found it tough and Drew who had that annoying habit of opening his gob without engaging his brain. She had the nous to deal with it, letting people take their time and sit in for as long as they wanted. At the minute, she’d gladly stay in the car herself.
It took her two minutes to work her way up to going into reception. She’d been in here collecting people, but it was darker than she remembered. Even the stuffed teddies on the windowsill looked as though they’d been doused with cheap cola and left out to dry.
The receptionist glanced up from her computer, a warm look on her face. ‘Hello. Are you here to visit someone?’
‘I’m here to see Valerie Smythe,’ Max answered.
‘Oh. Of course.’ Her voice hadn’t altered as such, though her expression had flattened out. ‘May I ask what it’s regarding?’
Max licked her lips. ‘I’m a taxi driver and she, er, left some money in my cab. I’d like to give it back to her in person if she’s around. No offence.’
‘No, no, I completely understand and I appreciate your honesty. She’s with someone right now, but if you take a seat over there and help yourself to a coffee, she shouldn’t be long.’
It was easier to get a drink than stand there twiddling her thumbs. She sank into the cosy cream sofa and warmed her palms around a cup of coffee. The receptionist seemed welcoming again, throwing her the odd smile while she waited. Two minutes stretched into ten and the stickiness at Max’s collar intensified. Much more waiting and she could feel herself ready to bolt.
All that went out the window when Valerie stepped through the double doors with her arm wrapped around a colourless woman. Between them, they were clutching a ball of blankets that brought the scent of disinfectant into the reception. Valerie was so focused on bunching the blankets up before they fell apart that she didn’t spot Max sat there. She halted and rubbed the woman’s shoulder.
‘Are you sure you don’t want another cup of tea, hmm? You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want, I’m happy to sit with you.’
The woman shook her head. ‘We’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you.’
Valerie just squeezed her arm and watched her through the doors. As they whirred shut, the room settled for a few seconds until the receptionist cleared her throat.
‘You’ve got a visitor, Valerie.’
‘Hmm?’
‘A visitor,’ the receptionist repeated, nodding to the corner where Max was sat.
Valerie twisted around and the compassion drained out of her face. She went from sympathetic to horrified without missing a beat, leaving Max to clamber up with her coffee sloshing around in time with her stomach.
‘Can I help?’ Valerie queried.
Max blinked then dumped her cup on the nearby table. ‘I gave you a lift the other day. You left some money in the cab.’
‘Right.’ Nothing altered in Valerie’s expression, she didn’t even meet her eye. ‘Thank you.’
‘You don’t usually get people that honest,’ the receptionist chipped in.
Valerie tossed her a limp smile. ‘No. You don’t.’
That was her cue, Max realised, and she scrambled for her wallet. There was about £80 in there, a wad that made it look convincing at least. She held it out and waited. Valerie plucked it from her fingers like she would an unexploded bomb then flicked through it twice.
‘I think it’s short, actually. Was there anything else around the seat?’
Beyond her shoulder, the receptionist rolled her eyes and went back to her typing. Max didn’t have a choice but to go outside with her cheeks burning. She couldn’t look across at Valerie in case it caused
her to trip over, especially when she started talking.
‘Keep walking, don’t look at me. What the hell are you doing here? You can’t just show up at my place of work. It isn’t professional, it isn’t fair. I’ve told you what it’s like in there for me. They think I’m a liability, they’re looking for every reason to pounce –’
‘I’m trying to bloody well help,’ Max cut in.
‘Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.’
She spun around to face her. ‘Amy turned up at the cab office about a half hour ago. She’d heard you on the phone talking to me on Friday. Put two and two together, came up with five and landed first thing. Smart girl, like you said.’
Valerie’s lips parted and she swallowed. ‘I – I don’t understand.’
‘Like I said –’
‘Keep looking. Look for the money.’
Max snorted, but opened the car door and kneeled on the gravel. It snagged at her jeans as she stretched forward to search between the seats. Her fingers caught on some coins, despite only having the cab valeted yesterday, and she brought them out onto the polyester. She scraped her nails against the fabric before she managed to find her voice again.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked.
‘What did she tell you?’ Valerie questioned.
‘Nothing, not really. She’s angry and upset, that’s all. Like I said she’d be.’
That sounded more accusatory than she’d meant it to. Now the words were out, though, she couldn’t squash down the injustice rising in her throat. She dragged herself up using the door then dumped herself in the driver’s seat, gripping it with both hands as she continued.
‘I didn’t call because you don’t always answer, not when it’s me. Which is fine, except when something important happens.’
‘Max –’ Valerie began, but she wouldn’t let her finish.
‘Forget it. She’s gone to the café in the precinct, the one between the barbers’ and the bookies. She might still be there, I don’t know.’
‘Just wait and we can talk about this.’
She sniggered and reached for the door. ‘It’s not me you need to talk to.’
‘Look, I’m sorry –’
‘You’re not,’ Max interrupted, nudging her out of the way. ‘That’s the bloody problem.’
Chapter 14
The lower floor was a jumble of voices when Amy stepped out of the toilets.
Given how she’d sped upstairs without a word, she expected some response. All those pensioners downstairs for their Monday tea and currant teacake deal had a nosy streak, but none of them had migrated up here to satisfy their curiosity. In fact, the group that had been sat around the table in the far corner when she’d arrived had gone. The idea that customers had left thanks to her emotional appearance brought a flush to her cheeks. It made it impossible to creep down the stairs and slip away before Ed noticed – she had to either walk down there and have a mature discussion about it or stay trapped up here.
She was trying to focus on a Kate Atkinson novel twenty minutes later when creaks alerted her to someone climbing the stairs. Any hope that it might be a regular customer were dashed as Ed rounded the corner of the reading nook with a cup in his hand.
‘Hey,’ he said.
‘Hey,’ she returned.
‘I thought you might want . . .’ He cleared his throat and deposited the cup on the table. ‘I left it a bit in case you wanted to be alone then I figured you might need a drink so I –’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve cost you any business.’
Ed’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘What? No, why would you say that?’
‘There were people up here and they left because I ran up looking like –’
‘They went downstairs because I asked them to,’ he interjected.
She opened her mouth then closed it again. Nothing sprang to mind that wouldn’t make her sound stupid, but he just smiled and perched on the edge of the nearest bean bag chair. It would’ve swallowed him up if he hadn’t planted both feet on the carpet and rocked forward.
‘Had an experience at my aunt’s house once,’ he explained, glancing over to her. ‘There was me, a massive bean bag thing, and my cousin’s puppy. It was a terrier, a right little scruffy thing. Got really excited and started scratching everything – me, the chair . . . So, all the stuffing starts coming out and then it wets itself as well. Brilliant day, that was.’
Amy couldn’t help but grin. ‘And you decided to put all these up here because you like reliving the drama?’
‘Not so much reliving it as getting over it, not letting it beat me.’
‘That sounds very noble and grown-up,’ she replied.
‘Shush, don’t say that. I’m not planning on growing up.’
‘You run your own business,’ she pointed out.
He shrugged. ‘My dad never grew up, not really. If you’re not being true to yourself then what’s the point? That’s what he said. I’ve tried to put that into this place as much as I can. Reckon they’d have both been pleased with how it’s gone, my dad and . . . Sorry, I’ve done it again, haven’t I?’
Tears had begun streaming down her cheeks without her realising. She tried to mop them away with her arm, but they just dribbled onto her lap and pattered against the cover of Case Histories. Ed slipped from his chair and kneeled in front of her, extracting the book from her hands before rubbing her arm.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
‘Shush, you’re all right.’
She raised her chin, intending to argue, but his lopsided smile stopped her. The pressure of his hand against her arm suddenly squeezed like a blood pressure monitor and he stretched across her knees to kiss her. His elbow dug into her thigh and his lips were off-centre, but none of that mattered. It was perfect for being imperfect.
‘If I overstepped, I’m sorry,’ he said as he pulled away.
‘You didn’t, honestly. I enjoyed it.’
He sighed and rested back on his heels. ‘I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t here so I might as well –’
‘Ed –’
‘Let me finish, please. I need to say this so it’s right.’
He was chafing at his beard with his index finger until she grasped his hand and trapped it between hers. His fingers relaxed and he met her eye as he continued.
‘You’ve been coming in here all summer and it’s been nice. More than nice. With everyone else – especially my mum – I’m putting on a front, pretending that this place is doing all right when it’s not. We’re barely breaking even, and I’m letting my dad down – and yours – by not making a success of it. But that’s not what I . . . Look, I’ve been working here pretty much nonstop for three years. I don’t have days off, I can only afford to pay Davinder for lunchtimes and I’m too shattered by the time I get home to do much more than watch Netflix. I’m not kidding myself I’m a catch, especially not for someone like you.’
Amy stiffened. ‘Someone like me?’
‘No, I didn’t mean . . . Just that you’re going to uni, you’ll be a hotshot lawyer like your dad and I’m –’
‘Why does that matter?’
‘I’m aware of the differences, that’s all. Your mum’s standing for election next year, mine works at Morrison’s to pay the bills.’
‘So, what?’ Amy demanded. ‘My mum’s the snob, not me. And my dad wasn’t.’
‘I know that,’ Ed answered.
‘Then, what’s the problem?’
He tugged his hand away and wrapped it around his neck. ‘I’ve liked you since before, only it’s not what you say to a sixteen year old, not when her dad’s loaned you money either. It sounds creepy when you think about it like that.’
‘It’s not creepy,’ she insisted.
‘If I’d done anything about it then –’
‘But you didn’t,’ Amy interrupted, resting a hand on his cheek and feeling the bristles against her palm. ‘You’ve got nothing to feel guilty about.’
‘Mrs Smythe, it’s nice to –’
‘I didn’t see your food hygiene rating on the door. You’re supposed to display it prominently.’
‘Er . . . Well, we do. It’s right –’
‘Obviously not or I would’ve been able to see it, wouldn’t I? I like to know exactly what sort of establishment I’ve happened into. I mean, it’s hardly the Ritz, but I’d appreciate knowing whether I can expect salmonella with my lunch or not.’
Amy prodded Ed out of the nook. ‘Hey, can I get a tea please? Put it on my tab.’
‘Sure thing,’ he said, glancing between them. ‘Yorkshire?’
She nodded and watched him edge past Valerie. They listened to every clump on the stairs then Amy braced herself, expecting Valerie’s artic exterior to melt in favour of whatever was bubbling underneath the surface. Instead, she twirled and took a turn around the room in the way a building inspector might. She knocked her heel against the table legs to make them wobble and peered at the haphazard book organisation. Her expression froze when her eyes slipped back to the reading nook. She didn’t even seem to hear Ed creep up the stairs with a tray. Amy relieved him of it, smiled, and gestured for him go back downstairs. Valerie’s attention had been caught finally and she sniggered loudly.
‘What?’ Amy questioned.
‘Oh, I’m astonished you pay, that’s all. One of the key tenets of grooming is that they buy you things. You’re doing this wrong.’
Amy gripped the tray until her fingers numbed. ‘Well, you should know, you’re the expert. How old was Dad when you dug your claws in and how old were you? Although, I bet it was something else you handed to him on a plate, not money –’