Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
After dropping her father off at Nate’s workshop, Lark had headed straight to her shop.
She hadn’t called in to say hello to her friend – if she could still call him that; he might not think of her that way any longer – as she normally would.
After what had happened last night, it would’ve felt too strange, and she didn’t want her dad to pick up on any weirdness between her and Nate.
It would only lead to him asking questions, and the last thing she needed was to have to navigate those first thing on a Sunday morning.
She hadn’t even got her head around it all herself without having to explain whatever it was to her dad.
It was bad enough trying to think of a way to get him to come round to Lark’s Vintage Bazaar rather than her pick him up at Nate’s workshop without him asking questions.
They’d agreed to finish whatever they were working on at twelve o’clock, which would give them enough time to get home and get changed before heading to the Jolly for the Sunday dinner she’d promised her dad.
As a rule, she wouldn’t think twice about picking him up from Nate’s, and her dad would know that too.
But today, Nate was the last person she wanted to see, which wasn’t an ideal situation since Nate and Louisa were supposed to be joining them for the meal.
She puffed out her cheeks as she parked her car in a space a few doors down from her shop.
‘How have you even got yourself into this mess?’ she asked herself out loud.
She didn’t know where things were going to go from here.
How could they ever be the same? And as for that dratted feeling that just wouldn’t go away.
Jeez, if anything was outstaying its welcome, it was that!
It was all such a crazy mix in her head and she didn’t know what to do about it.
She swept her gaze around the square through the car window, taking in all the festive displays and halting at The Happy Hartes Bookshop, which was a delicious Christmas confection. Everywhere was cheerfully oblivious to the turmoil that was raging inside her.
Heaving herself out of the car, she made her way to the shop, avoiding the icy patches that had managed to dodge the salt. She’d just put her key in the door when she heard a voice calling her from further up the square.
She turned her head to see Ando Taylor in his usual garb of ripped jeans, battered leather jacket, the latest trainers favoured by students and baseball cap turned back-to-front.
His hair was hanging down his back like over-bleached rats’ tails.
No matter what the season, or how inclement the weather, Ando always wore exactly the same.
Today, he must be freezing, thought Lark.
‘’Ow do,’ he said, giving a familiar Yorkshire greeting and a lopsided smile.
His eyes were bleary, and he looked somewhat worse for wear.
She wondered if he was hungover from indulging in the home brew he regularly spoke of.
Gut Rot, he called it. He seemed to have an endless supply and had regularly tried to tempt Jasmine back to his digs with the promise of a glass or two to help wash down his out-of-date pickled eggs.
Despite the fact Jasmine had never taken him up on his offer, he’d persisted until she’d started dating Max.
Which was when he’d turned his attentions to Lark.
Lark massaged her brow with her fingertips. She didn’t want to hurt Ando’s feelings, but she’d hardly slept a wink last night, fretting about what had happened with her and Nate. And she could really do without Ando’s clumsy, ill-advised advances right now.
‘Morning, Ando.’ She busied herself with opening the door, hoping he’d get the message that she didn’t want to talk.
‘That’s a couple of fit birds you’ve got there.’ He nodded towards the mannequins in the shop’s window display. ‘Just my type, they are an’ all.’ He gave a leery smirk that made her instantly picture Stella wiping the floor with him for his inappropriate comment.
Not knowing how to answer his rather odd statement, she said, ‘I’ll see you later, Ando, I’ve got lots to do today.’
‘What? On a Sunday? Who works on a Sunday?’
Ando didn’t seem to work on any day. As far as anyone knew, he spent his time with the skateboarders at the local park.
‘Thought you might fancy grabbing a bag of chips and some scraps from the chippy and having a wander down to the skateboard park.’
Jasmine popped into her mind this time. Lark could picture what her friend would have to say about that. It would definitely feature something about it being her idea of hell.
‘I don’t know what on earth gave you the idea I’d like that, Ando, but it’s a no, thank you. See you later.’ With that, she left him, mouth agape, standing on the pavement, as she pushed the door open, stepped inside and quickly closed it behind her.
Inside, with the door bolted, she clutched her hands to her chest, guilt flooding through her and making her face burn.
What had made her speak to Ando so coldly?
It wasn’t like her at all. And he was a harmless soul really.
A bit lost, maybe, but he didn’t deserve her being so dismissive of him.
What had happened with Nate wasn’t Ando’s fault and it wasn’t fair that she took her bad mood out on him.
She had to fight to stop herself from going out there and apologising.
But the rational side of her told her to do that would be a mistake.
He’d only take it as encouragement, and she didn’t need to add Ando to her list of problems right now.
Lark spent the morning arranging the clothes rails and setting up a new display of vintage evening bags.
That particular task had been a welcome distraction, not least because the items were so exquisite.
Using artfully arranged tree branches she’d sprayed silver and stood in a hammered silver bowl, she’d created a display from which to hang the items. Amongst them was a nineteen-fifties clutch covered in ruby-red sequins with a faux ruby clasp.
Next to that she’d hung an electric-blue satin affair from the seventies, trimmed with zigzags in silver leather.
But her favourite was the nineteen-thirties pouch-style bag in silver chainmail that she’d found at the bottom of a mixed box of goods she’d picked up at a vintage fair in Harrogate.
Though the metal of the bag had tarnished, it was still a thing of great beauty and she’d had to think hard about whether or not she could part with it.
She was still tweaking the display when there was a knock at the door, making her start.
‘Oh no, who’s this?’ she grumbled to herself.
Her first thought was Ando. And just as she was considering whether or not to ignore it, she heard her dad’s voice calling her name as he knocked again.
Her next thought was to check the time. Was it midday already?
She was surprised to find it was only eleven thirty.
‘Hi, Dad,’ she said, as she opened the door to him. ‘You’re early.’
‘Nate said he had to be somewhere unexpectedly, so we finished up earlier than planned. I offered to stay and carry on with sanding the units, but he wouldn’t entertain it, said it was fine, that I should get myself home.’
‘Oh, right.’ Though she could feel herself squirming inside, she tried to act casual.
‘Maybe he had something to pick up. He occasionally gets calls from people wanting to get rid of stuff there and then. You’d be surprised how many folk expect you to just drop everything. I get it with stuff for the shop, too.’
‘I’m not sure that was the reason. The lad didn’t seem himself at all today – he’s been quiet all morning.
I did wonder if he wasn’t feeling well, or coming down with something.
The shadows under his eyes were much more pronounced today.
He looked pale, too. When I asked him if he was all right, he muttered something about how he’d been better.
I didn’t like to push after that, thought if he wanted to tell me he would in his own time. ’
Lark felt her father scrutinise her face.
‘Well, I s’pose there’s a lot going around at the moment, and he has been under a lot of pressure to get those units finished.
’ There was no way she was going to share with her dad what had happened between her and Nate last night.
Though she had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before he started digging with a vengeance.
And though she couldn’t help but feel relieved when her father told her that Nate wouldn’t be joining them for Sunday dinner, a big part of her was consumed by guilt at the thought of him being on his own when he could’ve been spending time with them.