Chapter Six
As I walked up Everly Heath High Street, I wrapped my trench coat closer around me.
The pavement was icy beneath my feet, and I made a note to buy some better shoes if I headed into Manchester at the weekend.
Another gust of wind whipped around me. I squeezed my eyes shut.
I was freezing even in a coat, gloves, thick tights, and a woolly dress.
This would have kept me warm in London. They clearly weren’t kidding about it being colder up here.
I approached a building resembling a miniature town hall with its columns and red bricks.
A sign above the door read EVERLY HEATH SOCIAL CLUB.
The soft light coming from the windows made the social club look cosy – a little port in the storm.
Opposite the social club was an arcade of charming little shops with a Victorian lead canopy, housing an independent coffee shop, a delicatessen, a bakery, a wine shop, cheesemonger’s, and an old-school hardware shop.
It was nothing like I remembered as a kid.
It was something out of a fucking Hallmark film.
All I remembered from my childhood visits were the rapid noise of windscreen wipers, relatives that pinched my cheeks, and cold sausage rolls. Suffice to say, I hadn’t been all that impressed.
But I had to admit that Everly Heath was kind of… cute.
Tentatively, I stepped into the social club’s arched porch and through the double doors.
The room was split into two very different events.
In the left-hand room, a man with a grey ponytail in a silver waistcoat was crooning a Dean Martin tune while a single disco ball spun, with an audience of about eight clapping women, all in their sixties.
On the right-hand side, a football match playing on a big projector garnered a much bigger crowd of men and women wearing red football shirts and silent disco headphones. The headphones flashed bright neon colours, a comical contrast to their grave expressions as their eyes tracked the ball.
The door banged closed behind me, and every head in the room swivelled towards me.
About forty people stared at me curiously. I gave a weak smile as I shuffled to the bar, desperate to find Sandy and justify my existence. I walked up to the bar, my foot tapping repeatedly. I was beginning to get desperate when a blonde head appeared from a room behind the bar.
My stomach dropped. Oh god.
‘Hiya, love.’ My auntie Sandra hadn’t looked up yet, busying herself putting away pint glasses. ‘Have you got your membership card?’
Her voice sparked a memory – the church – the musty smell, incense, and candle wax.
Panic rose in my throat, and my cheeks were red with shame.
Before I had a chance to flee, Sandra turned around and faced me.
Her dark green eyes went wide, her mouth a perfect ‘O’.
Sandra always had the perfectly quaffed blonde bob, and today was no exception.
‘Kat? What –’ She rushed around the bar.
‘Hi, Sandra,’ I said meekly. She pulled me into her chest, and the dark sludge of shame filled me.
Sandra pulled back, her hand coming up to my cheek as she inspected my face. ‘What are you doing here? Are you okay? Do you need money?’
I laughed despite myself. ‘No, no. I’m fine. I’m sorry. I thought Lydia would have mentioned it. Dad left me the house on Evanshore Road.’
‘Evanshore Road? Where our Brian grew up?’
‘Yeah. He bought it a year ago and didn’t tell anyone.’
Sandra frowned. ‘Why don’t I get you a drink, and you can tell me all about it?’
Ten minutes later, I had explained the whole plan to Sandra, but I hadn’t touched the pint of Guinness in front of me. I stared at it like it was my worst enemy. Sandra had been supportive, offering help if I needed it and promised to tell Brian, too.
‘We’ll get that house sorted out in no time, love.’ Sandra patted me on the arm. ‘I’ll add it to the agenda for tonight.’
‘The agenda?’ I frowned.
‘The quarterly members meeting is happening in –’ Her eyes widened as she checked her watch. ‘About fifteen minutes. Shit.’
‘Oh – don’t worry about putting it on the agenda. Please,’ I insisted, as Sandra’s attention moved away.
‘Ray!’ she shouted to the man crooning in the silver waistcoat. ‘Ray! Five minutes, then we need to set up.’
Ray halted mid-way through ‘Fly Me to the Moon’, his face turning chartreuse. He stomped his foot. ‘Sandra, I am mid-set.’
‘Ray, I told you –’
Ray threw down his cravat. ‘They would have never done this to Ol’ Blue Eyes. I’ll tell you that for free! Every week, Sandra. I never get my slot –’
He continued to argue with Sandra, who cocked her hip and argued back.
Ray had moved on to complaining about football taking precedence over ‘culturally significant performances’ when the door swung open, and a burst of colour walked in in the shape of my cousin.
Lydia scanned the room, finding me perched on a table between the two events, not wanting to side with either.
‘Mum texted me that you were here. Oh my god.’ Lydia gasped as she stared at my Guinness. ‘How on earth are you drinking that?’
‘Well, I usually like a Guinness, but after last night, when you led me astray…’ I cocked an eyebrow.
‘It wasn’t my fault!’
‘You Uber Eats’d that last bottle of prosecco!’ I exclaimed.
Lydia winced. ‘I thought we needed one more.’
‘Everyone knows you never need one more.’
Lydia grinned. ‘It’s so weird seeing you here at the club. It’s like seeing a teacher outside of school. Did you get a nosebleed on the M6 coming this far up north?’
‘You know I don’t have a car. Never needed one.’
Lydia shook her head. ‘Londoners.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Go get a drink. It’s my round.’ I handed her my card.
‘Thanks, cuz. I’ll get the next one.’ Lydia bounced off to the bar, chatting animatedly with her mum.
I nipped to the loo and on my return saw a familiar dark-haired man beside my cousin.
Liam.
A shorter man with dirty-blonde hair and dimples stood next to him.
The blonde man and Lydia stood with pints and amused expressions while Liam stared straight ahead.
He hadn’t spotted me yet, thank god. The football match had finished, chairs and tables being lifted and moved as Sandra conducted the room like an orchestra.
I was frozen, unsure if I wanted to go and stand near Liam.
Was I going to have to grovel? Did I want to grovel?
Fuck. I should have spoken to Lydia about this earlier to get her onside.
‘Kat.’ Lydia waved. Broad shoulders tensed as I slowly walked towards them.
‘Hi,’ I said to no one in particular.
Liam’s eyes finally met mine and began an unreadable scan of my face. Those eyes flickered down, taking in my body too. The perusal was lingering, and judgemental and my stupid face went red. Which was really inconvenient when I remembered what Liam had called me at the funeral.
I raised my head to meet Liam’s gaze, but his expression was vacant. It revealed nothing. The lights were on, but no one was home.
Lydia smiled brightly. ‘Kat, this is Liam. He’s the builder I mentioned last night.’
‘We’ve met.’ Liam’s deep voice sounded resigned. Grumpy.
‘We have,’ I added uselessly. Lydia handed me my pint, and I stared at it.
‘I’m Jack.’ The dark-blonde man grinned and extended a hand. ‘I work with Liam.’
I gave a sickly smile. ‘My condolences.’ Jack gave a strangled laugh like he hadn’t expected my joke.
‘When did you meet?’ Lydia frowned, eyes flitting between Liam and me, finally sensing the tension in the room.
‘Ah –’ I began.
‘I went around this morning like you asked, Lydia. At eight.’
Lydia’s head swung to me, eyes wide. ‘Eight. As in this morning.’ She probably recalled stumbling into the taxi at three o’clock in the morning. I’d had a measly five hours’ sleep before Liam turned up, seemingly unannounced.
‘Yup,’ I added.
‘Your cousin wasn’t in the best mood,’ Liam said, sarcasm dripping from his words. He turned to Lydia. ‘Before you mither me, she’s gone with someone else.’
‘About that.’ I bit my lip. ‘See, I made some calls today. And it seems like everyone else is booked up.’ I breathed. ‘I’m going to struggle to find someone in time.’
I glanced up at Liam, trying to assess his reaction. He watched people filing in for the members’ meeting.
I cleared my throat. ‘Liam.’ His eyes flickered to me, then quickly away. ‘I was wondering if you might be able to look into it.’
He took a sip of his drink. ‘Look into what?’
The bastard was going to make me ask. Or beg, maybe. His expression was neutral and utterly infuriating. Lydia’s eyes were wide, bouncing between us like it was the final at Wimbledon.
‘If you could look into helping with the house,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘Please.’
The last word was hard to get out.
Liam’s eyes were indecipherable. Clearly, he didn’t like me, but I waited patiently for his reply anyway.
Come on, give me something. Anything. Just don’t say no.
Liam and I locked into a staring contest. In my periphery, I watched his chest expand with each breath. His hands were clenched at his side. His face gave nothing away. It wasn’t until he took a deep breath that I knew what was coming.
He exhaled, delivering the final blow.
‘No.’