Chapter Nine
Kat’s To-Do List
Find the old to-do list
Thank-you card for Liam? Is that weird?
Call Liam Wait for Liam to text
I hated waiting. I’d always hated waiting.
As a kid, it was the queue at the ice-cream van.
As a teenager, it had been waiting for the DVD release of my favourite films so I could rewatch them again and again.
As an adult, it was waiting for the latest season of Grey’s Anatomy to come onto Prime Video, even when I promised myself not to watch yet another season.
Impatience should be my middle name instead of Jane.
So, it wasn’t surprising that I spent the days after the social club with shaking legs, praying for Liam’s text to come through.
But he took his sweet time, and I was sure he was doing it on purpose to torture me.
It was only Liam being evasive. After Sandra’s social club announcement, I’d had numerous visits from locals.
The day after the social club, Davide and John knocked. They were a gay couple with matching bright white teeth. They brought over homemade pastel de natal and asked about the renovation progress. I showed them around the house, and they ummed and ahhed over my plans.
Davide patted my arm maternally. ‘We were doing up our Victorian house last year. I had to do all the design myself. It was a nightmare. I’d never had so much – what did you call it, darling?’
‘Decision paralysis,’ John chirped up.
‘Yes. Decision paralysis. An interior designer is like gold dust around here; we don’t have anyone local.’ He leaned in. ‘And some of the Cheshire ones are a bit Real Housewives, if you catch my drift,’ he added with a wink.
‘I don’t think that will be a problem,’ John said, the more strait-laced of the two. ‘Pat said Kat is a designer.’
‘Oh,’ Davide said, his palms coming to his cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry –’
‘No, no.’ I laughed. ‘I’m a graphic designer, not an interior designer.’
Davide waved his hand. ‘You will have a natural eye for these things.’
On the second day, I was mid-shower when the doorbell rang again. Rita and Jamal were an older couple. Jamal was shorter with a receding hairline and Rita had perfectly quaffed greying hair and a cashmere jumper.
Coastal grandma jumped to mind.
‘We’re number twenty-six. Next door to Pat and Steve.’ Rita smiled. ‘Pat suggested you might need some food, with the state of the kitchen, so we brought you this –’ She handed me a foil-covered dish. ‘It’s cottage pie. It’s still warm if you want to eat it now –’
‘Or we have a microwave if you ever need to use it,’ Jamal said with a crooked smile.
‘Thank you so much,’ I said, genuinely overwhelmed by the gesture. ‘Wow – I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I really appreciate it.’
‘It’s no problem.’ Rita smiled, patting my arm. ‘It’s what neighbours do.’
On the third day, my phone finally buzzed with a random number, and my heart lurched. Liam. It had to be Liam, finally.
‘Hello?’ I answered tentatively.
‘Oh, Kat. Thank god.’ Auntie Sandra sounded out of breath, and I felt sufficiently guilty about my disappointment.
‘Lydia gave me your number; I hope you don’t mind.
I wondered if I could ask for a favour. We’re hosting an event at the club this afternoon.
Afternoon tea for some elderly folks from the community.
We asked for volunteers, but no one signed up.
We paid it no mind ’cos Pat and I can cope ourselves, but she’s got a cold’ – my auntie inhaled to continue – ‘and given everyone is a bit older, she doesn’t want to spread it.
Do you think you might be able to help? I wouldn’t usually ask, but—’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh, you’re a lifesaver.’ Sandra sighed. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll be there in twenty,’ I agreed, and we hung up, feeling warm and fuzzy that I’d been able to help.
As I walked through the club door twenty minutes later, the club had been transformed into a function room.
Sandra was throwing ivory tablecloths onto six large round tables.
Several bouquets of flowers sat in ornate vases.
The usual heavy wooden chairs were replaced with elegant limewash Chiavari chairs.
‘Thank you for coming in so last minute.’ Sandra squeezed me into a hug. She wore a dress with vibrant pink and orange peonies. Meanwhile, I wore jeans and a stripy T-shirt paired with beat-up trainers.
I ran my hand through my hair, unruly as ever. ‘Was there a dress code?’
‘No, no. Don’t be silly,’ Sandra said. ‘Pat and I like to make an effort because the old dears do. It’s not compulsory. I need you back of the house anyway.’
‘Auntie! You shove me in the back because I didn’t come dressed in my Sunday best?’
Sandra rolled her eyes indulgently. ‘I see Lydia is rubbing off on you already.’
I helped Sandra set up the tables, copying her formation. After the first table, we got into a steady rhythm, and by the end, the tables looked beautiful. The ivory tablecloths complemented the pink, yellow, and green of the bouquets in the centre of the tables.
‘The flowers are beautiful,’ I remarked.
Sandra nodded. ‘Rebecca, the local florist. She donates them every month. Lovely girl.’
‘She is talented.’
‘She is indeed.’ Sandra turned to me. ‘Kat, do you think you could get some extra napkins from the back, please?’
‘Of course.’ I’d not been in the back yet, but I guessed it was the room behind the bar that Sandra dipped in and out of. I headed around the bar and through the doors and stopped in my tracks.
I almost did a double-take when I saw Liam dressed in chef whites.
He was cramped in the small kitchen, his focus on the tiny cucumber sandwiches he was placing on tiered ceramic stands.
He glanced up as I walked in, and his eyes flickered across me.
Lingering in places, he lingered all over me – my legs, my breasts, up to my neck, and finally, my face.
For a moment, I wondered if he was checking me out, but his resting bitch face slotted into place quickly, ridding me of the absurd thought.
‘Kat.’ Liam nodded.
‘Liam,’ I repeated in the same tone.
Liam returned to assembling sandwiches. ‘Sandra roped you in, did she?’
‘What are you doing?’ I blurted out.
‘I’m skydiving. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making sandwiches. They get here in half an hour, and I’m behind.’
‘I presumed they’d just buy them in. From a caterer or something.’
‘No.’ Liam wrinkled his nose like someone else making sandwiches was out of the question.
‘You come in every month and prepare tiny sandwiches for elderly people. By hand. In this tiny kitchen.’
‘They are just sandwiches.’
‘Why?’
Liam’s dark eyes lifted from the sandwiches, and he gave me a look. I wasn’t sure what the look was trying to convey, but it sent a weird feeling up my spine.
‘I have a heart, Red.’ Liam sighed. ‘They might not remember today, but they’ll have had a good time.
We play some music, and they sing along.
They never forget the words, even now. And the care home appreciates it.
There isn’t loads for people with dementia to do, to get out and about. Funding cuts.’
I opened my mouth and closed it again. Liam looked up again at the expression I couldn’t keep off my face.
‘If you’re going to stand there, gawping, you can help. Chop this.’ Liam held out a cucumber, and I could feel a blush creep up my skin. There was something about the way his hand was gripped – nope. Not going there. Abort, abort.
I cleared my throat. ‘Sandra said something about napkins.’
‘She can wait.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Okay.’
I washed my hands and stood beside him. Our hips accidentally brushed, and I pulled back like lightning struck me.
‘No, not lengthways.’
Liam’s body came around me. I felt the heat of it first, then the warmth of his hand coming over mine.
‘Thin, round slices like this.’ He guided my hand, his hand dwarfing mine. Liam was gentle, and I stared as the knife cut through in smooth, measured slices. Liam’s breath was at my neck, and I suppressed a shiver.
‘There you go,’ Liam murmured, his voice low. He stood back, going back to his station, and we stood side by side again. I was annoyed with myself that I had liked his body near mine – stupid, stupid body.
‘Thanks,’ I said hoarsely.
Then, I realised I’d let a man show me how to cut a fucking cucumber like I wasn’t capable of doing it myself. I’d been hypnotised by his body and the warmth rolling off it.
‘About the house –’ I blurted out.
Liam cocked an eyebrow, waiting for me to finish my sentence.
‘Are you still going to help? I didn’t hear from you.’
‘Have you been waiting by the phone, Red?’
I could feel my face burn. ‘No.’
Liam’s lips twitched. ‘I’m moving some stuff around. Give me some time.’
‘It’s time-sensitive –’
‘I’ll get it sorted on your schedule. Don’t worry about it.’
‘I –’ I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. ‘How can you be so casual? We need to set a timeline. Some parameters –’
‘I do this every day, remember. It’s no stress.’
We chopped in silence as my mind whirled. I’d been taught that everything needed a plan, even if I screwed it up. Liam seemed way too cavalier about this.
‘Where do you live in London?’ Liam’s voice made me jump out of my busy thoughts.
‘Oh. I share a flat with some people near Camden. But I gave my notice when I moved up here. I miss the location, but living with six people was getting old.’
Liam’s eyes bugged. ‘Six people?’
I shrugged. ‘Not that surprising in London.’
‘I think I’d end up killing someone.’
I chuckled. ‘I’ve been close. Especially when one housemate kept eating my leftovers.’
Liam whistled. ‘Cheeky.’
‘I know, right? Leftover pizza is sacred.’
‘It’s breakfast.’
I grinned. ‘Exactly.’
Liam and I smiled, and then I glanced away, refocusing on the task at hand.
‘I’m moving back. I’ll end up buying somewhere further out. I will miss Camden.’
‘Overrated,’ Liam grumbled.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘London is overrated?’
Liam grunted, and it made me laugh.
‘What’s your beef with London?’
‘Everyone’s miserable.’
I snorted. Oh, the irony.
Liam continued, ‘And rude. It’s overpopulated and overpriced. Too many Prets and not enough good pubs.’ He arched an eyebrow at me. ‘I’m sure you noticed the Guinness is shite.’
‘Well, yes,’ I said. I’d had plenty of foamy, expensive pints of Guinness in packed pubs, standing next to finance bros in their quarter zips.
‘But it’s a great city. Sure, there are downsides, but there’s always something exciting to do.
Somewhere amazing to eat. Great theatres and art galleries. ’ I sighed. ‘I love the galleries.’
‘We have all of that here, too,’ Liam said, a stubborn edge to his jaw.
I snorted. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’
Liam turned to me. ‘Is that a challenge, Red?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Okay.’ Liam dusted off his hands. ‘Let’s make it interesting. I bet you that you end up falling in love with this place. I bet you that you never go back.’
I gave a melodic laugh. ‘Are you kidding me?’
‘I’m serious,’ Liam said, lifting his palm.
‘You’re on. Easiest bet I’ve ever made.’ I lifted my hand. Then, I paused, lifting my pinkie finger. It would be so much funnier this way. There was something funny about making a grown man pinkie swear.
‘Let’s pinkie swear on it.’
‘Deal.’
Liam wrapped his finger around mine, and I tried to ignore the hum of awareness that buzzed up my skin. Liam’s eyes were on me again, a faint smile on his face. Truce – was this some sort of truce?
He cleared his throat and returned to assembling sandwiches, and I pretended not to be disappointed about his focus moving elsewhere.
‘It’s nice that you do this, you know. You, Pat, and Sandra. I didn’t say it before because I was shocked to see you in chef whites.’
‘New kink unlocked, huh?’ He gave me a side-long glance. My face heated. When I went red, I went red. Tomato. The curse of the gingers.
Liam grinned. ‘We raise the money to cover the food and drink costs. Just because they are a bit poorly doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have a pint. Or a glass of prosecco for the ladies.’
‘You know, that’s a dated view that women aren’t supposed to drink –’
‘I’m winding you up.’ Liam bumped his elbow against mine. ‘I don’t have a problem with you sinking Guinness.’ His tone was light, even if it didn’t reflect in his face.
‘I don’t sink Guinness.’
‘Sure, Red,’ he said, laced with sarcasm.
‘Can you stop calling me that? It’s a bit immature, don’t you think?’
‘Definitely immature,’ Liam said, ‘but unfortunately for you, I find it entertaining.’
I rolled my eyes, and Liam’s lips twitched. It was the most relaxed I’d seen him, jovial even. It was… nice. I felt like maybe we had thawed some of the ice between us.
We arranged the sandwiches next to cakes and scones on the tiered stands.
‘How many people are coming?’ I asked Liam as he arranged another five stands. He kept bringing more from his car. I was standing uselessly, watching his large hands doing delicate work. It was such a juxtaposition that it threw me off.
‘Do you always ask this many questions?’
‘Answer them and I’ll stop.’
‘About fifty in total. I store the stands at my house because there’s no space here.’
‘That’s… nice of you.’
‘Yes, you’ve mentioned how nice it is. Several times.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘It’s an impressive operation.’
‘It was all Pat’s and Sandra’s idea. It’s their baby.’
Sandra’s voice behind us made me jump. ‘You’re being too modest, Liam.
’ Sandra collected the stands, arching an eyebrow at Liam.
‘We couldn’t do this without you, and you know it.
’ Sandra touched my shoulders. ‘Love, would you help us work the room out there? We like to have a chat with everyone while they are here.’
‘Sure,’ I glanced at Liam, ‘unless –’
‘As helpful as you’ve been, I can manage on my own.’
I nodded, disappointed to leave the small kitchen, where I had the excuse to watch Liam working. I walked back into the main room and was welcomed to the sound of Glenn Miller playing over the speakers. Every table was full, with some guests chatting happily while others were quieter and withdrawn.
Sandra touched my shoulder. ‘Some have more severe symptoms than others. It can show itself in very different ways, too. My dad, God bless him, struggled with fits of anger. He was so frustrated with himself. But others are more easygoing and relaxed. Why don’t you start on Dot’s table?
’ Sandra pointed to the lady dressed in a black-and-white polka-dot blouse with immaculate black trousers.
Dot was inspecting her manicured hands like they didn’t meet her standards.
She had perfectly coiffed white hair, which came down to her shoulders.
Impressive, considering she must have been in her late eighties.
She had bright red kitten heels with a matching red gloss handbag. She was glamourous. She was terrifying.
But I took a deep breath and approached her table anyway.