Chapter 9
I pressed the bell to stop the bus at the top of town the following morning.
Elise knew me far too well. As soon as she’d said it, I realised I couldn’t wait a week before eliminating Steve Higgins as the Steven.
Alighting a stop early, I was going to walk up and down some of the side streets in the hope of spotting him and finding out if he was old, had no teeth or had hair sprouting out of his nose or ears.
The bus pulled into the stop and I yawned as I got off.
This searching for Steven thing was tiring.
I’d been up since six experimenting with different outfits just in case I did spot him, which was pretty pointless because there was no way I was planning to speak to him.
I’d finally settled on my favourite jeans and a plain navy tunic-style top. Very flattering.
I spotted a couple of window cleaners outside an estate agent to the north. Eek! I hadn’t thought about Steve Higgins being part of a team.
I tried to walk slowly and casually towards them without staring but how can you check out your potential destiny if you don’t actually look at him?
Then a thought struck me. Unless he was wearing clothes emblazoned with his name, how the hell would I know if he was Steve Higgins or not?
Duh! It seemed that ill-considered plans were becoming my forte.
One of the men was doing something at the back of the van. Perhaps that would have a name on it. The other one was up a ladder with a baseball cap obliterating his face.
‘So did you get your end away last night?’ shouted the one on the ladder, looking down at his colleague, before starting his descent.
What sort of question was that to be shouting out at half seven in the morning?
The other one shut the van doors, snorted loudly, then spat on the ground.
Ew! Dirty, disgusting man. Well, if that was Steve Higgins, then he wasn’t the Steven for me.
My Steven wouldn’t do something so gross.
I quickly crossed the road, preferring not to stick around to hear the answer to the question.
Glancing back, I checked the writing on the side of the van and my shoulders sagged as I read, ‘Steve Higgins Window Cleaning Services’.
Pants. I looked back at the two men again, just to be certain.
Baseball Cap lit a cigarette and the other one spat on the ground again before lighting up too. No. Not for me.
I turned around to take the shortest route to the shop, feeling disappointed yet at the same time glad I had closure instead of spending the week building him up into some sort of demi-god.
Ten minutes later, I unlocked the door to Seaside Blooms and stood in the middle of the empty shop, smiling.
I’d wasted yesterday but I wasn’t going to waste today.
When I got back home last night, Mum told me that Auntie Kay had phoned to say she was staying overnight in York but would be back by lunchtime and was looking forward to a progress report from me.
I needed to make sure I had something to report and I’d start with sorting out a plasterer.
Locking the door again, I made my way into The Outback and, while I waited for the kettle to boil, I sat at the desk and opened the Yellow Pages.
Places of Worship… Planning Consultants… Plant & Machinery Hire… Got it! Plasterers. Three pages. Let’s see… AA Plasterers… Ace Plastering… Aidan & Steve’s Plastering Services… Ooh. Aidan and STEVE.
I sat forward on the desk chair, a flutter of excitement in my stomach.
An unexpected source of Stevens. I lay the directory flat on the desk as I poured over the advert for Aidan and Steve.
‘Plastering, artexing, coving, skimming. Aidan and Steve each have over twenty-five years’ experience…
’ I stopped reading and sat back. Twenty-five years’ experience?
Even if they’d started out straight from school, that made them both over forty.
I didn’t envisage myself with a man ten to fifteen years my senior.
Oh well, plenty more fish in the sea or, in my case, plenty more Stevens in the phone directory. Interesting. I ran my finger down the page again. Ha! Stephen Lewis. No hint at his age. Oh, and Steve Pinder. And Steve Walters. Surely it was best practice to get three quotes.
I picked up the phone then paused. What person in their right mind selected their plasterer on the basis of their name? What the heck. The circumstances were exceptional.
An hour later there was a knock on the door. I’d left messages for the two Steves, but Stephen Lewis answered his phone on the third ring. He said he had a day off and was coming into town anyway so he’d pop by in an hour.
I wasted that whole hour getting ready. I re-did my make-up and faffed with my unruly hair.
I washed the mugs Elise and I had used yesterday and picked up the pens she’d spilled over the desk.
I even squirted some bleach down the toilet.
Don’t know why I did that. My final act of insanity was ordering coffee and muffins from The Chocolate Pot.
They don’t deliver but, determined not to make the same mistake of leaving the shop and missing Stephen, I persuaded the owner, Tara, to make an exception because we were, after all, only seven doors apart.
Opening the door, I beamed at the attractive man, probably in his mid-thirties. I eagerly took in the short dark hair (freshly cut), clean clothes (nice smell), bright blue eyes (beautiful) and friendly smile (dreamy). Exactly how I’d described on my Life Plan. OMG! He could be the Steven.
‘Sarah?’ he asked.
I nodded, dumbstruck by his beauty.
‘Stephen Lewis,’ he said. ‘We spoke earlier about a plastering quote.’
Stop staring at him. He’s speaking. Answer him.
‘I am at the right shop?’ Lines of confusion dented his perfect forehead. ‘It was you I spoke to earlier, wasn’t it?’
Speak! ‘Yes, er, sorry. Miles away. Come in.’
‘I hope you don’t mind me bringing the kids with me.’
Kids? I reluctantly peeled my eyes away from his face and looked down. Two small children clung onto his legs. How had I missed them?
‘And the baby,’ he continued.
There’s a baby too? Sure enough, there was a lime green pram next to him. How had I missed that? It was practically fluorescent.
‘This is Josh and Luke.’ He affectionately rubbed the heads of the two limpets. ‘They’re two.’
‘Twins?’ One word at a time was about all I could manage.
‘Identical.’ He beamed proudly. ‘And the little angel in the pram is Caitlin. She’s eleven weeks.’
I reluctantly peered into the pram. ‘Cute.’
‘My wife and I think so.’
Of course. Why wouldn’t he have a beautiful wife and beautiful kids? He was beautiful. Even if he wasn’t married, he was so out of my league, it made me want to cry.
‘I’m really sorry about the kids. I know it’s not very professional. I rang around everyone I knew but nobody was free and I couldn’t miss out on the chance of some work. I promise I don’t bring them with me normally. I can come back later if you prefer.’
I shook my head, opened the door wide, and tried to sound cheerful. ‘Everyone in.’ Ooh, two words. Big improvement.
‘Something smells nice,’ he said.
Oh crap! The coffee and muffins. I glanced guiltily towards the pasting table I’d found in The Outback. Resting on it was a plate of carefully stacked muffins alongside the pair of steaming coffees that I’d transferred out of the paper cups into proper mugs. Quick. Think of something. Anything.
‘Er, yeah. Elevenses,’ I said.
‘At half nine?’
‘Late breakfast. Early elevenses. I was up early. It’s for my…
my… my mum. She’s here. Well, she’s not here.
She’s coming. Soon. One of the coffees is for her.
And a muffin. If she wants one. Not that I’m going to force her.
She doesn’t have to have one. But they’re not all for me either.
Mum can have them all if she wants. I don’t mind.
I’m not precious about them.’ Maybe more words weren’t such a good idea.
‘Right.’ Stephen gathered the twins closer to him. ‘So, you wanted a quote for some plastering?’ He slipped off his coat and laid it across the pram – oh wow, look at those tanned muscles – and dug out a notebook and pen. ‘What exactly do you want doing?’
‘Doing?’
‘Plastering?’
‘Of course. Plastering.’ I swept my arm around the shop. ‘How much for all of this?’
He wandered over to one of the walls and stroked it. Lucky wall. He really was yummy. A dreamy ‘hmm’ escaped from my lips.
‘Sorry?’ he said.
I cleared my throat. ‘Muffin crumb. Lodged in my throat. Just clearing it. Ahem. Ah, that’s better.’
He looked at the plate of untouched muffins then back at me again. ‘O-kay. The walls aren’t too bad. Just need a quick skim. Do you want me to do your back?’
‘Yes please.’
‘Can I see it?’
‘My back? Now?’
‘Now works for me if that’s okay with you.’
I looked at the twins who were chasing each other round the shop. ‘What about your children?’
‘They’re fine here, aren’t they? I don’t think even they can do much damage in an empty shop.’ He laughed.
‘Are you sure you want to see my back?’
‘Unless you only want a quote for plastering the shop part.’
Oh! Out the back. Not my back. Why would he want to see my back? Especially in front of his kids. He has a wife and three children. Sarah Peterson, what is wrong with you? You must sound completely deranged. Wrap it up and get rid of him.
‘Actually, the back’s good,’ I said. ‘I don’t need the back doing. Just the shop. How much for the shop?’
‘What do you want doing with this archway?’ He stretched a tanned arm towards The Outback entrance, flexing his muscles as he did.
Then, just to torment me even more, he walked past me towards the arch with a tantalising aroma of musky aftershave trailing in his wake.
My pulse quickened and my legs weakened.
What are you doing to me? Just say the words and I’ll lock the kids in the loo and you can have me right here, right now on the lino.
He ran his hand round the arch. ‘Any ideas?’ he asked.
Plenty, but they’re all X-rated and probably best not shared with you right now.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge my wicked thoughts.
‘No. No ideas. Just leave it.’ I moved towards the door.
There was an awkward silence. ‘So, thanks for coming.’ I opened the door, grateful for the cold blast of air to cool my flushed cheeks.
‘You’re welcome.’ He reached for his coat and put it back on, flexing those muscles once more. ‘Don’t you want to know how much it will be?’
‘How much what will be?’
‘The plastering.’ That look was there again: half-scared, half-sympathetic as if he was unsure whether I was mad as in dangerous or mad as in simple.
A nervous giggle spilled out of my mouth. ‘Sorry. I… er… thought you’d already said. How much?’
‘About ￡750 to ￡800.’
‘Great. That’s fine. Thanks. Bye.’
Stephen hesitated. ‘I could start tomorrow if you want. I had a couple of jobs fall through so I’m free and I could really use the work.’ He glanced towards the baby.
‘Sorry to hear that,’ I said. But I can’t have you working here, you beautiful unavailable man.
Stephen pushed the fluorescent pram and ushered the twins out the door.
He turned around just before I could shut the door and, almost in a whisper, said, ‘So, do you want me to do it then?’ He looked terrified.
I felt awful. Surely he didn’t want the job after meeting me, but clearly times were tight and he had a young family to feed.
‘Er… a few people to see,’ I said, trying to sound positive. ‘I’ll be in touch. Bye.’
I pushed the door shut and leaned against it. Could that have been any more embarrassing? Muffins and coffee? Doing my back? Oh. My. God. Cringe, cringe, cringe.
I stomped into the kitchen area with the mugs and tipped them down the sink before returning to the shop where I stuffed a large chunk of muffin into my mouth. Oh well, one down, two more Steves to go. If I could face them.
Early that afternoon, Steve Walters called me back to say he was snowed under until Christmas, then he was getting married. He could give me an appointment in February, at a push, when he was back from his honeymoon.
Forty minutes after that, Steve Pinder called me to say I must have a very old copy of the Yellow Pages because he’d retired five years ago.
I closed it and looked at the front. Yep, eight years old.
I knew they didn’t print the damn thing anymore.
I tossed the directory at the wall, taking a large chunk out of the plaster. Definitely needed plastering now.