Chapter Twenty-Three
Connor had forgotten it was half-term week.
He had no reason to keep a note of school holidays, but now as he queued up at the Post Office counter behind several customers with fractious children, he wished he’d paid attention and picked another day.
And why did they bother having three counters when only one of them ever seemed to be staffed? He tutted inwardly.
After a complaint about the time it took him to post a particular item, Connor quickly learnt that when one sold things on eBay, the purchaser had a right to expect products to be despatched promptly, not at some random day in the future, and as a result, he had become a regular customer at the Post Office over the last couple of weeks.
Even the woman behind the counter now recognised him and always asked ‘more clothes?’ as she filled in the posting details.
The irony was not lost on him that he was now recognised in his local shop, not for any television appearances but for his frequency of posting.
Today he was posting off a Diesel shirt and a Lacoste sweater.
The latter had been a present from Bonnie and he hadn’t worn it since she’d packed him off.
It had given him a perverse pleasure in selling off quite a few of the items she had given him, including the Patek Philippe watch that had been a birthday present a couple of years back.
He supposed it was cathartic in a way; the equivalent of Rosie cutting up her wedding dress.
He could probably have sold the watch for far more had he been bothered to go to a proper auction house, but he was happy with what he got, and it enabled him to pay off a chunk of his credit card bill and pay back some money to Patrick.
Plus, it made a pleasant change to have money in the bank again, and he enjoyed shopping online for things without worrying about his finances, although these days he kept a better eye on how much he was spending.
He had also sent off a couple of discreet enquiries to contacts in the media world about possible job openings.
Yesterday he decided to splash out and bought a present for Rosie as a thank you for agreeing to come to Henrietta’s party.
She had been sowing seeds recently, but by all accounts she was running out of space in her flat.
He opted for a practical present and had bought her a wooden-framed mini-greenhouse with three shelves and a hinged lid for ventilation.
It would hopefully be delivered in time for the weekend, and he couldn’t wait to see her reaction when she saw it.
Over the hum of human activity and general chatter in the Post Office, he heard a child repeating the word Hello, in an incessant and rather irritating manner.
It was as he looked around trying to work out whether the queue had actually moved in the last ten minutes, that he realised the child was Jacob, and that he was talking to him.
Connor immediately felt flustered. He never really knew how to act around children, although his nephew Brendan didn’t seem to mind and was always happy to see him. He gave the child a small wave and then looked away.
The line shuffled forward and he spotted Martina at the front of the queue, holding onto Sophia’s hand.
Jacob was still looking at him. He stuck his thumb against his head and waved again.
Connor smiled. The poor kid was clearly bored.
He could hardly blame the boy; he was bored stiff himself, and he actually had a reason to be standing here.
As soon as they had been served, Jacob came trotting over. ‘Hello, Mister Grumps!’
Martina’s face flushed a deep pink. ‘Jacob! We don’t say that sort of thing!’
‘You do! That’s what you called him when we’re at h—’
‘Jacob, keep moving – we’re in people’s way!’ Clearly flustered, Martina tried to steer him away but the boy didn’t move.
‘Do you like football?’
The question caught Connor by surprise. Like most blokes, he watched a bit on the box, but he’d never felt the urge to play. ‘Er, yes. A bit.’
‘Do you want to play?’
‘Not now, Jacob.’ Martina threw Connor an apologetic look. ‘Sorry, he didn’t mean to bother you.’ She took her son’s arm and made a second attempt to steer him out. ‘Sophia is going to her friend’s, and you can go outside while I’m busy.’
‘But I’ll have no one to play with,’ wailed Jacob.
Martina shook his arm gently. ‘Mummy has to concentrate. You can play with Sophia later.’ She looked back to Connor. ‘Kids, eh? No idea how the real world works.’
Rosie had levelled a similar accusation at him a few months ago.
‘I’ll play with you if you like.’ The words were out of his mouth before he could decide whether it was a sensible idea or not, but he felt sorry for the boy.
He remembered being that age, being shoved outside to play with Patrick when his mum needed peace and quiet.
At least that’s what they told him at the time; he hadn’t realised she was dying.
Jacob seemed delighted to be left with Connor, despite the fact that he was now standing in the same queue even further back than before. Nevertheless, this clearly passed as an adventure in his book.
Once Connor had finished paying the postage for today’s parcels, he guided Jacob out of the shop.
To his surprise, the minute they were out on the street, Jacob grabbed hold of his hand.
It clearly didn’t bother him, but to Connor it felt strange, as though he was now certifiably responsible for another human being, and he was relieved when they arrived home.
The gardens were all the same size, but in contrast to Dorothy’s careful planting, Martina’s was just a stretch of grass with a few scruffy looking shrubs that looked like they regularly received a whack from a football.
They had been kicking a ball around for a while before Connor asked, ‘Does your dad play football with you sometimes?’
Jacob shook his head. ‘Mum said he’s gone away for a bit. She said he did some things wrong and he got told off.’
Uh-oh. This was definitely off limits and Connor decided on an abrupt change of subject.
As Connor found out, Jacob was happy to chat about anything, and was obviously thrilled to have a willing playmate who could organise fun things to do.
Connor actually found it stimulating inventing various games; not too different from being on The Challenge really, just a more junior version.
To his surprise, the time passed quickly and when Martina called him in for lunch, Jacob was reluctant to say goodbye to his new friend.
Over lunch, Connor sent a message to Rosie to see how her day was going. He attached a picture of him and Jacob in the garden. Jacob was trying to balance a muddy football on Connor’s head. He added the caption:
New job prospects: children’s entertainer?
She must have been on her lunch break because the reply pinged back almost immediately:
Don’t give up the day job (Oops, too late, you did!!)
There was a time when he would have got annoyed about that sort of remark, but now he was able to see the funny side. The second he closed his phone it pinged again, and he smiled as he imagined Rosie thinking up a postscript to her message. The smile froze on his face. It wasn’t from Rosie at all.
Long time no see. Let’s meet.
A strange feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he tried to work out what this meant. Was it an opportunity to mend bridges, or to exact retribution? And what was so important that Bonnie couldn’t say it in a text?