Chapter 51
FIFTY-ONE
DECLAN
It was early evening when Declan bumped into Mark as he was making his way in through the sliding glass doors of the Co-op.
‘Hi, how are things?’ Declan asked Mark amiably, his cheerfulness hiding the knot of tension he felt in his stomach after his conversation earlier in the week with Jess.
‘Good, thanks. Actually, I am pleased I have run into you; I was about to give you a knock later,’ said Mark.
‘Oh right, what’s on your mind?’
‘Actually, do you fancy a pint?’ asked Mark.
It was a warm Saturday evening, and Declan had no other plans.
‘Sure, sounds good.’
They walked the short distance to the pub on the corner, and sat in the outside beer garden, a pleasant area with blue painted fencing and pot plants bursting with colourful blooms.
Nursing their pints of draught beer and cold lager respectively, they sat in the warm sunshine at a wooden picnic-style table and chatted.
‘I got talking to a guy at the marina a week or so ago, but it completely slipped my mind till today,’ said Mark as he sipped his beer. ‘He mentioned he was looking for a new accountant.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said Declan with interest. He could probably fit another part-time client around his hours, but only just. As well as the café on Liverpool Road, he had recently started doing the books for a small painting and decorating firm, owned by one of his football friends.
Still, the more clients on his books, the closer he would be to setting up himself.
‘Have you heard of Sanctuary Bathrooms?’ Mark asked Declan.
‘I have,’ said Declan. ‘They have a shop in town, don’t they?’
He had browsed the huge showroom just outside the town centre that catered for every taste in bathrooms with his mum one Saturday afternoon.
She had bought a new shower, and he had dreamt of the day he would own his own place, and have a huge bath, like the one displayed on a granite floor in the corner of the room.
‘And another two showrooms across Merseyside,’ Mark informed him. ‘As well as a huge warehouse. Ken told me the business has grown massively over the years.’
Declan felt a tingle of excitement. This was a massive deal. Sanctuary Bathrooms was a huge organisation, and the director was looking for a new accountant.
‘So, what’s the deal with his current accountancy firm?’ asked Declan. His thoughts had already turned to the office in Liverpool Road, just waiting for him to set up shop.
‘Cooking the books seems to be the essence of it. Embezzlement of some sort,’ Mark told him. ‘He’s up in court next month.’
Declan gave a low whistle. ‘Wow, so I am guessing he wants someone sooner rather than later?’
‘I would imagine so. Anyway, I told him to hang fire until I had a chat with you,’ explained Mark. ‘Are you still thinking of setting up by yourself?’
Declan had told Mark all about Alice’s offer of some office space when they had chatted on the evening of his BBQ.
‘I would love to, for sure. I just haven’t had a big enough account to pack in my job with the council,’ he told him as he sipped his drink.
‘Until now,’ said Mark. ‘Anyway, I told Ken I would give you his number, so you can at least arrange a meeting with him.’
Mark pinged Ken’s number to Declan, and they tapped their pint glasses together.
‘Hope it all goes well, mate,’ said Mark. ‘It seems a shame to let that office space go to waste.’
Declan could not agree more.
‘Fancy another?’ Declan offered when they had finished their drinks.
‘Why not?’ Mark smiled. ‘It’s been a bit of a week. I might just lose myself in a few pints,’ he told Declan.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that,’ said Declan when he had returned with their drinks, and Mark told him of his mother’s passing.
‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked Mark, although he sensed that was doubtful.
All the same, he knew how important it was for men to talk about their problems and open up.
One of the lads at Sunday football had been in a dark place a year ago and often spoke of how the football and the chats with his friends in the pub afterwards had saved him.
He hadn’t really reached out to anyone when his sister died. Running had become his saviour. But at least there had been solace in that. If only everyone could find that something.
‘Thanks, but we weren’t close,’ Mark told Declan candidly as he sipped his beer. ‘I was with her at the end, though, and I am glad I was. It was more for my sister really, but it seems to have given me some peace of mind,’ he admitted.
The two men sat silently for a couple of minutes, before Declan lifted his pint in a toast to Mark’s mum.
‘May your mum rest in peace.’
‘Cheers, mate,’ said Mark as he clinked his pint glass against Declan’s.
‘And you know, I am here if you ever do feel like you need to talk,’ reinforced Declan.
They talked about the football, and this and that, and after a final drink, walked back to the apartments together, feeling relaxed and happy.
‘I’m glad I ran into you; it was just what I needed,’ said Mark, patting Declan on the back.
It was the first time in a while he hadn’t missed the presence of his wife.
‘Although I think I might leave these for another day,’ he said about the scotch he was carrying.
‘I can’t take the pace at my age. Unless, of course, you fancy one? ’ he offered.
‘No, thanks. I will call it a night too.’ Declan smiled. ‘I have football in the morning.’
‘In that case, goodnight,’ said Mark.
‘Night.’
Declan glanced over at Jess’s apartment as he put the key in his front door but thought it best to leave her be for a while. He could only hope she would believe he was telling the truth about the accident.
For now, his thoughts turned to the call he would make to Ken Watson first thing on Monday morning, as he didn’t want to bother him over the weekend.
He dared to hope that it might be the start of something he had only dreamt about.
And so much of it was thanks to the friends he had made at Wisteria House.