Chapter 2
TWO
NICK
Nick knocked off at five and headed over to the Weary Traveller, the least gentrified pub in Cravenwick, which was only a few hundred yards up the street from the bookshop. The day had gone by in a fragmented way, as if he was on a long train journey, enjoying the view, yet every so often the memory of that morning would come flooding back, like the train was plunging through an unexpected dark tunnel. Despite all his efforts, flashbacks of how he’d almost killed a woman kept surprising him throughout the day.
He’d stepped back from the window with his hands in his hair and the blood draining from his face – he hadn’t needed a mirror to know he was as white as a sheet; he could feel it. Just seconds . If he’d managed to hold on to the window frame for just a few seconds more after it started to slip, it would have landed right on top of her. Those sickening moments when he’d tried to grasp the crumbling wood and it just wouldn’t stay, that feeling as fresh air rushed into his palms, and the crunching, spraying sound of glass and wood coming from below… It had been so, so close.
He’d looked down at the top of her head – he vaguely recalled her hair being brown – and watched her walk away, seemingly in a daze, not looking up, not looking back. He’d tried as hard as he could to slow down his heart rate, but it had drummed for half an hour in a rhythm normally reserved for a nightclub playlist. She hadn’t been hurt, had she? The safety glass wouldn’t have been sharp, and she hadn’t appeared to be anything but terribly shocked, but a wash of fear had run through him all the same. He’d bolted for the stairs.
‘What the actual hell?’ a voice had yelled – his client, a heavily pregnant redhead called Libby who, if he was honest, frightened him. As he’d emerged from the staircase, she’d waddled her way back into the shop from the street outside, her freckled face like thunder. ‘You’ve just almost killed my friend, not to mention the state of the path outside,’ she’d said, rustling in her pocket and producing her phone.
‘God, I am so sorry,’ he’d said, holding up his hands. ‘Is she there? Is she okay?’
He’d gone to the open door and looked out onto the street again. Other than a few pensioners skirting the crumpled window in its halo of glass, tutting because they had to walk into the road, the street had been quiet. She must have gone around the corner. He’d been about to run out and check, but he’d seen Libby on the phone behind him, clearly trying to reach her friend. She’d flashed him a look that could turn a man to stone, so he’d decided it was better to leave her alone. He’d retrieved a broom and rubble bag from his van and set to work clearing up the mess, then spent the rest of the day making as beautiful a job as he could of the remaining windows. He would be back again in the morning to face the simmering wrath of his client, but for now he had a dinner date to attend.
The high street had quietened down now, the locals at home for the evening, the tourists back in their B he wasn’t quite forgiven enough at that point – and when he’d packed up for the day, she’d offered to let him store some of his gear in a cupboard at the back of the shop rather than loading it in the van, only to unload it again the next day. He felt like he could put the day behind him for the most part, but the close shave with that woman below still nagged at him like a stone in his shoe.
‘Do you believe in fate?’ he blurted.
Travis looked up and wrinkled his nose. ‘Eh?’
‘You know… being in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place.’ His skin prickled as he pictured the gap of only a few feet between the woman’s toes and the tangled remains of the window frame.
Travis eyed him over the top of his phone. ‘What are you going on about? Is this something to do with a woman? Because if it is, I’ll stop threatening you with Tinder. I’ve got your profile built and ready to go, you know.’
‘I know,’ grumbled Nick, fully aware of his brother’s insistence that he ought to get himself back out there. ‘But no, it’s got nothing to do with a woman. Not in that way anyway.’ He explained what had happened that morning. ‘What if she’d left the shop a few seconds earlier? She’d have been right underneath, and… well, I’d probably be in a cell right now.’
Travis grimaced. ‘You really do like to catastrophise, don’t you?’
‘I don’t. I just keep thinking about how there’s only a few seconds between life going along as normal and complete disaster.’
‘You think too much.’
Burgers landed in front of them, and they thanked the waitress.
Travis took a bite of his, bun and all, and groaned happily. ‘See, here I am, eating this burger without even considering there might be half a mouse’s head in it when I get to the middle. But what you’re doing with your window thing is looking for the mouse. Just chill out.’
‘What a lovely analogy,’ said Nick dryly, putting his burger down, his appetite waning a bit. ‘And that’s not what I’m doing at all. I’m not saying that there are only disasters around every corner; I’m saying that maybe there’s some kind of plan. Today you’ll cheat death by two paces; tomorrow you’ll have all six numbers come up on the lottery, because someone or something up there has figured it all out for you.’
Travis placed his mangled, half-finished burger on his plate and steepled his fingers beneath his chin. ‘I get you. You know what you should do then?’
‘What?’
‘You should get that lass a lottery ticket to say sorry.’
‘Very funny,’ said Nick, narrowing his eyes and picking up his burger again. He’d already popped over to the florist that day and left a bunch of flowers for her at the shop, asking Libby to make sure they got to her.
Travis had paused eating and was scrolling through his phone, no doubt making arrangements with some mates who were more fun than his big brother. Although he could be doing something much worse.
‘You’re not seriously doing me a Tinder profile, are you?’ he asked, leaning over to look at his screen. Thankfully it just looked like he was texting.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Travis archly. ‘Far be it from me to meddle in your love life. I haven’t done one really. Not yet.’ He smirked and continued speed-texting.
‘Well, good. I’ve only got room for one lady in my life right now, and that’s Ruby.’
Travis sighed. ‘Nobody doubts your devotion to Ruby, bro.’
Nick pinched his lips between his teeth. No amount of devotion could fix his stand-off with Ruby’s mother, Callie.
‘But you don’t need to become a monk, Nick,’ Travis continued. ‘You can be a dad and also get yours.’
Nick rolled his eyes. ‘Trav, I’m a thirty-three-year-old single dad with a business to run. I’m not really in a great place to be hooking up with all and sundry. Unlike someone I know.’ He gave Travis a meaningful look.
‘Hey, I’m very discerning when it comes to men actually. Trouble is, I have wide-ranging tastes and I’m scared of commitment. You can thank our mother for that one.’ He shrugged and prodded some more at his phone with one thumb while using the other hand to mash the rest of his burger into his face. ‘And on that note, I’d best head off. I’m meeting someone.’ He stood up and drained his bottle of beer.
‘Well, be careful,’ said Nick.
‘Only if you’ll be less careful…’ He was walking away but turned back for a moment. ‘Seriously, maybe you should listen to yourself and your hocus-pocus shite about fate. Maybe you’re being set on a path to find the love of your life.’
At that, Nick simply raised his eyebrows and watched his brother head out through the throng of other drinkers. He shook his head. No, fate wasn’t a thing, because if it was, the universe had it in for him. He finished his meal and went out into the street.
It was early dusk outside, cool and quiet compared to the stuffiness of the pub and the jangling, flashing lights of the fruit machine. Nick inhaled deeply, reflecting for a moment on where he was going. He seemed to be living a life in reverse. Where he’d once been an adult, a husband and father, he was now living in his little brother’s spare room, rubbing along as if they were teenagers again. It was as if the last fifteen years hadn’t even happened.
He thrust his hands into his pockets and headed down the road towards the van, past the chip shop, which was open, and the newsagents, which was closed, and tried not to look up at the first floor of the bookshop, where a pristine new window sat in its frame. Its presence felt vaguely judgemental.
He needed to cross the road to get to the van, so he stepped off the path, walking behind the row of cars parked in diagonal bays facing the pavement. He stopped in the road, feeling a chill as his eyes were drawn again to the scene of near disaster that morning. He thought he saw the glint of a few pieces of glass in front of the shop that he’d missed.
Then he felt a change in the air somewhere behind his back and heard the soft screech of rubber on tarmac. He turned around to find he was bathed in the red glow of brake lights. The back end of a black VW Golf was no more than an inch from his body. He seemed to forget how to breathe for a second as adrenaline pulsed through his veins.
Backing away, as if the car had repelled him, he could see the shadow of a woman in the driver’s seat, hand on her chest as she craned around to look at him. He took a deep breath and signalled that he was okay, then walked away, shaking his head. It would just be typical if he’d ended up flattened under a car today. Karma for nearly crushing somebody with a window, he thought, an uneasy chuckle bubbling from inside him as he looked back just once to see the black Golf tentatively continue to reverse and then drive away.