Chapter 16
Richard wasn’t in the flat when I went up to drop the cup off and pick up my reusable bags.
I did notice that the protein-shake spillage had been cleaned up.
Sort of. There was some sticky residue there that would need swabbing away.
In the bathroom, although he’d obviously taken a shower, he hadn’t left his wet towel in a heap on top of the toilet seat.
I was starting to suspect he was trying to show he’d ‘changed’.
God knows why, given our break-up had nothing to do with his lazy habits and everything to do with his infidelity.
I was about to start writing out a shopping list when my phone rang. It was Mum. I sighed when I saw her name on the screen. Maybe it was because I’d just had a nice walk in the fresh air, but I actually felt equipped to answer. That didn’t mean I was looking forward to it.
‘Hi, Mum. I’m just off out to Asda. Can I call you back?’ I said.
‘Tabby,’ Mum trilled. ‘How are you? We missed you yesterday but everyone loved that dessert you made. Mary asked for the recipe.’
Right, still going the denial route. She made it sound like I’d had a stomach upset or something. Instead of leaving the house because I couldn’t bring myself to pretend she hadn’t hurt me deeply with that one question. Are you sure?
‘It’s Eton mess but with tropical fruit – cream, pre-made meringue and… fruit.’
‘Lovely, I’ll pass that on to her then.’ Mum paused for a moment and I could feel her casting about for something else to say, to keep the conversation going without dipping into anything real.
The point of the call was to re-establish contact, smooth things over without having to address what had roughened them up in the first place.
The way it had always been – a cup of tea a few hours after an argument.
Asking if I wanted anything from the shop so I’d have to talk to her again.
‘So… Asda. Getting anything special or just a stock-up?’
I tipped my head back and looked at the ceiling. Jesus. ‘Just a weekly shop. I forgot last week. Had a lot on my mind.’ The urge to say ‘what with my boyfriend cheating on me’ was almost overpowering. I managed to resist, just.
‘Well, if they still have those multi-packs of Yorkshire Tea, can you grab me one and pop it round? You can pick up your dish at the same time. Or I can come over instead, I haven’t been to yours in a while.’
Was she angling to see Richard? Trying to find a way to work things out between us like some kind of unpaid counsellor, or was she just trying to be supportive?
I wanted to believe it was the latter. Mum wasn’t by nature manipulative, she could just be a bit pig-headed sometimes.
Stubborn and relentless when it came to what she thought was the best course of action.
Her catchphrase in the face of any and all of my cautions had always been ‘no, it won’t’.
We should take an umbrella – it’s going to rain.
No, it won’t!
That vase will leave a water mark on the windowsill.
No, it won’t!
If we don’t go now, the shop will have run out of school uniform in my size!
No, it won’t!
Cut to me, soaking wet, wearing my too-small school jumper and repainting the windowsill. She never listened to me.
‘I’ll see if they still have them and text you,’ I said. ‘Gotta go, see you later.’
I rang off and scribbled down a quick list. Only shopping for myself was a change and the scrappy list didn’t look long enough once I’d finished.
I felt a pang of regret. Was this what it was going to be like now?
Buying single onions and half-sized loaves of bread just for one?
Why was everything set up for pairs of people and families? Even bloody food shopping.
The drive to Asda was stressful. Sunday drivers were out in force by this time, pootling from A to B and having three to five pints before trundling back.
I made it to the supermarket and parked up in the furthest corner from the shop, the only area where there were spaces.
With a trolley and my list, I went in and gladly turned my brain off, wandering the shelves on autopilot and grabbing what I needed.
I was in the cleaning aisle, trying to find the cheapest laundry liquid that wouldn’t take my skin off, when I stepped back and bumped right into someone’s trolley.
‘Sorry.’ I leapt out of the way and found myself looking right at Cooper. He was still wearing the grey jumper and the hand warmers I’d made, but had exchanged his pyjama bottoms for faded jeans and work boots.
‘Hey.’ He looked surprised but not unpleasantly so. ‘You again. Twice in one morning.’
‘Yeah – errands, remember,’ I said. I glanced down at his trolley and saw that he’d stacked one end of it with tinned dog food. ‘I didn’t know you had a dog. Have you been hiding it away?’
‘No, just didn’t have one until about forty minutes ago.’
‘Wow, you move fast,’ I joked, and immediately regretted it when his mouth twitched, obviously fighting hard not to rise to my poor choice of words.
‘Went out for my much-anticipated first cigarette of the day, once I’d recovered from having the shit scared out of me, and he was just walking down the towpath.
Came on board for some head scratches and I kept waiting for the owner to come around the bend but they never did.
Must have got out of someone’s garden. He has a collar but no tag. ’
‘Poor thing.’ I folded my arms around myself.
It was horrible to think of someone calling and calling for their dog, only to get no answer.
I had a massive soft spot for animals, but particularly dogs – because I’d never been allowed one growing up.
Dad was keen but Mum – the queen of Febreze and Flash wipes – was put off by the potential for smells and muck.
Aunt Lou’s dog Pete had been my one pet growing up and he hadn’t even really been mine in the strictest sense.
‘He might have a chip. I sort of had a cat when I was a student and ended up getting his chip checked,’ I said.
‘It used to come to my window and, once I found out he didn’t have an owner, I flea-treated him because he had a bit of a mangy bum.
But he stopped coming around once I switched from Whiskers to Lidl cat food. ’
‘Snob. Though I do prefer Whiskers myself,’ Cooper said sagely. ‘Keeps my coat nice and silky.’
That startled a laugh out of me and his face lit up when he saw his joke land.
‘Did you leave him on the boat?’ I asked, once I’d sobered. ‘The dog?’
‘He’s actually tied up outside,’ Cooper winced. ‘I didn’t want to risk him eating a Diana and getting ill. Plus, you know… I have a lot of very valuable blankets that I’m quite partial to.’
‘Good call,’ I said, trying to ignore the little twinge of pleasure that gave me. ‘Can I see him?’
‘Sure – though, to be clear, I didn’t lure you with a puppy, you very much volunteered,’ Cooper said.
I’d fortunately mostly finished my shopping and I could pick up the last few bits later.
We went to the checkouts and I let Cooper go in front of me, as he was only buying the dog food and some plastic pots of instant noodles and porridge.
He packed everything into a tatty rucksack and then waited while my week’s worth of shopping came down the conveyor belt.
When I started packing, he picked up an empty bag.
‘Need help?’
‘Oh!’ I was surprised, both that he was offering and that he’d actually asked. ‘Yes, please.’
The woman on the till looked at us and sighed. ‘You’ve got a good one there, love.’
‘Uh… thanks,’ I said, flushing, and then realised I should probably have set her straight. But I didn’t and Cooper didn’t either.
We packed up my shopping and I paid with a quick tap of my card. I resolutely did not find it insanely attractive that he’d put the eggs on the top of a bag so they wouldn’t get crushed. Like a functional adult. As we wheeled our trolleys out, he glanced at my bags.
‘You like to cook?’
‘Hmm?’ I followed his gaze and realised that it was pretty obvious from what I’d bought – lots of vegetables, fresh fish, spices and other essential ingredients.
Nothing pre-made in sight. Except the two tubs of H?agen-Dazs and the three bottles of wine.
‘I do, yeah. Not that I’m great at it… I take it you don’t? ’ I asked, faintly teasing.
He shrugged. ‘Never really had the time before. I think I might try and get into it.’
‘You can probably do really nice porridge on that stove – much better than the pots. I’m kind of jealous actually, I’ve always wanted a woodstove,’ I confessed as we left through the automatic doors.
‘It is nice, yeah, especially since the wood’s basically free round my way, and I am at heart a bit of a cheapskate.
’ We turned a corner and I saw the dog even before it jumped up on its hind legs and started barking at Cooper.
It was a wiry-haired little terrier, white and brown, with enormous bushy eyebrows and a curled over tail like the top of a Mr Whippy cone.
‘Oh, he’s lovely,’ I cooed, watching the dog eagerly welcome Cooper back.
He was tied to a bike rack with what I realised was a dressing-gown belt attached to his collar.
I knelt down and held out my hand for him to sniff.
The dog left off pawing at Cooper’s jeans to turn black button eyes on me and start licking my fingers.
‘Wish they’d had a proper lead,’ Cooper sighed. ‘Would save me from looking like a total prat on the way home.’
Maybe it was the dog’s cute little puppy eyes, or the thought of going back to the flat on my own – but I found myself saying, ‘I’ll give you a lift. If you like?’
‘I wasn’t fishing for one.’ Cooper looked uncomfortable, busying himself with patting the dog and untying him from the bike rack.