Chapter 11 #2
Michelle grinned and wrinkled her nose. ‘Yeah… if it was as bad as it smelled…?’
‘Worse,’ said Keith with a chuckle. ‘Now, take that corner up behind the yard.’
Michelle followed his directions around the side of the building, past the yard full of gleaming classic cars, only to spot a little cottage tucked away behind the garage.
‘Oh,’ she breathed, ‘it’s lovely.’
‘That’s my bit,’ said Keith, pointing at the cottage with its climbing roses around the door and window boxes full of cheerful flowers. ‘And that bit over there at the other side of the garden—used to be a stable— that’s Danny’s pad. Though you probably knew that!’
Michelle shook her head, wondering what exactly Keith thought was going on between her and his son. ‘Nope. First time I’ve been back here. Your place looks lovely.’
‘Been in the family for three generations,’ said Keith proudly. ‘Fancy coming in for a cuppa?’
‘I don’t want to impose,’ she said, even though she’d love nothing more than to have a look inside.
‘Impose?’ Keith snorted. ‘You just rescued me from hospital hell. The least I can do is make you a brew.’
‘Well… okay then, you’re on,’ said Michelle. ‘But only if you promise to sit down and put your feet up while I do the honours?’
Keith opened his mouth, clearly gearing up to argue, but then his shoulders sagged and he nodded. ‘Okay. You’re on. Now then… I have to warn you, you’re going to have to take me as you find me… the place is a tip!’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Michelle, quickly waving away his concern. ‘It’s not like you’ve been around to clean and tidy, is it?!’
Keith let out a sigh and unlocked the door. Michelle followed him inside, peering around with interest.
So… this was Danny’s childhood home?
The inside of the cottage was as charming as the outside, all low beams and cosy corners.
She didn’t know what she’d been expecting after Keith’s little warning—at the very least, piles of dishes stacked around the sink—but the place seemed to be neat and tidy, and remarkably fresh and clean considering Keith had left in a hurry for the hospital.
‘Well… I’ll have to thank Danny,’ said Keith, blinking around in surprise. ‘He’s obviously discovered his inner Mary Poppins and cleaned up for me!’
Keith led the way into a cosy kitchen and tossed his bag onto a wooden chair at the table.
‘Right, tea,’ he said, moving slowly towards the kettle.
‘Excuse me, mister,’ said Michelle, putting her hands on her hips and looking as stern as she could manage. ‘I thought we agreed I’d be making the tea?’
‘You don’t have to?—’
‘Yes, I do,’ she said firmly. ‘You’ve just got out of hospital. You should be resting.’
Keith opened his mouth to argue, took one look at Michelle’s face, and clearly thought better of it. Instead, he dropped into a worn but comfortable-looking armchair by the window.
‘Kettle’s just there,’ he said meekly, pointing across the kitchen. ‘Tea’s in the cupboard above it. You know, you really do remind me of your mum. Not just looks either… she was kind and no-nonsense too. I always said your dad was a lucky so-and-so, landing Trish!’
Michelle paused, the box of teabags hovering in mid-air.
The cat was out of the bag… the elephant in the room was standing right there…
and she had no idea what to say. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t bring up anything to do with the feud while she was with Keith—not with him just out of hospital—but now he’d gone and dropped her dad right into the middle of the conversation like a hand grenade.
‘No need to look like there’s going to be an explosion!’ chuckled Keith. ‘Brian’s the one with the problem, not me.’
‘Uh… right,’ said Michelle. ‘Erm… really?’
Keith nodded. ‘I know he’s your dad and all, but that man is one stubborn pain in my butt cheeks.’ He let out a long sigh. ‘Even after all these years, I miss him.’
‘You do?!’ squeaked Michelle, hurriedly making Keith’s tea and taking it over to him.
‘Oh yes.’ Keith took the cup and sipped gratefully. ‘Thank heavens for a proper cuppa. Cheers!’
Michelle raised her own cup, but she was too busy holding her breath to taste it. Was she finally about to get to the bottom of the feud? Unfortunately, Keith seemed to be content to sip his tea and stare out of the window to follow his previous chain of thought.
‘Erm… can I ask you something?’ said Michelle, still hovering.
‘Of course!’ said Keith.
‘What happened… between you and my dad, I mean?’
‘Blessed if I know!’ said Keith with a shrug. ‘One day we were best mates, next thing I knew, he wouldn’t even look at me in the street.’
‘You’re not serious?’ said Michelle. ‘You really don’t know?’
‘Not a clue,’ said Keith, shaking his head. ‘And I’m guessing you don’t either, being as you’re asking me?’
Michelle shook her head. ‘No, sorry.’
‘Shame.’
‘All I’ve been able to find out is that it might have something to do with a car… though that’s not from the horse’s mouth,’ said Michelle.
‘A car?’ said Keith, frowning.
Suddenly, he looked exhausted, and Michelle felt awful for letting the conversation get that far.
‘Keith, when was the last time you had something decent to eat?’
‘Hospital food doesn’t really count, does it?’ said Keith with a small smile.
‘Definitely not.’
‘In that case, it’s been days,’ he sighed. ‘And there’s no point looking in there unless you’re after a bit of old cheese that’s created its own civilisation!’ he added as Michelle moved to open the fridge.
‘Well, I hate to contradict you in your own kitchen,’ said Michelle, ‘but it looks like Mary Poppins has been busy in here too!’
The fridge was not only clean but filled with everything from fresh eggs and cheese to mince, sausages and bacon. There were a couple of tubs of ready-made farmhouse soup, too. Clearly, Danny had been keen to make sure his dad would eat properly when he came out of hospital.
‘Okay, you’ve got a choice,’ said Michelle, turning to peep into the breadbin. ‘You can have a full fry up, or toast and eggs however you like them, or I can make you a quick spag bol?’
‘You don’t have to—’ started Keith.
‘Are you hungry?’
He nodded. ‘Marvin.’
Michelle chuckled. ‘So… what’ll it be? And don’t just choose the thing you think is quickest because you think you’re doing me a favour—I love to cook.’
‘Well…’ said Keith slowly, ‘in that case, it’s got to be the spag bol.’
‘You’ve got it.’
‘So, cooking’s your thing, eh?’ he said, making himself more comfortable in the chair. ‘Is that what you do for a living?’
Michelle paused, her thoughts flying back to her parents busily tucking into their burgers. The old showroom just outside. Her diner dream.
‘It’s going to be.’
‘Oh, now that sounds exciting,’ said Keith, his eyes lighting up with interest. ‘Tell me more.’