Chapter 22
Wasn’t this woman ever going to leave, Bill asked himself silently, as Glenys got the vacuum cleaner out. She had certainly made herself at home and had wasted no time in rooting around his house. She had already done a load of washing that hadn’t needed doing, because Bill always liked to wait until he had a full load. He’d also heard her in the bathroom, banging about and running the taps, and when she’d come back downstairs she had told him that she’d given the bathroom a good scrub from top to bottom and that if he felt so inclined, he could eat his tea off the toilet seat, it was that clean.
Bill decided to give that a miss. He wished he could give Glenys a miss as well, but she didn’t seem to want to go. He was very grateful, and she was doing a sterling job, but he just wanted to be left alone.
However, there was no chance of that!
She had already had a go at the kitchen after she’d made them both some lunch (steak pie and chips, and she’d had to cut his pie up for him, much to his dismay) and after cleaning the bathroom, she had whipped out a duster and a tin of polish, and now she was threatening to hoover.
She was in for a surprise if she did: Patch hated the vacuum cleaner with a passion. He would dance around it, darting forward to give it a nip then scurrying away in case it retaliated, and all the while he would be barking at the top of his voice.
‘Can you not do that right now?’ he asked wearily. All he wanted was a nap, but that was impossible with Mrs Fusspot here. He had twice asked her (nicely) to leave, but each time she had replied, ‘I’ll just do a couple more odd jobs, then I’ll be off.’
Bill doubted whether he’d be able to get rid of her before bedtime.
He froze. Oh, no! She wasn’t going to insist on helping him have a bath , was she? He drew the line at that!
She said, ‘I’m not leaving until I’ve hoovered that carpet. It’s a disgrace. There are dog hairs everywhere, and over the chairs and sofa.’
Bill squinted. There were a few, but not many. His living room was hardly a disgrace. ‘If you’re serious about helping, Patch could do with a walk.’
Glenys drew back like a cobra about to strike. ‘ Me take Patch for a walk? I don’t think so. Can’t you ask Jack? Or Fiona? She’s always eager to please.’
He frowned. What was that supposed to mean? ‘None of them are here. You are, ’ he pointed out.
‘I’m here to help you , not to walk your dog.’ She pulled a face. ‘I don’t much care for dogs.’
That was obvious. Patch knew it too, and Bill wouldn’t normally suggest that she walked him, but she had offered to help and the kind of help he needed right now was of the dog-walking variety.
‘It’ll take months for you to recover your strength,’ she carried on, ‘and you can’t expect all and sundry to walk your dog for you. You’d be better off having him rehomed.’
‘ Excuse me? ’ Had she said what he thought she’d said? He made a face: she couldn’t have. He must have misheard.
Glenys was on a roll. ‘They’re not hygienic, you know. They carry all sorts of diseases. And fleas.’ She shuddered. ‘You need to be so careful with that wound. You don’t want it to become infected. Anyway, I can’t keep on hoovering up dog hairs. They’ll block the cleaner.’
‘It’s my cleaner to block,’ Bill snapped. He’d already had his fill of Glenys and her well-meaning ways, but telling him that he should find a new home for Patch took the biscuit. ‘I’d like you to leave.’
‘I haven’t done the hoovering yet,’ she protested.
‘And nor shall you. This is my dog’s home, as much as mine. He’s not going anywhere. You are.’
Glenys put her hands on her hips. ‘Is that all the thanks I get? I’ve worked myself to the bone for you cleaning this house, and—’
‘You heard the man. Get out .’ Fiona had appeared in the living room for the second time today, but this time, instead of looking hesitant she looked livid.
Never had Bill been so happy to see her.
Glenys bared her teeth. ‘You’re welcome to him. See how far you get looking after him while running that cafe. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again – it’s too much for you at your age. Don’t come running to me when you need help with it.’
Fiona’s hands curled into fists, and she drew herself up. ‘I wouldn’t run to you if you were the last person on earth, not after what you’ve done.’
Bill wondered whether he should step in before the two women came to blows, but abruptly some of the fight went out of Glenys. Was it his imagination, or did she look shifty?
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.
‘I think you do.’ Fiona took a step forward.
Glenys took a step back, but then she seemed to rally. ‘What is it that I’m supposed to have done?’
‘I spoke to Mrs Pemberton. She’s lost the rubber end off her walking stick.’
When Glenys said, ‘So?’ Bill had to agree with her. He had no clue where Fiona was going with this.
Fiona continued, ‘Guess where it was?’
Bill watched in fascination as the colour drained from Glenys’s face. What the hell was going on?
Fiona’s eyes were flinty as she said, ‘I found it in the cafe.’
‘So?’ Glenys repeated, though with far less belligerence.
‘Do you know how it got there, Glenys?’
Glenys shook her head, but there was fear in her eyes. Bill wished Fiona would hurry up and explain – he was dying of curiosity here. His weariness of earlier had fled, and he couldn’t wait to find out what was going on. Even Patch, who was sitting on his knee, was watching and listening intently.
Fiona took another step closer to Glenys. Glenys shifted to the right, edging nearer to the door, and Bill wondered whether she was about to make a dash for it.
Fiona smiled. ‘It came off when you broke the windows.’
Bill’s astounded gasp made him wince, as the sharp intake of breath caused an even sharper pain in his poor shoulder.
Glenys glanced at him, then back to Fiona. Her expression was sour. ‘I saw you and Bill kissing on the doorstep. Very cosy you looked.’
‘Is that why you did it?’ Fiona asked.
‘ I didn’t do anything, and you can’t prove I did. That rubber end could have come from anywhere. Just because Mrs Pemberton lost one off the end of her walking stick, doesn’t mean that the one you found belongs to her. Anyone could have smashed those windows.’ She clapped a hand to her mouth and gasped, somewhat theatrically Bill thought. ‘Perhaps Pamela Edwards did it? Have you thought of that, eh? She hates your guts.’
Fiona said softly, ‘You were seen.’
Glenys froze, her mouth open. After a too-long pause, she said, ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I don’t care whether you believe me or not, it’s true.’
The two women eyed each other up and neither appeared to want to back down, so Bill decided to throw his hat into the ring.
Quietly he said, ‘Fiona, I believe you. Glenys, I want you to leave. And if I see you anywhere near the cafe in the park again, I’ll be having a word with the police. Let them sort it out. Maybe they’ll discover who was behind the vandalism and maybe they won’t, but do you honestly want to be investigated?’
Mutely, she shook her head.
‘I thought not. Now, please go. I won’t ask you again.’ Speech over, he slumped back into the cushions with a groan. He was spent, physically and mentally.
Fiona followed Glenys into the hall, to make sure she left, he presumed, but she was soon back.
She said, ‘You look done in. I’m going to take Patch for a long walk, and while I’m out I suggest you have a nap. You look like you need one. Can I get you anything before I go?’
Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe the ache in his shoulder was affecting his thinking, but what he said next slipped out of his mouth before he could rein it in. ‘You.’
He hadn’t even realised he’d said it until he noticed her eyes widen as she said, ‘Pardon?’
Telling her that she had misheard was an option, but he didn’t take it. He was sick of trying to hide his feelings, sick of denying them to himself, and he was heartily sick of running away from love. He’d had decades of avoiding a relationship for fear of having his heart broken again, but it was too late for that now. If Fiona didn’t feel the same way, he would simply have to deal with the pain.
‘You,’ he repeated. ‘Fi, you probably don’t want to hear this, but I love you. You’re a remarkable woman – brave, beautiful, warm-hearted, kind – and I’ve lost my heart to you.’ He dropped his gaze, concentrating on Patch, who was curled up in his lap.
‘You don’t mean that.’ Her voice was flat.
‘I do,’ he insisted, his heart hurting worse than his collarbone ever could. She was going to reject him because she was still in love with her husband, and the pain of it was tearing him apart.
‘What about Tracey?’
His eyes shot to hers. ‘You know about her?’
She nodded. ‘Evelyn told me. She was friends with your mother.’
He took a deep breath. ‘Tracey is my past. She should have stayed there, but I stupidly allowed her and what she did, to affect the present. I’m not prepared to let her affect my future. Can you…? Do you think…you could ever feel anything for me?’
Fiona hadn’t moved. He wished he could read her expression, and when she swallowed, Bill prepared himself for the worst.
‘Yes, I can. I mean, I do. Feel something for you, that is.’ She gave a nervous laugh.
He stared at her, willing her to continue, and she cleared her throat.
‘I didn’t believe I would ever get over Bradley’s death, and I’m right, I never will. I will always love him. But he’s not here and I don’t want to spend however many years I have left on my own.’ She paused. ‘I never set out to fall in love. It was the furthest thing from my mind. But it crept up on me. You crept up on me. I love you too, Bill.’
He let his breath out in a whoosh. ‘Thank God for that! I thought… Glenys told me that you would never look at another man.’
‘She was right. I wouldn’t have, but I got to know you first, as a friend, and by the time I realised I had fallen in love with you, it was too late.’
‘Snap!’ Bill smiled at her, and she beamed back, and they stayed that way for a few seconds, grinning like a pair of idiots.
Bill was the first to speak. ‘Can I kiss you?’
‘I’ll be cross if you don’t.’
‘You’ll have to come to me. I don’t think I can get up.’
He watched her as she moved closer and knelt by his chair on the side of his good arm. Then she tilted her head, and the only thing Bill was aware of was the softness of her lips and the way she gently held him.
‘Is this OK?’ she asked. ‘I’m not hurting your shoulder, am I?’
‘What shoulder?’
Poor Patch had to wait a while for his walk, but Bill didn’t think the dog minded. After all, Patch thought the world of his new mistress.