Chapter 9
Saturday morning began much too early. Rudely awakened by her phone’s alarm playing ‘Dancing Queen’, Mab felt as if she had only just dropped off to sleep.
It was painfully hard to drag herself out of her warm bed, especially as her first job was to pack as many of her belongings as possible ready for Stan and his van.
Feeling hideously sick, Mab ate some dry toast, made a cup of peppermint tea and began to hurl things into boxes.
She had slept badly, disturbed by dreams of naked men with powerful muscles, curly black hair and deep blue eyes but the hero of her dreams had switched with alarming speed between Den and Leo.
It was four months since Pete had shared her bed, and the time without him had been frustrating to say the least. The last few months with him had been pretty unsatisfying too, come to think of it.
Pete’s idea of a romance and fun had been along the lines of a bag of chips, a bunch of tatty purple garage flowers and a beery fumble-and-roll around the bed before the snoring commenced.
Leaping into the shower, Mab turned the temperature to cold, then, yelping, back to its usual heat.
She would have to find some other way of dealing with her lack of a man.
Cold showers were torture. She dressed quickly, in jeans and an ancient, much loved black t-shirt with a faded picture of Bjork on the front, tied her hair up on top and got down to the job in hand.
Was she imagining it, or did the waistband of her jeans feel slightly looser?
How ironic would it be if the only time she managed to lose weight was when she was pregnant?
She reached for the phone as it shrilled loudly.
‘Hello? Oh, Beattie. No, I can’t talk now, I’m just packing up to leave my flat.
Yes, of course I was going to tell you both my new address.
Stop shouting, Beattie. Yes, quite close.
Next door to you, in fact. Yes, with the Geordie man.
Well, actually I think you’ll find I can live wherever I choose, baby or no baby. Look, I’ll call you later, OK? Bye.’
Mab’s mobile rang again immediately and she answered it without checking the caller.
‘Ah, Mum. Actually I’m really busy just now, packing to move. Yes, I expect you do want to talk to me but I’ve got a heavy day ahead so I’ll ring you tomorrow. Bye for now.’
Mab shivered as she switched the phone off.
So this was how it felt to be assertive?
Maybe she should try it more often? The only downside to it that she could find was a lingering sense of guilt, which dispersed as she worked herself to a standstill.
Before too long her bulkier goods lined the flat, tidily stashed away.
It was sometimes useful that she could never bring herself to get rid of anything; these boxes had been flat-packed in her spare room since she had arrived back in town and her clothes were soon lined up in a row of black bin bags.
Maurice was very unhappy, wandering around the flat yowling piteously.
His small black face looked woebegone, and even his whiskers drooped.
His eclectic selection of bowls was packed now, so he couldn’t even take comfort in food.
At eight o’clock, Stan and his friend Kev arrived, and Mab’s life disappeared into the back of Kev’s van.
She took a deep breath. This was it. A new beginning.
As they drove through the awakening town to Leo’s shop, Maurice still howling in his basket on her knee, the familiar tingling began in Mab’s spine.
Soon she would be with the brothers again.
The memory of her dream was still floating around in her head.
Which one of them had covered her in warm baby oil and massaged her until she begged for mercy, and who was it whose epic kissing skills had blown away the last of her resistance?
She took a deep, shuddering breath and blew it out noisily.
‘What’s up, love? You sad about leaving?’ asked Kev, patting her knee.
‘Not that you’d notice – I can’t wait to be in Leo’s place and getting going on the renovations with him. Here we are, look, you can park on the front. No, not here, a bit further, we don’t want to block next door’s doorway.’
Outside Leo’s shop, chaos reigned. Den had taken charge and was piling things out in the street ready for the first visit to the municipal tip.
It was almost 8.30 a.m. now, and the market was ready for action.
Beattie’s Bakehouse was already open to cater for the market traders and Mab’s stomach rumbled as she smelt the warm, toasty fragrance of breakfast. Den seemed to be in the middle of a furious row with Beattie, who was standing, hands on hips, directly in front of Leo’s door.
‘You come down here, disrupt my trade, fill the street with this… this… ridiculous selection of tat, and then have the nerve to tell me that I’m over-reacting?
’ she shouted. ‘Well, you can just bugger off back to where you came from! I’ll be on the phone to the planning office first thing Monday morning. You can’t get away with this…’
‘It’s Bank Holiday on Monday, but I expect you’ll be able to leave a message on their answerphone,’ said Den, smiling helpfully.
Beattie caught sight of Mab with a start and hurried back into the café, slamming the door so hard that the wind chimes that had been hanging just inside tangled themselves into a wild mess of wires.
‘Well, it’s got to be said that the natives are not that friendly,’ Den said, grinning at Mab, and engulfing her in a huge hug that left her weak-kneed.
His wild corkscrews of black hair seemed even more alive today, and his stubble grazed Mab’s cheek, tantalisingly.
Just for a moment, she leaned against Den, luxuriating in the pure maleness of him.
He smelt faintly edible; a strange mixture of newly baked bread, and lemon shower gel.
Mab sprang away from Den guiltily as she heard a loud cry of, ‘Hi, guys,’ from the other end of the street, and Leo and Sophie appeared, hand in hand, obviously fresh from a night of passion in more luxurious surroundings.
Mab seethed. Sophie looked as if she was on a photo shoot for Heat magazine, lip gloss freshly applied, hair straight and shining, and today’s outfit of tiny denim shorts and crop top obviously newly ironed.
Mab thought of the brick and counted to ten.
It didn’t help this morning, so she substituted a large breeze block.
It was horrible to be at such a disadvantage to this smug little clothes horse all the time.
Even though she’d showered and slapped on some make-up first thing, Mab knew that her flat-clearing activities had left her dusty and crumpled.
The Bjork t-shirt, pleasantly quirky when she put it on, now resembled a dish cloth, and her jeans were liberally smeared with dust and other unidentifiable stains.
‘Well, you lot sure have got yourselves motivated,’ said Leo, as Jess appeared from the other end of the street, with George slouching along beside her. Jess’s son had a skateboard under one arm and earphones firmly plugged into both ears.
As they neared the assembled company, Jess smiled nervously.
‘Hello, everyone, this is my son; George Vincent Pipes,’ she said, holding the boy by his skinny shoulders and pushing him forward slightly.
George’s spiky blond hair gleamed in the early-morning sunlight.
He was dressed in faded jeans and a black hoodie with the words ‘Come on, punk – make my day’ on the front, and his body language said ‘fight’. Leo held out a hand.
‘Well, hello, George. You’re very welcome. I’m Leo. Am I glad to see you, mate? We need all the muscle we can get today,’ he said, smiling down at the boy. George looked studiously at the floor and hummed a tune to himself. Jess gripped her son’s rigid shoulders more tightly.
‘George wants to help, don’t you, George? He’s not afraid of hard work, are you, love? Take your headphones off, you’re being really rude.’
There was a stony silence, as everyone waited for George to respond. He ignored his mother, and sat down on the pavement, took a pebble out of his pocket and began to scratch a pattern with it on a paving slab.
‘Right, well… let’s all go inside, shall we?’ said Leo. ‘We’d better get going before Mrs Mad-Eye Crabtree sets her dog on us. I heard it barking earlier, must be at least a Doberman or an Alsatian.’
Mab giggled. Beattie did have rather crazy staring eyes.
The laugh died on her lips when she remembered that she was going to have to face Beattie and Edward soon.
They were bound to be worried that all these developments with the shop and Leo were going to affect their relationship with Mab, and maybe even cause problems with the agreement they had made.
She remembered her vow of assertiveness and squared her shoulders.
‘Where shall I put all my stuff, Leo?’ she asked.
‘Shall I just pile it all up in a corner for now? So long as Maurice has got somewhere peaceful to settle into. I’ll leave him in his basket until later, though, because otherwise he’ll either escape or wee on all your favourite things.
What about the old stock room downstairs? ’
In ten minutes, everyone except Sophie had formed a human chain from the van to the stock room, and had stacked Mab’s worldly goods neatly in the room that was destined to eventually become the jacuzzi area, although even Leo had to admit that this part of the plan might have to wait until they’d earned some money.
After quick mugs of tea, the gang started again, this time filling Leo, Harry and Kev’s vans with old carpets, furniture, and anything else that they could persuade Leo to get rid of.