6. No. 15 Make a new friend
six
August
It’s a shitty day. I was working in town today, the village can keep me busy, but it’s not enough to sustain my business, so today I was working with strangers.
People who I have to give customer service to, with a smile.
I had one woman who’d called me in to hang a picture rail and then wanted to add on several other ‘little’ jobs, making me late for my next customer.
She then argued with me when she had to pay more than the original quote because she was expecting the extras to be done as goodwill. Fuck right off, lady.
Then the lunch I’d packed myself to eat in my truck, fell out when I went to grab my coat and it landed in a puddle, spilling onto the dirty road.
So I had to buy lunch, which I’d rather not do.
And it was shit. My last customer of the day cancelled last minute, and I got caught behind a tractor all the way home, so by the time I walk through my front door, I’m feeling sour.
Picking up my post, I head through to the large farmhouse style kitchen.
It’s old and homely and it’s where we always spent our time when we were with Aunt Jemma.
She didn’t particularly love cooking, but she loved the kitchen and when she got older, Mum used to come around and cook for her, so we’d all be at the large kitchen table playing board games while Mum pottered around the stove.
I put on the kettle to make myself a coffee, and drop my keys onto the hook. Darcy rises from his kitchen bed—the dog has a bed in every room—and he comes over to me on slow, achy legs, flopping to a sit at my feet and leaning heavily against my knee.
“Hi,” I say absently as I flick through the envelopes. He nuzzles into me in response, and I lean down to scratch behind his ears.
With my coffee made, I sit at the table and start opening the mail, it’s mostly bills, business insurance needs renewing, tax for the truck is due, blah, blah, blah. I open another and put my mug down with more gusto than needed, spilling black coffee on the perpetually stained wood.
“Fuck,” I curse, about the coffee, but mostly about the letter in my hand.
Defaulted payment.
Monies owed.
Final notice.
Legal action.
“Motherfucker!” I stand quickly, my chair scraping loudly against the tile, so loudly Darcy startles from where he’d just collapsed back in his bed. “This is such bullshit,” I mumble to the letter, like it might argue back. “I just want to be done with this.”
I need to get out of here, get away from the letter that embodies my biggest regrets in life and probably bitch and moan to Eli for a couple of hours.
So, it’s off to the pub. I grab Darcy’s lead along with my keys and head out the door again.
Bea is stood outside the café chatting to some guy with his back to me, she sees me and smiles, giving an exaggerated wave over her head at me.
When her friend turns around to see what she’s waving at, I practically snarl.
Ross fucking Purcell. What’s that smarmy piece of shit doing here?
And what’s Bea, the eternal sunshine, talking to him for?
Ross smiles at me with the same smug grin he had all through high school.
It made me want to punch him then, it makes me want to punch him now.
I never did and probably won’t, but I’m not exactly in the mood for him right now.
He turns back around and continues talking to Bea, her smile soft and genuine and she looks interested in whatever he’s prattling on about.
Which, for some reason, makes me so mad I grumble out loud as I lock my front door.
I’m about to ignore them completely and head to the pub when I see Ross reach out and cup Bea’s bare shoulder.
I notice the slight falter in her smile before she pulls it back into place and I’m stomping across the road before my brain can catch up to my legs.
When he sees me approach, his hand falls away, brushing down the length of her arm in the process and I don’t miss the way she takes a step back from him once she’s free.
“Hey, Zelig,” Ross says in a way that could be interpreted as friendly, but I note the sneer in his voice. He’s always called men by their surnames, thinking it makes him cool. He is monumentally wrong.
“What the hell are you doing back here?” I snap, not bothering to return his greeting and stopping a pinch too close to him to be comfortable.
I’ve never been one to use my size for anything more than reaching high shelves, but right now, I’m loving the more than half a foot I have on him.
I don’t acknowledge Bea, but I can practically feel her surprise at my less than friendly reception.
“Moved back to the village.” Ross shrugs, going for nonchalance, but I can see the slight panic in his beady little eyes.
Now, Port Doone is a small village and very sought after, so if a property becomes available to buy or rent, everyone tends to know about it and the only property that’s been on the market recently, was Bea’s new place. I smirk kind of cruelly. “Move back in with your parents?”
His friendly facade slips, nostrils flaring. “Temporarily,” he grits.
“And I’m guessing by the way you’re pawing at the first pretty girl you see that wife of yours kicked you out? Although I wouldn’t put it past you to—”
“The fuck is your problem, Zelig?” he snarls.
“You, mostly.” I sigh with an air of boredom.
He looks like he might want to hit me, and I would love for him to try.
I’m not a fighter, but something tells me I’d enjoy Ross’s failed attempt to knock me out.
Glancing back to Bea, he clearly decides not to embarrass himself and just curls his lip up in disgust. “Whatever, Zelig.” He turns back to Bea with a friendlier smile as he starts backing away. “I’ll see you around.”
“Sure,” she says kindly with a small wave, like she hadn’t just witnessed our hostile exchange.
When Ross has disappeared, Bea’s shining smile turns on me. I have the strong urge to ask her if she’s okay but then I get mad I even care.
“So, I’m pretty, huh?” she asks with amusement.
I feel heat blooming in my cheeks, and I growl out in annoyance, turning around to start back toward the pub. When I hear Bea’s footsteps following me, I don’t stop.
“So, um, I wanted to say thanks.”
“For what?” I grumble, keeping my strides long and quick.
“Connor,” she says brightly.
I stop in the middle of the road, not too concerned about traffic on the quiet street, and turn to her slowly.
Darcy huffs at my side, clearly unhappy with all the changes of direction and Bea looks down at him with a fond smile.
“Why are you thanking me for Connor?” I ask cautiously, wondering if she’s being sarcastic.
But when she looks back up at me with those sky-blue eyes full of light and earnest, I know she’s being serious.
“Because he’s great,” she says simply, still looking at me like I’ve gifted her something precious.
I know he’s great. I told her he’s great, or at least he’s good. Why is she telling me this? Why is she here? Why is there a fucking debt collection notice on my table, there to remind me why I can’t have what I wanted?
“He’s been really good this week,” she continues, completely unaware of the simmering rage building inside me. “He’s helped with everything and has actually been really fun to hang out with.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, with no patience.
Her smile dims a little, eyes going wide with surprise at my utter lack of manners. “Oh, um, well, like I said, I wanted to thank you…a-a-and Connor said I should talk to you.”
“About what?” I snap, not wanting to talk to this girl; this sweet, beautiful, happy girl who has done absolutely nothing wrong, but whose very existence is making me so fucking angry on this clusterfuck of a day.
She flinches slightly and I absolutely hate it, hate that I’m being a dick, hate she’s clearly nervous of talking to me, but I can’t stop. “Oh, the uh, the bookshelves collapsed again, totally unusable, and he said you could probably help build some custom ones.”
I don’t want to help her, I don’t want to make her business a fucking success because the longer she’s in the old shop, the longer it can’t be mine.
But I’m going to. Of course I’m going to, because I will never turn down the chance to build custom pieces and because Bea absolutely deserves my help.
“Great,” I grit out, although my face clearly shows I do not in fact think it’s great. “Of course he did.”
Bea huffs a little and plants her hands on her hips, straightening her shoulders and looking up at me.
I allow myself a quick look over her, she’s wearing those short shorts, the ones with the fabric of the pockets poking out from beneath the ripped hem.
Tucked into the waist is a pale-yellow top with no sleeves and a rounded neck.
She has bright green earrings in the shape of lightning bolts and her pink hair is pulled up into a loose bun with a few perfectly places strands left framing her face.
She doesn’t wear a tonne of makeup like her friend, Cas, did.
But maybe a little, it’s hard for me to tell.
She’s gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous and it pisses me off that I am definitely attracted to her.
“Listen, August,” she says, clearly being brave.
“I’m just trying to say thanks for setting me up with Connor, okay?
Like you said, he’s a great kid and he’s been invaluable this week.
I also thought maybe you would be free to help me with some work I need doing, because everyone I’ve spoken to has said you’re the best and you’d definitely be up for helping me.
I would of course pay you, if you’re interested in the work, but if you’re not, that’s fine, I will look online for someone else. ”
Someone else? Fuck that.
She smirks a little. “Everyone told me you’re a little grumpy but you’re a nice guy, and I’d like to be friends. I mean, we’re already neighbours.” Her smile turns up a notch like she’s got me, and I snap.
“I don’t want to be your friend,” I growl.
“You’re just another Londoner who thinks they’ll have a nice little holiday in the country, but as soon as you realise it’s not always sunshine and rainbows, you’ll fuck right off back to your precious city.
” Her head jerks back, smile disappearing completely.
“You think you know what’s best for this village?
You think your café is better than what someone else could have done with the place? Someone local?”
“But, I—”
“I’ll build you your shelves, and you can take them back with you when you leave.
But in the meantime, do not think we’re going to be friends.
” I throw my hands out wide, jerking Darcy’s lead, which he finds rather rude, and he lets me know by grumbling up at me.
I look down to give him an apologetic look and when I glance back up at Bea, my stomach sinks low at the sight of the tears in her eyes.
She swallows a couple of times, and her arms drop from her hips so her hands wring together in front of her. “Right,” she says quietly, her voice cracking slightly. “Okay. So, you actually hate me?”
“You think?” I say without thought and immediately regret it when her lip trembles.
“Oh. I just thought you took a while to warm up to people.” She wraps her arms around herself and looks off to the side as the first tear falls from her glassy eyes.
“In that case, I’m really sorry for whatever it is I did to make you hate me.
I didn’t mean to upset anyone by coming here.
I was just trying to…I don’t know, be happy, I guess. ”
Yep. I’m a fucking arsehole.
“I’ll, uh…I’ll let you get back to your walk.
” She gestures at Darcy, who sees the distressed woman in front of him and absolutely can’t leave her without a cuddle, so he jumps up to put his front paws on her smooth thighs.
Bea pats his head a little and then steps away, causing him to fall back to the ground and whine after her. “Bye, August.”
Bea turns and walks back to the cottage.
I know I should call after her and apologise.
I know I shouldn’t let her think I hate her, because somewhere deep down, I know I don’t.
That my anger is with someone else entirely but I’m taking it out on this poor girl who’s been nothing but a fucking delight since she moved to town.
But I don’t. I don’t do any of that. Instead, I tug on Darcy’s lead and drag him away from where he watches her retreating form and I go to the pub to bitch and moan to my best friend about how unfair my life is when I’ve just made Bea’s significantly worse.