Chapter Eight
Erin hoped the group would have moved on from discussing the end of their own stories by the time she came back with the tray of hot drinks, but she was disappointed to find they were still in full flow.
She distributed the steaming cups, catching Adam’s eye as she put down the decaf black coffee he’d asked for.
She fought against her body’s reaction to the warmth in his gaze.
If he thought he could win her around so easily, he was wrong.
Hafsa was speaking, ‘I’m loath to say it, but I’m beginning to think my ending might be different to the one I always thought I wanted.
I’m wondering if it was even my dream in the first place.
My parents were doctors and it was always more of a “when you go into medicine” than an “if”, and I didn’t mind.
I went along with it, and all the time I was growing up I imagined being a doctor would be really fulfilling.
And it has been, for the most part. But it’s changed beyond recognition in the time I’ve been a GP.
I hardly ever see the same patient twice, and the workload is unmanageable.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like I’m part of a caring profession anymore.
It’s a numbers game, all about targets and quantifiable outcomes instead of individual care.
I want to get back to believing I’m making a difference.
I miss that feeling of doing something that makes people’s lives better. ’
She smoothed out a crease in the leg of her jumpsuit. ‘I’ve never really admitted this, even to myself, but I’m not sure I want my story to end with a protagonist who’s burned out and cynical, and that’s the way I see it going if I carry on the way I am now.’
‘I’m sorry you feel like that,’ said Joe. ‘I can only imagine what it took to get through all those years of training. I’m sure many, many people are incredibly grateful for the care you’ve given them.’
‘Thanks, Joe.’
‘Do you have any ideas for what your next pages might look like in an ideal world?’ said Susan, her voice softer than usual.
‘It’s something I’d like to give some thought to,’ said Hafsa. ‘This exercise could be the push I need to think about making changes.’
Those words sent a shudder through Erin.
She didn’t like change. Change was never good in her experience.
But at the same time, she didn’t want to be the one to block a suggestion that Hafsa thought could be useful to her.
To avoid the others noticing her unease, she went over to the record player and lifted the arm from the Miles Davis LP, and put it back in its sleeve.
She took A Love Supreme by John Coltrane from the pile.
She wanted something familiar and calming.
She blew dust from the vinyl, then placed it on the turntable and lowered the arm.
When she turned back to the group, Joe was smiling at her, and she knew he approved of her choice.
‘Have we settled on Great Expectations for our next read, then?’ she asked, seizing a brief gap in the conversation.
‘I’m not sure about this one now,’ said Riley, dropping the thick book on the table. ‘If we’re on the theme of reinvention, maybe we should choose a book based on that.’
‘Good idea,’ said Mercy. ‘I’m going through my internal library system now.
’ She put her finger on her chin and tapped, her eyes trained on the print above the fireplace of the woman reading.
The others sat in silence, watching as she hummed quietly.
Being a librarian meant she’d worked with an inordinate amount of books, and coupled with her freakishly impressive memory, she could be relied upon to pick the perfect book for any occasion.
The others didn’t always agree with her choices, but they had to admit her recall was impressive.
After a minute, she nodded to herself. ‘Okay, what about Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng? It’s a great story.’
‘I loved that one,’ said Riley.
‘Me too,’ said Susan. ‘It’s about letting go and moving forwards, so it fits, but since three of us have already read it, do you have any others in your memory bank?’
‘Naturally, I do. Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers would be good.’
‘Have you read that one?’ asked Erin. Mercy smiled and raised her hands. Erin shook her head. ‘You’ve read everything.’
‘It’s definitely worth a reread,’ said Mercy.
‘It’s set in Southeast London, and I always like a local book.
’ She rolled her bottom lip over her teeth and focused on Erin.
‘We should probably read the last page first, though. The ending is … it’s emotional.
It’s based on a real-life event from the fifties. ’
Riley stood and crossed to the wall of books, her hands in the back pockets of her low-slung baggy jeans as she perused the spines.
‘Is there a copy here?’ She turned back to the group.
‘Someone search it up and show me the cover.’ Tybalt hopped off Joe’s knee and joined Riley, staring up at the wall of books as though attempting to help, before rubbing against Riley’s shins then winding through her legs.
Adam took out his phone and tapped the screen. ‘It’s got big oranges with green stalks on a bluey green background.’ He turned the screen out to the room, then Erin and Susan joined Riley in the search.
‘Bingo,’ said Erin, pulling the book out from the third shelf up. ‘I can’t believe I haven’t noticed this before.’
They all returned to their seats, the cat choosing Adam’s lap to sit on this time.
Erin realized that she’d always considered Tybalt a good judge of character.
Whenever he was in the café, if he wasn’t busy tormenting visiting dogs, he gravitated towards the people she herself liked best. Now he’d chosen Adam and she couldn’t help thinking that was an endorsement.
She gave her head a shake. Was she seriously taking where a cat chose to sit as a reason to drop her guard?
Ridiculous. ‘Shall I read out the last page?’
‘Just a sec,’ said Susan. ‘Can we clarify what we’re doing about this writing exercise first?’
‘Obviously, you do you, but I think I’ll stick to the reading.
’ Erin sank back into her chair, disappointed the conversation had returned to this.
‘We’re a book group, not a writing group.
’ With a combination of guilt and relief at having spoken out against the initiative, she relaxed back in the sagging leather.
‘I know. We could combine the two by picking books to go alongside what we’re writing.
’ Hafsa clasped her hands together and turned her gaze on Mercy.
‘You could find the perfect travel books that represent your dream to see the world.’ She turned to Joe.
‘There’s loads of novels about love and companionship after loss, aren’t there? ’
‘Are there?’ said Joe. ‘Righto.’ He grinned. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve gone home with two sets of homework. Three if you include reading Small Pleasures. It’s going to be a busy week.’
Erin stiffened. This wasn’t the outcome she’d hoped for.
‘I’m not sure I’ve got time for all this,’ she said, swirling the last of her tea around in the bottom of her cup.
‘Not with having this place to run, and now Jack’s back …
’ She lifted the cup to her mouth and let the cold liquid roll onto her tongue.
It wasn’t fair to use Jack as an excuse.
Other than rarely wiping down the kitchen surfaces when he spilled things, he didn’t create much extra work.
Living away from home had made him more self-sufficient than Erin anticipated.
If she was honest with herself, she quite missed him needing her in the way he did when he was younger.
She’d been looking forward to having her boy home, but he was now a man, who had his own life, and was fully competent in the workings of the washing machine.
He’d even asked her if she had anything that needed washing when he put a load on last night.
‘I can do extra shifts if you need me,’ said Riley, hopefully.
‘Thanks,’ said Erin, her stomach turning over at the thought of having to tell her one day soon that her job no longer existed. She resolved to share the news as soon as Jack was settled. ‘But I’m not sure writing’s my thing.’
‘You won’t know until you try, will you?’ said Joe. ‘If this old dog can give it a go, you can, surely?’
‘Yes, go on,’ said Hafsa. ‘Learning new skills is good for the brain, and it will be more fun if we’re all in it together.’
Unless she wanted to look like a curmudgeon, Erin had no choice but to agree.
She put her cup down on the table, keeping her eyes on the intricate gold pattern on its rim.
The gilt was fading. She should stop putting that set in the dishwasher or the pattern would be lost forever.
Why did things have to change and spoil?
Why couldn’t everything just stay the same?
‘Okay. I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. ’
‘Yay,’ said Riley, doing a little victory wiggle in her chair.
‘Shall we all try to bring in our last chapters in a month’s time?
That should give us long enough, right? And what about bringing in a relevant novel whenever you find one, to keep it about the books?
We could do that instead of choosing one we all read. ’
Erin thought forward to a month’s time and her skin pricked with fear.
‘Works for me,’ said Susan, patting her hair. ‘I’m quite looking forward to the challenge.’
‘Me too,’ said Joe.
‘Just for this month, though,’ said Erin. ‘We’ll get back to normal at the start of July.’
‘Deal,’ said Riley. ‘Cool.’
Erin tucked her hands under her thighs to stop herself squirming in her seat.
She was even losing control of the book group which, up until last week, had been a stable and predictable part of her life.
Things had changed when Adam arrived, and she blamed him for the disruption.
She turned to glower at him, but when she looked his way, she was surprised to note that he was staring down at his hands, which were clenched tight in his lap.
He appeared to be as uncomfortable with the plans as she was.