Chapter Thirteen
June was disappearing before her eyes, and Erin still hadn’t thought of what to write in her last pages.
Instead, she was still spending any free time she had looking over the café’s finances, which only seemed to confirm to her that there was no viable way of cutting costs enough to make the business work at the new rent.
It was almost three weeks since she’d got the letter from Galmouth and she still felt her jaw tighten and tears well up when she even thought about discussing what the future held.
But it wasn’t just her future at stake. It was Riley’s and Jack’s too, and Jack seemed no closer to finding a graduate job.
In a week, she told herself firmly, she would sit everyone down and tell them the truth.
Then she’d send in her notice to quit to Galmouth, even though the finality of that gnawed at her insides, leaving her stomach raw and acidic.
‘How are you getting on with the writing?’ said Jack, wiping his hands on a tea towel, and coming over to where she was sitting at a table near the window, her laptop open in front of her.
A little girl banged Lego pieces together in Kiddies Corner, laughing with delight at the sound.
Erin loved to watch the simple pleasures of small children in the café.
Usually it reminded her to live in the moment and enjoy the little things, like having Jack back home.
But even a crèche full of giggling babies would struggle to quell the anxiety she was fighting now.
She closed the lid, so Jack couldn’t see that she was actually viewing an Excel spreadsheet, not working on the writing exercise like she’d told him. ‘It’s a work in progress.’
‘Top secret, eh? You’re making me nervous.’ He flicked the tea towel onto his shoulder.
‘Nervous?’
‘Yeah. What if your plans are to sell up and move to Venezuela? What would I do then?’
Erin couldn’t help but laugh. Surely Jack knew her better than that? ‘I can talk myself out of a long weekend in Wales when I’ve overthought all the things that could go wrong, so I’m hardly likely to set off on an adventure to South America. I’ll leave that kind of thing to Mercy and Adam.’
‘Fair point,’ said Jack, making her feel sad that he recognized the truth in what she said. She was a terrible example to him. He deserved better. ‘How is Adam?’ Jack lifted his chin and peered down his nose at her.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Like what?’ He kept raising his chin and smiling.
‘Stop it.’
‘I’m just asking if you’ve seen your friend recently. You’re the one making a thing about it.’
Was Adam her friend? She wasn’t sure. He’d run off in the middle of last week’s book group and she hadn’t heard a thing from him since.
He never did arrange that walk in Greenwich Park.
She’d become used to him working at The Bookmark most mornings, and he seemed keen to chat whenever she had a free moment.
He laughed at her jokes and seemed genuinely interested in her book recommendations, which added a little light to her days.
He always had breakfast and sometimes he stayed for lunch too, so he was good for business.
That was the main thing she missed about him, she told herself.
‘I’ll inquire about his well-being at book group tonight,’ she said.
‘And tell him you were asking about him.’
‘You do that,’ Jack said. ‘And seriously, what have you written so far? I’m intrigued.’
‘I’ll tell you when I’ve finished, and not before. Stop trying to interfere with my creative process,’ she said, imperiously. ‘Now get back to work.’
At book group that evening, Erin found herself glancing at the door every few minutes, but half an hour after the start, she accepted that Adam wasn’t going to turn up.
She realized that looking forward to seeing him had been the only light in a very dark day, and now that light had been extinguished, her mood dipped even lower.
She pushed Adam from her thoughts and focused on the group. They’d all brought along a book related to their plans for their last pages. All except her, anyway.
Mercy held up a copy of Wild by Cheryl Strayed. ‘This was eye-opening,’ she said. ‘If a twenty-six-year-old woman can walk from the Mojave Desert to Washington state on her own, then I think I can get on a plane.’ Her distinctive chuckle followed her words.
‘I’ve seen the film of that,’ said Erin. ‘She’s an impressive woman, all right.’
Mercy tapped a nail on the cover. ‘She’s an inspiration.’ She made excited fists in her lap and smiled shyly. ‘I’ve been thinking I might write a travel blog from wherever I go. You don’t work in a library as long as I did without getting fanciful ideas about writing something yourself one day.’
Her gaze danced between their faces and Erin could tell she was nervous about sharing her plans. ‘I think that’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘I’d love to read all about your experiences.’
‘You don’t think it’s too much? Every Tom, Dick, and Harry has a blog or a podcast these days, don’t they? Who’s interested in my musings?’
‘Me, for one,’ said Erin.
‘And me,’ said Susan.
‘We all are,’ said Joe. ‘I’d be delighted to read about your travels.’ He pointed a crooked finger at Mercy. ‘You’ll soon give Adam a run for his money, I bet.’ Deep lines crossed his brow. ‘Where is our friendly neighbourhood journo, anyway?’ He looked at Erin.
‘No idea.’ She worked hard to appear disinterested. ‘He hasn’t been in this week.’
Susan’s mouth formed an ‘o’. ‘He was in a bit of a flap after the call he got last week, wasn’t he? Has anyone seen or heard from him since?’ They all shook their heads. ‘Do you think we should be worried?’
‘I’ve got his number,’ Erin said. ‘Shall I message him and check he’s okay?’ She was more comfortable enquiring about him on behalf of the group, than herself, and this was a good excuse to see what was going on with him.
‘Deffo,’ said Riley.
They all stayed quiet while Erin tapped out a text. ‘I’ll just say, hope you’re okay,’ she said.
‘Tell him we’re missing him at book group,’ said Mercy, leaning forwards as if trying to see what Erin had typed.
Erin felt obliged to add what Mercy said, despite feeling like it was a bit much.
She almost typed that Mercy said they were missing him, but managed to stop herself.
She contemplated adding a kiss, like she usually would when messaging a friend, but decided against it.
A kiss on the end might be misconstrued.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d agonised like this over a message.
She was losing the plot. She pressed send, put her phone face down on the table, then immediately looked up and said, ‘What book have you brought, Hafsa?’
Hafsa lifted a book with a boy in a red coat staring up at a starry sky on the cover. ‘The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time,’ she said. ‘I’ve been giving it a lot of thought since we last met, and I think I know what my last pages might be about.’
‘Tell all,’ said Susan, resting her elbows on her knees, and her chin on her hands.
‘The more I talk to Zahra, the more I understand the kind of support she needs, and I’m beginning to realize quite how hard it is for institutions like schools and even the NHS to help kids like her because of the volume of people getting diagnosed these days.’
‘Is autism on the rise, do you think?’ asked Joe. ‘Is that the problem?’
‘I actually think it’s awareness that’s on the rise.
I don’t believe there are more neurodivergent people than there were say, twenty years ago, just that now we know more about how it presents, especially in women and girls.
Because of this new understanding, more and more people are diagnosed, and that’s a good thing because they will be able to get the support they need, but the problem is, the support isn’t always there. ’
‘What’s your plan, then?’ asked Erin.
‘I haven’t exactly formulated one yet,’ said Hafsa. ‘But I’m beginning to think my medical background, plus being a parent of a child on the spectrum, could lead to me doing something that would be useful and rewarding for me. I just don’t know what yet.’
‘Sounds like a good start,’ said Riley. Her expression turned serious. ‘Do you think I’m on the spectrum?’
Hafsa’s head dropped to one side. ‘What makes you ask?’
‘Chegs said I don’t think like a normal person. He says my head’s on wonky.’
‘Normal?’ Erin spluttered. ‘Wonky?’ Maybe her policy of waiting to be asked for her opinion shouldn’t apply in this case.
Riley deserved to be admired, not denigrated by someone who was meant to love her.
If Erin told her what she thought, maybe Riley would see that idiot boyfriend of hers for what he was – an entitled dick.
Riley straightened. ‘He didn’t say it like … he says he doesn’t understand my thought processes and he thinks I’m probably autistic, or something.’
She sounded defensive, and Erin knew she had to tread carefully.
She wanted to tell Riley she thought she was being intentionally diminished, gaslit by a man who wanted to control her.
Instead, she said, ‘You are very creative, but surely not all creatives are on some kind of spectrum?’ She turned to Hafsa for confirmation.
‘If you’re worried about anything, you could always see your GP, but I would say that, unless you are finding areas of your life unmanageable and think a diagnosis would lead to you getting the support you need, then I wouldn’t give it too much thought. Are you struggling?’ Hafsa asked gently.
Erin could imagine her in her surgery giving sage advice and making patients feel like nothing was too much trouble.
Maybe she should open up about her anxiety.
Hafsa had probably come across plenty of anxious people in her time.
She instantly dismissed the idea. Hafsa wasn’t her GP, and the poor woman had enough to worry about without Erin burdening her with her issues too.
A niggling voice told Erin she’d also probably suggest she went to her doctor and asked for medication to help her deal with her waspish thoughts, and she didn’t want to do that.
Her worries were circumstantial. If she wasn’t so stressed about money and Jack, she would be absolutely fine, and no amount of pills could deliver a substantial income or a fulfilling career for her son.
Riley stuck out her bottom lip. ‘Nah, I’m not. He thinks my brain is weird, but I quite like living in my head.’
‘That’s what matters,’ said Erin. ‘I’m not sure I know many people who like living inside their own heads, so I’d say you’re in a better position than most.’ She’d certainly like a holiday from her own brain once in a while.
She’d also like Riley to have a holiday from her idiot boyfriend.
A permanent one. It occurred to her that at least Chegs was financially secure, so when she had to let Riley go, she would have him as backup.
The thought made her feel sick. The last thing she wanted was for this lovely young woman to have to rely on a man whose treatment of her was questionable at best. Erin couldn’t bear to entertain that line of thinking so she took the opportunity to change the subject. ‘What book have you brought?’
Riley’s face brightened. She dipped her hand into a canvas bag with The Bookmark logo by her side, and brought out a blue book.
She held it out for them all to see. Erin read the title, Natives: Race & Class in the Ruins of Empire.
‘This is epic. Akala starts by explaining his ideas using his own experiences then widens them to examine social, historical, and political factors and then he comments on how we got to the fucked-up world we live in now. If I want to make a living doing spoken word, I need to have something to say, so I’m reading books by people I think are changing the world for the better.
Akala’s incredible. Has anyone read this? ’
‘I remember Jack talking about it,’ said Erin. ‘Is the author a musician as well?’
‘Yeah, he’s a hip-hop artist. He founded the Hip-Hop Shakespeare Company.’
‘I’ll have to look that up,’ said Joe. ‘Hip-hop sounds like my kind of music, although I might be more likely to fall into the hip-op category at my age.’ Tybalt stirred as Joe’s body shook with laughter.
As they all laughed along with him, Erin wondered how many other seventy-five-year-olds would be interested in learning about hip-hop.
She paused to consider that thought. Now information was available on the internet, people didn’t have to be stuck in the echo chamber of their immediate surroundings, and that was a good thing.
Some change was good. She glanced around the group, loving that they were a mix of ages, ethnicities, and socio-economic backgrounds.
Joe was the only man, though. Adam had evened that out a little, but he still hadn’t arrived and, annoyingly, now the group felt less balanced because of it.
She turned her phone over and her heart rate quickened when she saw a notification on the screen.
It was a reply from Adam. She lifted it and opened the message.
‘Adam’s replied,’ she said to the group.
‘He says he’s sorry he couldn’t come tonight.
’ She glanced up. ‘He says something unexpected cropped up.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Susan. ‘At least he hasn’t left us for good.’ She viewed Erin. ‘Has he?’
Erin glanced back at the message. ‘Don’t think so.
’ It was pointless trying to pretend she wasn’t drawn to this man.
Despite her best efforts, he’d already taken up too much space in her head to ignore.
With a mixture of anticipation and nerves, she reread the second part of the message silently to herself.
I could do with a chat. Don’t suppose you’re free for that walk tomorrow? 12pm any good?