Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
SOFIA
Sofia winced as she stood up, stiff from being crouched down for too long in the same position.
This was her third consecutive day working at the community centre and her energy levels were flagging.
She’d spent all weekend painting the walls and ceiling of the meeting room while Luisa worked on her mural, and it was physically demanding work.
During the occasional break, she’d loaded more data into the new accounting software package and created invoices for the community centre hirers.
It was mentally exhausting work, and entirely fruitless in terms of her plan to get closer to Connor, as he’d been away the whole weekend visiting family.
Tempting as it had been to message him, she’d deleted her words each time she’d tried to compose a message. She was a coward, as Luisa had unhelpfully pointed out, telling her to ‘stop procrastinating and message the damn guy’.
It was easy for Luisa to be blasé when she wasn’t the one whose happiness was on the line.
One false move and it could be game over.
Sofia didn’t want to blow her chance, and messaging a guy when you weren’t certain he felt the same way would only open her up to further rejection, and she wasn’t ready for another let-down.
Arching her back, she stepped away to check her work. Luisa had stayed home today as her breathing had become wheezy, so Sofia had persuaded her to rest up.
Turning slowly, Sofia had to admit the room looked good.
Happy with the result, she began rolling up the paint-splattered floor covering, feeling the bass thump of Latin beats emanating through the walls from the main hall where the Salsa class had begun. Her hips moved involuntarily to the rhythm.
When the door opened, she immediately stopped dancing and jolted upright, as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
Her heart skidded a little at the sight of Connor entering, and her embarrassment levels increased another notch.
It had only been a few days since she’d last seen him, but she’d missed him.
She covered her blush by pretending to rub paint from her cheek.
‘Hi,’ he said, glancing a smile her way, before admiring the décor. ‘Wow!’
‘Doesn’t Luisa’s mural look great?’
‘It’s amazing,’ he said, shaking his head in awe. ‘I was expecting a basic makeover, not a Picasso masterpiece.’
She watched Connor move closer to the design, his head tilting as he took in the oak tree with the words ‘You are not alone’ inscribed beneath.
Giant purple butterflies flew from the tree, captured mid-flight, one wing true to form and the other filled with phrases, such as ‘Be kind’ and ‘Think positive’.
The design seemed simplistic on first viewing, but once you looked closer, all of Luisa’s clever intricacies came to life, the hidden hearts, the beckoning hands, and the bright yellow sun emerging from behind a dark cloud.
Connor moved around the room, his hands tucked inside his faded jeans pockets, his eyes taking in the brushstrokes. ‘I can’t believe you did all this.’ There was a catch in his throat. ‘It’s extraordinary.’
‘Luisa did all the design work, I just filled in the gaps.’ She nodded to her own handiwork, the sections of pale lilac and soft green emulsion, but it was Luisa’s clever artwork that had completely changed the ambience of the room.
‘We found some old curtains at a charity shop, so I made a couple of beanbags and a few cushions.’
‘You made these?’ Connor flopped onto one of the beanbags, letting his hands run over the leaf-green design. He picked up a cushion and held it to his chest. ‘You’re so clever.’
‘It wasn’t hard, I used my mum’s old sewing machine.’ It was her default setting to bat away his compliments, but inside she was squealing with delight that he liked her handiwork. She could almost hear Luisa’s voice telling her to get a grip.
His fingers played with the velvet piping edging the cushion. ‘I can’t believe how different the room looks. I never imagined it would look this good. Thank you.’
With a shrug, Sofia returned to packing up. ‘It’s no big deal.’
‘It’s a huge deal,’ he said, getting up. ‘When you said the place needed a lick of paint, I thought you’d just whitewash everything. I had no idea you’d go to so much effort. It’s beautiful.’ He touched her arm. ‘Really. Thank you, Sofia.’
His voice softened when he said her name and she had to suppress a sigh.
‘I’m glad you like it.’ When the room started spinning, she realised she’d stopped breathing.
‘How was your weekend?’ She moved away in the hope she’d stop blushing and start inhaling oxygen.
Passing out was not the best way to impress a man.
He looked thoughtful. ‘Interesting.’
She unzipped her overalls and stepped out of them. ‘Interesting in a good way?’
‘Maybe.’ He picked up a role of masking tape, averting his eyes. ‘I nearly messaged you at one point.’
She stilled. ‘You did?’
‘I don’t know why, really.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘The sun was setting over the lake and the colours reminded me of the sunset in that photo you had on the train the day we met, the one of your parents on holiday. I was going to send you a photo, but then I lost my nerve.’
A number of thoughts filled her head. Mainly, the fact that he’d remembered so much about the day they’d met and the photo he’d fleetingly seen of her family.
She wanted to ask why he’d been nervous about contacting her.
Did it mean he liked her? Dare she hope?
Luisa would tell her to stop dithering and ask him outright, but instead she tentatively asked, ‘Can I see the photo?’
He scrolled through his phone and held it out for her to see. ‘It’s not that impressive when I look at it now.’
‘I think it’s lovely.’ The photo showed the fading sunlight glinting off the water, sparkling against the sky behind. ‘Is that where you were visiting this weekend, where your family live?’
‘Technically, they’re not really family, but they’re the closest thing to extended family I have. They look out for me.’
She wanted to ask more, but she also didn’t want to pry. ‘I don’t think family is necessarily who we’re born into, but those who we choose to have in our lives.’
‘I guess you’re right.’ His face was close to hers, his eyes flitting between her and his phone, as if he wanted to look at her, but it caused him discomfort. ‘How’s Luisa?’
‘Tired.’ It was only then that she realised she was wearing nothing but a vest-top over her lacy bra. She’d discarded her sweater when she’d overheated. ‘Her breathing was a bit off this morning, so she stayed home.’
He averted his eyes from her bare arms. ‘Another infection?’
‘More likely paint fumes. Hopefully it’ll settle down soon.
’ She searched the room, hoping to locate her sweater in the process of tidying up.
‘By the way, I dropped off the bank signatory forms this morning and all the community centre hirers have now been invoiced. The scout group paid immediately, so I cleared a couple of red demand bills. I hope that was okay?’
‘Of course it was,’ he said, helping her pack stuff away. ‘But you don’t have to do everything yourself, especially as you’ve been painting all weekend.’
Sofia shrugged. ‘I like keeping busy. It stops me overthinking.’
He looked at her. ‘Have you heard anything about your appeal?’
Unable to find her sweater, she wrapped the damp paint brushes in plastic.
‘The company have refused my appeal on the grounds that no new evidence was presented, so their original decision stands. My ACAS adviser still believes I have a strong case, so my application is being considered for an employment tribunal hearing.’
‘Sounds positive.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, with a grimace. ‘My former employers are instructing solicitors, so I’ll be up against a law firm specialising in these types of cases. Even with an ACAS representative it’s going to be tough to win the case.’
He replaced the paint tin lids. ‘What can I do to support you?’
‘Nothing, but thanks for offering.’ She smiled. ‘Being here helps, it’s therapeutic. I even got roped in to make tea for the craft group this morning.’
‘You have been busy.’ He held up her blue sweater. ‘Is this what you’re looking for?’
‘Oh, there it is.’ She took it from him. ‘Thanks.’
He averted his gaze as she pulled the sweater over her head. ‘You’re not planning on catching the train home with all this stuff, are you?’
‘No, I’ll take a taxi home and come back for the rest tomorrow. The pile to the right is rubbish, so we can load it into the dumpster. When do you need the room cleared by?’
‘I cancelled all the bookings this week, so there’s no rush.’ He picked up the bucket of brushes. ‘Leave the rubbish, I’ll clear that in the morning.’
‘Okay.’ She packed away the rest of the kit. ‘Luisa’s keen to start on the main hall next, but I told her paid bookings were more important for the centre’s finances, so I wasn’t sure when the work could be done.’
‘Most of the bookings pause during school holidays, so maybe we can schedule the work to be done when the schools break up. I’ll organise a working party to help.’
‘In the meantime, maybe we can spruce up the office, it’s quite a dismal working environment.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He added the scraper to the bucket of brushes. ‘You know, it seems stupid you taking all this stuff home if you’re planning to do more decorating. Why don’t you leave it here, we can make room in the outside storage cupboard.’
‘That makes sense.’ She loaded up the paint pots in her arms. ‘Lead the way.’
They headed down the steps into the main hall, where a group of dancers were attempting to Salsa. The instructor was having to raise her voice to be heard above the loud music.
Connor exited through the side door and balanced the brushes on the bench seat while he searched for the padlock key. ‘Can you dance?’