Chapter Twelve
The snot is dripping down my top lip and I swipe the cuff of my jumper across my face to mop it up, along with the tears that have been flowing freely.
My head is thumping from last night’s crying when I made the decision.
It’s taken gallons of ice-cold water to make my face look normal this morning, only for me to go and ruin it and start crying all over again.
The bell tinkles and Lil, my regular, walks through the door holding her plastic green-and-red shopping bag, which I know will have her sudoku book in.
I had to tell Jill this morning that she no longer had a job, although I don’t think she minded as she already has a new job lined up to start next month.
Now seeing Lil might push me over the edge.
I grind my teeth together to keep my wooden smile in place.
‘Hello, love. Usual please, with a cookie if you’ve got one. I think I’ll sit outside since it’s so lovely.’
‘Lil, I’m sorry. We’re not open anymore.’ I nod towards the closed sign still swinging in the door. ‘I’ve had to close the café.’
‘Oh, love. No.’ She reaches out and squeezes my arm. ‘You do look peaky.’
I stand, pushing my shoulders back. ‘I’m good, but I’d never forget my best customer. Hang on a minute.’ I disappear into the kitchen and reappear a minute later holding a box of English Breakfast teabags that I wrapped up in a bright red bow last night. ‘These are for you.’
‘I can’t take them.’ She tries to push them back towards me.
‘You absolutely can. It’s the least I can do.
And if you take them to the Camper Café by the library, they’ll keep them behind the counter for you whenever you want a cup.
And you should try their ice cream sundaes while you’re doing your puzzles.
You won’t be disappointed, promise. Tell Milo I sent you. He’ll look after you.’
I walk her to the door and wave her off as Reeni’s car pulls up.
‘You’ve forgotten to turn the sign,’ she says, flipping it over to Come On In as she walks into the café.
I screw my eyes shut. ‘You need to turn it back.’
‘Have the pipes gone again?’ She looks around her as if she’s about to see a tidal wave of water heading in her direction. ‘I can get Aaron back to fix them.’
I shake my head. ‘I’m done. I told Jill this morning. I can’t open anymore.’
‘What? Forever? No, Ellie.’ Reeni pulls out a chair to sit opposite me. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. Look for a different job, I guess. I’ve always paid the rent on this place in six-month chunks, so I have a bit of time before I’m turfed out on my ear.’
‘You know you can always stay at mine, don’t you?’
Before I can answer, Reeni’s phone rings. She picks it up and scowls at the screen as if she wants to hit it with a hammer.
‘Who is it?’ I don’t know who I expect her to say, but it isn’t Aaron. I nudge her. ‘Aren’t you answering it?’
She grunts and then turns her back on me, phone to her ear.
‘What do you want?’
I can only hear her side of the conversation, but her tone is scathing.
‘And that’s my fault, how? I’m looking after myself, that’s all.
’ She almost spits into the phone. ‘It’s got nothing to do with you what I do …
I don’t think you do care … How fucking dare you.
I am not being ridiculous. That’s on you.
You need to pull yourself together and be a husband and show that you care. Not blame all this on me.’
Reeni is waving her hand around at speed as she speaks.
‘I’m not listening to you anymore. You need to realign your priorities, because presently they’re skewed. And don’t expect me to cook dinner tonight because it’ll obviously be far too healthy for you. You can get a takeaway.’
And with that she ends the call, stabbing the phone so hard I’m half expecting the screen to crack.
‘Woah. Everything OK with Aaron?’
‘Fucking men.’ Reeni swings her waterfall of black braids around so fast they smack her in the chin. ‘I’m doing everything to give myself the best chance to get pregnant. You’d think I was feeding us poison on a daily basis.’
I keep my mouth shut, because if I say what I want to say, I don’t think Reeni will ever speak to me again.
But I have no idea what she’s playing at.
I’d give my eye teeth to have the family she has.
Gorgeous little Olly and Aaron who thinks the world of her.
Can’t she bloody see what’s in front of her nose?
I, on the other hand, have lost my business and am fucking up royally with the man in my life.
She needs to get a bloody grip. I was going to tell her about Jackson and the near kiss and what the hell she thought J x meant. But I’m not sure I want her opinion now.
‘I’d better get off. I’ve got a fertility yoga class to get to.’ Reeni stands, then pauses. ‘Life just feels a bit shit at the moment and we haven’t been out and had a good laugh in ages. Look, come over for a pizza night with me and Olly. I’ll call to arrange a day.’
She’s right. Everything has felt so serious lately. I nod. ‘Sounds good. Whenever suits.’
Reeni gives a small smile and leaves, and I’m left sitting on my own again. My posture collapses and I put my hands on the table and rest my forehead on them. Why the hell is life so complicated?
The bell tinkles and footsteps head towards me. Can’t anybody read the bloody closed sign on the door?
‘Lil says you’ve closed up shop. Why?’
I bolt upright at Jackson’s voice. ‘What the hell has it got to do with you?’ My voice comes out harsher than I meant it to. ‘No hello. Sorry I ran out on you yesterday. Just thought you’d come over and stick your nose in my business instead.’
I bounce to my feet, knocking my chair to the floor. It lands on its side with a clatter and there’s an electric silence as we both stare at each other.
‘I didn’t. I mean, I wasn’t trying to be nosey. I wanted to check … well, see if you were … well, if everything was OK.’
I’ve rarely seen Jackson lost for words. God, I’m a bitch, even if there are mitigating circumstances.
‘I’ll go,’ he says quietly and he turns and walks.
Part of me thinks I should let him walk right out of my life. Things will be so much simpler if I let him go. He deserves better and I don’t deserve him. His hand reaches for the door and before I can stop myself, I call out. ‘Don’t go.’
He stops, but doesn’t turn for what feels like an eternity, and I think he’s going to leave anyway. Then, slowly, he turns back to face me.
‘That was uncalled for,’ I say, my voice softer now. ‘Sorry.’
‘I probably deserved it,’ he says, taking a step in my direction.
My forehead pinches, not sure how he thinks me ranting at him is his fault.
‘Running out on you yesterday. Didn’t you get the note I left?’
I nod. ‘You could have shouted to me. Or texted. Phoned?’
He shuffles his feet. ‘I don’t have your number.’
I raise an eyebrow at him.
‘I’m not asking Milo for it. This –’ he waves a hand back and forth between us, ‘– is none of his business. He’s already overstepped that line once.’
This … there’s a this? A shiver ripples through me.
‘And I should have said goodbye, but I panicked and ran. Sorry.’
‘I guess we’re quits then,’ I say with a tentative smile.
His phone rings and I catch a glimpse of the blonde girl on the screen. He hits decline and puts the phone back in his pocket.
‘Girlfriend?’ I may as well find out.
‘Milly? Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘Business partner.’
I’m not sure how that makes me feel. There’s a strained pause and I glance down at his trainers to see the satsuma-orange heel tabs. ‘I’ve got something for you.’
In a rush, I walk to the other side of the counter and bend down out of view to grab the brown A4 envelope I’ve stashed on the bottom shelf. I have no idea if he’s followed me, and when I stand, relief washes over me to find him on the other side of the counter.
‘This is yours,’ I say, offering it up.
He hesitates and to avoid feeling awkward, I put the envelope down on the counter.
‘I owe you a coffee, too.’
‘You owe me?’
I ignore his question and busy myself with the coffee machine, making a strong coffee with two sugars the way he used to like it.
He’s still standing, staring at me, when I put his coffee down in front of him.
‘One prize-winning coffee.’
His eyebrows scrunch.
‘The photo. Of the beach hut.’ The lack of response is making me decidedly uncomfortable. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Ouch. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe this is all one gigantic mistake.
‘Yeah. That was me.’
I push the envelope towards him with my index finger. ‘I loved it.’ My voice has dropped in volume and I can’t meet his eyes.
The stool scrapes across the floor as he pulls it free from the counter to sit. He takes out the blown-up A4 photo of the yellow beach hut, stripey towel and the trainers with the orange heel tabs. It used up the last of my Lilypad stall takings to get it printed, but I’d thought what the hell.
‘Daisy.’ The softly spoken word hangs in the air between us. ‘I’ve always loved her. She reminds me of you,’ he says, still looking at the photo.
A spark flares to life inside me, ebbing and flowing to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
‘She’s not really changed, has she?’ I say, sinking onto the stool my side of the counter. ‘Did you try the handle? I chickened out.’
He takes a mouthful of coffee. ‘The day I took the photo? No, I didn’t.
’ He runs his hands through his hair, ruffling it.
It falls back across his forehead, settling into its quirky waves.
‘Sorry if I hit a nerve before.’ His eyes click to mine and don’t waver.
‘I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just wanted to check you were OK.
Lil wasn’t wrong then? Are you closed for good? ’
I nod, unable to confirm it out loud.
‘Oh. Ellie. I know you said things were tough. I didn’t think …’
I wave my hands, cutting him off. I’m not up to dissecting why and how it all dissolved away.
‘That’s why you asked about moving the VW.’ I can literally see the pieces of info slotting into place in his head. ‘And why you were irrational at the Lilypad day.’
‘Irrational? Rude? Unfriendly? Me?’ I say, irony dripping off every word.
‘I should have moved it. Damn. Milo wanted to. He knew something was up.’ He puts the photo down on the counter.
‘It’s just we needed the custom too. Mum’s obviously not working for now and Milo’s cut the number of jobs he’s taking in at the garage while the Camper got going. We could move it now. Would that help?’
He sounds upset and I want to reach across and cup his wrist, but I don’t.
Instead, I pick up a biro and fiddle with it.
‘It’s fine. This isn’t your fault. And honestly, you moving probably wouldn’t have saved me.
’ I look around, memories rebounding off the walls.
‘I buried my head in the sand for too long before admitting to myself how bad things were. And by then it was too late.’
The empathy in his eyes is palpable.
‘But there is one good thing,’ I say, determined to try to look on the bright side of things.
‘Yes?’
‘My rent is already paid up for the next few months. If I get a job that pays the bills, I’ve at least got a roof over my head while I figure things out.’ I take a cloth and wipe down the countertop. ‘How’s Tippi, your mum?’ I’m sick of talking about my own doom and gloom.
He takes my cue. ‘Both good. When I popped out, she was curled up on the bed next to Mum.’ He shows me a photo on his phone.
There’s something peaceful about the scene, although on closer inspection, his mum looks tiny and frail under the blanket that’s tucked around her.
Tippi is curled up in the crook of her knees.
The little dog’s missing leg is clear, her stump wrapped up in what looks like an elasticated sock, a wide plastic collar around her head.
‘Is she managing alright on three legs?’
He puts his phone down. ‘You’d never know one was missing the way she’s trotting around. Although you should see the look she gives me when she bangs that collar into the doorframe. You’d swear it was all my fault.’ He chuckles.
‘I’m sor –’
He stops me by holding a finger up. ‘No sorrys. We’ve said enough of them.
’ His eyes bore through me, the kind of slow-burn stare that heats your skin and steals the breath from your lungs without even a single touch.
‘I know you’re sorry. I am too. But it’s done and gone and dealt with,’ he says. ‘It was no one’s fault.’
I grasp on to the side. Is he talking about us, our situation and what happened before? All the sorrys we were owed and never said.
He twists the ring around on his little finger. ‘I shouldn’t have bailed on you with no explanation, and you’ve been stressed about the café and on top of that, there’s Tippi’s accident. All those sorrys have been said.’
He isn’t. He’s talking about now.
I take a breath, galvanising myself to speak. ‘You’re right. We need to start again and go from here.’ I watch him closely, but his expression never flinches.
I stick my hand out as an offer to shake his and then immediately change my mind. I’m not sure my insides would cope with feeling his strong, warm hand in mine. Instead, I push the brown A4 envelope across the counter.
‘Don’t forget your photo.’
He picks it up and cradles it as if it’s fragile. ‘Thanks for this. It means a lot.’ He picks up his drink and turns to go.
I don’t want to watch him leave and busy myself with cleaning the coffee machine.
‘If you need any help, you will call, won’t you?’ He’s stopped in the open doorway.
‘Of course. Thanks,’ I say, scrubbing hard at a stubborn stain on the drip tray.
He nods, acknowledging my answer, and then he’s gone. I sink to the floor behind the counter and burst into tears all over again.