Chapter 12
I went for a wander at lunchtime, just to take my mind off Richard and the crochet auctions. I’d been refreshing the pages all morning and looking at the bids as they came in, which I knew wasn’t healthy or helpful, but that hadn’t stopped me.
Richard had set the prices too low but he’d probably still get a good amount for the whole collection.
I’d made so many things and he hadn’t given any of them to his family.
I had no idea where he’d been keeping them.
Maybe at work, where he had a large locker for extra suits and his Hunter wellies for more rural property viewings.
Hell, maybe he’d just chucked them in a gym bag in the boot of his car.
I wasn’t thinking about it. I wasn’t. We were finished and it didn’t matter any more.
To that end, I decided it was time to break the news to my mother.
As much as I didn’t want to hear what she thought I could have done to prevent Richard from cheating on me, I had to tell her sometime.
Even if I kept flashing back to the moment I’d come home crying because everyone at school made fun of my wide-legged trousers and she’d looked me up and down before saying, ‘Well, I did warn you.’
I found her number in my contacts and hit ‘call’ as I took a seat on a bench down the side of the butcher’s. Mum answered on the third ring.
‘Hi, love. Unusual for you to call – what’s up?’ I could tell, from the slightly tinny echo, that I was on speakerphone. At a guess, this was because Mum was painting her nails, as I couldn’t hear the Hoover and that was the only other time she used hands-free.
‘Oh, um… nothing much. I just wanted to call and… check in,’ I heard myself say stiffly.
‘Ah, well, it’s nice to hear from you. I’m looking forward to seeing you at the party, both me and your dad are. It feels like we don’t get to spend much time together any more. Still… you’ve got Richard to be worrying about. I understand.’
‘I… do, yes.’ I cursed myself inwardly for my cowardice.
This exact thing had happened when I was trying to break up with my university boyfriend.
Every time we saw each other, he smiled and hugged me or gave me a kiss – how could you dump someone after that?
It went on for a month. Mum had been upset to hear about that break-up too, I remembered.
She was more excited to hear I had a boyfriend than when I’d told her I got a two:one.
‘How is Richard?’ Mum asked, and I felt a spasm of shock as if she’d read my mind. ‘He’s not been around for a while – work must be really busy?’
‘It is, yeah, but he’s fine. We’re both just really, really busy. You know, the shop, his work and trying to set up a business…’ I trailed off before I could add ‘his affair’ to the list.
‘Hmm,’ Mum hummed, sounding troubled. ‘Well, just make sure you’re looking after him – cooking something nice and making sure you look your best at the end of the day.
You know, the shop is lovely and everything but…
Richard is your future. You need to put as much work into your relationship as you do into work, if not more. ’
‘Mmmhmm,’ I got out, through a throat suddenly thick with shame, irritation prickling at my neck. Did she really think so little of me that Richard was all I had going for me in terms of the rest of my life?
‘Oh, I have to tell you – your father’s decided to repaint the front of the house and we have had a terrible time tracking down the same pink as before. And you’ll never guess who we saw at B&Q…’
I let her talk for twenty minutes about paint charts, why Sally from the sweet shop would be buying so much wood glue and what the weather was doing at the weekend.
I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t want to tell her.
Even though I knew I had to, that she’d find out sooner or later, I couldn’t get the words out.
I didn’t want to hear that first disappointed ‘Tabby…’ to come out of her mouth.
It would hit me right in my chest, where it was still sore and aching from heartbreak.
It was going to hurt and I didn’t want to invite that pain in.
Once Mum rang off to do her pedicure, I went for a walk and tried to soak in some positivity.
Leaford high street looked lovely in the autumnal sun, the hand-painted signs and red bricks glowing and leaves the colour of dried apricots drifting from the oak trees in the park.
Acorns and chestnuts popped under my boots as I crunched down the street and the smell of freshly baked bread and hot coffee wafted from the bakery. Bliss.
Or at least it was until I reached the bakery steps and saw none other than Richard inside.
He was probably buying himself some focaccia on his lunch break.
Having not had his fix after I caught him cheating and tried to batter him with the bag of baked goods.
I backed away in panic and sidestepped. There was no way I wanted to risk talking to him again after the state he’d left me in that morning. I had to hide.
Looking around at my options, I started to panic.
I couldn’t chance him wanting a paper from the newsagent’s or popping into the cheese-and-wine shop for a client gift.
There was only one place nearby that Richard wouldn’t go, even if it was peeing down with rain in a red-weather warning – the charity shop.
The only thing that wrinkled his nose faster than second-hand goods was a shop packed full of them.
I ducked through the door, hoping the bell wouldn’t bring Margaret out of the back. Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire. Thankfully, she was on the phone back there. I could hear her droning on about collection dates and parking restrictions.
The hospice shop was a weird L shape. The main body of it went from the front door to the counter, but there was a windowless offshoot that was the perfect place to hide.
That was where the books were shelved, along with old magazines, out-of-date maps and sewing patterns.
Basically, anything papery that was going a bit yellow and musty.
I squeezed between two overflowing racks of old waxed jackets and M&S duffle coats and let out a sigh of relief to be in the dim sanctuary of the book-nook.
I’d just give Richard five or ten minutes to grab his lunch and go, then the coast would be clear to return to the shop. Was it cowardly? Yes. But at least I wouldn’t be reduced to tears for the second time in one day. I couldn’t bear it.
Margaret shuffled back into the shop front and I heard her huff as she unlatched the jewellery case to add more items to the already overflowing trays inside.
The click of beads and scrape of metal on glass were the only sounds in the shop and I held my breath.
In front of me a row of deteriorating Catherine Cookson novels sat crumbling and, above those, fifteen copies of the latest ‘must read’ naughty romance were having a little orgy between James Patterson novels.
The bell over the door jangled and I took the chance to sidestep to the craft books. Maybe I would find some interesting crochet patterns and this embarrassing game of hide-and-seek would be worth it.
‘Donations for you,’ came a familiar voice. It was Cooper. My stomach flipped over and I glared down at it. Traitor. How could it do that for someone we barely knew?
Margaret made a nasal noise of disapproval and I heard the clink of plates and cups rattling together. I could imagine her sugar-almond claws picking through the Diana memorabilia, her mouth all pursed up as she let Cooper squirm, wondering if she was going to deign to take the bric-a-brac or not.
‘I suppose,’ she muttered finally.
‘I’ve actually got quite a lot more to bring up, if that’s all right?’ Cooper asked, sounding almost amused by her reluctance.
‘If you must,’ Margaret sighed. ‘It might shift. If not, there’s always the china smash at the fair… you were in yesterday.’
‘I was,’ Cooper affirmed. ‘Thanks again for the blankets and things – though I think you underpriced them. Some gorgeous stuff in those bags. Handmade too. I actually feel like I owe you money.’
My breath caught. He had no way of knowing I was here, right? He wasn’t just saying that for my benefit. He actually thought that and he was telling Margaret to her face that he thought she’d marked them up wrongly. He either had a death wish or a deep conviction that had prompted him to tell her.
‘Hmf’ was Margaret’s response. ‘No accounting for taste.’
That’s it, I was going to jumble her alphabetised DVDs up before I left. The cow.
I heard Cooper click his tongue. ‘Anyway, I took another forty out at the cashpoint – you could have got more for it. But pearls before swine and all that.’
Ha! Take that, Margaret! I felt vindicated and sort of as if I wanted to burst out of my hidey hole and give him a high-five. Or a hug. I wondered what he was wearing and if it was one of my jumpers.
Judging by the icy silence that followed Cooper’s words, Margaret was giving him ‘the look’. I waited for him to turn tail and leave.
As well as avoiding Richard, I had no desire to run into Cooper for another awkward exchange of jabs and jokes.
Or rather, I had no desire to have to examine how I felt afterwards.
Yesterday had been confusing enough. As soon as the bell went again, I’d count to twenty and then leave. Back to the sanctuary of the wool shop.
But the bell on the door didn’t go. Instead I heard the old wooden floor popping and creaking as Cooper browsed the shop and then, finally, stepped into the nook.
He was wearing jeans and boots, and the cashmere jumper with the cuffs carefully folded back.
My hands twitched with the urge to touch him.
It. The jumper. I felt myself blush furiously.
It took him a few seconds to see me in the gloom and, when he did, he went very still.
I couldn’t help looking stiff and surprised – there was no denying that I hadn’t been shopping normally.
He’d have heard me moving around otherwise, the floor being so loud and warped.
I was caught and we just looked at each other.
Then he slowly inched towards me and whispered, ‘Hiding from anyone in particular?’
The scent of sharp pine mingled with the mustiness of old books and I took a breath as I tried to come up with something to redeem myself. But I was saved from disaster when he nodded back towards the main shop and pulled a face.
‘She’s fun.’
I snorted and clapped a hand to my mouth in embarrassment. Cooper’s eyes twinkled in the low light and I wanted to both shove him and smile at him. It was a weird, dizzying feeling. Like driving fast over a humpbacked bridge.
‘I’m just looking for a good book,’ I whispered back, and picked up one of the disintegrating volumes in front of me at random.
‘Ah, The Novice Guide to Rearing Show Rabbits, that’s a thrilling read. I’m waiting for the sequel myself.’
‘You never know, I might be going into angora at the shop. We could keep them in the break room,’ I said, and felt my insides glow when his jaw ticked with a suppressed smirk.
He was enjoying this. I was too. I felt suddenly as if we were a pair of naughty kids hiding away in a cupboard at school, while the mean headmistress stamped about outside, rearranging piles of moth-eaten teddies and balding Barbies.
But that was a dangerous feeling – I had only just broken up with Richard.
I couldn’t afford to get mixed up with someone else.
I returned the book to the shelf and gestured to the narrow exit. ‘I’d best be getting back.’
‘Tons of angora to harvest, I expect,’ Cooper said, stepping aside.
Even though he’d moved, with the shelves boxing us in, I had to inch past him sideways and for a moment we were practically nose to nose.
He had to look up at me ever so slightly, but it didn’t seem to bother him.
He was looking at me as if I was something rare and special he’d spotted on a high shelf.
Up close, his generous lips were a little chapped, but they looked soft too. Biteable.
Get hold of yourself, Tabitha! I told myself sternly, as I reached the doorway and glanced back at him.
He was watching me, and maybe it was the shadows or good old-fashioned delusion, but he looked just as dazed as I felt.
I could still feel his body heat on my clothes and smell the mingled sharpness of pine and mint as I ducked out of the book-nook and into the street.
A blast of autumnal air chased the heat from my skin and I hurried back to the shop. It wasn’t until I reached it and stepped inside that I realised I’d completely forgotten to look out for Richard. For the past few minutes, he’d simply ceased to exist.
As the shop door shut behind me, I gave myself a little mental shake.
Whatever I thought I was feeling around Cooper, it was just a passing fancy.
As temporary as the turning of the leaves.
Pretty soon the novelty would wear off and he’d be just another man wandering around town, forgettable as the brown mulch under my boots come November.
But just in that moment, my blood was fizzing around my body and I could almost feel the ghost of his lips on mine.