Chapter 16 #2
‘Okay… I’m still offering,’ I said, then added, ‘if only so you help me pack all this stuff into the boot.’ It was fairly obviously an excuse. I didn’t have that much shopping and I was used to handling twice as much by myself, but it was enough for Cooper to relax again.
‘Sure. Thanks.’
He put the dog in the car and then helped me load the shopping bags while the terrier whirled around in the back seat, exploring every nook and cranny.
There was going to be white hair all over the upholstery and I didn’t even care.
When we got in, I started the car and winced as my Best of Dolly Parton CD kicked in.
I quickly turned it off before she could fully launch into ‘Jolene’.
‘Sorry – sort of my go-to for break-ups,’ I said.
‘Understandable. My guilty pleasure’s the occasional blast of her cover of “Harper Valley PTA”.’
‘You like Dolly Parton?’ I raised an eyebrow.
‘I think it’s impossible not to, isn’t it? That’s like not liking fun, or cake. Country gets unfairly maligned, I think, but that’s just the opinion of a city boy,’ he said, putting on an appalling Southern accent.
I giggled. Cooper whistled and the dog shot over the centre console and into his lap.
‘You’ve got him well trained already,’ I laughed, manoeuvring us out of the car park.
‘Nothing to do with me. He’s just a clever boy, aren’t you?’ He rubbed the dog’s head, flapping his ears about.
I had a sudden brainwave. ‘I think I have some of my aunt’s old dog stuff stored at the flat – a lead and some bowls, stuff like that. If you’d like it, I mean, it’s just gathering dust at the moment.’
‘That’s… really kind of you,’ Cooper said, so earnestly that I glanced his way in surprise. I’d been expecting him to make light of it with a joke. ‘Thanks. I can come and pick it up later, if that’s okay?’
‘I could just do a quick drive-by now?’ I said and he looked surprised but nodded.
Even though it was my idea, I felt a bit awkward when we pulled up by the block of flats. I hadn’t really thought through that I was inviting Cooper over to my home.
Maybe he sensed something because he quickly said, ‘I can wait down here if you want?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I laughed. Though it came out a little strained. Why was this so awkward? ‘You’re not getting out of carrying stuff that easily. The dog can stay, though – he’s probably not going to hotwire the car.’
We left the dog sitting in the front seat and I showed Cooper into the building and to the lift. He stood behind me while I unlocked the door and I felt a tingle running up and down my spine.
‘Wow…’ he said, as he stepped into the flat and looked around. ‘It’s very… clean.’
I laughed under my breath. He was trying so hard to hide how appalled he was. ‘It’s all Richard’s idea, not mine.’
Cooper visibly relaxed. ‘Thank God, because it’s… awful.’
I giggled. ‘It is, isn’t it? I always think it looks like someone’s about to do surgery in here.’
‘Yes! Or like the lobby of a really overpriced gym.’ Cooper surveyed the kitchen and shook his head. ‘On a spaceship.’
‘Seriously. I don’t know what soft furnishings did to him as a child but it started a lifelong feud,’ I said. ‘I, um, think I put Pete’s things in the spare room.’
‘I love a dog with a human name,’ Cooper said, following me down the hallway, still looking around in semi-horror at the bland, bright walls. ‘Unless Pete was your aunt’s boyfriend. I don’t want to assume. Or kink-shame.’
I laughed, throwing open a built-in cupboard and hunting around for the right box. ‘The first one, but that’s very open-minded of you. I think his old toys are in here as well.’
‘Ah, this is more like it,’ Cooper said, and I turned to find him looking round the room.
I’d moved some more things in there to cheer myself up since the break-up and there had been a few of Aunt Lou’s ornaments around before then because Richard didn’t have to look at them in there.
Her Hathaway Rose dressing-table set and the stained-glass wreath of wildflowers hanging in the window.
One of her blankets was draped over the bed.
Well, we’d made it together but it was her design – three-dimensional sunflowers and sprays of leaves on alternating squares.
‘It’s a bit of a mess,’ I said, gesturing to the wicker chair with all my clothes draped over it and the books on the bedside table, one of which I realised was the Anthony Horowitz one I’d dug out after meeting Cooper the first time.
‘It feels like you.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ I laughed. ‘So I’m a mess?’
‘Clutter isn’t mess, it’s… real. Warm,’ Cooper said, sounding distracted.
He blinked and cleared his throat, suddenly awkward.
I guessed he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
He thought I was warm and real? Was that a good thing or code for me reminding him of his mother?
Why did I care? And why was seeing him only inches from my bed making my belly flutter?
‘Found it,’ I said, in the ensuing awkward silence.
I held out the box, which contained Pete’s lead, a few toys, bowls and random useful things like nail clippers.
Cooper took it from me and when our eyes met, he was the first to look away.
My stomach flipped and felt too light afterwards.
I glanced away towards the door. God, what if Richard decided to let himself in?
That was a sobering thought. I wasn’t really doing anything to feel guilty about – especially given Richard and I weren’t together – but, at the same time, this didn’t feel entirely innocent either.
Cooper cleared his throat, ears pink. ‘Should probably get back before the dog does some mischief in your car.’
‘Right, absolutely,’ I stuttered out. My heart was beating rapidly and I couldn’t keep myself from looking at his mouth. Suddenly the room felt too small, the bed too laden with implications. One of my bras was dangling over the wicker chair. It all felt too personal. Intimate.
We made a hasty retreat to the lift and I felt myself relax once we were back on neutral ground. Cooper seemed more at ease too, and started talking again, about the flats and how they didn’t really match the rest of the town. I nodded in agreement, glad of the distraction.
Back down at the car, the dog welcomed him as if we’d been gone for years instead of minutes. It felt like ages to me too actually. My heart was still beating too fast. I made myself breathe normally and tried to focus on anything but the man getting into my car.
Cooper put the box on the floor and wedged it between his feet so he could keep hold of the dog on his lap. I got in and told myself to just act normal for the next few minutes.
‘Are you going to put something on Facebook?’ I asked, as I drove towards the old-town side of Leaford, where the boat was moored. ‘Missing or found pets usually go on the local page – Leaford Community Group?’
He was quiet for a moment too long and I glanced over to see him looking out of the side window. His body was tense and, although he was still petting the dog, he was doing so automatically, not really paying attention.
‘I don’t really do Facebook,’ he said, a beat too late. ‘Maybe you could take a picture of him and post it for me?’
‘Sure… do you have a phone number at least, so I can let you know if anyone responds? Or do you rely mostly on smoke signals?’ I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
There was something off about his reaction when I mentioned Facebook.
Not the usual ‘I’m too intellectual and important to use social media’ I’d had a few times from library colleagues. It had felt somehow cagey.
For the first time, it occurred to me that I didn’t really know anything about this man.
I’d told him about my break-up, he knew about the shop, about Emma and Richard and where I shopped, what car I drove.
All I knew about him was that he lived on a boat stuffed with Diana memorabilia.
I didn’t even know why he lived there or where he’d come from.
He said he’d bought it recently but where had he been before? Did he have a job? A last name even?
‘… I’ll write it down for you,’ Cooper said eventually.
He picked up the shopping-list pad from the centre console and shifted the dog around so he could reach into his pocket.
The phone he pulled out was a cheap little Nokia with a keypad.
The kind of phone I hadn’t seen in real life since the 2010s.
What people in TV dramas would call a ‘burner phone’ – used exclusively by drug dealers, hitmen and people on the run from the government.
He scribbled the number down from his contact list. I couldn’t help glancing at the screen as he did so and saw only three numbers in the directory: ‘my number’, ‘O2’ and ‘Lloyds Bank’.
No family, no partner, not even a Chinese takeaway place or doctor’s surgery.
I returned my eyes to the road, frowning. What was his deal?
‘Cheers,’ Cooper said, as I pulled up in the little car park at the end of the towpath. ‘You want to get a picture of him for the Facebook post?’
‘Sure.’ I took my phone out and tried not show my surprise when Cooper got out of the car and left the dog in the passenger seat for me to photograph. He could have just been keen to get his bag out of the boot. It didn’t have to mean that he was trying not to be photographed.
I snapped a few pictures of the dog, who grinned adorably at the camera, blinking politely. I ruffled his ears and watched as Cooper opened the door and attached Pete’s old lead before leaning in to give me a wave goodbye.
‘See you around,’ I called, and watched as he took the dog and walked up the path back towards his boat.
He threw me a wave over his shoulder and I caught myself smiling slightly, but slowly that smile shrank under the weight of everything I didn’t know about him.
Accompanied by the knowledge that I shouldn’t care what he was hiding.