Chapter 9
J osie Bellridge approached the till with a pair of children’s plastic knitting needles and a ball of yellow double-knit wool.
‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘For Charlotte?’
Out of all Josie’s children, Charlotte was the one who stood out.
Not because she was cuter or more boisterous than her siblings, but because yellow was her favourite colour.
By all accounts, her bedroom was yellow.
Her favourite foods were yellow. From head to toe, everything she wore had to be yellow.
Charlotte was a chattering, singing, dancing and skipping beam of sunshine.
‘She’s been nagging me to teach her for a while,’ Josie said. ‘Today’s the day.’
Josie was a fabulous wool crafter. Be it knitting, crochet or needle felt, she made the most beautiful creations and I was pleased to hear her skills were being passed on to the next generation.
Although, thanks to her six children, I didn’t know how Josie found the time, energy or patience for extras like knitting lessons.
Not that you’d know she was the mother of a brood.
Josie was efficiency personified and so calm with it.
In her shoes, I’d have been a frazzled mess, walking around with bags under my eyeballs. She was clearly made of sterner stuff.
‘It’s all in the routine,’ she said, as if reading my mind. ‘And the odd Valium.’
I chuckled. ‘Well good luck,’ I said.
As Josie picked up her purchases, the shop bell rang, and we both glanced over to see Alex enter. He nodded our way and began perusing the wares, while we soaked up the sight of him.
Josie leaned in. ‘Who is that ?’
The way Settledown operated, I was surprised she hadn’t heard. ‘The new barman at The Royal Oak,’ I whispered.
‘I need to get out more,’ Josie said, continuing her observations. ‘I’ve obviously died and gone to heaven.’ She sighed, wistful. ‘I should leave. Before my ovaries start dropping eggs.’
Alex stepped forward and swiftly opened the door for her.
Ducking under his arm, Josie glanced back at me and putting a hand up to fan herself, pretended to swoon. ‘Enjoy,’ she mouthed.
‘Happy knitting,’ I said, watching her go on her way.
‘Nice sweater.’ Alex grinned as he approached.
I looked down at the giant Christmas pudding emblazoned across my front. ‘I can give you the pattern if you like?’
Alex’s smile continued. ‘Some things are better left to the experts. Although I do need some wool.’
‘Then you’ve come to the right place.’ I raised an eyebrow, smirking as I gestured to the rows upon rows of available stock.
Alex shook his head. ‘Very funny.’
‘What kind of wool are you talking about?’ I asked.
Alex wrinkled his nose and shrugged. ‘I’m thinking grey. No wait, blue.’ He placed his hands on the counter. ‘Maybe greyish blue?’
‘Chunky? Double-knit? Arran? Merino?’
‘Now you’re just showing off.’
I chuckled.
‘To be honest, I didn’t ask. It’s to send to my Grandma. First, she tells me she’s knitting me a scarf for Christmas, then insists I buy the wool. Savvy or what?’
I let out another laugh, liking the sound of the woman. ‘Cashmere it is?’ Moving towards the shelves, I paused. ‘Unless you’re vegan?’
‘Nope.’ Alex looked at me confused. ‘Why? Does that matter?’
‘Never mind.’ I scanned the available options. ‘This one’s nice.’ I handed him a ball. ‘I must warn you cashmere’s expensive. But it’s perfect for the job. Not only is it the one of the finest and softest of wools, it’s also the warmest.’
As if assessing its texture, he squeezed and caressed the yarn; actions I found distracting.
‘And it’s durable,’ I said, my voice cracking.
‘Like I told you, it’s not your cheapest option, but your scarf could easily last ten years if you take care of it properly.
’ The room suddenly felt hot and after one yarn caress from Alex too many, I snatched the wool from him.
‘My gran was forever knitting stuff for me. Hats, jumpers, you name it, she used to make it.’
‘Used to?’
‘She passed away. Eighteen months ago, now.’ As soon as the words were out, I could have kicked myself. When it came to the laws of general chitchat, I’d long learned that the death of a loved one was a conversation stopper.
Alex rolled his eyes, proving himself an exception to the rule. ‘My grandma’s not going anywhere.’
I gasped. ‘You can’t say that.’
‘Why not? It’s true. You’d say the same if you met her. She has a severe case of FOMO. No way is she gonna miss out on what the rest of us are up to. She’ll outlive us all. Saying that, Mum and Avery are just as nosey.’
‘You have a brother?’
‘Sister. She’s my twin. Not that we look alike. She got the good genes.’ He retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and opened it. ‘Here, see you for yourself.’ Pulling out a photo, he handed it to me. ‘This was all of us last year.’
Taken outdoors, it was a typical family snapshot. There were no Instagram-ready poses, everyone simply grinned at the camera. They all had rosy cheeks and wore wellington boots and winter coats. There was a smattering of snow on the ground and a thatched cottage behind them. ‘Is that your mum?’
Alex nodded.
The woman was tiny compared to Alex. She had thick dark hair that was loosely piled on the top of her head, and she wore a thick brown wool overcoat with a floral scarf and Doc Marten boots. She reminded me of Helena Bonham Carter.
‘Oh, and look at your grandma.’ Glasses perched on the end of her nose, her elbows were tucked in and her hands clasped under her ample boobs. She had the cheekiest of smiles and like Alex’s mum, she was short in stature. I looked up at Alex, perplexed. ‘Where do you get your height from?’
‘Dad’s side. They’re all giants. Mum and dad are divorced, which is why he’s not in this picture. Those are my nieces and nephew.’
I took in the three girls and one boy.
‘And that’s Avery,’ he said.
I tilted my head as I looked at Alex. ‘No kidding, Sherlock.’ Her height and looks spoke for themselves.
It was clear from the way Alex talked about his family they were close. I liked that. One of the things I missed about Gran was the banter we shared.
‘Do you have siblings?’
I shook my head. ‘My father’s never been in the picture and Mum died just after I was born. Some things aren’t meant to be.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Growing up, I’d craved a sister. Someone to play with when I was little, and as I got older, to share make-up tips, celebrity gossip and boyfriend highs and lows.
We could have danced around our bedroom, sung into hairbrushes and swooned over the latest heartthrob.
‘Don’t be. You can’t miss what you’ve never had. ’
‘Must’ve been hard though?’
‘Gran more than made up for it. She did a great job raising me.’
Alex smiled. ‘I can see that.’ He nodded to the ball of wool in my hand. ‘I’ll take four of those please. According to Gran that should be enough.’
I nodded my agreement and grabbing another three, I headed to the counter.
‘Did you get your van sorted?’ Tucking away his photo away, Alex followed me over.
I narrowed my eyes. ‘How do you know about that?’ I took a deep breath and sighed. ‘What was it this time? Smoke signals? Jungle drums? Don’t tell me, yodelling?’
Alex laughed. ‘None of the above. I saw you in the cab of a tow truck and assumed the vehicle on the back was yours.’
‘Poor Beryl,’ I said, bagging the yarn. ‘I just hope they can fix her.’
Alex looked at me deadpan. ‘Beryl?’
‘What’s wrong with that? It’s a lovely name.’ I rang up Alex’s purchase. ‘So how are you settling in?’
‘So far, so good. Although I still need to find somewhere else to live. I could probably cope with the noisy renovations. It’s the getting roped in for extra shifts when I don’t want them that’s annoying. One of the perils of being on site.’
‘I get what you mean. I’m often down here doing inventory checks when I should be upstairs with my feet up.’ I supposed that was the downside to living alone. With only a TV for company most evenings, it was easy to work late and on occasion seemed preferable.
I recalled Joyce’s suggestion that Alex could move in with me.
At the time I’d thought the idea ridiculous, but not only would the company do me good, thanks to Beryl’s breakdown and the huge repair bill I’d no doubt be left with, the extra cash would come in handy.
Besides, offering him a place to stay wasn’t like putting an ad out and inviting a complete unknown into my house; I knew a little bit about him.
I felt safe with Alex; he helped old ladies across the street, for goodness’ sake.
‘I have a spare room,’ I said. ‘You can always rent that?’
Alex stared at me surprised.
‘I know it’s not the same as having your own place, but it would get you out of the pub until you find somewhere more suitable.’
‘It’s kind of you to offer but…’
‘There are no buts from me. If you’ve got good references and can pay your rent, it’s yours if you want it.’
Alex scrunched his nose. ‘I can’t say I’m not tempted. Although I’m heading home for Christmas, so I wouldn’t need it until the new year.’
‘Tell you what, why don’t I show you the room and we can take it from there? You don’t have to decide now. Just know it’s an option.’
Alex’s face lit up. ‘That would be great. As long as you’re sure?’
Being truthful, I wasn’t sure at all. Especially after the previous day’s whim, when I’d had Gideon crawling around the floor looking for a pretend mouse.
I obviously wasn’t made for spontaneity, but in this instance, thanks to Beryl it was a case of needs must. ‘Brilliant. Just let me lock up and I’ll take you upstairs. ’
Alex stood there dumbfounded, while I headed to the door and flipped the shop sign from open to closed. ‘You mean now?’ he asked.
‘There’s no time like the present,’ I said, before either of us changed our minds. I gestured the way. ‘After you.’