the window down further. ‘She’s got one of her headaches,’ he said. He handed her a fat brown envelope. ‘Here. This should do you.’ The window squeaked upwards again until only an inch of a gap remained. He’d already turned away and I heard the crunch as he fumbled with the gears.
He was rubbish in mum’s car. The Citroen 2CV was a clunker, but she loved it. ‘Don’t thrash it,’ she always said, and he always ignored her. He didn’t like to drive his own car, a much newer Saab, up the path to Gran’s in case it got flicked with mud. I hated his car. It reeked of Magic Tree air freshener and stale B&H, and it always made a horrible screech when he stepped on the brakes.
Gran held the envelope in front of her for a moment as if wondering what to do with it, then slipped it into the pocket of her apron.
He drove off without another word.
I felt that little wobble in my legs that I got sometimes. That lump that popped up in my throat like I’d swallowed too big a bite of apple. ‘Bye,’ I said, not loud enough for anyone to hear. I had a feeling then, a prickling, like pins and needles. I knew then. I was never going to see him again.
19
The fried breakfast lay like a lump of stone at the bottom of my stomach.
I’d smiled at him. What the fuck was I thinking?
‘Oh, hello. Jo, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Nice to see you again.’
Clever , I thought. Playing it cool . After all, no one knew what he’d done but me. I swallowed, trying to hold back the breakfast that was threatening to make a reappearance. For once I was lost for words.
‘Are you all right now? You had a wee turn when I came into the shop …’
He stopped talking, suddenly self-conscious that he was the only one having a conversation. Everyone else was shoving food into their mouths, gulping tea. All eyes and ears were on him.
Who’s the newcomer? What’s he doing talking to her?
‘I’m fine. Thanks. I hadn’t eaten. Low blood sugar or something. I hope I didn’t spill coffee on your book …’ I was babbling. ‘So, what brings you back to Banktoun?’ I could play it cool too.
He gave me a broad smile, showing neat white teeth. Not a smoker. Not much of a coffee or red wine drinker either. I wondered if they were all real. Most rugby players would’ve lost at least one, I thought. Scott had lost two. I still had every single one of my own teeth, which was pretty good, considering.
‘It would’ve been my dad’s 60th birthday this weekend … Mum said I was daft, but I wanted to come back here. Mark it somehow. I’ve been renting that cottage up at the top of the town … Do you fancy another coffee?’
He gestured to the seat opposite him, which had become free since he’d started talking to me. He was still smiling and it hit me then, how good-looking he was. I hadn’t noticed before. All I’d noticed were the eyes, and how the smile didn’t quite reach them. I thought about what he’d said about his dad, that it would’ve been his birthday … A memory flickered like a half-lit cigarette.
‘I—’
‘Jo! Oh thank God you’re here. I called Craig, but there was no answer. Is your mobile switched off?’
I spun round at the familiar voice and felt annoyed yet relieved at the interruption. I was about to do something I’d regret. Like sit down and have a civil conversation with Maloney. That wasn’t part of the plan.
Not yet.
‘Scott,’ I said. I spoke quietly and tried to keep my voice level. I didn’t want to have a scene in the middle of the café. Not another one. People had only just begun to get bored of my first exchange and now here was Scott, with his hair sticking up in tufts and his usual smell of Boss aftershave replaced by stale BO. ‘What do you want?’
‘I need to talk to you. Can we go home?’
‘You chucked me out, remember?’
I heard shuffling in seats as the earwiggers picked up on more juicy gossip. I turned back to Maloney, who looked crestfallen. ‘Sorry.’
He was rubbish in mum’s car. The Citroen 2CV was a clunker, but she loved it. ‘Don’t thrash it,’ she always said, and he always ignored her. He didn’t like to drive his own car, a much newer Saab, up the path to Gran’s in case it got flicked with mud. I hated his car. It reeked of Magic Tree air freshener and stale B&H, and it always made a horrible screech when he stepped on the brakes.
Gran held the envelope in front of her for a moment as if wondering what to do with it, then slipped it into the pocket of her apron.
He drove off without another word.
I felt that little wobble in my legs that I got sometimes. That lump that popped up in my throat like I’d swallowed too big a bite of apple. ‘Bye,’ I said, not loud enough for anyone to hear. I had a feeling then, a prickling, like pins and needles. I knew then. I was never going to see him again.
19
The fried breakfast lay like a lump of stone at the bottom of my stomach.
I’d smiled at him. What the fuck was I thinking?
‘Oh, hello. Jo, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Nice to see you again.’
Clever , I thought. Playing it cool . After all, no one knew what he’d done but me. I swallowed, trying to hold back the breakfast that was threatening to make a reappearance. For once I was lost for words.
‘Are you all right now? You had a wee turn when I came into the shop …’
He stopped talking, suddenly self-conscious that he was the only one having a conversation. Everyone else was shoving food into their mouths, gulping tea. All eyes and ears were on him.
Who’s the newcomer? What’s he doing talking to her?
‘I’m fine. Thanks. I hadn’t eaten. Low blood sugar or something. I hope I didn’t spill coffee on your book …’ I was babbling. ‘So, what brings you back to Banktoun?’ I could play it cool too.
He gave me a broad smile, showing neat white teeth. Not a smoker. Not much of a coffee or red wine drinker either. I wondered if they were all real. Most rugby players would’ve lost at least one, I thought. Scott had lost two. I still had every single one of my own teeth, which was pretty good, considering.
‘It would’ve been my dad’s 60th birthday this weekend … Mum said I was daft, but I wanted to come back here. Mark it somehow. I’ve been renting that cottage up at the top of the town … Do you fancy another coffee?’
He gestured to the seat opposite him, which had become free since he’d started talking to me. He was still smiling and it hit me then, how good-looking he was. I hadn’t noticed before. All I’d noticed were the eyes, and how the smile didn’t quite reach them. I thought about what he’d said about his dad, that it would’ve been his birthday … A memory flickered like a half-lit cigarette.
‘I—’
‘Jo! Oh thank God you’re here. I called Craig, but there was no answer. Is your mobile switched off?’
I spun round at the familiar voice and felt annoyed yet relieved at the interruption. I was about to do something I’d regret. Like sit down and have a civil conversation with Maloney. That wasn’t part of the plan.
Not yet.
‘Scott,’ I said. I spoke quietly and tried to keep my voice level. I didn’t want to have a scene in the middle of the café. Not another one. People had only just begun to get bored of my first exchange and now here was Scott, with his hair sticking up in tufts and his usual smell of Boss aftershave replaced by stale BO. ‘What do you want?’
‘I need to talk to you. Can we go home?’
‘You chucked me out, remember?’
I heard shuffling in seats as the earwiggers picked up on more juicy gossip. I turned back to Maloney, who looked crestfallen. ‘Sorry.’
Similar Books
