the coffee she bought and rises to get them some more.
‘Mine was tea,’ she says.
‘Not a coffee, dear?’
‘Coffee doesn’t agree with me at the moment.’
‘Ah yes, of course.’ He pushes himself to his feet and goes to the counter. ‘Two bacon sandwiches,’ he orders from a small Indian woman, no taller than a dwarf, he considers. ‘A tea for my girlfriend and a coffee for myself.’ He smiles at the woman, knowing that the smile cannot be seen by the Irish girl. ‘Look lovely, those bacon sandwiches you do.’
The woman doesn’t acknowledge that. Often they don’t. He counts out one pound fifty-four, recalling an occasion when he was seated beside an Indian woman in a cinema and tried to strike up a conversation but she rudely moved away. Younger than the one serving him, she’d been on her own or else he’d never have presumed. ‘Sugar for the tea?’ he inquires. ‘My girlfriend likes a spoon of sugar.’
A sachet of sugar is thrown on to the counter and then, at last, there is a flicker of interest. Still not responding to his smile, the Indian woman notices the girl in the red jumper and for a passing instant – he’s certain of it – considers their relationship. He nods, confirming what he believes the woman’s speculation to be. They’re having a day out, he confides, his fiancée and himself.
‘You’ll find your friend,’ he says when he returns to the table. ‘If we failed at the factory, Ada said to me last night, we’ll find him where his abode is.’
‘I thought I might run into him on the street. I didn’t realize the town would be so big.’
‘Of course you didn’t. It’s understandable, that.’
‘The town I come from myself –’
‘It would be smaller, of course it would.’ Mr Hilditch inclines his head understandingly. Naturally it wouldn’t be the size of an English town, he agrees, you wouldn’t expect that. He wonders if the girl is religious since she’s a Catholic. It would account for a lot if she turned out to be religious, like Jakki was. She says again she’s sorry about his wife.
‘You don’t mind keeping me company for just a few more minutes? Only she’s dozy at the moment and they said best I should go. I told them I had a friend in the car and they said I’d be better off in the company of a friend.’ Mr Hilditch risks the shadow of a smile. ‘To tell the truth, it lifts my mind, just sitting here with a friend.’
He lets another silence gather. He likes to look at something tasty before he takes the initial bite: he was no more than five or six when that was first noticed in him. He likes to think about it. ‘Eat up, dearie,’ his mother used to press. ‘Mustn’t be a Mr Dawdle.’
‘I have to tell you, Felicia, it isn’t a bolt out of the blue. A shock certainly, but not a bolt from the blue.’
She nods. She begins to say something. He watches her changing her mind.
‘ “I’ll maybe not come out,” she said on the way over last night. She faced it months ago. We all face it one day, Felicia.’
She nods again, at a loss for words, as any girl would be. There is a tiny dimple, almost unnoticeable, that comes and goes in one of her cheeks, affected by her change of expression.
‘I’m glad you’re going to have a baby, Felicia. It’s a help to me, that.’
‘A help?’
‘Another life coming. Ada going in at this particular time andyou being here, and Ada concerned about you when 1 told her. A young Irish girl, I said, and she asked me what you looked like.’
She doesn’t comment on that. He bites into the crisp toast of his sandwich, savouring the chewy bacon and the saltiness.
‘Don’t you want the baby, Felicia?’
‘I don’t know what to do until I find him.’
Again she struggles with tears, and then pulls herself together.
‘The father’s the young man we’re looking for, Felicia?’
‘Yes.’
‘To tell you the truth, I thought there might be something like that.’
‘I don’t want to bother you with
‘Mine was tea,’ she says.
‘Not a coffee, dear?’
‘Coffee doesn’t agree with me at the moment.’
‘Ah yes, of course.’ He pushes himself to his feet and goes to the counter. ‘Two bacon sandwiches,’ he orders from a small Indian woman, no taller than a dwarf, he considers. ‘A tea for my girlfriend and a coffee for myself.’ He smiles at the woman, knowing that the smile cannot be seen by the Irish girl. ‘Look lovely, those bacon sandwiches you do.’
The woman doesn’t acknowledge that. Often they don’t. He counts out one pound fifty-four, recalling an occasion when he was seated beside an Indian woman in a cinema and tried to strike up a conversation but she rudely moved away. Younger than the one serving him, she’d been on her own or else he’d never have presumed. ‘Sugar for the tea?’ he inquires. ‘My girlfriend likes a spoon of sugar.’
A sachet of sugar is thrown on to the counter and then, at last, there is a flicker of interest. Still not responding to his smile, the Indian woman notices the girl in the red jumper and for a passing instant – he’s certain of it – considers their relationship. He nods, confirming what he believes the woman’s speculation to be. They’re having a day out, he confides, his fiancée and himself.
‘You’ll find your friend,’ he says when he returns to the table. ‘If we failed at the factory, Ada said to me last night, we’ll find him where his abode is.’
‘I thought I might run into him on the street. I didn’t realize the town would be so big.’
‘Of course you didn’t. It’s understandable, that.’
‘The town I come from myself –’
‘It would be smaller, of course it would.’ Mr Hilditch inclines his head understandingly. Naturally it wouldn’t be the size of an English town, he agrees, you wouldn’t expect that. He wonders if the girl is religious since she’s a Catholic. It would account for a lot if she turned out to be religious, like Jakki was. She says again she’s sorry about his wife.
‘You don’t mind keeping me company for just a few more minutes? Only she’s dozy at the moment and they said best I should go. I told them I had a friend in the car and they said I’d be better off in the company of a friend.’ Mr Hilditch risks the shadow of a smile. ‘To tell the truth, it lifts my mind, just sitting here with a friend.’
He lets another silence gather. He likes to look at something tasty before he takes the initial bite: he was no more than five or six when that was first noticed in him. He likes to think about it. ‘Eat up, dearie,’ his mother used to press. ‘Mustn’t be a Mr Dawdle.’
‘I have to tell you, Felicia, it isn’t a bolt out of the blue. A shock certainly, but not a bolt from the blue.’
She nods. She begins to say something. He watches her changing her mind.
‘ “I’ll maybe not come out,” she said on the way over last night. She faced it months ago. We all face it one day, Felicia.’
She nods again, at a loss for words, as any girl would be. There is a tiny dimple, almost unnoticeable, that comes and goes in one of her cheeks, affected by her change of expression.
‘I’m glad you’re going to have a baby, Felicia. It’s a help to me, that.’
‘A help?’
‘Another life coming. Ada going in at this particular time andyou being here, and Ada concerned about you when 1 told her. A young Irish girl, I said, and she asked me what you looked like.’
She doesn’t comment on that. He bites into the crisp toast of his sandwich, savouring the chewy bacon and the saltiness.
‘Don’t you want the baby, Felicia?’
‘I don’t know what to do until I find him.’
Again she struggles with tears, and then pulls herself together.
‘The father’s the young man we’re looking for, Felicia?’
‘Yes.’
‘To tell you the truth, I thought there might be something like that.’
‘I don’t want to bother you with
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