A Spring Affair (20 page)

Lou poured four coffees and dispensed home-made truffles made with crème de menthe. She’s gone to a lot of effort, thought Phil, deciding that gave her a few brownie points. Though not enough to get her totally out of the woods. This afternoon’s performance only went to prove he needed to take even firmer action.

‘Fantastic machine.’ Phil passed the box of cigars over to Des before choosing one himself. Celia lit up a cigarette. ‘Previous owner only drove it in dry weather. Two years old and less than six thousand on the clock. Goes like shit off a shiny shovel. You name it and that baby’s got it.’

‘I’ll get you an ashtray,’ said Lou, scurrying off meekly–like her old subservient self, they were all relieved to note.

‘So–are you going for it then, Des? I’ll cut you a deal that only family can give you.’

He addressed his brother-in-law but looked at his sister. Maybe Des trying to grope Lou in the kitchen would have put him nicely in Celia’s debt. Buying a big fancy black car for her to swank about in might just get Des out of the mire.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Des with a regretful shake of the head. ‘I’ve seen a gorgeous silver BMW in
Buckley’s
.’

‘It’s a lot easier to keep clean than black,’ said Celia, who had set her heart on a car with the blue and white BMW button. It was far more prestigious in her book than a series of hooped rings.

Phil knew instinctively that they’d already made up their minds before they came today and had taken advantage of his hospitality. Even worse, they were buying from ‘Mr New-Kid-on-the-Block’ Jack Buckley, his sworn business rival. Well, if they weren’t buying then they might as well piss off until December, he thought. Des was as entertaining as syphilis and Celia was only interested in being bigger and better than them. Oh! He must remember to tell Lou that he’d invited them for Christmas dinner. His classic car business would be nearly up and running by then, and he and Fat Jack could apply double pressure on Des to invest, greased further by copious amounts of brandy and Lou’s turkey and trimmings. Oh yes, and he must tell her Fat Jack and Maureen were coming as well.

‘I’ve got a surprise for Christmas dinner this year,’ said Phil, five minutes after waving off Des and Celia with an outward smile and an inward, ‘Thank Christ.’

‘Christmas? But that’s half a year away yet!’

‘It’ll be on us before we know it. I want to get plans in place.’

‘Well, if you’re already thinking about it, how about going out for the big meal this year? Apparently the Queens Hotel do a fantastic one. And they’ve started taking bookings, I see, in the
Chronicle
.’

‘Er, even better than that, I thought…a traditional family Christmas!’ said Phil, making it sound like she’d just won the star prize on a gameshow.

Lou looked at him blankly.

‘At home,’ he went on, and stood there expectantly as if he was waiting for her to shout, ‘Whoopee!’ and start leaping around with joy.

Lou let out a long breath. It wasn’t hard to see where this one was going.

‘I thought we could have the kids around at Christmas. I know that would be nice for you, Lou–kids and Christmas and all that.’

Manipulating git, thought Lou, but listened on.

‘And obviously Des and Ceel.’

‘Obviously,’ said Lou. She knew what was coming next. Phil wasn’t as opaque as he thought he was.

‘And your mother. We can’t leave her out.’

‘No. Absolutely.’

‘And…Fat Jack and Maureen. I noticed you got on like a house on fire with her last time. Chatting away together for ages, you were.’

He made a move to hug her and no doubt then would have gone on to paint a jolly picture of a house full of dear friends and family engaging in Christmas merriment and gleeful children sitting opening gifts under a glittering Christmas tree. There would be a
gentle snowstorm outside and Perry Como scoffing mince pies at the door complete with a group of carol singers and chestnuts roasting on the open fire. Lou could have quite happily roasted Phil’s nuts on an open fire.

She put up a hand to stop his affectionate advance.

‘So let me get this straight. Instead of a six-course meal made by someone else in a lovely hotel, with no washing-up to do afterwards, I get to slave away making a dinner for nine with no one to help me cook it or clean up?’

‘We’ll all muck in.’

‘No one ever helps me, Phil. Celia has never got up off her backside to rinse a cup in all the time I’ve known her and Des only comes in the kitchen to push his luck.’

‘He’s harmless…’

‘He’s a creep!’

‘I promise, I’ll help you. It’s important to me, Lou. This new joint venture with Fat Jack is my…our future. It’ll be up and running in a few months.’

‘What about what’s important to
me
? What’s in it for
me
, Phil?’ asked Lou stiffly.

Phil stared at her open-mouthed. He was having a little trouble today equating the mild-mannered Lou with this lippy cow who was making his life so much hard work.

‘What’s in it for you?’ he barked. ‘Why are you suddenly so “me, me, me”, Lou?’

‘Maybe I’ve suddenly remembered there is a “me” worth considering. Everyone else seems to have forgotten!’ said Lou, sweeping past him, grabbing the first coat her hand fell on and striding out into the afternoon.

Aware that his jaw was hanging somewhere by his knees, Phil snapped it shut.

Let her have her tantrum, he thought. By Christmas she would be nice and compliant again. His game was well underway now and pretty soon he knew that she would be agreeing to anything he suggested.

As soon as Lou had got to the lip of the estate, the heavens opened and big splashy rain started to fall. The thin jacket she’d picked up afforded little shelter from it, although Lou hardly noticed because her brain was too busy churning over the events of that hideous afternoon. Why was she painted as the bad guy just for saying ‘Don’t destroy my furniture, children,’ and, ‘No, I’m not giving you my recipe,’ and, ‘Don’t come so close to me, you ghoulish sleazebag,’ and, ‘Colonel Sanders and I were born equal’? Wasn’t she allowed to have an opinion? Was she put on earth merely to put up with Phil’s snidey comments about her weight and Des’s CS gas breath on the back of her neck?

She was automatically heading in the direction of Michelle’s house. She needed face-to-face female company and a cup of tea. She wanted to clear it all from her chest about Des and Celia and Phil and Deb and Tom and Jaws with someone not connected to any of them. Lou just wanted to talk. And, more importantly, she wanted for once to be listened to.

Michelle lived in a small end-terraced house over half an hour’s walk away. It was shabby by comparison with
all the others in the row, with their new windows, matching white uPVC doors and nice crisp curtains, but Michelle hadn’t displayed much inclination to improve the house since she bought it.
Your home is a mirror that reflects what is going on in your life
. Looking at the neglected, grubby façade, Lou thought that there was more than a hint of truth in that. She was saturated by the time she got there. The rain was dripping from her hair, her nose and it had even got into her shoes.

Lou knocked on the mustardy painted door. It was the colour of a very bad bowel movement and it opened immediately.

‘You were quick—oh!’ said Michelle, holding a thin baby-pink satin dressing-gown shut across her obviously naked body. Her hair was sticking up like barbed wire. She had clearly been expecting someone else. ‘Sorry, I thought you were Craig. He’s just nipped out for some fags,’ she said, smiling a little awkwardly. ‘He’ll be back in a minute,’ she added, careful not to ask what had brought Lou unannounced to her door in case the answer took longer than thirty seconds and there were tears involved as she suspected there might be.

‘I was just wondering if you were free, but obviously not,’ said Lou.

‘No, sorry, I’m not really,’ said Michelle, her eyes darting over Lou’s head for Craig. She thought it was a bit off of Lou, calling around unannounced, so she felt justified in not inviting her in.

‘It’s fine,’ said Lou with a smile. ‘I shouldn’t have come without a phone call first anyway.’

‘I’m sorry, Lou. Craig and me…we only see each other at weekends so every moment is precious.’

‘Oh, it’s OK, please don’t worry,’ smiled Lou. Her escapee tears were camouflaged by the rain.

‘Look, I’ll ring you as soon as he’s gone,’ Michelle said.

‘OK,’ said Lou.

‘See you then. Sorry.’ The door was already shutting; slowly, but closing all the same.

Lou turned back down the street, passing a tall, hollow-eyed, scruffy-looking bloke with facial piercings and some weird blue tattooed writing on his neck. He was opening up a packet of Embassy and dropped the wrapping on the ground. As he passed Lou he gave her a thorough look up and down which left her feeling slightly tainted. Surely that was never him–
the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen
.

Lou’s feet hurt slopping around in her shoes. The rain was relentless and she didn’t even have her purse to get a taxi. Going back to Michelle and interrupting her shenanigans with Creepy Craig to ask for a brolly or the loan of a fiver obviously wasn’t an option, so she faced a long, hard and wet walk home. Today, Lou could have been forgiven for believing that everything, even the elements, had conspired against her.

For once, Phil was wrong. Sue Shoesmith left it a full seven days before she contacted him with a text, and just a few hours before he would have given in and rung her himself. Obviously it was better that she took the initiative; it proved she was keen–not that he had any doubt on that one.

HI MR AUDI TT. CAR IS GRRREAT THANKS. SLIGHT PROBLEM THOUGH. CAN I BRING IT IN AND SHOW YOU
?

He texted back.
WHEN? YOU NAME THE TIME
.

The response was immediate.

CAN DO THIS AFTERNOON
.5?

5
OK. I WONT TURN THE COFFEE OFF
he responded.

STRONG, BLACK
1
SUGAR. X
came the quick reply. Christ, she must have had a texting speed of 300 wpm, he thought. A fast bird, in all senses of the word.

I REMEMBER.
God, he was as smooth as his own Columbian Roast. And he would have bet his life-savings there was nothing wrong with the car.

‘Salad?’ said Deb, recoiling with horror.

‘Yep, salad and a sparkling mineral water please,’ reiterated Lou to the Maltstone Garden Centre café waitress,
who promptly disappeared with an order for that and Deb’s lasagne.

‘Don’t tell me you’re going all healthy on me,’ said Deb. ‘Especially as we’re planning to open up the artery clogging-capital of the world!’

Lou laughed. ‘Don’t be daft, I just feel like a nice crisp leafy salad. Anyway, it’s not that angelic–it’s got cheese and tortilla chips in it.’

‘Seriously though, Lou, you have lost weight since we met up again,’ said Deb. ‘Actually, you’re looking pretty sex-on-a-stick.’

‘Give over,’ Lou hooted.

‘No, really. I did mean to say it before, but I know your mother is always on about your figure and I didn’t want you to think I’d joined the “let’s monitor Lou’s weight” club. Have you been dieting?’

‘Deb, I think I’ve started a fresh diet every day for the last three years and failed every one. I’ve lost this just by clearing out some rubbish from the house and getting physical filling skips and drinking lots of water. Ironic, isn’t it, that I lose it when I’m not even thinking about losing it?’

‘Well, you look lovely,’ said Deb, quickly adding, ‘not that you didn’t before.’

‘I certainly feel different,’ Lou admitted. ‘I’m sleeping a lot better and I am much more energized. I’m enjoying the feeling so much, I’m not going to go back to my old ways of comfort eating.’

‘Well, good for you,’ said Deb steadily and meaning it, but not asking why she would need to comfort eat at all if things were OK in the Winter household.

‘But I do love my puddings,’ said Lou with a child-like grin.

‘Well, I hope you’re having one today,’ said Deb. ‘I’m not eating a big Rocky Road whilst you sit there chewing a baton of cucumber.’

‘Don’t you worry,’ said Lou. ‘The day I stop enjoying desserts will be the day I ask you to shoot me. I’m not turning into Victorianna, trust me.’

‘On that horrible thought, back to business,’ said Deb, shuddering as she sank her breadstick into some creamy chilli dip. ‘The biggest problem we have is premises. It’s holding everything else up, unless we want to move it out of town to somewhere like Wakefield.’

They both shook their heads. They wanted
Casa Nostra
to be born in Barnsley, for sentimental hometown reasons.

‘I’ve totally drawn a blank with the estate agents, apart from the old kebab shop on Pitterly Lane.’

‘Hardly central, unless you’re a druggie,’ said Lou. ‘No, thanks.’

‘Precisely.’

‘So we wait.’

‘For a miracle.’

‘Either that or a fairy godmother.’

And funnily enough the fairy godmother appeared that very afternoon in the form of a six-foot-six skip man with an ironmongery, an imaginary twin brother and a large German Shepherd dog.

As Deb was paying the bill, Lou rang home on her mobile to listen to any answering-machine messages. She had left Keith Featherstone a polite but barbed message that she would take this matter further if she had no response by lunchtime. There was one message to collect
and it wasn’t from Keith Featherstone–nor Michelle, who hadn’t rung as promised.

Hello, this is Tom Broom. I hope you’re OK. I just wondered…I know you said you were looking for some premises for your coffee shop…well, I might be able to help. Can you ring me when you get this message? Thanks, bye
.

Lou stabbed in the number without delay. It would be just her luck that it would switch onto his answering machine, but to her surprise and delight, she heard a deep and far-from-automated, ‘Hello.’

‘Oh hi, it’s Lou.’

Silence. An embarrassing silence–he’d obviously forgotten her already.

‘Er, Lou Winter,’ she clarified. ‘One, the Faringdales.’

‘Yes, sorry, I know who you are. The line just went a bit fuzzy then,’ he explained.

‘Oh, shall I call you back?’

‘No,’ he said, sounding amused. ‘I’m in the wagon.’

‘Oh, don’t crash because of me!’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sitting having a sandwich. I’m not driving at the moment, but the signal isn’t great here.’

‘Oh, OK, then, so…you were saying?’

‘Look, I’ll be back at the
Tub
in about twenty minutes–can you meet me there?’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Lou, a little taken aback. He said something else, but the signal was lost and the line went dead.

‘Can you come with me somewhere?’ she asked as Deb caught her up in the foyer of the café.

‘Yes, of course. I’ve nothing planned for the rest of the day. Why, where are you taking me?’

‘Well, that was my skip man and he says he might be able to help us with our premises problem.’

‘Lead the way immediately,’ said Deb, taking her arm.

‘So would you like to tell me a) why
your
skip man is looking for premises for us, b) why you refer to him as
your
skip man and c) who
is
your mysterious
skip man
?’ Deb was grinning as she put on her seat belt.

So Lou began at the beginning, and as she drove, told her friend everything about the article and clearing out the drawer at work. Then about going home and clearing the kitchen, then the whole house and the kerfuffle at the tip and spotting Tom Broom’s name on a skip. She didn’t say that she found herself thinking about Tom Broom too much and sometimes fantasized about snogging him.

‘What’s he look like?’ said Deb.

‘You’d love him,’ said Lou. ‘He’s just your type.’

‘Ooh,’ said Deb, whose type was tall, wide men. She was almost six foot herself so the bigger the better.

‘Hair?’ she enquired.

‘Black with grey flecks.’

‘Eyes?’

‘Two.’

‘Colour, you daft cow!’

‘Grey.’

‘Aha–that was a test question. How come you know what colour his eyes are?’ said Deb, pointing an amused and accusing finger at Lou.

‘It’s the first thing you notice about him,’ said Lou matter-of-factly.

‘Something you’re not telling me, Lou Winter?’ asked Deb.

‘Nope,’ said Lou. ‘I don’t look at other men in that way.’

Lou might not have any control about who her heart picked out for her to fancy, but she had the choice of what to do about it. Doing nothing meant no one got destroyed, which was invariably what happened when someone had an affair.

Lou led Deb into the ironmongery and there she watched her best friend’s eyes round in approval as they took in Tom Broom and his big solid body. She also watched how warmly Tom looked at Deb as he shook her hand. They were two single, lovely, tall, good-looking people, so of course they were going to be attracted to each other. But Lou was human and that fact did not prevent a little stab of disappointment inside her. Clooney, however, was all hers. He was whining a warm welcome for her and turning excited circles.

‘Haven’t seen you for a while, have I, buddy?’ said Lou, giving him a good old pet.

‘Come on,’ said Tom. ‘I’ll take you both for a coffee.’

Tom led them next door to the grotty transport café where Lou and Deb sat on a torn plastic-covered bench whilst he went to the counter to get the tea.

‘How come it’s so busy?’ murmured Deb, leaning into Lou. ‘It’s a total dump.’

They were surrounded by big burly men eating belt-buster all-day breakfasts and drinking from enormous mugs. The air was full of grease and cheap bacon. Nothing matched, the crockery was jumble-sale oddments in all shapes and colours, the ceiling purple and the walls a shade of yellow that was reminiscent of a bad
cold. A tinny radio provided entertainment for the hard-faced buxom woman behind the counter, wearing an apron that read
Nigella Bites but I Eat You Whole
.

Tom returned with a tray. He was obviously a valued customer since he managed to get three unchipped mugs–a spotty one, a striped one and one advertising Bovril.

‘Shall I be Mother?’ he asked, setting them out.

Shit. Shit. Shit.
What a thing to say after what he’d seen in that skip. God, he could have kicked himself.

‘So?’ said Deb. ‘Lou here tells me you might have something very exciting to tell us.’

‘Well,’ began Tom, looking at Lou, ‘the reason I didn’t say anything before was that I didn’t want to insult you, so please hear me out.’

Lou and Deb nodded.

‘The premises I was talking about?’ said Tom.

‘Yes?’ they both said eagerly.

‘You’re in it now.
May’s Café
. Although the Y fell off the sign so people know it as…er…“Ma’s”’ He stumbled on the word.
Why was it, the more he tried to avoid a subject, the more it seemed to raise its head?
He let the information sink in for a minute and watched their faces drop, as he knew they would.

‘It’s not really…’ began Deb diplomatically.

‘Let me finish, please,’ said Tom. ‘May is giving up the lease. This place is full from first thing in the morning to last thing at night–see, there’s loads of parking space for lorries. The factory is getting knocked down and will be made into a shopping area with luxury flats to the side. It’s been bought by a private investor, some American bloke who wants to start work very shortly and complete
in record time so he’s employed half of Poland to get it done. I’ve seen the plans and it looks pretty good. Obviously, until it’s finished you’d be taking a risk on the sort of establishment you want to open until you build up some clientèle because this area, at the moment, isn’t exactly renowned for passing street trade. The upside of that is the lease is nice and cheap. And you could take over the business as it is for now and convert it as and when. It does a cracking trade.’

Deb and Lou looked hard at each other, trying to read what the other was thinking. Total mass confusion, they both decided.

‘What’s the landlord like then?’ Lou asked.

‘He’s a great bloke. Fantastic. He owns my lease too,’ said Tom fondly. ‘Really fair, very trustworthy–big, good-looking kid.’

‘How do we get in touch with him to get the figures?’ said Deb.

‘Just ask him,’ said Tom.

‘Where can we find him?’ said Lou.

Tom leaned over the table and whispered conspiratorially, ‘He’s sitting opposite you with a mug of the world’s most disgusting tea in his hand.’ He tutted at Lou. ‘Haven’t you learned anything yet?’

‘You!’ said Lou. ‘I should have guessed. I’m surprised you didn’t say it was owned by good-looking twins.’

‘I thought about it,’ said Tom. That grin appeared again, spreading across his lips and lighting up his eyes.

‘Big, good-looking kid! In your dreams,’ said Deb, with a head-shaking smile, and then turning to Lou she said quite breathlessly, ‘We need to talk.’

‘I’m going to have to leave you ladies, anyway. I’ve got
skips coming out of my ears today,’ said Tom, throwing the tea down his throat and cringing afterwards. ‘Think about it. The development will bring a lot of business back to this end of town. I’m not trying to offload the lease onto you. It’s such a well-established business, I know I wouldn’t have a problem letting it.’

‘We’ll let you know as soon as we can,’ said Lou.

‘Right,’ said Tom, getting to his feet. ‘I won’t advertise the lease until I hear from you. You have first refusal, I give you my word. Bye, Debra, it was nice to meet you and I hope to see you again.’

‘Bye,’ said Deb sweetly. ‘It was nice to meet you too, Tom.’

‘See you again, too.’ He winked at Lou, and he was away.

Deb left it a respectable three seconds before gossiping about him.

‘So that was your Tom Broom then.’

‘He’s not
my
Tom Broom,’ said Lou. Oh, how she wished she could split herself in two and one half of her could lay claim to him, whilst the grounded half did its duty to her marriage vows.

‘So, what do you think of him?’ she asked, trying to sound detached.

‘Very nice,’ said Deb with emphasis. ‘However, we’ll dissect the lovely Mr Broom later. For now, Lou, let’s talk shop. Literally.’