Dreams to Sell (10 page)

‘It'd be nice, though. Shall I tell him yes? Look, Roz I've got to hurry – I'm not supposed to use this phone.'

‘All right, I'll come. What time?'

‘Seven o'clock? Oh, that'd be grand, Roz. Ma's got an early night, so she won't be there, but I'll look after you. 'Bye, Roz, and thanks!'

‘Everything all right?' asked Norma with interest.

‘Fine. Chrissie just wants me to have a meal at the Sunshine.'

‘Oh, nice! A free meal, eh? And I was wondering if you'd have liked to go to the pictures with me. There's a good film on –
Kind Hearts and Coronets.
They say it's a scream. One fellow plays all the parts. Thought it might have cheered us up.'

‘Who says we need cheering up?'

‘Well, you're looking a wee bit down. And where was Mr Shield going in such a hurry? I saw him scooting out of here a full hour before the rest of us.'

‘He's going back home to the Borders for the weekend. To see his mother.'

‘Doesn't seem like a mother's boy,' commented Norma.

‘No, I wouldn't call him that. His dad's dead, and he's been living at his mother's place to keep her company. I think it shows he's a caring sort of fellow.'

‘Oh, I'm sure.' Norma shrugged. ‘Well, looks like we'll have to make the flicks some other time. Have a good time at the café, Roz – hope you enjoy your free meal!'

‘If I get a discount, I'll be lucky,' Roz answered, turning away, half glad to be going somewhere for the evening, half apprehensive that the somewhere would include meeting Chrissie's young man. You never knew, he might be all she claimed him to be. On the other hand, he might not. She would soon find out, either way.

As soon as she entered the Café Sunshine, Roz recognized Richard. ‘Handsome', had been Chrissie's oft-repeated description, coupled with ‘striking' – and there was only one man in the café who fitted that bill.

Oh, yes, he was handsome all right, and striking, Chrissie'd got it right there. Black hair, combed to fall in a wave over a high forehead. Straight nose, level dark brows, fine eyes so dark they seemed to be without expression. He had been sitting alone at the side of the warm, crowded café where, at that moment, there seemed to be no sign of Chrissie, but suddenly rose as though making a decision, and smiled.

‘Is it Roz?' he asked, his Scottish voice low and pleasant, as she came towards his table. ‘Richard Vincent.'

‘How did you know me?' she asked as they shook hands.

‘Chrissie's description was very accurate.'

‘Of you, too.'

They both laughed.

‘Chrissie's given us this table,' Richard went on, pulling out a chair for Roz with a display of the good manners Flo so much admired. ‘Though I can't see her at the moment.'

‘Gone to fetch orders, I expect.' Roz's gaze was going over the people at the tables, talking, chattering, all at ease, as she was not. Of course, she knew the café well enough. Knew it was popular with city workers during the day and those who liked an inexpensive meal out in the evening, and pleasant enough for both Chrissie and Flo to want to keep on working there, in spite of the brooding presence of Mrs Abbot, the stately, hawk-nosed manageress, who was patrolling the tables now, smiling at the customers but keeping a sharp watch on the progress of their meals.

Ah, here at last came Chrissie, flushed with the heat as she walked through the swing doors at the back of the café, carrying a loaded tray to another table, her eyes lighting up when she saw Roz sitting with Richard.

‘Oh, Roz, grand you could come!' she cried as soon as she was free to reach their table. ‘And you've met Richard?'

‘Yes, Chrissie, we've met,' he said easily. ‘Now we want our menus. Don't look so scared – we're customers. You've a right to take our orders.'

‘Oh, I know, but here's Mrs Abbot—'

‘Good evening, Mr Vincent, good evening, Miss Rainey. Nice to see you both here,' said the manageress. ‘And you have the menus? That's excellent. We have some specials tonight – we've been so lucky with our deliveries. I can really recommend the steak pie.'

‘Aye, it's good,' Chrissie chimed, taking out her notebook. ‘Shall I say two?'

‘It's so warm tonight, I'd just like the egg mayonnaise salad,' said Roz, reading the menu for herself, but Richard said he'd try the pie, he not being a salad man.

‘Very good.' Mrs Abbot, collecting their menus, gave a small, pinched smile. ‘Now, I'll leave Chrissie to see to your orders. Enjoy your meal.'

‘Egg mayonnaise salad,' Richard said softly when they were alone. ‘More like egg salad cream, but I daresay it'll be all right.'

‘You're eating here, anyway,' remarked Roz.

‘Chrissie's idea. I normally just come for lunch, but she was keen for us to meet and thought you'd find it easier in the evening.' His gaze was steady on her face. ‘What do you think of it, then?'

‘Café Sunshine?'

‘No, her idea for us to meet like this.'

‘She'd have liked you to come to the flat.' Roz's gaze was as direct as his. ‘But you didn't agree.'

‘I was thinking of your mother. She works hard enough here as it is.'

‘Well, now that we've met anyway I'd like to say that I'm very glad to meet you, Richard. I've heard a lot about you.'

‘And I, you. The bright one of the family, I'm told. You work in Tarrel's law firm. They've a very good reputation.'

‘I‘m not a lawyer; I work in the property department.'

‘Oh, I know. Mad on houses, Chrissie says. Unfortunately, I'm not ready to buy yet, though my father – he's an accountant – says you can't go wrong with bricks and mortar, and my sisters both have properties.'

‘Oh, you have sisters?'

‘Two, both married; one in Peebles, one in London.'

‘But your father's in Edinburgh?'

‘Oh, yes, both parents have lived here for years. They have a house in the Grange.'

‘I see,' said Roz, who knew the price of houses in the Grange. ‘Are you renting something, then?'

‘No, I'm living at home at present.' He gave a slightly mocking smile. ‘Anything else you'd like to know, Roz?'

She flushed, looking down at her knife and fork, and let a silence fall which was eventually broken by Richard.

‘Sorry,' he said quietly. ‘I don't mind talking about myself, anyway.'

She looked up to meet those dark eyes of his which still told her nothing, in spite of his apologetic words. Impenetrable – that was the only way to describe them. Were they his screen against the world? Would you ever know a man like this? With a sudden inner rush she was reminded of Jamie's candid gaze, so open, so friendly, and knew that her view of Richard was made by contrast transparently clear. She didn't like him. He was hiding something. Was it to do with his intentions – or lack of them – towards her sister?

‘I didn't mean to seem to be interrogating you,' she said after a pause.

‘I've said I don't mind.' He leaned back in his chair, raising his hands, and looked at her as if he could read her thoughts. ‘I've nothing to hide.'

‘And I am Chrissie's sister.'

‘Of course. I take your point.' He straightened up. ‘But talking of Chrissie – here come our orders. Poor girl, how hard she works!'

‘I wish she had another job,' Roz said quickly. ‘She needn't be a waitress, but she never looks for anything else.'

Of course, the truth was Chrissie was only waiting to get married, but that was not something to be said to her young man.

‘One steak pie!' Chrissie cried, her eyes radiant. ‘One egg mayonnaise!'

‘Here, let me help you,' said Richard, leaping to his feet and unloading her tray. ‘There we are, all shipshape, except that you should be eating with us, Chrissie.'

‘I never eat with you here,' she said fondly. ‘And I want you and Roz to have a nice chat, just the two of you.'

‘Why, I think we've had that,' said Roz. ‘I won't stay late – Ma could do with company, I expect.'

‘Oh, you'll have a sweet, Roz!'

‘I think I'll just have coffee after this.'

‘I was expecting to take you home with Chrissie,' Richard remarked, beginning to eat. ‘Sure you won't have a pud? They're not bad here.'

Roz shook her head, saying she'd be quite happy with just her salad, and longed now to be away, finished with this sparring match she saw herself having with Richard. Somehow, he'd guessed that she was trying to decide whether she could trust him with her younger sister, and had decided not to make it easy for her, though she couldn't really point to anything he'd said that should make her think that. All the same, she did think it, and now just wanted to go home. Where of course she would have to face Ma – just wait for the interrogation there!

‘I'd better go,' Chrissie murmured, ‘Mrs Abbot's got her eye on me. Roz, I'll see you at home. Glad you've met Richard, though. That was what I wanted.'

‘I'm glad, too,' said Roz, her eyes meeting his, expecting no message and receiving none. Yet, later, as they both stood up and shook hands in farewell, she was as certain as before that he knew just what was in her mind. Opening her bag, she took out her purse.

‘Please put that away, this is on me,' he said at once, and laughed. ‘I think I can run to an egg mayonnaise for you, Roz.'

‘And don't forget, I can get a discount for my family,' put in Chrissie.

‘Better and better! Seriously, Roz, I'm very pleased to have met you. Sorry you can't stay.'

There was a slightly awkward pause as Roz looked from one to the other of the two faces before her, knowing that they were thinking this had been no ordinary meeting but some sort of test for Richard. Had he passed? would be their question. But how much did Richard care?

Finally, Roz made her goodbyes again and got herself out of the Café Sunshine to make her way home, where she must decide what to say to Flo.

‘Roz, you're back!' cried Flo. ‘How did it go, then? How did you like Richard? So handsome, eh?'

‘Very handsome,' Roz replied, taking a chair and pulling off her smart shoes to rest her feet. ‘Oh, yes, he's just what Chrissie said.'

What else could she say to her mother? Richard was handsome, a perfect gentleman, and so on, but she, Roz, didn't like him. Why didn't she like him? Because she felt he wasn't right for Chrissie. Because – oh, God, she didn't trust him. How could she say all that to her mother without upsetting her? Without risking – well, Roz knew what she'd be risking. Yet she couldn't say she was happy about him, could she? ‘Like a cup of tea?' she asked brightly.

‘Yes, in a minute. Tell me about Richard first. Did you really like him?'

‘Well …' Roz cleared her throat. ‘He's very nice, very well-mannered, but I'm not sure he's right for Chrissie.'

Flo's eyes widened. ‘Whatever do you mean? He's perfect for Chrissie. Why, he's a catch, Roz, you canna deny it. He comes from a nice family, he's a professional man and could give her a wonderful life! Why would he not be right for Chrissie?'

‘Because she wants to get married and he might not.' Seeing the look on her mother's face, Roz said hurriedly, ‘Of course, I could be wrong.'

‘You could,' Flo said coldly. ‘Are you sure you're not a wee bit envious, Roz? That Chrissie's found someone like Richard and you've not?'

‘Ma, what a thing to say!' Roz cried, leaping up. ‘I'd never be envious of Chrissie, only happy for her if she found the right man. And maybe she has – maybe I just don't know him well enough. Look, I'll put the kettle on.'

All she wanted now, as she made the tea, was to back pedal on what she'd said and take the anxious look from her mother's face before there was real trouble. Heavens, she'd been a fool, eh? Opening her big mouth like that.

‘It's all right, Ma,' she said comfortingly as she brought over the tea. ‘I've probably got it all wrong and Richard is the one for Chrissie. Men can be difficult to read, eh? Don't worry, anyway. Chrissie knows what she's doing.'

‘That's right,' Flo agreed, sipping her tea. ‘We can leave it to Chrissie, eh? And I'm sorry I said – you know – about you being envious. I know you've got your own ambitions. You're not worried about not having a young man.'

‘That's right, Ma,' said Roz, relieved. ‘I'm not worried at all.'

When Jamie arrived back at the property department on Monday morning, he brought Roz a present.

‘For you,' he said, bowing low and putting into her hands a large paper bag containing something that felt soft – even crumbly. She was very intrigued.

‘Why, Jamie, whatever is it?' Roz was blushing deeply as she continued to hold the bag.

‘Come on, it's just something to eat. Why don't you have a look at it?'

Rather gingerly, she drew the soft lump out of the bag and unwrapped it, then raised her wide eyes to Jamie's. ‘It's a cheese?'

‘Yes, a cheese. It's called Kelder White.' He laughed at her look. ‘Why so astonished? Cheeses are still made locally today and some of 'em are a damn sight better than that dreary stuff you told me you had at lunchtime. So, I thought you'd like to try one from my home town.'

‘Why, Jamie, I don't know what to say! It's such a kind thought, to bring me this, and it really is just what I wanted!' Her blush fading, her grey eyes were sparkling as she looked up at him. ‘Thank you very much. I'll put it in the staffroom, eh? There's a little larder cupboard there.'

‘Fine. And let me know what you think of it this afternoon.'

As she moved to the door, holding the cheese, she looked back, aware that he was still watching. ‘But how was your weekend? I never asked.'