Live the Dream (2 page)

Images of her came into his mind—going about her own Tuesday life, laughing with her friend—making him smile. 'And I know you have a wonderful sense of humour.'

Changing his brush, he worked on her cheekbones. 'You can't imagine how much I've been looking forward to seeing you.'

He paused, his thoughts going back to the house and the woman who waited there. 'Maybe it's just as well you don't even notice me,' he sighed. 'You see, Amy…a man might dream and hope, but dreams are not real, and life can drag you down. I do my best, but I'm hopelessly trapped. If only I can find a way to change how things are.'

That night as he sat on his veranda watching the stars twinkle and dance, a glass of wine in his hand and a great loneliness in his heart, he had no way of knowing how Amy was watching those same stars, and that in her heart were the same impossible dreams, and sense of awful loneliness.

Leaning on the windowsill, arms folded, her gaze raised to the skies, she wondered where Don was, and whether he ever thought of her. She did not wonder whether he might come back, because his parting words had been that she would never see him again. And although for many months after he'd gone, she had prayed he might change his mind and come back, he never had. Now the pain had settled to a sense of loss and disappointment with the acceptance that what he had said was true. Earlier, when he had asked her to marry him, she had been filled with such joy; not knowing that it would end in her heart being broken. There had been weeks of planning and excitement when the date was set and the church booked. The bridesmaids were chosen, the bridal gown ordered and even the honeymoon arranged, before he confessed to her that he had never really wanted family or responsibilities.

Sometimes she wondered if that had been a kind excuse—a way of letting her down gently. He had been so handsome and such fun. Maybe she hadn't been good enough for him…

Amy had been devastated when he left, and even now the love she had felt for him still lingered.

Pressing her nose to the window she recalled the happy times they had shared.

'I don't hate you, Don,' she murmured. 'I could never hate you.'

She remembered his smile and the way he would hold her in his arms, and her heart was heavy. But she no longer fooled herself. It was over.

'Good night, Amy.' That was her mammy on the landing.

'Good night, Mam.'

'Don't forget we've an early start in the morning.'

'I won't.'

The sound of passing footsteps, then the closing of a door, and the house was quiet again.

Leaving the curtains open so she could see the stars, Amy went softly across the room and slid into bed.

She closed her eyes, shut out the memories and was quickly asleep.

'Don't look now, but our mystery man is here again!' Having seen her come up the street, the young waitress flung open the door, grabbed Amy by the arm and yanked her inside the cafe.

'It's driving me crazy, not knowing who he is!' She stole a glance at the far table. 'He's been here half an hour,' she whispered, drawing Amy to the back of the cafe, 'and I
still
don't know any more about him than I did three months ago.'

'For God's sake, Daisy! Let me get my coat off.' Amy had already noticed the man as she passed the window and, as always, her own curiosity was aroused—though she would never admit it to Daisy. 'It's bitter cold out there and, if you don't mind, I need to sit down.'

Loaded with shopping bags and a face bright pink from the biting wind, she resisted Daisy's pushing and shoving. 'Get off!'

Daisy stepped back a pace. 'He hasn't said a word, except to order bacon and eggs.' She dropped her voice until it was almost inaudible. I'd say he were a film star…God knows, he's handsome enough.' She sighed. 'But you can tell he's not, because of his clothes. I reckon he must work in a factory,, wearing them boots and with a flat cap.'

'Honestly, Daisy, you're becoming obsessed with the poor fella,' Amy groaned. 'Why don't you leave him alone to get on with his breakfast, instead of gawping at him every two minutes?'

Sliding her bags onto the nearest table, she dropped her Weary self into the chair. 'God, my feet are aching.' Slipping off her shoes, she wiggled her toes. 'These new shoes don't help either! I knew I should have worn them round the bedroom a few times before going out in them.'

Daisy was incredulous. 'Listen to you, lass! Talking about shopping and shoes and moaning about the weather…you sound like your mam!'

'You're right,' Amy agreed with a soft laugh. 'I do, don't I?'

'I know you're curious about him too, so don't deny it!'

Leaning forward, Amy was disturbed to find the man's gaze on her. 'I'm not denying it,' she answered softly, 'I am curious.'

Daisy beamed with satisfaction. 'Well there you are then.'

'There I am then…what?

'You want to know about him as much as I do, so stop lecturing me.'

'I'm not "lecturing" you.'

'You are!'

'All right then, I am, and for good reason.'

'And what might that be?'

'Two things.' Taking off the pretty dark blue hat with its tiny brim and blue cotton band, Amy ran her fingers through her short brown hair. 'For all we know, he could be a really dangerous man, and he must know how much you're attracted to him, the way you keep sneaking a look at him with those big, moony cow eyes. You could be playing with fire. That's the first thing.'

'And what's the second?'

Lazily placing the hat on the nearby chair, Amy warned, 'If there's nothing sinister about him, and he's just a man who likes to be left alone, you should leave him be. If you frighten him off, you'll lose one of your best customers and then you'll never find out who he is.'

While Daisy considered her remarks, Amy took off her coat. 'Now then, are you going to serve me or what?'

Daisy gave a long, impatient sigh. 'Being as we're quiet, can I sit with you? It's time for my break anyway.'

'All right. If you promise not to drive me mad.'

Daisy rolled her "moony cow eyes".

'What d'you want to eat—same as usual, is it?'

While Amy glanced quickly through the one-page menu of fry-ups, barm cakes and pie-and-peas, Daisy's attention drifted to the man, then back again to Amy, her one and only friend.

She had taken to Amy the first minute she'd wandered into the cafe some two years ago. It had been a grim, wet day and Amy had got caught in a downpour. Having sought refuge in Tooley's Cafe, she had brought it alive with her bright friendly chatter and warm engaging smile. She had a streak of mischievousness that often caught Daisy off guard and made her laugh till she ached. But Daisy had also discovered her own mothering instincts when her friend's fiancé had left her, practically at the altar.

Amy was now a regular customer, always loaded down with shopping, always ready for a chat, with her down-to-earth and lovely manner. It was on Tuesdays that Amy went to pay a couple of the smaller wholesalers who supplied Atkinsons' Corner Shop, owned by her parents, and where Amy herself worked. She also did the weekly shop then, her parents being too busy working to find the time. Daisy looked forward to Tuesday more than any other day of the week. In between serving customers, she would press her nose to the window, watching for Amy, knowing that when she came through that door the whole room would light up and so would Daisy's heart.

Amy had her serious side too. A good listener, she was kind and considerate, and when Daisy came to work saddened by the acrimonious situation at home between her parents, Amy gave her hope for the future, and Daisy had come to see her as the sister she never had.

Although, at twenty-four, Amy was just two years older than Daisy, she had a calmer, deeper nature, and that special ability to put people at their ease; whether it be through her engaging smile, or her easy, friendly manner.

She was not dazzlingly attractive, but she had a certain magnetism that seemed to draw people to her. Her face was small and heart-shaped, with a halo of light brown hair that fell in natural waves about her ears, and her mouth was generous, with full lips upturned at the corners, like a smile waiting to happen. Her eyes were her best feature, though—deepest blue with a naughty twinkle. Small of build, she had a slight figure, and it only took a few minutes of knowing her to realise she had a warm, open heart.

Daisy knew what Amy would order, but she asked all the same. 'You'd best make your mind up,' she urged. 'Any minute now, I could be rushed off my feet.'

Amy looked about the half-empty cafe: there was the man by the window; a little old couple in the corner, Daisy and herself. 'I don't think there's any danger of that just yet,' she teased, 'but just in case, I'll have a pot of tea…and one of your toasted barm cakes.'

Daisy shook her head. 'Sorry, no can do. The toaster blew up. We're waiting for the fella to come and mend it.' She laughed. 'You should have seen it this time…there was a big bang and the bloody toast went flying in all directions. Come and look.'

Amused, Amy followed her. 'Not again! That's the third time.'

Daisy shrugged. 'There must be a fault somewhere.'

Smiling, Amy shook her head in disbelief. 'It's you.
You're
the "fault". You're not supposed to snatch the plug from the wall every time you think the toast is done enough. You have to switch it off first.'

'Then it burns the toast!'

'That's because you haven't got the setting right.'

'It's a nuisance! I don't like the bloody thing. I never have.'

'So, use the grill instead.'

'Mrs Tooley won't let me. She says she's not spending good money on new things for me to ignore them. That toaster is her pride and joy. I'm to use it, and that's an end to it. I did use the grill once, when the toaster went wrong and she tore me off a strip for making a mess everywhere.'

'But Mrs Tooley only comes of an evening to collect her takings.'

'What's that got to do with it?'

Amy explained, 'Well, now that she's got her new fancy man, she hardly ever shows up here during the day, so she won't know you're using the grill—not if you clean it up half an hour before she arrives.'

As the possibilities dawned on her, Daisy's frown became a wide, cunning grin. 'You're right!' she gasped. 'I'll use the old things and clean 'em up before she gets here!'

'I'm glad that's settled!' Amy knew how to put a smile on Daisy's face. 'So now, can I please have my tea and barm cake?' Feeling mischievous, she teased, 'And while you're gone, I'll have a word with the stranger. I'll find out who he is and where he's from. Oh, and you'll want to know if he's married or if he's got a girlfriend, and whether he's well off or stony-broke, in which case you won't want to know any more about him and we'll all get some peace. OK?'

Daisy knew she was being teased and went along with it. 'While you're at it, happen you'd best ask if he lives local, 'cos I followed him one time and he suddenly disappeared—went down a side street and was gone like will-o'-the-wisp.' She threw her arms wide and opened her hands to demonstrate.

Amy was surprised. You never told me you followed him!'

'No, because you'd have told me off good and proper.'

'Quite right too.' Amy put on her most severe, reprimanding look. 'Following men down alleyways…what if he'd turned round and attacked you?'

Daisy chuckled. 'I should be so lucky!' She glanced through the kitchen door at the man. 'Anyhow, does he look like the sort who would attack anyone?'

Amy followed her glance. 'Maybe not, but you never know.'

He was certainly a mystery, she thought. Although as Daisy said, he didn't seem like the sort who would turn on a woman. There was a kind of gentle strength about him that would protect rather than hurt.

'I'll get your order,' Daisy said, adding hopefully, 'I bet you won't dare speak to him while I'm gone.'

Amy continued the charade. 'If I do, and providing he gives all the right answers, I'll ask him if he'll take you on a date, because you fancy him summat rotten.'

'Oh, I wish you would,' Daisy sighed. 'Three whole months he's been coming here. Almost every Tuesday without fail, and I don't even know his name!'

Realising she would have to wait for her breakfast, Amy resigned herself to listening while Daisy chatted on about the 'Tuesday man'.

Taking a moment to observe this busy, bumbling person she had come to know so well, Amy took in the big brown eyes, the shock of wild auburn hair and the pretty face with its multitude of freckles over a pretty, pert nose. Short and voluptuous, outgoing and friendly, Daisy was once seen never forgotten.

Amy thought of Daisy's miserable home life, with the constantly feuding parents.

For as long as Amy had known her, Daisy had suffered wretchedly at the hands of her selfish, boorish parents. Their noisy, sometimes violent, arguments, often fuelled by drink, meant that Daisy could never invite Amy to her home. In Mrs Tooley's fuggy little cafe, Daisy could escape the unhappiness of her home by chatting with the customers, teasing and joking with the friendly regulars, and even flirting a little with the men. In this way, Daisy could create some much-needed fun in her life.

'Look, Daisy…don't get too infatuated with your Tuesday man,' Amy warned. 'If he'd wanted you to know who he is, I'm sure he would have told you.'

'But he
wants
to talk,' Daisy confided, 'I can tell that much. Sometimes he looks so sad, and sometimes he smiles at me and I want to sit next to him like I'm sitting next to you, only he looks away, just when I think I'm getting through to him.'

Amy shook her head. 'Maybe he's not such a "mystery",' she said quietly. 'Maybe he comes in here because he lives alone and needs to be amongst people. Or maybe he comes in here because he's got a wife and ten children and he can't get any peace at home. Either way, if he needs to be quiet and alone for whatever reason, it's his choice and you should respect that.'

Casting a sideways glance out at the man, Amy sensed his loneliness. Daisy was right: he
was
a mystery—always preoccupied, head bent to his newspaper, while not seeming to be actually reading it. Instead he appeared to be deep in thought. Sometimes he would raise his head and gaze out of the window, before eventually returning to his newspaper or thoughtfully sipping his tea.