Out Late with Friends and Regrets (32 page)

“Oh, that’s a shame.
 
Erm, you’re sure that’s not you regretfully finding you have a subsequent engagement?”

“No, it certainly isn’t.
 
And no, I haven’t got anything against Petra, it’s just that we’re not close.”

“Would you have liked to have been?”

Fin couldn’t resist the mischief.
 
Ellie’s face was all wide-eyed innocence.

“Oh, all right,” she admitted after a pause, “There was a time when I thought I might be in with a chance.
 
Some months after the split-up with Hamish, so I wasn’t exploiting the situation or anything.”

“But she spurned your advances.
 
My word, Ellie, that must have been a shock.”

“Hmm.
 
Yes, it was a bit.
 
But the woman’s as straight as a yard of pump-water, so what can you do.
 
We’re friendly, but not exactly friends, if you know what I mean.”

It sounded as if Ellie was almost embarrassed.
 
How interesting; Fin had come to think of her as socially infallible.

“So, anyone on the horizon in your love life? What happened to the history woman?”

“Nothing, nothing that I was responsible for, anyway.
 
We met up for lunch last week, I meant to tell you, but I’m not so sure I want to take it any further.
 
She fancies David Cameron, can you
believe
that!”

“And that would
utterly
destroy your credibility!
 
Yes, I can see your dilemma, Ellie.
 
Mind you, the conflict dynamic would make for some fascinating pillow talk.
 
You’d have to be prepared for her to scream ‘David!’ at the beautiful moment, though...”

“Rotter.
 
No, I’ve really gone off the idea.
 
I might tell Henry she’s a closet lesbian, that’ll teach her.
 
There’ll be more new people in town come October when term starts, luckily.
 
I think I’ve been through all the potential talent in Harford, some of it twice.”
 

Ellie slumped, her head resting on one hand.

“I was almost thinking of applying for a post in London,” she continued.

She was obviously joking.
 
Wasn’t she?
 
The thought of city life without Ellie was upsetting.
 
Probably because Fin hadn’t had a chance to make friends of her own, yet.
 
Some of the colour and zest would certainly go out of things.

“Don’t do that.
 
Harford needs you.
 
Wouldn’t you rather be the giant golden koi in the pond here, where everyone knows and adores you, rather than a fairground goldfish in London?”

“I did say almost.
 
I suppose I’m getting to that awful age when I’m starting to think I’m missing out.
 
Even starting to entertain the idea of commitment, permanence.
 
Old age.”

“Just a poor old spinster still looking desperately for love?
 
Come on, Ellie, I can’t believe I’m hearing this!”

It was indeed unsettling.
 
Fin had never seen Ellie looking anything other than on top of things.
     

“Don’t take any notice, Fin,” said Ellie with a sudden grin, and sitting up straight.
 
I was always the one who thought the banquet would never end, and that I’d always have an unlimited choice of partners.
 
I’ve got success withdrawal syndrome, I guess.
 
It’s just the summertime blues.
 
I haven’t had a partner in months, and that’s just not like me.
 
What’s more, I’m catching myself wondering whether I’ll find love with a capital L before it’s too late. A dreadful pass for a seductrix of my reputation!”

Fin laughed.

“Never mind, Ellie, look on the bright side, we could get run down right outside the shop by a great big number thirty-nine bus in two minutes’ time.”

“Impossible. The thirty-nine doesn’t come this way.”

“Could be a new driver.
 
He’s lost his way, and won’t ask for directions.”

“If he’s that new, he’ll have a supervisor with him.”

“Maybe the supervisor’s had a row with his wife, and he’s decided to run off and make a new life for himself in Clutton Street.”

“No, he’s going to do that on the quiet.
 
He won’t risk losing his job.”

“OK then, his eyes are so full of tears, he hasn’t noticed that the new driver has taken a wrong turn.”

“His supervisory instinct tells him unerringly that they’ve come the wrong way, though.”

“But there’s a luscious pole dancer on board who’s late for work, and she’s practising her new routine round the pole next to the rear seats, and even blinded by tears, the supervisor can’t take his eyes off her.”

“Can’t allow that.
 
If she’s late for work, she’ll have told the guy the bus is going in the wrong direction.”

“Ah, but, but, by sheer coincidence, she’s just got a text to tell her about a last-minute change of venue – there’s a big corporate do going to take place at Khan’s emporium.
 
No, don’t say it Ellie, I’ve thought of that,
Mrs
. Khan’s gone on her daughter’s hen night as chaperone.”

“Uh.
 
All right, OK, you win.
 
Let’s go and meet our inevitable fate. ”

They rose, and went to pay at the counter.

“I like trucking, I like trucking, I like trucking and I like to truck,” sang Fin, bouncing on the seat of the box van.
 
Nosing out into traffic had been the scariest thing.
 
She had had to pick up the Luton late on Friday for a week-end hire, and the streets were busy.
 
But she had managed, soon getting used to the amount of room the van required to clear parked vehicles without trespassing in the path of oncoming traffic.
 
She just hoped very hard that she wouldn’t have to reverse into a tight parking space in front of the house which would soon be hers.

The residents’ parking spaces were sectioned into separate bays, but the one at the front was empty, and Fin reversed into it gratefully.
 
On checking, she found that she had over-allowed, and that she had occupied only the front half of the bay, so had to take the vehicle a good way further back, having decided which of the kerbstones needed to be level with the passenger door.
 
But she could not see the kerb from the driver’s seat even with the door open, so had to perform the manoeuvre by guesswork, cursing her own stupidity.
 
This time the back was too close to the car behind, so she had to adjust forward again.
 
Each time she got back into the cab she looked up and down the street, hoping no one had been looking.

Petra wasn’t back from Foibles Antiques yet, so Fin locked the van and walked to the bus stop on the edge of the Triangle.
 
In ten minutes she was on a seventeen, rather than the doom-laden 39, on her way to Rachel and Dave’s. To her amazement, Rachel had given her the keys to 52 Mornington Road, saying that she wouldn’t hear of her going into a B&B.

“In fact, it’s a really good idea to have a house sitter,” she said.
 
There have been quite a few break-ins round here, and we’d feel so much better if you’re in the house, wouldn’t we Dave?”

Dave had put out three bottles of drinkable Southern Hemisphere for her use, telling her to eat anything she liked out of the freezer or the cupboards, but would she mind getting in some decent bread and two litres of whole milk for their return?
 
It seemed that the children would not be going to the Dordogne with their parents since it was the first week of term, but Miriam would be staying with her boyfriend under the supervision of his mother, and Lulu had been billeted on the household of her best friend.

Fin was amazed at the nonchalant trust shown by the Brands, but spent her most comfortable week yet in Harford.
 
The removal from Clutton Street, conducted in a leisurely fashion at eleven in the evening, had gone smoothly, and her boxes of belongings were now sitting in the garage at Mornington Road, alongside some spectacular jumble which filled the rest of it.

Fin was meticulous in her respect for the arrangements in the house, almost tiptoeing around the rooms and holding her breath when opening cupboards or drawers.
 
She was quite aghast on finding a haphazard bundle of mixed banknotes in a drawer when in search of a table mat.
 
There must have been getting on for two hundred pounds at a guess, and she firmly resisted a passing temptation to sort them into denominations with the Queen’s head to the right.
 

Miriam’s single bed felt yielding and luxurious compared with the ragged divan of 2B. Fin used her own bed linen, stacking the originals on the floor in the corner, all other surfaces being covered with the owner’s discarded clothing.

And now it was her last Saturday in limbo.
 
She set off for Cantlesham with a light heart, knowing that next week she would be returning to her own home.
 
The first home ever of her very own.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come and help with the move?” asked Dek.

“No, really,” replied Fin, “moving
into
town was the worst bit.
 
Across town should be-” she crossed her fingers instinctively behind her back- “relatively straightforward.”
 
Not easy, not a piece of cake, necessarily.
 
Relatively straightforward would do, any day.

“Thanks anyway, Dek.”

The figures were holding up reasonably, without making appreciable inroads into the space above the seasonal average line.
 
Dek was working hard, and the shop looked the best it had ever done.
 
But although nothing was said, Fin felt that Dek was disappointed with the way things were going; his expectations had been of a dramatic improvement in the business, and she hoped that his enthusiasm wouldn’t wither away.
 
However, there was no point in worrying – yet.
 
Christmas, and the guilt season after it, when sales of gym wear traditionally peaked, would give some indication of how business might develop.
 
Maybe by then the jobs situation in the town might be confirmed one way or the other; not knowing made people nervous.

She was up early on Sunday, foregoing her usual lie-in.
 
No need to take the bus today; she would simply park on the line until Petra took the Audi over to The Laurels, and she could inherit the parking space.
 
She would have to go back to Rachel and Dave’s with the van tonight, load up with her own stuff in the morning, unload at the house and take the van back to the hire company.
 
She mustn’t forget the bread and milk for her absent hosts, who were expected late Monday.
 
The huge, wildly expensive bed she had ordered from Radbones was due to arrive on Monday afternoon.
 

Watson Street was crammed with vehicles; everyone was home on a Sunday.

“Fin!” said Petra, looking a little distracted, “Do you know it’s barely eight o’clock?”

“It’s moving day, Petra,” said Fin, feeling a little awkward, “we really do need to start early.”

The reason for Petra’s distraction came down the stairs, a towel round his waist.
 
He was handsome in a careless, stubbly kind of way, with a sulky look on his face.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry, I’ll go and get a coffee, shall I? Come back later?” said Fin.

“No, that’s all right.
 
Josh will be leaving soon, won’t you Josh?
 
Unless you want to stay and help with the removals?”