Who's Sorry Now (2008) (10 page)

He glowered at her as if debating whether he could refuse. ‘Only if you’ll listen to what I have to say.’

‘Of course I’ll listen. Where did you park it? Come on, it’s starting to rain hard now and I’m getting soaked.’

He owned a beat-up old Morris which he kept going with spare parts from scrap yards. He and his mate, Jake Hemley, were often to be found with their heads under the bonnet, tinkering with the engine. With the rickety doors locked to stop them falling open, rain washing the windscreen and their breaths steaming up the inside, Carmina felt as if they were in their very own private little world.

A memory of the letter Gina had so painstakingly written flashed into her mind, but she dismissed it instantly. She was glad she’d dumped it in the litter bin.

Carmina almost laughed out loud at the thought of her loyal sister sitting obediently at home while she was the one tucked up with Luc in the intimacy of his car. If it had been her, she’d have defied Momma’s rules and slipped out to speak to him personally. She’d have climbed out of the kitchen window, if necessary, and sneaked off to the dance anyway. Gina was a fool to herself, and Carmina was tired of running errands for her.

‘Go and keep your sister company,’ had been Momma’s constant cry. ‘Go fetch her a library book, take her some sweeties. Talk to her. She gets lonely stuck on her own in that bedroom.’

Nag, nag, nag, and all because the girl was sick. Her own needs always took second place to her pathetic sister and Carmina became sick and tired of waiting on her, of being seen as the problem child. Gina was the one who was the nuisance, not her. Carmina had no wish to deny the girl the joys of a wonderful recovery yet nor did she want Gina to move in on
her
friends,
her
life. Luc was hers. She should have known that and left him well alone. Besides, Gina wasn’t wise in the ways of the world and should learn not to be so stupidly naïve and trusting. The silly girl didn’t deserve him, and shouldn’t be allowed to have him. Nor would she, if Carmina had her way.

But she must tread carefully.

Carmina adopted a sympathetic smile while Luc sat hunched in the driving seat as if he carried the entire woes of the world on his shoulders. She forced a softness into her voice as she gently rubbed his arm. ‘I realise you must be disappointed about Gina. You’re bound to feel a bit let down, and confused, but she is adamant, I’m afraid. It’s over.’

When he said nothing Carmina edged closer, attempting to remind him of their previous encounters with the taunting challenge of her gaze. ‘Seems to me that kiss didn’t feel like one from a man wishing to simply talk about my sweet virginal sister. I mean, if you and I got together, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’
 

Luc wished, in that moment, that he’d never allowed Carmina into his car. He wanted to walk away, to run as fast and as far as he could away from what she was so clearly offering. He’d no wish to be reminded of the reckless risks they’d once taken.

Both angry with the world, frustrated by life and by their own inability to control it, they’d indulged their lust without thought for any consequences. Fortunately, he’d been lucky and got away with it.
 

There’d been something about Carmina that had appealed to the old Luc, to the rebel who had refused to conform. She was feral and exciting with a wildness about her that still appealed to the devil in him, to the part which hated his family for trying to mould him to suit their own needs instead of his.

He’d made many mistakes in the past, and Carmina was one of them. But if he’d done stupid things, was it any wonder, bearing in mind all the hassle he was getting at home?
 

He’d hated driving the ice cream vans, hated everyone thinking him well off and spoiled when the truth was very different. Since he’d refused to comply with his father’s plans for him, Luc had only the low wages he earned as an apprenticed builder, and he must pay board and lodging out of that. His father barely spoke to him these days and his mother would never take Luc’s side against her husband.
 

More than anything Luc longed to be a chef, and maybe one day own his own restaurant. He was saving up hard to pay for a course in cookery at the local tech, though he couldn’t imagine ever being able to save up enough to buy himself a business. His father absolutely refused to help, had dismissed the idea as a waste of time and money when there was a perfectly good ice cream business for him to inherit.

The real problem was that Luc was an only child. His siblings had died at birth or as a result of miscarriage, which meant his father had invested all his hopes and dreams in Luc.
 

Gina was the first person he’d been able to actually talk to about these problems without feeling stupid or embarrassed. Here he was, a supposed rich kid with a tough reputation and all he wanted to do was cook and win the approval of this dream from his family.

He couldn’t explain why he’d chosen the quiet sister. Gina was lovely but without Carmina’s luscious charms. Yet she was the one who had somehow captured his heart. He loved her softness, the radiance of her, as well as the way she made him feel good about himself, as if he were a different person, someone worthwhile instead of being at odds with the entire universe.

Put simply, he adored her.

And he’d foolishly imagined that she felt the same away about him. Obviously he was wrong. She’d probably only listened to him out of pity; had agreed to go out with him because she felt sorry for him. Gina was that sort of person: kind and caring, sympathetic to the troubles others had to endure because of her own problems. But it was obviously no more than that.

He could well appreciate that she might well feel too shy or embarrassed to tell him all of this to his face, and to admit that she thought things were moving too fast between them.

He’d spotted her hiding behind her bedroom curtains, and could understand now why she hadn’t come out to speak to him. She was sick and tired of him and had really wanted him to go away and not bother her any more.

Carmina’s soft mouth was moving over his, insistent, demanding. She was loosening his tie, sliding her fingers down his chest as she slid open each shirt button, stirring some need in him that he really didn’t like but simply couldn’t resist. She wasn’t the kind of girl any man could resist, not for long.

Luc hated to admit it to himself but his blood was stirring. Just the feel of her moving against him set his senses racing, his lust merging with the deep hurt and anger he felt over losing Gina. If only she hadn’t finished with him.

Carmina cupped one hand around the bulge in his trousers, and with a soft chuckle at his reaction, began to unbuckle his belt.
 

Out in the alley a figure stood huddled in a doorway, watching. He’d seen the young couple dash to the car, and it didn’t take much imagination to work out what they were getting up to behind those steamed-up windows. One day, he’d have some of that, he thought, as he walked away.

Back in the car Luc suddenly came to his senses.

‘Damn you, Carmina!’ He jerked himself free of her and flung open the car door. ‘Get out! You and me are finished, remember? Kaput! Even if I can’t have Gina, I certainly don’t want
you
.’

She slapped him across the face. Hard! Had he been less well-brought up he might have slapped her back. Instead, he pushed her out of the car and drove off, leaving her standing alone in the pouring rain.

Chapter Ten

The rows of canvas-topped stalls lining Champion Street were well attended today, being a Saturday, positively humming with people. Patsy loved the vibrancy of it all, the strings of brightly coloured beads hanging on wooden pegs, the piles of striped tea-towels and checked tablecloths, the buckets of yellow daffodils, scarlet tulips and blue iris at Betty Hemley’s flower stall, brightening a dull day. She bought two tea-towels and tucked them away in her bag with a smile. Something else for the bottom drawer.

Patsy tried to buy a little something each week to put into it, however small: a rolling pin or a pair of pillow cases; Tala kitchenware or a Prestige pan to add to her set when she was feeling a bit flush.

An auction was taking place on Abe’s stall and Patsy wandered over to see if there was anything else worth buying for their future new home. He was selling a roll of lino, slapping it hard to attract attention.

‘Wife says I’m that generous I throw me money about like a man wi’ no arms. Today, I’ll break the habit of a life-time and give away a strip of stair carpet to go with this roll of lino. I can’t say fairer’n that now, can I?’

Patsy laughed, sorely tempted to make a bid, but since she didn’t know where she and Marc would be living, whether they would need lino, or even have any stairs, she firmly kept her hands in her pockets.

In any case, she really shouldn’t be dawdling around the stalls dreaming of weddings and new homes. She had work to do: hats to finish for her special customers, as well as the normal round of work on the hat stall.

She dodged a boy on a bicycle delivering bread for Thomas George, waved to Carmina who was browsing through records and chatting to Alec Hall. She didn’t wave back, but stood laughing up into his face. Patsy wondered why the girl never chatted to her in such an openly friendly fashion, then forgot all about her as she stopped to admire some sequinned fabric on Winnie Holmes’s stall.

‘This’d make a lovely hat, one of them natty little head-hugging numbers,’ Winnie suggested.

‘You might be right,’ Patsy agreed. ‘Or I could use it to add a sequined band to a velvet beret. I’ll give it some thought.’

Patsy never grew tired of wandering through her beloved market, searching out hidden treasures, finding ideas. It had been her favourite occupation ever since the first day she’d arrived when she’d recklessly nicked a pie off Poulson’s hot potato pie stall, but then she’d been starving, not having eaten for two days. She never went hungry these days, thank goodness, and Big Molly was still on speaking terms with her, although it had been a close-run thing for a while.

Arriving at the hat stall rather later than she’d intended, Patsy apologised to Clara and got on with sewing some grosgrain ribbon on to her latest creation. Tongue stuck in the corner of her mouth, she gave the work her entire concentration while Clara served customers.

Later, Clara set a steaming mug of tea down on the table beside her. ‘Time for a brew.’

‘I’ve finished this one, anyway.’ Smiling, Patsy snipped off the thread and held the hat up for Clara to examine. ‘What do you think?’

Made of imitation leopard skin in the fashionable pill box shape, she’d finished it off with a velvet bow in a toning dark brown.

Clara smiled. ‘I rather think it might suit Carmina.’

‘Goodness, I hope she doesn’t spot it then, or she might demand a large discount.’

Patsy picked up another hat, one which comprised largely of petals and leaves and began to search through the big wide drawers for a silk scarf to team with it before she put it out on display. The drawers were stuffed with reels of ribbon, hat trimmings, millinery wire and hat pins, horsehair bows, silk flowers and feathers. She seemed to spend her life tidying them out and still they were a muddle.

‘We need more drawers, a whole new set. I can never find what I’m looking for.’

‘Leave that for a moment, Patsy, and drink your tea. There’s something I wish to discuss with you.’

Patsy did as she was told and quietly sipped the hot tea, which was more than welcome on this cold spring day. She frowned, troubled by Clara’s sombre tone. ‘Is Annie bad again?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Clara said. ‘As you know, she’s not been herself this last twelve months, not since she had that heart attack.’

‘I know. It was last summer, the day Marc took me to his sister Marie’s wedding. Could she be overdoing it, do you think?’ Annie was a stickler for wanting to oversee everything herself: the buying, the displays, how customers should be dealt with, and most particularly of all, the accounts.

Clara nodded, her usually soft mouth tight with worry. ‘I’m certain she is. However, I think I’ve finally persuaded her to retire, even though she isn’t yet sixty. It’s so sad, but quite the best thing, I believe. If she does agree, then I’m not sure I could manage the business on my own, even if I wanted to. I wondered, therefore, if you’d be interested in taking her place.’

Patsy looked stunned, as well she might. It wasn’t so very long ago that she’d been a mere apprentice on this stall, and even that job had been in doubt for a while. Now Clara seemed to be offering her much more and she felt a surge of panic.

‘Hey, I couldn’t do Annie’s job. I’m not good with figures.’

‘It’s not the accounts which worry me, as Annie could continue to do those from home. It’s the stall itself. You’ve said yourself that it needs updating. I don’t have your flair for choosing the right hats for today’s cool cats, as you like to call yourselves. Not that hats are worn as often as they were in my day, so it’s even more important that we choose, or make, the right ones for the wedding market, social functions and the like.

‘Also, if Annie retires early through ill-health, I would want more time to spend at home, to look after her. I’m not ready to consider retirement myself, of course, but I wouldn’t mind reducing my hours to part-time, perhaps two or three days a week, or afternoons only. Whatever suits you best. What I’m offering you, is a partnership.’