‘Firstly, I… I’d like to apologise for… for everything. Looking back, I’m surprised you didn’t sack me sooner and I’m grateful for all the chances you gave me here – and elsewhere. Like that time I threw whisky at you in the pub. I was totally out of order.’
He tossed down his pencil. ‘That was nothing. Not compared to what came after.’
Her shoulders tensed.
His newspaper rustled as he folded it up and stuck it under his arm. ‘Always mithering me, you were, to buy you a drink. Same for the other men in the pub. Polly and Alan only put up with you for as long as they did because of Andrea and Gail.’ He shook his head. ‘What you in here for now? Because if you’re looking for your job back, you can forget it. I could never trust someone who stole my car.’
Of course. Andrea had told her about it afterwards. Emma’s eyebrows knitted together. It had been late at night. The off-licence was shut. She had reckoned the motorway services would be open – they sold what she needed. So she’d stolen his keys from… off the pub table, that was it, and told herself he’d never notice. She’d be there and back in half an hour, which she might have been if she hadn’t fallen asleep at the wheel and smashed the front bumper.
‘Can you remember how much the repairs cost?’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I’ll bring a cheque in this afternoon.’
‘You don’t even know, do you?’ he said, and jabbed his finger in the air. ‘Bligh and Andrea bailed you out. It wasn’t cheap, either. The windscreen had to be replaced. If it wasn’t for Bligh, I’d have reported you to the Old Bill. Just get out.’
‘But… it’s just… Phil…’ She hadn’t told anyone else about her idea yet. ‘I want to set up a soup run to help the homeless people coming into Healdbury. The charity shops here are overflowing with spare clothes I could also hand out, and the farm always has surplus produce. I’m going to go door-to-door asking businesses for donations.’
‘Good luck with that.’
Emma swallowed. ‘Some of the rough sleepers like Stig outside have dogs. I wondered if you’d consider donating a few tins of dog food and—’
‘You’re serious? Like I’m really going to encourage more piss-heads like you to visit our village, let alone to look after animals that deserve far better owners.’ He jerked his head towards the window. ‘That Staffie looks like it could do with a right good feed. It’s shameful that bloke just using it to get the public’s sympathy.’
‘Stig’s not like that. He loves the Duchess to bits. You know, when I was on the streets a vet used to visit the homeless dog owners in Manchester to check over their pets. He’d walk around at night with his rucksack full of tablets and jabs. He said many of the dogs were happier than some of his registered patients because they were so loved and in the company of their owners twenty-four seven.’
‘Likely story. Go away. I’m not in the mood for this crap.’
‘I don’t drink any more, Phil,’ she said in the same steady manner, despite her knees feeling as if they might give way. ‘I’m really sorry for what I did, and—’
‘Have you forgotten how you threw up on top of my stock of best cat toys? How youborrowedtwenty quid out of the till?’
‘But—’
‘Healdbury’s a decent place – a place for families, pensioners, hard-working folk. I’m not doing anything to swell the influx of time-wasters and scroungers.’ His newspaper fanned open as he threw it down. ‘Some of us work damn hard to earn a living and end up paying towards benefits for people like you.’
Head down, Emma hurried out of the shop.
‘Emma?’ Stig looked up.
She sat down next to him.
‘What’s up?’
She rolled her lips together and didn’t speak for a few moments.
‘I want to start a soup run, Stig. With your help. I thought about setting one up in the barn for just a few hours each week, but I looked into it online and there are just too many rules and regulations. Whereas if I provide a mobile service, just turning up on the street with my food in a backpack and perhaps carrying a foldaway picnic table… well, that’s okay. I could make soup, sandwiches and… Not everyone in the village will approve, but…’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Like you’ve said before, sometimes you need to give things more than one shot. So next I’m going to ask at the bakery if they ever have any waste stock. I thought we could do it two evenings a week up at the station, say from seven until nine. What do you say?’
‘I think it’s a great idea. I wouldn’t ask the cheesemonger, though.’
‘Ted? Large build? London accent?’ She shrugged. ‘Suitably named, I always thought. I used to think of him as a big friendly bear of a man. He always gave me a small slice of my favourite smoked Cheddar when Andrea and I passed his shop. He actually said hello to me the other day. I was almost too surprised to reply.’
‘Is that his name? Yes, he’s the one.’ Stig pulled a face. ‘He walked past a couple of days ago talking loudly about setting up a petition to get the rough sleepers moved on.’
‘I’m surprised. He’s a charitable sort, playing Santa at primary school and helping out at boy scouts.’
‘Well I wouldn’t knock on his door for donations. He told his grandson off for giving me ten pence. Told me to clear off. That Healdbury had enough problems. I guess his business is struggling as well. Hard times change people.’
They exchanged looks.
‘So what happened with Phil?’
