‘No, you’re bloody right. Young Becky’s had a go at me already and I don’t blame either of you. Feel free to thump me if it makes you feel better. I’d do it myself if I had the strength.’ An attempt at laughing turned into a hacking cough and it was a while before Wally caught his breath.
‘Drink your tea.’ Gage hitched his hip on the other stool and set down two mugs emblazoned with the green-and-gold logo of The Mighty Pen.
‘Ta. I don’t s’pose Health and Safety would be too happy if I croaked in here?’ Wally said with a wink.
‘Not really. Hell of a lot of paperwork.’
That set them both laughing. The simple act of sharing a joke forced him to remember how much he used to love his wisecracking father. That brought Gage back to the past and he went deathly quiet, wrapped in his own thoughts. This was his chance. Maybe the only one he’d be offered. He needed to get it off his chest now. Wally had to know the effect his sudden abandonment had had on his second family.
‘What’s up, lad?’ There was the slightest hint of a Scottish accent in his father’s gruff voice.
Here goes.
* * *
The wind whipped her wet mac around her legs and Tamara kept her head down to battle along the street. Ever since she’d reluctantly left Gage this morning, he’d been on her mind. If he was able to draw a line under the unresolved relationship with his father, that would be the perfect Christmas present.
She wrangled her shopping bags into the boot and dragged off her coat to throw it on the back seat. Because of the community lunch at the pub, they’d agreed to wait until tomorrow evening to enjoy their own celebrations at her house. They’d have an abundance of their favourite things to snack on and a fancy bottle of champagne.
The roads out of Truro were rammed with everyone trying to beat the bad weather, which was due to arrive around teatime — that was, if you believed the weather forecasters.
She arrived back at the house and emptied the car, getting even wetter in the process. It was only a brisk five-minute walk down to the bookshop but she didn’t fancy getting soaked yet again, so Tamara pulled on the seriously unsexy waterproof trousers, coat and boots she wore for coastal walking.
The strong, gusty wind buffeted her along and almost pushed her into the road when she turned the corner. Since they weren’t directly on the coast, it was unusual for them to get it this bad. If the winds blew down power lines, that would be people’s Christmas-dinner plans wrecked.
She was surprised to see the bookshop was in darkness except for the fairy lights illuminating the window display. A sign saying they’d closed early because of the weather was fixed prominently to the door. There was no sign of life in the flat above either. After whipping out her phone, she sent Gage a text asking where he was.
At Becky’s. Come and join us.
She backtracked down the road and turned onto Wesley Lane, walking past what used to be her sister’s hairdresser’s shop before stopping outside number nineteen. The tree in the front window with its sparkling lights should’ve cheered her up, but had the opposite effect. Things must’ve gone okay with his father, so maybe it’d be kinder to leave Gage with his family and let them spend some time together.
Her phone pinged again. Pixie.
Could do with another pair of hands peeling veg for tomorrow. Any chance?
Tamara tapped in a thumbs-up and smiley face, and hit send. Another text to Gage told him where she was going and she shoved her mobile back in her pocket without waiting for a response.
The warm fug generated by squashed-in bodies and high spirits swamped her as she stepped into the pub. First order of business was wriggling out of her heavy waterproofs before she sweated to death.
The pub closed at eleven o’clock tonight, but by then most customers would’ve left either to go home to play Father Christmas or cross the road to the church.
Her parents had started taking them to the Christmas Eve service as soon as she and Tracy had been old enough to stay awake, but she’d fallen out of the habit when Toby was young and somehow had never picked it back up. The idea of singing the familiar carols again was appealing.
After wriggling through the mass of people, she finally reached Pixie.
‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Her friend’s face lit up. ‘Rocky’s in the kitchen trying to juggle the regular orders with prepping for tomorrow, so he’ll probably kiss you for turning out. Gage didn’t mind?’
Now wasn’t the moment to explain her conflicted feelings. Peeling potatoes would be the perfect displacement activity to stop her fretting over something she couldn’t yet put into words.
* * *
Gage’s gut instinct told him something was off with Tamara. He could ignore it for now and plan to sort things out later, but he’d learned from his time in combat to pay attention to what his senses told him.
‘I’ll be off now,’ he announced and added a brief explanation about going to help Tamara.
No one could complain about him wanting to do his bit for the community. It wouldn’t be ideal to talk while they peeled a mountain of spuds, but he’d make it work. His military training had left Gage hyper-aware of his surroundings, so it’d been childishly easy to spot her lurking on the other side of Becky’s garden hedge. What he wanted to find out was why she hadn’t at least popped in to say hello.
‘We’re all going to church later. Are you and Tamara coming?’ Becky asked.
