‘Five pack, since it’s been a tough day,’ he said.
She hugged him again.
‘Did you happen to pass a post office in Clove Lore?’ she said when he drew back to look at the paper crumpled between them.
‘You’ve got something to post?’ said Austen at the cafe door. ‘I can take it, if you like? Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.’
Why did everyone in Clove Lore always think they were interrupting something between them?
There followed a lot of activity. Annie left Harri in the cafe with instructions to call the Siren’s Tail and order the scampi and chips with extra mushy peas for her, and she made her way with Austen into the shop, now almost emptied of families.
She took a Valentine’s card from the display and folded her letter inside, inscribing the card with Cassidy’s name and the words, ‘I’m here.’ She wrote the familiar Amarillo address on the envelope and handed it to Austen, who insisted she didn’t want any money for postage, it was her pleasure, and off she went with Radia buttoned up in her winter coat.
‘See you next week, same time!’ Austen said cheerily as she and the yawning Radia left.
Annie bolted the shop door behind them, deciding to leave the tidying up for tomorrow. She had a friend to comfort right this second and a cosy evening ahead.
‘Pop the kettle on, luvvie,’ she called to Harri in her worst Welsh accent, and he laughed hard and shook his head, hanging up after his call to the pub.
‘Dinner’s on its way,’ he said. ‘Time for PJs and a brew?’
‘Definitely!’
With that, the two friends settled back into their easy old patterns learned years ago.
Annie didn’t know the time when she woke, but the building was still shrouded in winter darkness and all was quiet, except for Harri’s steps on the stairs. He must have woken her coming out of the bathroom.
She listened to his feet padding down the spiral stairs as slowly as he could. He was trying not to disturb her.
It had been a perfect evening of good food and easy conversation during the ad breaks, propped up on pillows on Annie’s bed.
At eleven they’d been hardly able to stay awake and she was vaguely aware of the yawning Harri turning off the TV and tucking the duvet over her before making his way to his own room. Blissful, full-bellied sleep had settled over her, but now she couldn’t help pushing the covers back.
Harri hadn’t talked much more about his disappearance, other than saying he and Paisley had, ‘sorted some stuff out’. She’d been happy to see him looking relieved, somehow freed up and more relaxed than he’d been since their arrival in Clove Lore, but she couldn’t help the twinge of regret either.
Was he getting back with Paisley? Just like Cassidy had reunited with Deadbeat Dave? She couldn’t pry and she couldn’t make her true feelings felt. She’d learned that the hard way with Cassidy. In her letter she’d said nothing of her feelings about Dave, about how she feared he was controlling her, making her think things not in her nature, turning her against the people who loved her best. If she was going to reconnect with her friend, she wouldn’t achieve it by badmouthing the man who was still under her skin. So, she’d chosen to write about the preciousness of their friendship instead. She hoped it would work.
She was learning to hold back. This was progress. If she could speak her mind to Harri she’d tell him to take his time, to enjoy being single for a while, that loneliness was only natural after so long in a relationship, but if he just let things settle, he’d be happier. Rushing back to Paisley would be a mistake.
She couldn’t say any of it. But she could at least check in on her friend now. Why was he up in the middle of the night? She tiptoed to the top of the stairs.
Harri wasn’t going back into his room. He was making his way across the shop floor barefoot in the dark.
Annie didn’t understand why she did it, but she impulsively crouched unseen at the top of the stairs, spying on him through the bars.
He switched one lamp on beside the display table. What was he doing?
She shifted for a better view then wished she hadn’t seen him flicking through the Valentine’s cards. He pulled one out, turning it in his hands for a long moment. She saw him make to put it back, hesitate, then change his mind.
Then he was opening it, writing something inside, enclosing it in its envelope, running his tongue over the glue. Suddenly, as if wary of her presence, his eyes darted to the stairs and she drew herself back into the shadows, holding her breath.
What on earth was she doing, acting crazy? But she couldn’t help looking once more as Harri, satisfied he really was alone, flicked out the light and carried his Valentine’s card off to his bedroom.
She sat, clasping her knees to her chest at the top of the stairs for a long time.
He’d been writing to Paisley. After their talk today, he’d been lured back in. He loved her, after all.Of coursethey were reuniting. Wasn’t Harri just the sort who couldn’t miss Valentine’s Day? Would this be his and Paisley’s tenth?
There was always the possibility, a hopeful part of her brain suggested, that he’d simply been feeling sentimental, and he was sending Paisley a friendly token of his affection, for old time’s sake.
