She pulled out from where she’d crawled almost under the table. ‘I thought I had more water somewhere. But I’ve run out.’
‘Go get another. I’ll watch your side of the stall while you go.’
‘You don’t mind? I won’t be long.’ She was gasping but she didn’t want to lose sales. When her mum was here with her, they’d always had one of them here if the other needed to nip off for food or refreshments.
‘If you get customers, do you want me to take money and sell or ask them to come back?’
‘If you could sell for the ticket prices underneath then that would be really great. Are you sure?’
‘Yep, you go, I won’t sell for less than ticket price.’
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘If you could bring me a can of something cold back, I’ll reimburse you.’
‘Anything?’
‘Yep, just as long as it’s cold and fizzy,’ he smiled. And she had to look away because her own insides were fizzing enough already.
She set off and couldn’t help exchanging a few hellos along the way – to Mindy, who was putting more cards on display rack at the front of her stall, to Zadie and Gareth on the second-hand book stall, and Ross, who sold all things gardening from spades and pitch forks to fertiliser and kneeling mats. In some ways, the market traders were like one big family and she knew that was what Elaina had really enjoyed. The first time Morgan had seen her mother here, she had realised Elaina was a different woman to the one she’d kept and built up in her mind over time. And now she wondered whether perhaps that was why she’d really brought her daughter to the markets. Perhaps she’d been more capable than she’d let on in the earlier stages but she’d wanted Morgan to live the part of her life she hadn’t shared with her youngest daughter up until then.
As she waited in line at the food and beverages stall to get a Coke and a bottle of water, she checked her phone at the sound of an email alert and, sure enough, Ronan had sent through the listing for the house. She had to admit that it looked gorgeous, but she pushed her phone back into the pocket of her jeans and freed up her hands to take the drinks.
By the time she wandered back, she could see people congregating at both sides of the stall so she hurried over, set down the drinks at the back quickly, and saw to her customers.
Nate waited for the lull on her side. ‘Cheers.’ He flipped the ring pull and promptly glugged at least half of it in one go before pulling some cash from his back pocket.
‘Honestly, no need to reimburse; you can return the favour another time.’ She turned to pick up her water for a big necessary gulp and that was when she saw it. Her mother’s chair. Still there, still in the corner position. But there was no cushion. The hideous, faded-gold creation of hers from years gone by was no longer in its rightful place.
She turned to get it from the table where she’d thrown it earlier. But it wasn’t there either.
‘The cushion?’ she asked, looking beneath the table in case it had fallen.
‘Cushion?’ Nate frowned, setting down his can on the back table and coming closer.
‘Yes, it was on the chair, then the table. Old, faded gold.’
‘Oh, sold that.’ He did a mini bow. ‘You’re welcome, never thought anyone would want it, let alone pay a fiver for it.’
She felt a cold flush go right through her and her lip quivered. ‘But it didn’t have a tag.’
‘There was one underneath.’ He went to rearrange some of his items that had been rifled through and left a bit untidy. He hadn’t noticed her reaction, at least not until the silence lasted so long, he looked across at her. ‘Morgan? I thought you’d be pleased.’
She stared at him but the sheen in her eyes from the gathering tears made it hard to see properly. ‘I… I…’
She didn’t say another word. She ran from the stall and out to the car park where she jumped into her car to hide from the rest of the world.
She’d thought it would be easy to come here, straightforward to sell off her mother’s stock.
But grief had had other ideas.
9
The morning after the markets, Nate’s alarm went off early and he was up and out in no time, taking Branston with him for the ride to the timber merchants. Locals and anyone who’d come from further afield had been impressed with his work, he’d sold plenty and made a decent amount of cash in the process and, believe it or not, he already had his first commission. Now he had to hope he could still remember how to handle wood and make what he wanted. And he also wished he could stop thinking so much about Morgan and the way she’d run off yesterday. He’d thought she’d be pleased about the cushion, the near-impossible sale in his opinion, given the state of it. He’d almost chased after her and might have done if they didn’t both have a lot of stock on display and there for wandering hands.
As Nate drove, he switched from thinking about Morgan to the gentleman who’d approached him and asked whether he had any chessboards for sale. Nate had assumed he’d tell him that no, he didn’t, and the man would be on his way, but instead he’d admired several of the other items and bemoaned the fact that a handmade chessboard would’ve made the perfect gift. Apparently, he’d been looking and hadn’t found what he wanted and didn’t want to try online because he didn’t trust it. He worried that he might end up with a flimsy board that had no quality. In that moment, Nate found his mouth getting away with him and offering to make one for the following week. ‘No commitment necessary from you,’ he’d told the guy as he questioned his own sanity. He hadn’t made anything for so long, he wasn’t sure he was even capable any more. ‘If you’re not happy with it, I’m sure I’ll sell it on the stall,’ he’d finished, doing his best to sound as though this stall was a regular thing for him and that this commission was no big deal. It also gave him a bit of a safety net because if he couldn’t pull this off, the man wouldn’t lose out by paying for something which a kid in a woodwork class could’ve made.
After the man left, Nate began to feel his passion bubbling up inside of him, not to boiling point, but a gentle simmer. He’d made a chessboard years ago for Gus, who ran the local bed and breakfast, and according to Trevor it was still going strong, used by guests as well as the owners. Nate remembered then that he’d used instructions online and so when he had a quiet moment at the stall, he’d used his phone to search for a reminder of how he might have tackled it. He found what he was looking for and began to wonder if doing the chessboard was something he’d leapt on because it would make him have to try. Hehadto make something, hehadto give it a go.
