“It’s convenient.”
Appalled realization rushed through her. “Oh. Is that what you... ?”
“I can cook,” Dan answered shortly. “But don’t judge it. A lot of the old folks find these tins helpful. They can’t manage to cook for themselves anymore.”
“Oh.” She stared at him in surprise. He’d almost sounded sensitive. “Right. I suppose I didn’t think of that.” But since she’d started in the shop, no one had bought any of it. Not the lamb stew or treacle pudding or the Fray Bentos “Boozy” steak and ale pie, which came in a pie-shaped tin with a lid you peeled back. She decided not to point that out to Dan.
She’d been in a surprisingly good mood these last few days, almost buoyant. Andrew had left for Manchester several days ago, and it wasn’t until his Lexus had disappeared down the lane that she’d realized how oppressive she’d found his well-meant concern.
Her mother had called only once yesterday, and Claire had actually listened to the voice mail. She hadn’t flinched when she’d heard her mother’s needling tone, demanding she ring her back, saying that Andrew had told her she’d found “a little job.” Maybe she’d actually phone her mother back today. She almost felt strong enough.
Yesterday Lucy had come by and invited her into Whitehaven to go shopping over the weekend for craft supplies for the art stall at the Easter Fair.
“Easter Fair?”
“Yes, it’s next week. The school puts on an Easter Fair every year, with stalls and games and all sorts. Best Decorated Egg, a fancy hat competition, you know.”
“Right.” A vague memory had surfaced in her mind like a soap bubble: decorating a hat with Rachel, both of them giggling as they tied a pink ribbon Claire had brought from home around its straw brim.
So much of her school years had been a miserable blur as she’d been caught between her mother’s concern and disappointment,in and out of hospitals with procedures for her ear or illnesses as a result of it.
“Everyone says the Easter Fair is good fun,” Lucy had told her. “Although I’ve never actually been. I only moved here in August. But Alex said that some of the local businesses and charities come and set up stalls,” Lucy had added. “The Hangman’s Noose puts on some food, a bookshop in Whitehaven brings some kiddie books to sell, and the Lifeboat Institute does their thing about water safety. They give away key rings and fridge magnets, that sort of stuff.”
Now, as Claire dusted a row of tins of hot dogs in brine—yuck—an idea came to her. “Why don’t you do a stall at the Easter Fair?” she asked Dan.
“The what?” It was the end of the day, and Dan was balancing the cash register, an intricate procedure of matching receipts to cash amounts, which Claire had not yet been invited to learn.
“The Easter Fair, up at the primary school. Lucy said a bunch of local businesses set up stalls. Why don’t you?”
He didn’t even look up from the receipts. “Who would run the shop while I was up at the school?”
“I could.”
Dan gave her a quick, quelling glance. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t you think it’s important to have a presence in the village?” Claire pressed.
“I do have a presence. My shop is on the high street.”
“But a community presence. The shop is almost like a church or a community center, a place where people meet....”
Dan stared at her disbelievingly. “It’s a place to buy things.”
“You could sell sweets and crisps and fizzy drinks up at the school,” Claire suggested. “The kids would love it.”
“I’m sure the head teacher will thank for me that. They’ve banned fizzy drinks from the school.”
“All right, no fizzy drinks, then. But sweets or biscuits or even fruit, for goodness’ sake—”
“No.” Dan’s voice was flat and final, even for him.
Claire took a deep breath. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want to get to know people?”
“No.”
