I’m itching to ask,Why does Liv work here?She didn’t seem to be relishing her job. But then, as if sensing my curiosity, Fergus explains, ‘Liv’s just giving me a hand temporarily. I needed the help and, well... she’d been going through a tricky time.’
‘Oh, has she?’ I ask.
He nods, reaching for the coffee pot, and looks round at both of us. ‘Like one?’
‘Yes please,’ I say, although Joe declines.
He pours our coffees and continues, ‘I thought it’d be good for her to have a job, earn money, and get a break from the baby for a few hours here and there.’
‘And Helen had upped and left you,’ Joe teases.
‘Well, yeah.’ Fergus nods. ‘There was that. Deserted me for glittering London...’
‘Can’t keep your staff, Ferg.’ Joe grins.
‘Hey, she’d done eleven years!’ he says in mock-protest.
‘Murderers get less,’ Joe chuckles, and I learn that Helen had been something of a stalwart in the shop.
‘Super-organised in a way that I’m not,’ Fergus explains. ‘Kept us on the straight and narrow. Banned me from buying book collections that we’d have no hope of selling.’
‘How’s it working out with Liv in the shop?’ Joe asks.
Fergus pauses as I picture the girl’s bleak demeanour, and the jam spurting at the counter. ‘It’s... well, it’sworking, I s’pose,’ he concedes with a wry smile.
‘It’s hard working with family sometimes,’ I suggest, thinking of Vince and me.You’ll be working with me, not for me. Big difference,he said. And later, when Joe has gone and we’re having a second coffee, Fergus tells me more about how his family situation came about.
‘So, Liv’s mum died when Liv was sixteen,’ he explains. ‘It was very sudden so, as you can imagine, everything was thrown up in the air.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I exclaim.
‘Thank you. It’s okay. She had an aneurysm – it literally happened out of nowhere. I mean, we weren’t prepared. Not a bit.’
‘I can imagine,’ I murmur, sipping my coffee and feeling a little shellshocked, yet also honoured that he’s sharing this with me. After all, we barely know each other. ‘How was it for Liv?’ I ask. ‘I mean, I know that would be terrible at any time. But at sixteen... it’s such a tricky stage.’
‘Yes, it really is. And what happened was, our previously studious girl decided to leave school at the first opportunity and not go to uni or college or any of that. I mean, that had been the plan, to apply for Edinburgh if she got the grades. But all that went out of the window,’ he continues, pushing back his wavy hair. ‘She found herself a boyfriend and next thing I know I’m a granddad—’ He breaks off and smiles. It’s not a stoical, making-the-best-of-things smile at all. He looks genuinely happy.
‘And... how’s that turned out?’ I wrap my hands around the mug, glad there are no more customers in here, that it’s the two of us. I get the impression he doesn’t talk about this often, especially to someone he barely knows. And I can’t remember the last time I met a stranger and felt, almost instantly, that there’s a connection; that we could be genuine friends. In Shugbury, with Deborah and Agata and the rest, it felt like the harder I tried to fit into their world, the more they pushed me away. Yet here in this cosy shop, crammed from floor to ceiling with second-hand books, I feel entirely different.
I feel, I realise, with a tingle of surprise, as if I’ve come home.
‘She’s actually a fantastic mum,’ Fergus explains. ‘And of course I’m completely besotted with Finn to a ridiculous degree.’
My heart lifts at that. His daughter’s lucky, I decide, despite the tragedy of losing her mum. ‘I’m sure you are,’ I say.
‘But she’s struggled,’ he goes on. ‘She’s only nineteen – Finn’s just had his first birthday – and her relationship broke up. So on the days Finn’s with his dad, or his other grandparents, she does a few hours in the shop. I think it is helping her a bit. Anyway, enough about me,’ he says quickly with a smile. ‘So... what about your situation?’
I know what he means. Whether I’m single, which would be a reasonable assumption, given that I’m working up here and Vince’s name hasn’t come up. So I find myself telling him – skating over the details – that I kind of left home, and hadn’t planned it and somehow, here I am, helping Alice to move on with her life. The part that I’m avoiding – that I’m here under false pretences – fizzles and burns in my gut.
‘Wow.’ He pauses. ‘Sounds like you’ve been through a lot too.’
‘Not really. Not compared to you.’
‘Oh, we all have our stuff, don’t we?’ He grins and adds, ‘You probably came in for a browse and here I am, distracting you—’
‘Hardly,’ I say with a smile. But I look around anyway, selecting a handful of novels, wishing I could tell him what really happened on Monday at Euston.
‘Let me know if I can help with anything while you’re here,’ he says as I pay.
