‘Poor Dad, getting caught up in all of that.’ Florrie felt suddenly drained by the situation. She couldn’t imagine how Ed must be feeling knowing his mother was responsible for so much drama. All she knew was that it wouldn’t rest easy with his mild-mannered personality.
‘Oh, and though she still denies it, my father’s pretty certain my mother’s been snooping around our house in search of legal documents relating to the bookshop. And what’s more, he found a key at her B&B with a fob advertising the name of the key-cutting booth at the station. He said it’s not the one for her room at the guest house as that’s a different type, so he thinks it’s the one she’s been using to get into our home.’ He sat back in his seat and stretched his arms out on the table. ‘And there you have it. A potted explanation for my mother’s latest display of dreadful, not to mention irrational, behaviour.’
Florrie sat quietly, turning over the information Ed had just shared. There was a lot to take in and make sense of. Her initial feeling was that the whole messy situation sounded like some awful, overly dramatic plot from a soap opera. Her next thought was to wonder if Peter Harte had been telling the truth. After all, he had his own track record of bad behaviour towards his son, not to mention his own father, and she wouldn’t put it past him to make things up to suit his own needs. But then again, she told herself, he’d had a calm discussion with Ed two Christmases back, where he’d revealed he had a heart condition. It seemed to have knocked the wind out of his sails and, in fairness, things had been quiet from their end for a while.
But in all that time, it hadn’t stopped her from thinking it could all flare up at any moment and her concerns had been proved right. She also felt an unexpected pang of pity for Dawn; getting on the wrong side of loan sharks must be quite terrifying. And in the middle of all this was poor Ed. She couldn’t begin to imagine how he must be feeling, especially after the heartless words his mother had thrown at him last night. The thought caused the pity she’d felt for the woman to quickly dissipate.
‘Did he mention the things she said to you last night?’ She couldn’t bring herself to put them into words.
A look of pain flickered over his face, and she instantly regretted asking him. ‘I brought it up, and his response was, “you know what she’s like” and that I shouldn’t take any notice of what she says in temper, that she doesn’t mean half of it. Told me she loves me “in her own way”, blah-di-blah. Didn’t come as a surprise, I have to say.’
‘So basically, he just brushed it off?’ She shook her head in disbelief.
‘Yeah, brushed it straight under the rug with everything else she’s said and done; him, too – he’s not blameless, he’s said and done plenty of unpleasant stuff over the years.’
‘Well, you know what, Ed? I don’t think there’s room under that rug for anything else. I think it’s time they took ownership of what they’ve done instead of acting like a couple of overgrown children having temper tantrums. That, combined with their bullying and intimidation campaigns, is toxic and it stops now! I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I’ve had enough of them treating you like this, and I’m not going to stand by and let it happen anymore.’ Florrie could feel her face burn with indignation as a surge of adrenalin hit her bloodstream. She made the decision there and then that she was going to speak to them. She needed to get her thoughts off her chest and hope her words hit their target the way Dawn Harte’s had done with Ed. And she wasn’t going to hold back.
Conscious of Ed’s gaze on her, she steadied her breathing and pushed up a smile.
Ed took her hand, his eyes finding hers. ‘Did I ever tell you that you’re totally awesome, Florrie Appleton?’
‘Not nearly enough.’ She grinned, feeling suddenly bashful.
‘Well, let me put that right. Florrie Appleton-soon-to-be-Harte, you may only just scrape over five feet tall?—’
‘Five feet two and a bit, actually.’
‘Okay, Florrie Appleton-soon-to-be-Harte, you may only be five feet two and a –very important– half inches tall, but I think you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. Oh, and on top of that, you just so happen to be totally awesome. That do?’
Florrie let out a laugh. ‘I suppose it’ll do for starters. And I think you’re awesome, too, and you have a great, big heart yourself.’ They stretched across the table, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that made her heart flutter.
‘So, how did it go at the solicitors’?’ she asked, dropping back into her seat, glad to hear his laugh again.
‘Interesting. Old Mr Cuthbert told me I have a couple of options, the first being a cease-and-desist letter, though I told him I doubted they’d take much notice of that. Mr Cuthbert agreed – don’t forget he knows them of old. The next level would be an injunction which would have legal consequences if they ignored it.’
‘Ooh, seems quite scary when you put it like that.’
‘I know, that’s what I thought. He suggested I think about it, discuss it with you, before I make a decision.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Florrie was pleased to hear Mr Cuthbert hadn’t pushed Ed into going for such a drastic course of action straight away, that he’d advised him to give it some consideration.
‘I just can’t get it out of my head that my mother’s temper and complete disregard for other people actually resulted in your dad getting so stressed he took a tumble and ended up in the intensive care unit of a hospital – albeit indirectly.’ All trace of his earlier smiles had deserted him, his expression now grave.
Florrie was unsure how to respond. It had been an unfortunateset of circumstances, but all the same, Dawn needed to curb that temper of hers. Her dad may be home and being fussed over by her mum, but the outcome could just as easily have been very different. Not that she wanted to dwell on that.
‘He’s on the mend now, which is the main thing.’
‘Aye, it is. And we’re still together, stronger than ever, no thanks to my mother.’ He summoned up a smile.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Her chat with Ed meant Florrie was running late for meeting up with her friends at the Jolly. She rushed up to the bedroom, threw off her Happy Hartes sweatshirt and was having a rummage around her wardrobe for something to wear when Ed appeared in the room.
‘Why don’t I give you a lift down there? Save you having to rush around.’
‘It’s fine, it’s out of your way, and if I get a wriggle on, I won’t be that late.’ She pulled out a navy sweater dress and slipped it off the hanger before rooting around her drawers for a pair of chunky tights. ‘Where the bloomin’ ’eck are they?’ she said to herself. It was cold out and the walk back would be nippy, so she wanted to make sure she was wrapped up.
Ed unbuttoned his shirt. ‘I can drop you off and come back, leave the car here then have a wander to The Cellar. I’m not meeting the lads till eight, so that’ll give me plenty of time.’
