Jo watches his hand. The fingers are broad, but nicely shaped with neat nails. She thinks if she were to stretch out her hand, the back of his hand would be warm to touch; her fingers would slip in easily between his fingers, and rest there quite happily. She imagines the feel of his thumb stroking the side of her little finger.
She looks up at him in shock.
His head is still down.
Even so, she feels caught out. Her heart is racing.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, glancing up and handing her the paper. ‘I can see it’s a letter. I didn’t mean to pry.’
Jo looks down at the only words on the page:Dear Lucy
‘Not much to see there,’ she admits, still feeling flustered. ‘I’ve been trying to write to my best friend.’
‘Tricky letter?’ he asks.
‘That’s just it,’ she says, trying to regain her composure, ‘it shouldn’t be. We’ve been friends since primary school, but just now we seem to be in different places.’ She smiles. ‘Literally.’ Jo then sighs. ‘It’s more than that. For the first time, I can’t think what to say to her.’ Had it been like that when Lucy was in Amsterdam? Not really. There had been a steady stream of texts and Jo had visited every few months. More often than not, without James. It was the coming home that hadn’t worked like, Jo suspects, either of them had imagined. James was always there then.
‘“Dear”, is a good place to start,’ Eric the Viking suggests, breaking in on her reverie. He is looking down at the words on the page, and Jo thinks of the Runaway Vicar, who said it was always a good thing to tell our friends that they were dear to us.
‘Tell her about this,’ Eric the Viking continues.
For a startled moment, Jo wonders what he means. Did he notice her staring at his hand? She feels her colour rise. There is nothis. Is there? Now even her ears are pink. It is then she sees that Eric the Viking is staring around him.
‘The shop?’ Jo queries, and she can hear the relief in her voice.
She thinks Eric the Viking must have heard it too as he says, ‘Yeah, what did you think I meant?’ He is now smiling at her in a way that does nothing for her colour. ‘Well, maybe not a description of the shop,’ Eric continues, quickly, and Jo sees that he is blushing too. ‘That wouldn’t take long,’ he grins, glancing down one of the narrow aisles, ‘but about the people who come in. The things you were telling me.’
‘Yes, I could do that,’ Jo concedes, thankful to be back on solid ground. It would be a safe place to begin, and isn’t that what she needs, a fresh place to start with Lucy?
A place for everything and everything in its place.
Dear Lucy,
I’m missing you and I know texts aren’t always great, so I thought I would write to you and tell you a bit about some of the people who come into the shop. It was Eric the Viking’s idea. So if you find it strange or boring you can blame him.
One of my favourite customers so far is a massive police officer (who looks ridiculously young – how old did that make me feel?). He gazed at the fountain pens for a long time but wouldn’t touch them. I told him he could try one without buying it, but he still wouldn’t, although I could tell he was dying to. In the end he confessed that he was ashamed of his handwriting. I tried to say it didn’t matter, but he then looked even sadder, and said that he thought handwriting represented a person.
I thought that was interesting. Another time I’ll tell you about the Runaway Vicar and how some of the letters she writes look as if they would like to spin off and escape. Bit like the vicar herself!
Anyway, I ended up telling the police officer that I would look out some books on handwriting from the library and he should call back in, once I’d had time to work out what he needed to do.
That’s why in the evenings I am now practising my letters. Uncle Wilbur had some old-fashioned exercise books in the store cupboard. Do you remember those from school? The ones with two rows of lines to show you where to place the letters. I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed opening the first page of the book, smoothing the cover back and writing my name on the top line. Since then, I’ve been reading handwriting books and watching some YouTube clips – one with a fierce American woman. It seems there are a few simple rules and I think I’ll make a list of them (in my best handwriting) for the police officer.
I’ll let you know how I get on.
Hugs to you, Sanjeev and the bump.
With lots of love,
Jo x
10
The list of good intentions
Jo takes a glass of wine and a handful of nuts and settles into Uncle Wilbur’s chair. It has been a long day. The room is still and quiet and Jo feels completely alone in the city. She wonders where the Runaway Vicar is tonight. Is she curled up with wine and snacks? Is she on her own, like Jo? Or did she run away to someone? She wonders if Malcolm is alone too. She has a feeling he will be.
Her eyes flick to a card that is standing on the mantelpiece above the gas fire. It shows an image of a young woman carrying a large bouquet of flowers – a card from her mum. These turn up every so often, just hoping Jo is well, sending her lots of love.
