“Good. I was just about to go and feed the ducks.” He pulls a cellophane cone filled with a mixture of oats and seeds from his pocket. “Want to join me?”
I haven’t fed the ducks in years, even though the pond is literally directly outside my living room window.
“I’d love to. Can I get you a coffee to keep warm? It’s nippy outside.”
He smiles at me before replying.
“I-I’d love one. Thank you,” he says, looking down at the floor.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” Poppy asks from behind the counter, her voice full of ‘service’, and a wide smile on her face. Rain is grinning at me from his position behind Corey.
“Hi, Nash. Did you find a car?” he asks with genuine interest, moving over to me as Corey orders his coffee.
“I did.”
He scoffs a laugh. “Gonna tell me what it is?”
“Nope,” I reply, then laugh at his scandalised expression. “Can’t have you tattling to Aidan, can we?” I tease. Rain’s laugh is bold and full of delight.
“You got a bloody Land Rover, didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t possibly comment. Oh, look, we’re ready to go. Shall we?” I gesture for Corey to lead the way outside, leaving Rain and Poppy giggling together over the counter.
Quite what they’re giggling about, I have no idea. No doubt Aidan is about to find out I’ve ‘copied’ his choice of car. Little do they know how wrong they are.
That must be what the giggles are about. What else could it be?
I sigh in resignation. I’m never going to hear the end of this.
Nine
Corey
That morning, I’d woken up with what felt like a wedge of swans flapping their enormous wings in my stomach. Don’t ask me why a wedge of swans specifically.
My grandma was an English teacher, and she taught me about collective nouns over breakfast each Sunday. A lot of them are old and not used anymore, but I still love the concept. A wedge of swans, for example, is only the collective noun for swans when they are in flight; otherwise, it’s a game or a herd. Some of my favourites were a ‘superfluity’ of nuns, a ‘hastiness’ of cooks, and a ‘covey’ of ptarmigan. What even is a ptarmigan? I have no idea, but the memory of drinking tea and eating poachedeggs on toast with Grandma while she told me all about the weird and wonderful words for groups of different things is one of my favourite memories of her.
I’d gotten up, showered, and dressed and then, like a coward, had hidden in my room until I heard Aidan leave the house. His deep voice carrying across the large driveway as he greeted his brothers in the workshop opposite the house was the sign I’d needed to get my arse downstairs and talk to Rain. We’d needed to have a proper conversation about things. I’d needed to know he’s really OK, and I’m sure he felt the same about me if the concerned sideways glances he was giving me yesterday were anything to go by.
Rain was right where I expected him to be, pottering in the kitchen, looking right at home as he cleaned up their breakfast detritus. The air smelt of cooked toast and coffee, and the familiarity of it – the scents and rhythms of a family home – made me smile and think of Grandma again. Pax followed me into the room and immediately went out the open back door to do his business. He must have been crossing his legs, poor thing. I felt bad as I should have brought him down sooner, but I’d been too busy avoiding. I saw him nudge his way into the workshop, so I’d closed the back door to keep theheat in. Honestly, I’d been shocked by how frigid it is here. You can certainly tell you’re close to the sea.
“Morning,” I mumbled, tiredness making my voice sound thick.
“Morning, babe. How did you sleep?”
“Like the fucking dead. Seriously, that bed is so comfy.”
Rain chuckles. “Tea?” he asked, indicating the kettle behind him.
“Mmm, please,” I replied, smiling at him in gratitude.
Rain flitted around the kitchen, grabbing mugs from the cupboard and taking teabags from the canister on the worktop. He added milk and sugar, then handed me the steaming cup and, without asking, turned toward the bread bin and took two slices of brown bread from the bag before dropping them into the toaster. He was obviously tense, his movements frenetic, and I think it had been helping him manage his own anxiety about our imminent, much-needed conversation.
As he made toast, and I drank my tea, we talked.
“So, um, did you get on OK with Nash yesterday?Was everything OK? Physically, I mean?” My stomach flips at the mention of Nash, but I quickly school my features and grin at him over the rim of my cup.
“I’m fine, Rain. Honestly. I mean, I wasn’t. I’m not going to lie. When you left, Dan went fucking spare. He came barrelling into the club and had me pinned against the wall, screaming into my face about how I knew where you were, and I had to tell him and stuff. Obviously, I had no idea you’d even gone, let alone where you were, and I told him so. Well…” I pause, unsure how honest to be. I decide ‘fully’ is the only right answer. I owe him that much for giving me a safe place to land. I don’t want to upset him, though, so I try to be gentle, even when speaking the horrible truth. “He didn’t like that, and neither did Dom. Dan hit me a few times, but then after he spat in my face, he left, and then when Dom got me home that night… It was,” I sigh at the memory, “it was pretty bad.” I look down into my tea, willing myself to forget that night and all the nights, days, weeks, and months that came before, since I met that prick.
