‘Well hello you, couldn’t keep away?’ She took a step forward and watched as he took a tentative step backwards; it made her stomach drop. There was something about the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, the way he exhaled, that made her ears ring and the blood rush from her head. She pushed her foot into the lino-covered floor and let her arms fall by her sides, willing him to spit it out. ‘What’s up?’
‘I ... I got a, erm ... I got a ... text, a text from, erm ...’ He wiped the sweat from his top lip.
‘Spit it out!’ She found his behaviour confusing and concerning in equal measure.
‘I got a text, telling me to be here. I texted back, but she didn’t reply ...’ He swallowed. ‘I don’t have time to explain, but I ... I have a girl, a someone. A ... a girlfriend.’
‘What?’ Her voice croaked as the ground rushed up to meet her. It was as if he spoke in a foreign tongue. Unable to process his words, she felt numb, rooted to the spot and wasn’t sure whether she wanted to vomit or sob. Her legs shook and she felt the floor tremble beneath her as she sought clarification, leaning now on the countertop.
He looked over her shoulder and exclaimed, ‘Oh fuck!’
It was the first time she’d heard him swear like this and it didn’t suit him.
‘You all right, Taw?’ She heard Connie ask behind her.
‘I don’t ... I don’t know what to say.’ It was all she could manage as her heart leapt at the sight of his greying complexion. He stared ahead, looking into the café, while she kept her eyes on his face.
There was no need to ask who he was looking at; she knew before he spoke, could tell by the look on his face as he stared, unable to tear his eyes away from the pretty, dainty woman with the tanned legs who liked herbal tea with ginger. Alerted as she was by the rosy flush to his cheeks and nose, the way sweat broke on his forehead and the rather harried way he shoved his fingers into his hair, and knowing in her soul what was about to unfold, guessing at the words yet to be spoken, Tawrie’s heart felt like it was being squeezed and her pulse raced loudly in her ears.
‘I ... I don’t know what to say,’ she repeated, quieter this time, hoping that if she whispered and he responded in kind, she might not have to hear the words that she was confident were about to slice her heart into pieces and wash away the pillars of confidence on which she had stood since meeting this man.
‘It’s ...’ He spoke deliberately, seemingly his lips were stuck to his dry teeth. ‘It’s Petra. Petra, erm, she’s my, she’s the ... I didn’t know she was coming, I—’
‘Bear!’ The woman jumped up from the table, clearly delighted to see him. She trotted the length of the café and practically leapt into his arms. He held her fast and Tawrie wondered if she were actually there watching as the two slid together, faces touching, lip to lip, nose to nose, arms entwined, or whether she were invisible, disappeared altogether, spirited away into nothingness, which would explain the hollow void where her stomach used to lurk and the slight ethereal echo of all sound.
‘What ... what are you doing here?’ Edgar managed, as he placed the woman gently on the linoleum.
‘I missed you!’ Petra spoke the simple truth as she stared at him. ‘And what kind of a welcome is that?’ She prodded his chest. ‘I thought I’d come down and surprise you but didn’t know where the house was. I knew it was close to the harbour, so I thought I’d come here, grab a cuppa, message you and voilà!’ She curtseyed.
Tawrie could barely look him in the eye as Ed turned towards her.
‘This ... this is Petra.’ His voice shook.
‘Hi! I’m Petra. Bear’s fiancée.’
‘Fiancée? Wow!’ The words coasted out of her mouth on forced laughter. ‘Congratulations to you both!’ She grinned even though her preference would have been to sob.
‘Oh, thank you! I’d show you the ring but it’s still being properly sized at the jeweller’s.’ Petra cupped her hand over her mouth as if sharing an aside. ‘His great-grandmother’s ring, and let’s just say she had rather sausagey fingers!’
‘Ha!’ Her laughter was an odd sound, staccato and loud.
Ed tried to hold her eyeline but she looked away, concentrating on Petra’s dewy complexion, that great cascade of thick hair, and her bright smile.
‘I don’t know your name?’ Petra took a step closer and Tawrie wished she had a smaller nose and that she’d brushed her hair.
‘This is Tawrie, she works here in the café.’
This time Tawrie looked up and stared right at him. Was that her introduction? Was that who and what she was to him? Apparently so. She felt the embarrassing tightening of her throat and knew that she would take any action to avoid crying here in her place of work, in the town she’d lived her whole life, in front of these two.
‘That’s me, Tawrie who works here in the café. But I guess you’d rather gathered that, as I’ve just taken your order.’
Ed looked like he might faint.
‘Cute!’ Petra wrinkled her nose. ‘Tory as in David Cameron? Carrie’s fancy wallpaper, Boris, and his chums, tiny Rishi?’
‘Yep. Yes that’s me. That’s it. Tory. True blue.’ She grimaced.
‘Wow! That’s quite a name.’
