Looking around at my options, I started to panic. I couldn’t chance him wanting a paper from the newsagent’s or popping into the cheese-and-wine shop for a client gift. There was only one place nearby that Richard wouldn’t go, even if it was peeing down with rain in a red-weather warning – the charity shop. The only thing that wrinkled his nose faster than second-hand goods was a shop packed full of them.
I ducked through the door, hoping the bell wouldn’t bring Margaret out of the back. Talk about out of the frying pan into the fire. Thankfully, she was on the phone back there. I could hear her droning on about collection dates and parking restrictions.
The hospice shop was a weird L shape. The main body of it went from the front door to the counter, but there was a windowless offshoot that was the perfect place to hide. That was where the books were shelved, along with old magazines, out-of-date maps and sewing patterns. Basically, anything papery that was going a bit yellow and musty. I squeezed between two overflowing racks of old waxed jackets and M&S duffle coats and let out a sigh of relief to be in the dim sanctuary of the book-nook.
I’d just give Richard five or ten minutes to grab his lunch and go, then the coast would be clear to return to the shop. Was it cowardly? Yes. But at least I wouldn’t be reduced to tears for the second time in one day. I couldn’t bear it.
Margaret shuffled back into the shop front and I heard her huff as she unlatched the jewellery case to add more items to the already overflowing trays inside. The click of beads and scrape of metal on glass were the only sounds in the shop and I held my breath. In front of me a row of deteriorating Catherine Cookson novels sat crumbling and, above those, fifteen copies of the latest ‘must read’ naughty romance were having a little orgy between James Patterson novels.
The bell over the door jangled and I took the chance to sidestep to the craft books. Maybe I would find some interesting crochet patterns and this embarrassing game of hide-and-seek would be worth it.
‘Donations for you,’ came a familiar voice. It was Cooper. My stomach flipped over and I glared down at it. Traitor. How could it do that for someone we barely knew?
Margaret made a nasal noise of disapproval and I heard the clink of plates and cups rattling together. I could imagine her sugar-almond claws picking through the Diana memorabilia, her mouth all pursed up as she let Cooper squirm, wondering if she was going to deign to take the bric-a-brac or not.
‘I suppose,’ she muttered finally.
‘I’ve actually got quite a lot more to bring up, if that’s all right?’ Cooper asked, sounding almost amused by her reluctance.
‘If you must,’ Margaret sighed. ‘It might shift. If not, there’s always the china smash at the fair… you were in yesterday.’
‘I was,’ Cooper affirmed. ‘Thanks again for the blankets and things – though I think you underpriced them. Some gorgeous stuff in those bags. Handmade too. I actually feel like I owe you money.’
My breath caught. He had no way of knowing I was here, right? He wasn’t just saying that for my benefit. He actually thought that and he was telling Margaret to her face that he thought she’d marked them up wrongly. He either had a death wish or a deep conviction that had prompted him to tell her.
‘Hmf’ was Margaret’s response. ‘No accounting for taste.’
That’s it, I was going to jumble her alphabetised DVDs up before I left. The cow.
I heard Cooper click his tongue. ‘Anyway, I took another forty out at the cashpoint – you could have got more for it. But pearls before swine and all that.’
Ha! Take that, Margaret! I felt vindicated and sort of as if I wanted to burst out of my hidey hole and give him a high-five. Or a hug. I wondered what he was wearing and if it was one of my jumpers.
Judging by the icy silence that followed Cooper’s words, Margaret was giving him ‘the look’. I waited for him to turn tail and leave.
As well as avoiding Richard, I had no desire to run into Cooper for another awkward exchange of jabs and jokes. Or rather, I had no desire to have to examine how I felt afterwards. Yesterday had been confusing enough. As soon as the bell went again, I’d count to twenty and then leave. Back to the sanctuary of the wool shop.
But the bell on the door didn’t go. Instead I heard the old wooden floor popping and creaking as Cooper browsed the shop and then, finally, stepped into the nook. He was wearing jeans and boots, and the cashmere jumper with the cuffs carefully folded back. My hands twitched with the urge to touch him. It. The jumper. I felt myself blush furiously.
It took him a few seconds to see me in the gloom and, when he did, he went very still. I couldn’t help looking stiff and surprised – there was no denying that I hadn’t been shopping normally. He’d have heard me moving around otherwise, the floor being so loud and warped. I was caught and we just looked at each other. Then he slowly inched towards me and whispered, ‘Hiding from anyone in particular?’
The scent of sharp pine mingled with the mustiness of old books and I took a breath as I tried to come up with something to redeem myself. But I was saved from disaster when he nodded back towards the main shop and pulled a face.
‘She’s fun.’
I snorted and clapped a hand to my mouth in embarrassment. Cooper’s eyes twinkled in the low light and I wanted to both shove him and smile at him. It was a weird, dizzying feeling. Like driving fast over a humpbacked bridge.
‘I’m just looking for a good book,’ I whispered back, and picked up one of the disintegrating volumes in front of me at random.
‘Ah,The Novice Guide to Rearing Show Rabbits, that’s a thrilling read. I’m waiting for the sequel myself.’
‘You never know, I might be going into angora at the shop. We could keep them in the break room,’ I said, and felt my insides glow when his jaw ticked with a suppressed smirk. He was enjoying this. I was too. I felt suddenly as if we were a pair of naughty kids hiding away in a cupboard at school, while the mean headmistress stamped about outside, rearranging piles of moth-eaten teddies and balding Barbies. But that was a dangerous feeling – I had only just broken up with Richard. I couldn’t afford to get mixed up with someone else.
I returned the book to the shelf and gestured to the narrow exit. ‘I’d best be getting back.’
‘Tons of angora to harvest, I expect,’ Cooper said, stepping aside.
Even though he’d moved, with the shelves boxing us in, I had to inch past him sideways and for a moment we were practically nose to nose. He had to look up at me ever so slightly, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He was looking at me as if I was something rare and special he’d spotted on a high shelf. Up close, his generous lips were a little chapped, but they looked soft too. Biteable.
