‘Sounds tough, at least you’re here now,’ Richard offered, glancing up and giving me a quick smile. I tried to offer one back, but inside I was urging him to ask me what was wrong. I needed to talk about Emma and the argument. It was eating me up.
After a few minutes of silently watching him assemble the pasta dish and put it in the oven, I cleared my throat. ‘Emma and I had an argument. A sort of… falling-out. Earlier.’
‘Mmm?’ Richard poured two glasses of wine and slid one over to me. ‘What about?’
I winced. ‘She was a bit surprised we were back together, that’s all. I ended up being quite short with her. I insulted her beliefs and I don’t really know how to make things right.’
Richard stopped swirling his wine and scoffed. ‘Her “beliefs” are cuckoo, though, aren’t they? I mean, you don’t believe in all that witchy-woo stuff so why should you pretend to for her sake?’
I felt my back stiffen. ‘I might not believe in it but she does. I don’t have to pretend to believe in anything to make her happy but, at the same time, it was out of order to throw it in her face and insult something that’s important to her because I was upset.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Upset about what? If she upset you, it’s hardly your fault an argument started.’
‘She wasn’ttryingto upset me…’ I started and then, as I looked at him, I realised I didn’t have the energy to explain it all if he wasn’t going to listen properly. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with it on Monday when she’s back from annual leave. She booked the rest of the week off today.’
‘Today?’ Richard gave me a look. ‘Are you sure you want to set the precedent that she can book leave with basically no notice? I mean, I know she’s your friend and everything but she’s also your employee. She needs to remember that and so do you – especially if she’s causing issues for you at work.’
‘She isn’t “causing issues”,’ I sighed. ‘Besides, it’s not like there’s any reason she can’t have leave. We’re not rushed off our feet. Honestly, there’s barely any work for two people there at the best of times.’
‘Hmm,’ Richard hummed contemplatively. ‘So… why not let her go?’
‘Fire her?’ I said, aghast. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Well, you just said you don’t need her working there, so that’d save you quite a bit of money, right?’ Richard pointed out, tapping his fingers on the counter. His gold signet ring rapped on the marble. ‘I get that she was useful during the renovations but is keeping her on a wise business move?’
I picked up my glass of wine and took a hasty gulp. It unfortunately didn’t do anything to calm the swarm of ants scuttling and biting in my stomach at the thought of letting Emma go. She wasn’t just ‘useful’ during the renovations. She did half the work, alongside me. She was there at all hours helping me to paint and strip wood and lay rat traps. She was the one who’d driven said traps out into the distant countryside to release the confused rats into the wild. Even if there wasn’t a huge amount of work at the shop now, she was still making stock for me. Her stitch markers were moving well now that I had managed to list them for sale on the website and she was keeping me company and bolstering my resolve to keep the shop going. Hell, she was coming up with ideas to try to bring more business in.
‘Well, she’s still contributing a lot – like the Stitch and Witch.’
‘The… what?’ Richard looked at me like I’d just said I was going to teach dogs to make mittens.
‘It’s like a “stitch and bitch”, where you chat about stuff and do crafts? But it’s her coven, so a bunch of witches talking about stuff while I teach them to make tarot bags and things.’
Richard’s eyebrows were in his hairline, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. It was beyond obvious that he thought it was a stupid idea.
I wanted to defend Emma and her ideas to Richard but I was just so tired already from the long day. He’d have an argument for every point I could raise and he wouldn’t drop it until he felt as if I’d come around to his way of thinking. For the sake of some peace, I just shrugged noncommittally and turned away on my stool, hoping he’d let it go.
‘How was your day at work?’ I asked as a distraction, and Richard launched into a story about a house he’d been showing for a few months now with no real interest. Mostly due to all the underlying issues the property developer hadn’t banked on when they built the place.
‘I had a new couple viewing it today – first-time buyers, very eager – they couldn’t believe the price on it. I mean it’s three bedrooms for a hundred and forty thousand, where else are you going to find that round here? 2002? New build as well, they were over the moon, practically offered to name their first-born after me.’ Richard’s mouth curled scornfully. ‘Then the bloke ruined it all – walked right out the back door while she was talking my ear off about schools in the area. I never let buyers out back, always say I’ve not got the key for the doors, but the bloody gardener had left them unlocked.’
‘What happened?’ I asked, because Richard had previously told me that the entire bit of decking outside the back door was unstable, due to the mining history of the area. It had kind of troubled me that they were even trying to sell the place. But Richard had pointed out that if not his firm, some other estate agent would do it. I pushed aside the thought that I remembered all that, yet Richard still couldn’t remember the difference between knitting and crochet. That was the old, immature Tabitha talking.
‘He went straight through the deck is what happened,’ Richard rolled his eyes. ‘Screamed like a girl too. I had to help him out and then, of course, it was sort of obvious that the concrete under it was all broken up and they started asking questions about the rest of the house. Once he said “subsidence”, I knew it was game over. BloodyHomes Under the Hammer’s got everyone too clued up for their own good.’ He took a swig of wine and shrugged. ‘Still, better luck next time. The developer’s going to slap a bit of cement over the cracks. It’ll be fine.’
‘Jesus!’ I pulled a face. ‘Sounds like he should be reported.’
Richard chuckled. ‘Eh, “buyer beware” and all that, you know? They should have seen that price and known it was way too good to be true. Some things are just too perfect to believe.’
I thought of Cooper and how easy it had been to talk to him and warm to him. How he’d remembered how much I’d said the blanket cost and followed all the crochet washing directions religiously. I held my tongue because Richard was right. Some things were too good to be true. At least you knew where you were with an obvious fixer-upper.
While the lasagne cooked, I opened WhatsApp and tried a couple of times to get an apology to Emma written out. I struggled to get across how sorry I was for snapping at her but, after a few attempts, I had something that sounded right.
Hi Emma, I’m really sorry about today. I was completely out of line with what I said and I didn’t want to give the impression that I don’t respect what you believe. I know you were just concerned for me and I’m sorry for blowing up at you. Just wanted to say this now, and I will apologise when you’re back in at work. Enjoy your time off and don’t stress about anything – it’s all on me. Sorry again.
I sent it off and crossed my fingers for luck. Hopefully Emma would see it and then not worry about our argument on her days off. I was still going to apologise when I saw her again, but the idea of leaving this hurt to fester for days didn’t sit right with me. With that message sent, I felt a tiny bit better and hoped that it would ease any worries Emma had.
A notification popped up for Facebook. Maeve had sent me something from the local group. I opened it to find a picture of the canal. It must have been taken after Cooper left, because the caption said ‘FINALLY!!!!’ Before I could think better of it, I clicked into the comments.
