I was quickly reminded why I tended to avoid Facebook these days – at least for non-work-related stuff. Almost every comment was a nasty remark about ‘cleaning up the area’ and ‘bringing down the tone’. Most people were calling ‘the bloke on the boat’ a dosser or a shifty character. I wondered how many of them had actually met Cooper or even seen him. As far as I knew, he’d kept himself to himself. He’d certainly left no traces by the canal, not even an empty crisp packet.
One or two people – Maeve amongst them – were scolding people for being so closed-minded and aggressive when he’d literally done nothing to anyone. Some others were speculating about where he might have gone. They were tagging friends and family in the surrounding area to ask if the boat had come through. I found myself reading every comment, looking for a hint as to where Cooper had moored The Lady Di now. As soon as I realised what I was doing, I exited the app and put my phone down.
I made a green salad to go with the lasagne and Richard and I sat down to eat. He told me some more about work and I mostly just nodded and let him talk. I didn’t have any stories of my own that I wanted to share. Aside from the fact he wouldn’t get half of them without me explaining stuff, they just reminded me of Emma and Cooper – and that made my stomach clench up with guilt.
After I’d put everything in the dishwasher and washed up the lasagne pan, we watched some TV and then went to bed. As soon as we were both under the duvet, Richard moved in for a cuddle. I snuggled up with him and tried to relax, but my brain was awash with guilt and muddled anxiety about the shop. After a while, Richard started stroking my back and that turned into skimming his hands progressively further under my pyjama bottoms.
‘Rich…’ I muttered, and shifted away a little. He took this as a cue to get into the crook of my neck, kissing and nibbling. ‘I’m really tired.’
He stopped and sighed, then rolled onto his back. ‘Okay… night then.’
Before too long he was snoring and I was left wide awake and staring at the ceiling. In the dark I lay there thinking about crochet kits, Aunt Lou, electricity bills, Emma, taxes and Mum. My mind was a horrible alphabet soup of HMRC jargon and personal drama. Sleep wasn’t in my budget. Sleep was for business owners who had the slightest clue if they’d have a business in three months.
I thought my way through the forest of work worries and found myself thinking about how Lou hadn’t had anyone in her life after her ‘friend’ Gail passed away. Maybe she’d been too heartbroken or maybe no one else had met her standards. Gail, she used to tell me, was one of a kind – a true and honest friend. The other half of her soul, who just knew her. They clicked from the moment they met in a dog-walking group. As far as I knew, Lou hadn’t been close to many other people and she’d obviously had no children, no one to leave her worldly things to but me. She’d ended up alone.
Then my brain, unwilling to let me just get some ruddy sleep, turned to Mum. She’d been married to my dad for over thirty years. They spent every day together, pretty much. They’d had me, bought a house, and built a lifetime of memories. All because Mum had forgiven Dad for his one mistake.
That was the choice I was making, I thought to myself, awake in the dark. I could end up alone with my high standards and my romantic ideals. Or I could have something real and solid.
I only had to let myself be happy with what I had, instead of thinking about anything, or anyone, else. I just wished I could convince myself of that long enough to get some sleep.
Chapter 24
The ‘Emma-less’ days atthe shop were awful.
It wasn’t as if it was hard work. I’d been honest with Richard that there wasn’t really enough to do to justify two full-time workers. But the fact that I could handle the workload alone easily didn’t change the fact that I missed having Emma around. Missed our chats and our jokes, the companionable tea breaks and watching her rearrange her crystals and charms around the place. I missed my friend.
The shop had literally never been cleaner or more organised. I tried to distract myself with all the little tasks that would normally take me a week or so to get round to. But by the middle of day two, I really had nothing left to do except sit and wait for customers to come in. The crochet kits were moving, but slowly. All in all, not a great time.
It was only made worse when Margaret popped in. I came out of the back room and she was just… there. It had been so long since I’d seen her anywhere else that I’d sort of started to believe she couldn’t leave the charity shop, as if it was a crypt warded with holy symbols that kept her locked up. When I came out and saw her, I actually shrieked.
Peering over her varifocals, Margaret favoured me with a stare of disapproval.
‘Not wise to leave the till unattended,’ she said.
‘No… I suppose not,’ I said, not wanting to risk starting a conversation by pointing out that I’d been two feet away, behind a bead curtain. It wasn’t as if I’d left the shop or been sat back there, drinking shots with my headphones in.
She wandered around, poking at various items before selecting a single needle-threader from a basket of them on the counter (fifteen pence), which she paid for in small change. She left without another word and I was genuinely torn between finding the entire exchange amusing or irritating.
Things at home weren’t much better than they were at the shop. Richard and I were back together and that was… fine. Things were back to normal and our routine was as easy as ever to get lost in. But I couldn’t quite seem to convince my body to let go of all the stress and annoyance that had built up towards Richard in our time apart.
For example, on Saturday, the last day that I would be running the shop without Emma, I was making breakfast when Richard woke up. Just a quick feta omelette with a handful of spinach wilted on top. He went straight for the Nutribullet and made himself his morning shake but, as it was blending, he wrapped his arms around me from behind.
And I flinched.
He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and let me go, but I could tell it bothered him. A lot. We hadn’t had sex since getting back together and I’d been reluctant to cuddle in bed because he kept trying to initiate. I just wasn’t ready. Worse, I kept thinking about Cooper and how I’d brushed against him in the book-nook. That thrill of excitement it had sent through me. I couldn’t feel that for Richard right now. I didn’t know if I ever would again and that was really depressing.
Once I’d eaten, he made me a coffee in my travel mug and our hands brushed as he handed it over. They were warm and soft as always, but the goosebumps that rose up on my skin weren’t from excitement. They were a side effect of my skin crawling as I tried to smile gratefully and take the cup from him.
It was a relief to get out of the flat and walk to work. It had only been a few days. Things would get easier eventually, I was sure of it. Maybe it would be a good idea to ask Mum how long it had taken her to let go of the past and be present with Dad again after he’d cheated on her. Just to get a ballpark idea of when this awkwardness would end.
On my way in, I quickly checked Facebook and found that no one had messaged me about Charlie. So either his owners weren’t on Facebook or they weren’t looking for him. A quick check of my chat with Emma showed that she had still not responded to my message but she had read it. That was all I could hope for.
‘Morning.’
I nearly dropped my cup and my phone when I heard her voice. I stopped short and looked up at Emma, who was waiting outside ‘Ewe and Me’, looking a bit sheepish. She was wearing an ombré jumper I’d crocheted for her in purple and grey. Her hair was piled up and glittering with crystal clips and she had two cups of coffee in her hands.
‘Hi,’ I said, then had to clear my throat and try again. ‘Hi – I thought you were off until Monday?’
