Page 24 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

For the third time in less than a week, Taylor was on her hands and knees mopping up water. It had come from the washing machine. The previous day, she had fiddled around at the back of it and thought she had sorted the problem. Clearly not. She felt sure that with more time on her hands and the proper tools, she’d be able to fix leaking washing machines, dripping taps and the hundred and one other things that seemed to be going wrong with this house on an almost daily basis, but on this occasion, her attempt at a repair job had failed, and now here she was on all fours again, with cloth in hand. Her new rug had soaked up a lot of it, and her trousers had soaked up a fair bit too, but there was still water everywhere.

There was a knock at the door. Damn. The last thing she needed was a client arriving and seeing the place in this state.

She stood up and peered out of the window to see who it was.

Harry was standing on the doorstep with a bunch of flowers.

Actually, no. To call them a bunch didn’t do them justice. They were more of a bouquet.

What on earth…?

She hurried to the door and opened it. She’d never opened the door to a man bearing flowers before, let alone such extravagant flowers. And Harry too. Not exactly the kind of man you imagined turning up like this; he did look a little awkward, come to think of it.

He was wearing a grey suit again. It was overcast, so the sky was grey. And the cobbles were grey. Even the hills were managing to look grey today, and the bright pinks and yellows of the flowers stood out in sharp contrast.

Were the flowers an apology perhaps?

Or a romantic gesture?

Assuming they were for her. He might be on his way somewhere else.

They spoke at the same time.

‘I um…’

‘Hi. Come in.’

He stepped inside, somewhat uncertainly, and looked around him at the sodden floor.

‘Everything’s wet,’ he said.

Yeah, state the bleedin’ obvious.

He turned to look at her. ‘You’re wet.’

There was so much kindness, so much concern in his voice that Taylor couldn’t decide if she wanted him to hug her, or to take over sorting out the whole sodding mess.

‘I brought these.’ He held out the flowers. ‘To say sorry.’

An apology then.

‘Sorry?’

‘For what I said. In the Oxfam shop. I was trying to be funny. You’d think I’d know by now that I can’t really pull that off.’

She took the proffered bouquet, and sniffed them because it seemed like the right thing to do. ‘Mmm, they’re gorgeous. Thank you. I’d better put them in some water.’

She looked down at the water all over the floor then and laughed. Harry laughed too, then took off his grey jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and said, ‘Have you got another cloth?’

‘You can’t,’ she said. ‘Your trousers.’

‘Don’t worry, they’re machine wash.’

They would be, she thought. He struck her as a practical kind of guy.

‘Do you have another cloth?’ he said again.

She handed him her cloth, her usual reluctance to accept help of any kind outweighed by how fed up she was at having to mop the floor again.