She stared at her plate for a long moment. ‘Once they know who I am, they can easily look online and find out other stuff. I’m not ready for people to know that yet.’
Mary glanced up at him, a fearful question in her eyes.
‘I can’t promise I’m not curious,’ he said. ‘But I’m not going to hunt down Mary Whittington, fashion company director, online. I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me.’
She shook her head in disbelief. ‘I think you might be the loveliest man I’ve ever met.’
The dopiest man, Beckett thought, cursing the sloppy grin he couldn’t keep off his face.
‘I’m serious. I hate secrets. I mean, absolutely loathe them. I know the kind of havoc they can cause. It’s not like I’ve done anything awful, or shocking. I’m just not ready to talk about a really sad, painful time of my life. If I see the pity on people’s faces, I’ll be forced to remember. Right now, I need to focus on the here and now if I’m going to face whatever’s next.’
‘I understand.’ Even as it killed him to know that something so painful had led Mary to here, it was hardly a surprise.
He finished his sandwich and checked the time. ‘So, here and now. Do you fancy helping me choose Gramps a puzzle book for Christmas? There might be one in existence he’s not already done.’
Mary’s face lit up, and Beckett could breathe again.
‘Or, now that you’ve turned all sociable these days, what about a board game?’ she suggested. ‘I could look for Li’s secret Santa gift at the same time.’
They spent the hour before lunch club ended browsing through the shops in a nearby retail park. Beckett bought Gramps a murder puzzle book, and Mary got him a board game based on one of his favourite quiz shows. She didn’t find anything for Li, but they had fun nominating the worst secret Santa present possible.
As Beckett drove her home afterwards, dropping off the sewing machine and other equipment, he couldn’t help wondering why on earth he’d wasted six years persuading himself that friends were too much hassle.
Although, maybe that depended upon the friend.
On Friday, Beckett tried another shift with Gramps in the passenger seat. One woman asked him to turn off the podcast, as hearing about the American Revolution was disturbing her son. The boy, who had proudly announced he was turning ten in two weeks, spent the rest of the journey shouting, ‘Liberty or Death!’ and begging Beckett to turn it back on again, while Gramps recited quotes from other battles. Beckett got no tip for that fare.
When he stopped to pick up someone in the city centre, Gramps made a run for it. By the time it was safe for Beckett to follow, waiting to get out of the car on a busy main road, Gramps had made it inside the Victoria shopping centre, where he’d been swallowed up by the Christmas crowds. Beckett found him a maddening, nightmarish twenty minutes later, standing by one of those randomly placed pianos, tapping his toes along to a young man bashing out ‘Winter Wonderland’.
‘Why would you take off like that?’ he asked, still breathless from fear as he dragged Gramps back towards the taxi stand, only to find he’d got a parking ticket. ‘Why would you do that?’
Gramps creaked into the passenger seat. ‘I wanted to buy my grandson a Christmas present,’ he huffed, still clenching a plastic bag. ‘Is that a crime?’
Beckett tried to steady himself, watching the mirrors for a gap in the traffic so he could get the hell out of there. ‘Why didn’t you tell me first?’
‘You’d have said no.’
There wasn’t a good reply to that, because it was true. ‘I could have asked Mary to take you. Or Bill. They could have helped you order something online.’
He didn’t add that if Gramps hadn’t decided to start being racist, he’d have a new carer by now, and could have gone shopping with them.
‘Perhaps I wanted to do something by my damn self for once,’ Gramps snapped loudly. ‘You treat me like I’m helpless. If you’re not interfering, you’re watching, waiting for an excuse to start fussing. Can’t clear my throat without you making yet another appointment so more people can prod and poke and ask personal questions. Maybe I wanted fifteen minutes of not being scrutinised like I’m an imbecile.’
‘I wouldn’t have to watch you all the time if you didn’t set fire to the garden, dismantle a perfectly good chest of drawers for no discernible reason or deliberately run off.’ Beckett knew he sounded harsh, but he was too tired to hold it in any longer. Maybe this conversation had to happen.
‘Run off?’ Gramps scoffed. ‘I wish.’
Beckett pulled over, signed out of the taxi app so he didn’t get any more bookings, and took a few deliberate breaths before starting up again.
‘I know this is hard for you.’
Gramps folded his arms, staring straight ahead.
‘But things aren’t exactly easy for me, either. I’m trying to earn a living here. We have bills to pay and food to buy, and you know I can’t leave you alone for hours at a time. I don’t know what else to do.’
‘You shouldn’t have messed things up with Tanya.’
‘Is that what all this is about? You’re angry with me about Tanya resigning?’
