‘Hattie?’ a female voice called out.
Almost at the exit, I stopped still. Closing my eyes for a second, I cringed, praying it didn’t belong to who I thought it belonged to. I fixed a smile on my face and slowly turned. It was clear the gods didn’t think I’d suffered enough and for the second time in as many days, I wished I was invisible. ‘Julia. How lovely to see you.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Julia’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. ‘You look…’ Her gaze went from my head to my feet, a fleeting look of confusion crossing her face as she took in my odd socks. ‘Erm, well.’
‘You too,’ I replied. But unlike her I meant it.
If Gideon was having an affair with this woman, a part of me couldn’t blame him. She appeared as glamorous then as I remembered. Wearing a wool trench coat, a cream cashmere sweater and a fitted midi skirt, she’d finished her outfit with heels I’d have broken my neck in.
‘Does Gideon know you’re here?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ Trying not to think about the show I’d just made of myself, I cleared my throat, forced to bring my voice down an octave. ‘I’ve just left his office.’
We both stood there. Two relative strangers, with nothing and no one in common, apart from Gideon. Obviously feeling as awkward as me, Julia’s brain seemed to scramble for yet another ceremonious statement. Mine, on the other hand, was in fight-or-flight mode, leaving me desperate to run away and hide. ‘I’ll be off then,’ I said, as the silence went on a bit too long.
‘Yes, of course. That little wool shop of yours isn’t going to run itself.’
Outside, the cold immediately hit me. Rummaging in my bag, I pulled out my bobble hat and mittens, and putting them on, hastened along the street, unable to get back to my van quick enough.
I wanted nothing more than to pretend the whole sorry episode with Gideon hadn’t just happened, but pictures of him crawling around his office floor with his bum in the air refused to subside. They would be a permanent reminder of my foolishness. Just like the moment Erin spanked Joyce in the lingerie shop, Gideon’s search for a non-existent mouse would be a snapshot in time forever imprinted on my brain.
I shoved Beryl’s key into her ignition and turned it, but instead of firing up, she coughed and spluttered. Pulling out the key, I stroked Beryl’s dashboard hoping to coax her into action, and holding my breath, tried again. The same thing happened and insisting it was third time lucky, I crossed my fingers, willing her engine to catch as I went through the whole process once more. Beryl’s cough grew weak until it petered out to nothing.
Having never identified with a van so much, I, too, lost the will to live and closing my eyes, I let my head drop onto the steering wheel. It landed on the horn, but I didn’t move. As the beep droned on, I no longer cared who heard or saw what.
CHAPTER9
Josie Bellridge approached the till with a pair of children’s plastic knitting needles and a ball of yellow double-knit wool.
‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘For Charlotte?’
Out of all Josie’s children, Charlotte was the one who stood out. Not because she was cuter or more boisterous than her siblings, but because yellow was her favourite colour. By all accounts, her bedroom was yellow. Her favourite foods were yellow. From head to toe, everything she wore had to be yellow. Charlotte was a chattering, singing, dancing and skipping beam of sunshine.
‘She’s been nagging me to teach her for a while,’ Josie said. ‘Today’s the day.’
Josie was a fabulous wool crafter. Be it knitting, crochet or needle felt, she made the most beautiful creations and I was pleased to hear her skills were being passed on to the next generation. Although, thanks to her six children, I didn’t know how Josie found the time, energy or patience for extras like knitting lessons. Not that you’d know she was the mother of a brood. Josie was efficiency personified and so calm with it. In her shoes, I’d have been a frazzled mess, walking around with bags under my eyeballs. She was clearly made of sterner stuff.
‘It’s all in the routine,’ she said, as if reading my mind. ‘And the odd Valium.’
I chuckled. ‘Well good luck,’ I said.
As Josie picked up her purchases, the shop bell rang, and we both glanced over to see Alex enter. He nodded our way and began perusing the wares, while we soaked up the sight of him.
Josie leaned in. ‘Who isthat?’
The way Settledown operated, I was surprised she hadn’t heard. ‘The new barman at The Royal Oak,’ I whispered.
‘I need to get out more,’ Josie said, continuing her observations. ‘I’ve obviously died and gone to heaven.’ She sighed, wistful. ‘I should leave. Before my ovaries start dropping eggs.’
Alex stepped forward and swiftly opened the door for her.
Ducking under his arm, Josie glanced back at me and putting a hand up to fan herself, pretended to swoon. ‘Enjoy,’ she mouthed.
‘Happy knitting,’ I said, watching her go on her way.
‘Nice sweater.’ Alex grinned as he approached.
I looked down at the giant Christmas pudding emblazoned across my front. ‘I can give you the pattern if you like?’
