‘Perhaps if we get more pledges up on the board, people will start getting the idea,’ murmurs Bertha. She takes a deep breath and taps her hand thoughtfully on the nearest table. ‘I’m going to put mine up there now.’
‘Oh, good for you!’
She goes over and has a word with Hope at the servery, and the two of them start writing out a card each. Curious, I go over to the board when they’ve pinned them up.
My next-door neighbour is in her seventies. I’m going to offer to cut her lawn every time I mow ours.
‘That’s lovely, Hope.’ I smile at her, and she shrugs.
‘It’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a while, Molly, but I’m always so busy. But now, I’ll definitely commit to doing it.’
I’m going to buy my groceries from the local shops instead of always going to the supermarket.
‘Nice one, Bertha.’
She nods. ‘Well, I always think it’s such a shame to see a local shop like a butcher’s or a green-grocers vanishing from the high street. So instead of just thinking about it, I pledge to start putting my money where my mouth is.’
‘I’d better get thinking,’ I murmur, although actually, Hope’s pledge has given me an idea.
After a moment, I take a card and write: I’ll invite Mr Taylor to have lunch with Eva and me on Sunday.
Bertha reads it and gives me a look. ‘Mr Taylor, eh? Is there something you want to tell us, Molly?’
I laugh. ‘Mr Taylor is a truly wonderful man. Single. Tall. Rather handsome, actually.’
Bertha waggles her eyebrows, and I laugh and tell her to stop it.
‘Aren’t you on first-name terms yet, then?’
‘He happens to be eighty-three. My next-door neighbour.’
‘Ah. Okay. Well, you could ask him if he fancies stepping out with a fairly well-preserved sixty-two-year-old. Not too much of an age-gap there.’
‘Bertha!’ I laugh. ‘You know you’d never do that to Ron.’
‘Wanna bet? It might be just the shock he needs to remember I actually exist!’ With a twinkle, she goes off to clear some tables.
Later, when my shift is over, I have twenty minutes before my bus comes, and as it’s quite a mild and sunny afternoon, I decide to have a wander outside to get some fresh air. I’ve been out just a couple of minutes when Matt approaches from the direction of the main road in his lycra.
‘Back from a run?’ I ask, then feel instantly foolish for stating the totally obvious.
‘Yep. Just twenty minutes round the lanes. I’m heading home in five minutes. Need a lift back to Sunnybrook?’
‘Erm.’ I swallow.
‘You could sit in the workshop, if you like. Then I’ll run you home.’
‘That’s really kind of you. Are you sure?’
‘Positive.’ His smile gives my heart a little jolt. He opens the workshop door for me. ‘Help yourself to coffee or tea. There might even be some chocolate digestives there if I haven’t snaffled them already.’
‘Ooh. Now you’re talking.’
‘Dark chocolate, though.’
‘My favourite.’
He laughs. ‘Great. I just want to grab a quick shower.’
‘Oh, right. Well…take your time in there.’
He grins. ‘It’s not the sort of shower to linger in. The opposite of luxury. I’ll just be a minute.’
‘Okay.’ An image rushes into my head before I can stop it. Matt taking his time in a luxury shower. The sort that’s easily roomy enough for two. Turning his face to the jet of water, lathering up that broad chest and…no, no, no!
Heat rises up and I discreetly waft my top to stop my guilty blushes. The relief when he disappears into the bathroom is immense.
But now that I’m alone with my thoughts, I find myself suddenly wishing I hadn’t agreed to the lift. If I’m honest, I was taken aback – caught in the heart-quickening flurry of the moment - and I said yes without even thinking.
But now I’ve thought about it, I know one thing for certain – I definitely don’t want Matt dropping me outside that drab block of flats. I don’t want to have to answer any awkward questions. I’ll ask him to take me to Eva’s after-school club. It’s only four now and she’s booked in until five-thirty but I can always collect her early. It will mean she misses her tea there, which I know she loves because it always seems to include baked beans and smiley faces, which are her new favourite things. But I’ll just have to risk her disappointment at leaving her little friends early…
I slump down in my seat. Life is so complicated these days. It’s incredibly hard keeping secrets – especially from people you really like. I feel most guilty about Fen. If I was going to confide in anyone, it would be her, but I just don’t feel I can. Not yet. Not until I’ve tried everything I can to sort our lives out by myself.
I’m so deep in thought, it barely seems like a minute has passed before Matt emerges, showered and ready to leave. In the car, driving to the after-school club, I steer the conversation to the book-binding business and he starts telling me all about the process. Then he laughs and asks if he’s boring me.
‘No, honestly, you’re not,’ I say truthfully. ‘I love books. Always have. And I’m trying to pass on that love to my daughter, although I’m not entirely sure it’s working. She seems to like numbers better.’
‘And your daughter is – how old?’
‘She’ll be four next week.’
He nods. ‘The world of kids’ parties can be quite cut-throat these days. One set of parents trying to outdo everyone else with the scale of their celebration.’
I smile in recognition.
He grins. ‘Sorry, I hope you weren’t planning on flying her and her friends first class to Disney World to meet Mickey Mouse? Because if you were, you probably feel quite insulted now.’
‘No, you’re okay.’
‘Phew.’
‘It’s Donald Duck, not Mickey Mouse.’
He laughs. It’s a lovely rich sound, and the idea that I made him laugh brings me a sudden burst of pure joy – the kind that makes your heart seem to swell and means you can’t stop smiling afterwards.
My phone rings and I scramble in my bag. When I bring it out, I see Jaxon’s name and my gut twists. What does he want? It’s not rent day.
‘Everything okay?’ Matt glances over, wondering, I suppose, why I’m not answering it.
I end the call and force a smile. ‘It’s just that it’s private. I’ll phone him back.’
Matt gives me an odd look. Then he nods slowly. ‘Great.’
He drops me outside the club and I scramble out.
‘I’ll call into the café tomorrow with my pledge,’ he says, as I duck down to thank him for the lift.
I’m meaning to reply, ‘That’s great. Thanks,’ but in my weird confusion, what actually emerges is, ‘Er, granks.’
I rush away, hoping he thought he misheard me.
Granks?
Oh, God, now he’s going to think I’m a complete buffoon, with fewer brain cells than a teaspoon…
CHAPTER THIRTEEN