‘Tess?’
‘What?’
He shrugged, sheepishly. ‘I don’t have any cash. It’s the end of the month. I’m a bit short.’
‘You and me both, Blake. You and me both.’
Tess didn’t give him chance to answer. She hurried out of the air-conditioned coffee shop and into the sticky heat of the day. She didn’t look up or wave as she passed him sitting in the window seat. Her lips were pursed into a straight thin line and tears stung her eyes. Thanks to his loud self-important voice and obvious appreciation for their waitress’s tight skirt, they’d been the comic entertainment for lunchtime diners.
Marching back to work, her stride slowed as realisation dawned. She’d fallen out of love with him. It was as simple as that. It wasn’t his increased BMI. It was him. His being. The part of him that made him who he was, and, more importantly, who he would become. Suddenly everything became clear. She didn’t want to meet him in her lunch hour or have his photograph looking back at her every time she opened her purse. She’d had enough. She resolved to finish with him before the end of the month.
That gave her six days!
Chapter Three
The front façade of The Blue Olive was mock Tudor in design and a large bay window reflected the street scene in the afternoon sunshine. A triangular roof gable flaunted exposed beams that were sunk into white rendering. A rainbow of pastas in an assortment of shapes sat alongside olives, ciabatta loaves and freshly made pizzas. It all made a mouth-watering window display that lured many customers in through its doorway.
Tess and Holly had worked at the Italian delicatessen for several years and had been best friends for more than twenty. They never ceased to find it amusing that their friendship had begun by the offering of a cheesy Wotsit!
Tess pushed the shop door open and held up a starfish of fingers to her colleague, Margaret, who was serving at the till. ‘Five minutes.’
Once inside the staff room she saw Holly rinsing her cup at the sink.
‘Hi. How was Captain Kirk?’ asked Holly.
‘On another planet. Loud, embarrassing and still calling me Tezza no matter how many times I say I hate it. It makes me sound like a football coach.’
‘You haven’t changed your mind, then?’
‘No. It’s just made me more determined to take control of my life. Will you come back for some dinner after work? I’d already invited him and I don’t think I could bear another evening with just the two of us. I promise you’ll get double portions of dessert!’
After work, Tess locked the door of The Blue Olive and linked arms with Holly. They walked away from the hustle and bustle of Maddox Square, towards Tess’s old Mini Mayfair. The afternoon had been slow and boring, but the realisation that her relationship was nearing its end had punctuated Tess’s thoughts like a newsflash interrupting mundane programmes.
Although it was early evening, the lack of breeze and the high buildings swathed in reflective glass, seemed to make the heat more oppressive than earlier in the day. They reached her little cream car that was as old as she was, but not wearing quite so well. Its edges were tinged with rust and a few dents on the bodywork lay testimony to the occasional scrapes it had been involved in over the years.
‘Phew! It’s like a sauna in here,’ said Holly, winding down the window and gasping out of it for added drama.
Tess pulled out of her parking space, clicked on the radio and within seconds, the breeze cooled their flushed faces. In between singing along to the music, they discussed Doug the deliveryman, whom Holly had a serious crush on, and her flatmate who was addicted to cleaning.
‘Honestly, she polishes tins before recycling them and sponges the vacuum cleaner before putting it back in the cupboard.’
Tess laughed as she negotiated a roundabout. ‘I’ve no sympathy with you. I’ve asked you to come and live with me and help out with the rent. The only thing we’ll be polishing off this evening is a bottle of cold Sauvignon blanc and a box of Quality Street.’
‘Now that’s my kind of housework. I just wished you didn’t live so far away from town.’
An easy silence followed as Tess drove and Holly gazed out of the window. As they left the city outskirts behind, the scenery became greener. Shops and offices gave way to villages and countryside. Children ran along the pavement clutching melting ice-lollies and families struck up barbeques, making the most of the long hot summer’s evening. The sweet smell of melting tarmac filled the car as Holly leaned out of the window to watch a hot air balloon pass silently over a golf course.
Thirty minutes later, Tess’s car rattled to a standstill outside Rose Cottage, in the village of Halston. The rent was comfortably affordable because most people didn’t want a morning commute in rush hour into the city of Nottingham. But Tess didn’t mind. For her, living in Halston was like living in a painting. A narrow winding road curled around the village green, where grasses and wild flowers were given free rein to do as they pleased. By day, cows lolled and grazed on the common land, hemmed in by a small electric fence that crackled its warning at passers-by.
The grass of the cricket pitch had been manicured to a smooth velvet finish, where birds dotted its lawn looking like bored fielders. The embattled clock tower of St Mary’s Church rose above Halston’s homes, protecting the eternally sleeping villagers beneath their headstones. At the heart of the green stood The Royal Oak, a village pub that swelled with the laughter of friends and family as they shared news and embellished stories.
Tess had only moved out of her flat in town three months earlier, but she thought that renting this tiny cottage was the best decision she had made in a long while. Around the gooseberry coloured front door grew a sinewy lemon rose bush that exuded a heavenly aroma. The cottage was small, but Tess loved it.
It had just gone six and having unpegged and folded towels from the washing line, they both agreed that this next hour was to be a Blake-free zone. Tess had talked all afternoon about their relationship and was now sick of the subject.
Soon they were criss-crossing the village green, dodging drying cowpats.
‘This is disgusting,’ Holly shrieked, as she sidestepped another pile of dung and disturbed a flurry of bluebottles.
‘You’re in the country now. Smell the flowers, listen to the birds and look at the beautiful scenery.’
‘Thank you, David Attenborough. I’ll remind you of that when we’re cleaning our shoes later.’
They were still laughing when they reached the benches in the front garden of The Royal Oak. Holly went inside to order their drinks, while Tess sat down at a bench in the shade of a tree’s canopy. A gentle breeze was blowing and shadows were growing longer. She raised her chin and breathed in the perfume of the blossoming trees.
Something caught Tess’s attention as she gazed across the green towards the cricket pitch. A shaft of sunlight momentarily penetrated the leaves and blinded her for a second, making her squint. Meanwhile, Holly walked slowly towards the bench, balancing two glasses of Pimm’s, crammed with fruit and chinking with ice.
Holly carefully placed the drinks on the table and pushed one towards Tess. ‘What’re you looking at?’ She sat down and followed the direction of Tess’s gaze.