Later that day, Blake stood outside the doctor’s surgery sighing with a huge sense of relief. He was suffering from asthma, not the unmentionable – not the dreaded C word. In fact, the appointment also had an additional benefit. Tess knew that he’d been suffering with a persistent cough and she’d urged him to see someone about it. Unwittingly, she had set up the backdrop for his iniquitous lie. A deceit that he hoped he wouldn’t have to carry out, but one that he would willingly go ahead with if it prevented her from ending their relationship.
Tess replaced the receiver and sighed. She had rushed for nothing. Blake had called to tell her that he’d been delayed due to an appointment and he wouldn’t get to Halston until later. She looked across at the neatly laid table, anxiety gnawing away in the pit of her stomach. She’d hoped that by eight o’clock they’d have finished their dinner and would be hugging goodbye and promising to keep in touch on Facebook. No dramas. No tears. Just two adults shaking hands and heading off in opposite directions. Fat chance!
She reluctantly put the raw seafood in the fridge and covered over the other ingredients on the worktop. It was nearly half past six and he wasn’t arriving for another hour. Weary from the heat, she picked up the packet of pasta and laid the cool plastic packaging against her forehead. She felt sick with nerves about telling Blake they were over and confused that the man in the shop had unsettled her in some way. Tess could feel the throb of a headache threatening and decided to relax and switch off for half an hour with a glass of Australian wine and an Australian soap. Damn Blake. He couldn’t even turn up on time to be dumped!
Tess threw the packet of linguine down onto the worktop in frustration. A jar of rosemary fell from the spice rack and sprinkled its contents onto a parcel that had been sitting next to the kettle. Tess began to clear up the herbs and caught sight of the brown paper package while holding a palm full of rosemary. She had forgotten about the parcel that the postman had entrusted to her to deliver to Mrs Campbell across the road. Her elderly neighbour had been out when he’d knocked on her door that morning on his round. That was it then. There’d be no Neighbours watched on television now. Instead she’d have to muster the energy to actually visit one.
Tess crossed the road carrying the parcel. She’d only spoken to her neighbour half a dozen times since moving to Rose Cottage in March, but she was a sweet old lady. The gravel on Mrs Campbell’s path crunched with each footstep, making Tess grimace at the thought of it scuffing her heels. Seconds after knocking, she could see a shadow shuffling towards her through the stained glass window in the front door.
‘Hello, Mrs Campbell. The postman asked me to pass this on to you.’
‘Tess dear, do come in.’
Tess followed the old lady’s stooped frame down the hall and into her lounge. The room boasted velour upholstery, swirly-patterned carpets, a caged budgie in the corner and lots of dusty knick-knacks. A grandfather clock chimed half past the hour in one corner and the room smelt of old biscuits and mothballs. Tess handed her the package.
‘Thank you. You’re very kind. How did you know it was my birthday? Do sit down.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know. The postman gave it to me. Happy birthday, though.’
‘What, dear? I must be getting old, Tess dear. I don’t hear so well.’
‘I said happy birthday and I don’t know what the present is,’ said Tess, loudly.
‘Oh, I see. It’s a surprise, is it? What a thoughtful girl you are.’
Tess closed her eyes for a couple of seconds and took a deep breath. She was fond of Mrs Campbell and had found out through their conversations that she was a widow in her late eighties and walked slowly with stooped shoulders due to osteoporosis and arthritis. She thought she’d better change the subject to avoid further confusion. ‘How’s Chippy?’ Tess shouted, pointing towards the birdcage.
‘He’s a good boy. Aren’t you, Chippy? Look! I’ve got another birthday present.’ Mrs Campbell waved the parcel at her green and yellow budgerigar. She turned back to Tess. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
Tess really wasn’t in the mood for chatting right now. With so much on her mind, it was taking all her energy to make small talk with a smile.
‘Thank you, but I’ve got dinner in the oven and it’s nearly ready,’ she fibbed. ‘I just wanted to pass on the parcel. I’m sorry I’ve got to dash, but we’ll catch up soon.’
‘Of course. Thank you again, my dear.’
Tess stood up and followed Mrs Campbell down the hallway.
‘Do you know I’ve had five visitors today, including you?’
‘That’s lovely. Birthdays should be spent with family.’
‘Oh, the visitors weren’t family. My children live down south, but they did send me a lovely camera for my birthday. You just press a button, apparently. It’s my first dignified one.’
‘Digital. Lucky you.’
Mrs Campbell smiled to reveal crooked beige teeth. Her lips were wrinkled with lines that splayed upwards and outwards, like a child’s drawing of the sun’s rays. Her cerise lipstick had worn off her lips but still lurked in the ridges of her deep wrinkles. ‘Neighbours have been popping in. Isn’t it funny how everyone batons down the hatches in winter and you never see a soul? Then the days get longer and warmer and they all come out.’
Tess waited while Mrs Campbell reached the front door and turned to continue talking. ‘Mrs Pringle from next to the church hall called in with some flowers, and Daniel, our local artist, picked me up at lunch time in his enormous car and took me for a sherry at The Royal Oak. Lovely boy, but always covered in paint splashes. How we chuckled when he tried to heave my old bones up into that high seat. Always says hello when he passes with his dogs.’
Tess was suddenly very interested in this new conversation. Paint. Big car. Dogs. ‘Daniel, you say?’
‘Yes. Did I say he was an artist?’
‘You did. Does Daniel have dark hair? Is he tall and tanned?’
‘Oh, you’ve met him then?’
‘Sort of.’ Tess was impatient to find out as much as she could about him. ‘Does he live in the village?’
‘He lives at—’
The telephone rang in the hallway.
‘That’ll be my daughter phoning to wish me a happy birthday. It’s cheaper after six, you know?’ The old lady opened the front door. ‘Please excuse me. I must dash. Bye bye.’
‘But… yes, of course. Bye.’
Tess stepped out of the door. It closed promptly behind her and she watched Mrs Campbell’s shadow hobble to the telephone. She could kick herself. Why hadn’t she accepted a cup of tea? She could have learnt so much more about the handsome villager.
‘Daniel. Daniel,’ she repeated out loud, walking back across the road. She liked the name.
Back at home, she sent a text to Holly.
Guess wot? I know his name. x
Within a minute a reply beeped.
Whose name? Do I look like bloody Mystic Meg? x
Dog walking man. x
Her mobile rang in seconds, as Tess knew it would.
‘How do you know? Have you spoken to him? What’s his name?’
‘Daniel.’