R
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P.S. Charlie is the real deal <3
Regan opened the next email and clicked on the video link. This was something different. Cleo’s face popped up and it felt odd that it wasn’t FaceTime and she couldn’t interact with her.
‘Regan. Why aren’t you picking up my messages or my calls?’ She looked distraught. She tugged at her hair with her free hand.
‘I dropped my phone down the loo,’ Regan whispered at the screen. She looked up to see an elderly man on the opposite computer eyeing her suspiciously. She smiled and slunk down behind the monitor. She wished it was FaceTime and Cleo could hear her.
Onscreen, a harassed Cleo continued: ‘I’ve spent almost two hours trapped in the car with a grumpy Oscar and my escalating anxiety. The driver kept looking at us through the rear-view mirror because I spent most of the journey begging Oscar to stay in Japan, but he refused to be swayed. I know Oscar has other clients and I understand he needs to fill the gap my art, and associated commissioned income, leaves, but dumping me in a foreign country was a kneejerk reaction which is not acceptable. I’m not you. I don’t thrive when I’m chucked in the deep end. I sink. I doubt I’ll be able to leave the hotel room let alone finish the tour.’
Regan could tell Cleo’s anxiety was escalating by the speed of her speech and her strained expression. She wanted to reach into the screen and tell her it was going to be okay.
‘Then we pulled up at this fancy place.’ She turned the camera and gave a fleeting panorama of a building, with a New England, whitewashed look to it – not what she had been expecting from Japan at all. ‘This delightful Japanese gentleman met us, Mr Yomoda, whose English and demeanour put me in mind of Yoda, but thankfully he was a healthier colour. Oscar went into full-on schmooze mode and took control of the conversation. And it turns out this is a university.’ Cleo panned the camera round to a large window where a number of young faces were staring out. A couple of them waved. ‘A university!’ repeated Cleo, turning the camera back to herself. ‘It’s a total mess. Oscar is furious. He’s ranting at poor Mr Yomoda right now.’ Cleo pushed her hair off her face. ‘What do I do, Regan?’
Regan shook her head and then checked the sound was as low as it would go. She didn’t want to get chucked out of the library.
‘Apparently the students have been following my work. Mr Yomoda said my art is an inspiration.’ Cleo bit her lip and looked away from the camera, back at the faces at the window. ‘I don’t even know what a university visit entails, but I’d quite like to meet the art students. Being an art student is at least something I can relate to—’
‘Right. We’re leaving. It’s a total shambles,’ said Oscar, marching over. Cleo fumbled the phone but it kept filming. Oscar turned to a small Japanese gentleman who Regan took to be Mr Yomoda. This was better than a soap opera. ‘So sorry to have wasted your time,’ said Oscar. He began ushering Cleo back to the car, but she stood firm.
‘No, Oscar. We can’t just leave. These young people were expecting to meet me. We have nothing else planned for today. I can spare them a couple of hours.’
‘Go Cleo!’ said Regan, punching the air. She coughed and huddled back down in front of the screen so she didn’t miss anything.
Oscar’s face was stony. He checked his watch, then his phone and then his watch again. ‘There might be some good photo ops. Possibly a different angle to explore.’ Regan could almost see his mind whirring. ‘Okay. Half an hour.’ He put his smile back in place. ‘Let’s do this, Mr Yomoda.’
‘Gotta go,’ whispered Cleo. ‘Wish me luck.’ And the video ended.
‘Good luck,’ whispered Regan and she placed her hand on the screen. Poor Cleo. This was her worst nightmare.
Leaving the library, Regan was tired. She was amazed to find she was enjoying her job and that was mainly down to Penny. It had been full-on, but Penny was a lovely manager and fun to be around. She was very different to the people she’d worked with in her old job and most other jobs she’d had. Usually everyone moaned about their job; about having too much work, about the bosses, about colleagues and pretty much anything they could think of to grumble about. Working in the coffee shop was different. Penny was the manager; the owner, a Mr Hughes, rarely visited and seemed to leave the day-to-day running entirely to Penny – and wisely so, because Penny was hardworking, enthusiastic and great with the customers. Regan felt she could learn a lot from her, hopefully some of which she could use on her market stall.
Regan couldn’t remember a day she had been so engaged in a job. She was looking forward to scoffing the about-to-go-out-of-date chicken wrap and two cakes for her tea. She’d not get paid until the end of the week, and she still had to be frugal because she needed every penny to set up her business venture.
She walked through the empty market, her head buzzing with possibilities, and something caught her eye. She stood and stared at the pile of thrown away fruit and vegetables. Today it was cauliflower, radishes and rhubarb. She went over. There was loads of it and most of it looked okay. Not Waitrose okay, but not ready for the bin either. An idea pinged into her head. This was it. She was going to use the thrown-away fruit and veg to make something quirky, shiny and vegan. All she had to do now was work out what that was.
Chapter Fourteen
A couple of evenings later, Charlie had come up trumps with some magnolia paint. He was waiting for her when she pulled up at her dad’s place.
‘Hiya,’ she said, joy swamping her at the sight of him. His grave expression and downcast body language quickly had her worried. ‘What’s wrong?’ Her stomach flipped while she awaited his reply.
‘It’s work. Bad accident on the A23.’
‘Oh.’ She tried to hide her relief that it wasn’t about his health. ‘Was someone hurt?’
He gave the tiniest of nods. ‘A baby.’ She pulled him into a hug and held him. She wondered if he’d hoped to be a dad some day, then banished the thought because it was too upsetting to dwell on.
She couldn’t imagine the horrors that he must have witnessed being a firefighter and she didn’t want to. She knew it was something she would never be able to deal with. Anyone who worked in the emergency services was a hero in her mind.
He pulled back out of the hug and appraised her, his eyes full of warmth. ‘You’re something else, Regan Corsetti.’
‘Nah, I’m average at best.’
‘Not to me.’
‘You okay to do this?’ She tilted her head towards her dad’s front door.
Charlie took a deep breath and pulled back his shoulders. ‘Sure thing. It’s just sometimes it’s …’ There was a long pause. ‘Anyway, let’s get painting.’ He said it with forced enthusiasm.
Regan loved her dad but she knew he was sometimes a bit offbeat, and frequently peculiar. She felt she needed to warn Charlie. ‘You know every family has an oddball?’
Charlie tilted his head. ‘Mine doesn’t.’
‘Right, well … they usually do. And my dad is the one in our family.’
‘Okay.’ Charlie didn’t look convinced.