Chapter Ten

Sundays are my day off, so I’ve had a lengthy lie-in, a bacon butty and a decent cup of coffee from the coffee shop on the seafront, and Gran and I (and James, because he’s got his feet firmly under the table now) have caught up on Waiting on You . He’s gone out now, leaving me and Gran to have some quality grandmother–granddaughter time together. At least, it’d be quality time if I didn’t have a crochet hook in hand.

‘That’s it.’ Gran’s watching me as I clumsily twist the hook and grab hold of the yarn. ‘Yarn over and pull through. You’ve got it.’

I don’t have it. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing, other than trying to follow Gran’s extremely patient step-by-step instructions while keeping a lid on my frustrations so I don’t drop-kick the ball of yarn out of the window. James has picked it up and can produce a decent-looking granny square in an evening while I’m still flailing and haven’t created a single square, decent or otherwise.

‘Yarn over.’ Gran nods encouragingly as I fiddle about with the hook again. I don’t even know what ‘yarn over’ means. ‘And pull through. Lovely. One more time. Yarn over… and pull through.’

‘Can we take a break?’ I drop the hook and knotted bit of yarn on my lap and wriggle my aching fingers.

‘Shall I pop the kettle on? Make a nice pot of tea?’ Gran pats my knee, and I nod, managing the teeniest of smiles. What I really want is a big, fat coffee but Gran’s expertise lies in tea-making. She has beautiful teapots with matching cups, saucers and milk jugs, all of them older than I am, but the only coffee she owns is an ancient jar of home brand instant that’s starting to clump. She doesn’t drink coffee so she doesn’t realise how nasty and bitter it is and I don’t have the heart to complain (out loud) about it.

We have the cup of tea in the garden. It isn’t quite warm enough and I have to bury my hands deep into the pocket of my hoodie, but at least it’s a break from the stupid ‘yarning over’. And the plate of home-made chocolate chip cookies makes me feel a bit less grumpy.

‘You’ve made these a lot recently.’ I brush the crumbs from my hoodie with a hand encased in its sleeve for warmth. ‘Not that I’m complaining, obviously.’

‘Edith likes them.’ Gran pours tea into the floral-patterned cups. I have no idea who Edith is – a new friend from one of her volunteering posts? She certainly wasn’t at Gran’s party, and I’ve never heard her mentioned before. Still, if it means I get to eat more delicious cookies, I’m glad she’s found herself in Gran’s life.

‘How’s it going with James?’ It’s good I’ve finally got Gran on her own, so I can dig for any dirt. She can be honest now it’s just the two of us, because she can hardly bad-mouth the guy when he’s sitting in the same room within close proximity to a pair of scissors (tiny crochet scissors, but still sharp). We should have some sort of code word, something innocent-sounding that really means get this scumbag out of my house .

‘It’s lovely having him here.’ Gran adds a tiny dash of milk to my tea. The drink’s the colour of a wet terracotta pot (bleurgh). ‘It’s settling just to know there’s someone else in the house, and he’s great company. He likes a bit of gentle crime, so we’ve been watching Midsomer Murders in the evenings when he isn’t working.’

Damn. He’s got me there. I really can’t sit through another episode, even for Gran. I’m more of a true crime girl, the grittier the better, and being crushed to death by a wheel of cheese does nothing for me.

‘And he’s a wonderful cook. You should come over for tea. I’ll ask him to make his spaghetti Bolognese.’ Gran leans towards me, lowering her voice. ‘It’s even better than your dad’s. Don’t tell your dad that, of course. I’ll deny it under torture.’ She chuckles as she adds a dash of milk to her own tea. ‘Are you free on Tuesday?’

I shake my head as I plop a couple of sugar cubes into my tea. Gran tuts because I use my fingers and not the pretentious little silver tongs on the tray. ‘I’m working the later shifts all next week. I’m managing the shop while Jed and Russell are away again.’

‘That’s wonderful. It shows how much they trust you.’ Gran reaches across the table to give my arm a squeeze. ‘Well done, Cleo.’

I shrug. I still think Jed and Russell aren’t quite right in the upstairs department if they’re willing to leave their pride and joy in my hands, but who am I to complain? I’ll be getting a bit more money to put towards a deposit for a flat, plus they’ve asked Bridget to step in and help out because I can’t physically be at the shop during opening times seven days a week without collapsing of exhaustion. Bridget’s an ex-geography teacher who found herself bored out of her brain after taking early retirement and has been working at The Fish your left or right?’

James rolls his eyes. ‘My left or right.’

‘Right.’

‘Right?’ James starts to move his hand, and my eyes widen in panic.

‘No! I was saying right, I understand, not picking right.’

‘So you want left?’

I twist a loose strand of hair around my finger. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘Oh, Cleo.’ Gran sighs as she marches over. ‘It’s only coffee. Have this one.’ She grabs one of the pods from behind James’ back and peers at it. ‘A cortado?’

James looks at me for confirmation and I give a limp shrug. I really want the caramel latte macchiato now the option has been taken away from me.

‘Why don’t you have this one later?’ He holds up the cortado pod before putting it back into its box.

‘I can have them both?’

James heads over to the coffee machine and pops the pod inside. ‘Have as many as you like. Help yourself. Mi coffee es su coffee.’ He grabs a mug from the cupboard, his back to me so he can’t see the awe on my face. Is it wrong that I suddenly want to marry this man? Yes, yes it is, because he may be generous with his coffee pods, but I still don’t trust him. This coffee business could be nothing but a ruse to hoodwink me. He’s sensed my weakness and he’s exploiting it so I’ll turn a blind eye while he rips off my gran. Well, I’m not going to fall for it (though I may play along and drink his coffees).

‘Thank you.’ I take the coffee from him, my face back to its usual non-star-struck look. The smell is dreamy but I manage to keep my guard up. I’m going to have to be very careful with this one. He’s even sneakier than I’d anticipated.