Chapter Twenty-Six

Connie’s wearing a burnt-orange pencil skirt and a turquoise top with a scooped, ruffled neckline under a red blazer for today’s driving lesson. The colour choices are strange but, oddly, they work. Either that or I’m becoming accustomed to her clashing outfits. Not that I can judge anybody’s fashion choices; I’m wearing my uniform leggings and hoodie combo, and there’s a milk splodge from my breakfast down the front. I really need to go shopping for some new outfits because I have several interviews lined up, with the first happening in two days . The fear is so overwhelming, I want to weep every time I think about putting myself through them, so I’ve been trying not to dwell on it too much, which is why I still don’t have anything suitable to wear.

‘No need to look so glum.’ Connie tips her face up to the sky and closes her eyes. ‘The sun is shining today. I didn’t think the weather was ever going to pick up.’ She takes in a huge breath and spreads her arms out wide as she releases it. ‘Shall we get going?’

It’s my fourth driving lesson, and while I pull away from the shop pretty confidently, there’s no way I’m going to be anywhere close to taking – let alone passing – my driving test before Paul’s return to Clifton-on-Sea. It was a ridiculously overambitious plan, so I’m not surprised that I’ll be unable to cross this item off my list in the next couple of months, but I’m still proud of myself for taking the leap.

‘We’ll be turning right at the junction ahead.’

I carry out the routine and turn on to Woodland Road. There’s a bus ahead, but I don’t feel the same panic I felt the first time I saw one looming in front of me. It pulls up at a bus stop and I’m cautious rather than fearful as I pass.

‘Nicely done.’ I feel a glow of pride at Connie’s praise. ‘We’ll take the next right, after the silver car.’

We end up on the seafront, with the open windows bringing in the salty breeze. The road is pretty quiet, but in a couple of weeks this road will be rammed as the schools close for the Easter holidays and the town fills up with tourists. Russell and Jed are so happy with the way I’ve been running the business, they’ve left me in charge of filling the high-season vacancies at the shop, and I’ve already managed to secure a couple of students to cover the extra weekend shifts. Ross and Maryam have made it clear they’d like to stay on until the end of the summer season, if not beyond, but I still have a few more spaces to fill, including my own, because if these interviews over the next few days go well I’ll be leaving very soon.

I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat and focus on the road ahead. There’s a set of traffic lights coming up, currently on red with a couple of pedestrians crossing.

Connie groans besides me, and I feel a flutter of panic that I’ve done something wrong. ‘That’s my ex-husband, crossing up ahead. And the tart he left me for. If you speed up and take them out, I’ll give you your next set of lessons for free.’ There’s a brief pause before Connie barks out a laugh and slaps her thigh. ‘I’m kidding. Of course I’m kidding. Don’t do that.’

She laughs again, but there’s no mirth there, and when we stop at the lights, her eyes are firmly on her blazer, picking at imaginary lint as the couple pass by the window.

‘Pull up on the left once you’ve found a safe place, please.’ Connie stares straight ahead until I’ve pulled over. Once I’ve applied the handbrake, she gives a tight smile before her eyes find the rear-view mirror. She peers into it, her eyes narrowed as she tracks her ex-husband’s movements. He disappears from view and she takes a deep breath, gives a nod and releases it. ‘Move off again when you’re ready.’

I can’t help feeling sorry for Connie, because I’ve been where she is, stuck between her old life and an unexpected new one she has to forge alone. I remember how lonely I was when I returned to Clifton-on-Sea and everybody had left me behind to start their new lives. And then there’s the Dane thing. The Red Lion is up ahead, to the right, and I vow that one day soon I’m going to walk in there with my head held high. I’m finally ready to move on and I’m looking forward to becoming the new, grown-up Cleo and showing her off to the world.

‘You don’t have to keep buying these, you know.’ James is stooping to reach into the coffee pods cupboard, and he straightens, holding out the fresh box I put in there when I arrived at Gran’s earlier. It’s a pack of vanilla lattes, because I’ve been stealing those most often lately. It’s become a habit to pop a box of coffee pods in my shopping basket when I do my weekly shop.

‘It doesn’t seem fair, me drinking all your coffees. This way, I don’t feel so guilty when I nab them.’ Because I still probably drink more than I replace. I can’t help it – they’re far too tempting, sitting there in the cupboard, all delicious and caffeine-packed.

‘Think of them as payment for all the help you’ve given me with Bratwurst. He’d still be several balls of yarn if you hadn’t helped me with the magic loops.’

Bratwurst is the name James has given to his completed crocheted sausage dog. He’s currently sitting in a clear plastic bag with Chorizo (the sausage dog I completed first – only just – after staying up all night so I could claim the victory, if only inside my own head). In a couple of weeks they – along with any other sausage dogs we manage to finish – will be off to the Easter fair at the shelter.

‘I still can’t do them.’ James opens the box of pods and takes a couple out. ‘It’s too fiddly and complicated.’

‘You can do them.’ I hand James his David Bowie mug, which he places on the coffee machine. ‘It just takes you thirty tries and all of your patience.’

‘ You use up all of my patience.’ James is narrowing his eyes at me, but there’s a smile threatening to break out so he turns and concentrates on the coffee-making.

‘She uses up most people’s patience.’ Gran wanders into the kitchen, winking at me. ‘And speaking of patience, how’s that cup of tea coming along? I’m gasping and Waiting on You will be back on any second now. I can make the tea. I’ll be quicker, even one-handed.’

‘You can boil a kettle quicker than us? Really?’ I catch James’ eye and smirk.

‘You’ve probably put too much water in.’ Gran straightens the little milk jug I’ve set out on her tray. ‘The more water there is to heat, the longer it takes, and you’re only making a pot for one. There’s no need to fill the kettle.’

‘What was that thing about trying people’s patience?’ I guide Gran back towards the door. ‘Go and sit down. Your tea will be with you within minutes. Pause Waiting on You if it comes back on.’

‘Am I allowed to do that in my condition?’ Gran gives me a pointed look before she leaves the kitchen, muttering to herself about how she manages quite well to make a pot of tea when James is at work all day.

‘That woman.’ I shake my head as I move over to the cupboard, reaching for a mug for myself. ‘I love her to death, obviously, but…’ I shake my head again, but there’s a smile forming on my lips.

‘You’re not going to take the guest room when I move out then?’

I hand the mug to James, who switches it with his David Bowie one at the machine and pops in a new pod. ‘You’re moving out?’

‘Of course. This was only a temporary thing, remember? Until I found something more permanent. I love your gran to death as well, but I need my own space, and I’d quite like to have my kids staying over for weekends again. I know I see them all the time, and I take Edith to school most days, but it isn’t the same.’

‘Oh.’ I’d forgotten this was just a stopgap for James, and I’ve grown accustomed to him being around despite my aversion to his presence a few weeks ago. I’ll miss competing with him over sausage dog creations (even if it’s only the one-sided competition taking place in my head) and I suppose I’ll have to purchase my own fancy coffee machine.

‘It doesn’t look like I’ll be moving out any time soon though.’ James sighs. ‘You’d be more likely to see your gran mooning from the top of the Ferris wheel on the pier than finding an affordable vacant house round here.’

‘Tell me about it.’ The kettle clicks off, so I pour water into the pot that I’ve already spooned loose tea leaves into. ‘The nearest I’ve come to finding a flat was a pigeon-filled place near the vet’s.’

‘The one above the betting shop?’ James pulls a face. ‘Yeah, I viewed that one too. They said it was a two-bedroom flat, but I don’t think a bit of plasterboard down the middle of a room counts. One side had the window and you had to pass through the first so-called bedroom to get to the other.’

‘And there was pigeon shit everywhere .’ I want to puke just thinking about the smell.

‘It needs some TLC, that’s what the agent told me. TLC? It needs a wrecking ball.’

‘It looks like you’ll be sticking around here for a while then, and I’ll be going back home.’

‘Would that be so bad?’

I think about it for a moment. ‘I guess not, but it feels like taking a step backwards.’ I think about telling him about Paul and the fibs I told him, but the words won’t come out and Gran’s calling us from the living room. Waiting on You is back on and the continuity announcer says there’s a ‘shocking twist’ coming up.

‘Is the shocking twist that they’re putting something decent on instead?’ James picks up the mugs and heads for the door. I pick up the tray and stick my tongue out at him.

‘Are you two doing anything tomorrow? At half past five?’ Gran is holding the remote but she hasn’t pressed play yet.

‘I’m free.’ James grabs his new sausage dog, which is nothing but a snout at the moment. ‘Do you have an appointment to check your wrist?’

‘No, nothing like that.’ Gran turns to me. ‘Any plans?’ I shake my head. I’m starting to interview for the seasonal staff but I’ll be done by mid-afternoon. ‘Great. Because I’ve told the shelter you’ll walk a couple of the dogs. I’d do it, but…’ She lifts her plaster-casted wrist. ‘Thanks so much, guys. You’ll love it.’ She presses play on the remote. If she sees my look of outrage, she doesn’t let on.