Chapter Thirty-One

My third interview didn’t go nearly as badly as the one before it (I don’t think that’s even possible, unless I accidentally burned the building to the ground and performed the Macarena on the ashes) and it seemed like a more enjoyable place to work than the beige box I’d found myself in last week. The role was for a receptionist at a car dealership just outside Clifton-on-Sea, where the staff all seemed friendly and happy in their jobs. The sales manager who interviewed me was welcoming and approachable (it helped that I arrived on time, without a hint of chewing gum stuck upon my person) and I headed home feeling much more optimistic. So it’s pretty galling to find the rejection email sitting in my inbox just two days later as I’m waiting for Connie to arrive for my driving lesson. It throws me off so much, I stall the car three times during the lesson and mount the pavement while attempting to parallel park. And I can’t even creep away to the flat to lick my wounds as my shift is about to start. Still, at least I’ll be working with Claire today, which is always a laugh.

Or almost always.

‘Hey, what’s up?’

Claire’s slumped against the counter, her head resting sideways on her arms as she stares out of the window, and she sighs before she stands up straight. Mud’s ‘Tiger Feet’ is playing on the radio (we still haven’t got out of the habit of listening to Seventies music even though Russell’s been away for over a month) but while Claire would normally be jiggling away to the irresistible beat, she can’t seem to muster even a foot tap.

‘My love life is a disaster.’ Claire sighs again, which turns into a low growl. ‘Why are men such utter bastards?’

‘Not all men, surely?’ I think about James, who’s been nothing but lovely to my gran, and who has a weirdly pleasant relationship with his ex-wife. And Paul, obviously, who’s so gorgeous it hurts.

‘Every. Last. One. Of. Them.’ The shop is empty, so Claire follows me into the little room at the back, where I dump my bag and throw on my tabard. ‘They’re bastards. The lot of them. I’ve had it with them and their selfish, unfaithful ways.’

‘Lewis has cheated on you already?’ Blimey, that’s a record, even for Claire. She only got chatting to him in the school playground last week, and they’ve only been on one date. A date Claire hasn’t stopped gushing about since the weekend.

‘He hasn’t cheated on me.’ Claire pauses. For dramatic effect, I suspect. ‘He’s cheated with me. On his wife .’

I’m about to plonk my hairnet on my head, but I freeze, the hairnet suspended in the air by my fingertips. ‘His what?’

Claire nods as she slowly folds her arms across her chest. ‘His wife. No wonder he didn’t want to take me somewhere local – he had to keep me away so he didn’t get caught out. And there I was, bragging about how sophisticated and quaint that little restaurant was when really it was just out of the way so I could be his grubby little secret. I may not have high standards when it comes to men, but I draw the line at being the other woman.’

‘How did you find out?’ I stretch the hairnet over my head and make sure there are no loose strands sticking out.

‘I saw them together, at the school, picking up their little boy. Lewis tried ducking behind a tree, but I saw him. I assumed the woman was the boy’s mum, which isn’t damning in itself – they could have been separated or whatever – but the trying to hide thing was a major red flag. So I texted Lewis and he spilled it all. They’re married, happily as far as the wife is concerned, with no plans to split up.’ Claire drags out a chair and slumps onto it, swearing under her breath when it wobbles. ‘And now I feel really guilty. Because what if she finds out? I’d be devastated if I was in her shoes, and the thought that I’d caused all that pain makes me feel sick.’ Claire places a hand over her stomach and grimaces. For a moment, I’m worried she really is going to throw up, but nothing presents itself all over the table.

‘None of this is your fault.’ I plonk my hat over the hairnet and secure it with a couple of grips. ‘You didn’t know he was married. He’s the only one in the wrong here, and if his wife does find out, it’ll be him that’s caused the pain, not you.’

‘But I’m part of it.’

‘Accidentally.’ I check my hat is sitting right in the mirror above the filing cabinet. ‘And now you know, you’re going to steer clear of him, right?’

Claire’s jaw drops. ‘Obviously. I don’t date married men. Knowingly, anyway.’

‘At least you didn’t sleep with him.’

Claire brightens at this, and there’s a hint of a smile on her face as she scrapes back her chair and stands up. ‘You’re right. Thank God for periods, eh? Sorry, Ross. That was probably too much info.’

I hadn’t noticed Ross’ arrival for his shift, but he’s standing in the doorway, trying his best to mask the stricken look on his face. ‘Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.’ He holds his hands up as he starts to back away. ‘I’m just going to, um, go away now.’ He dashes away before Claire can divulge any more bodily functions, and I find him in the kitchen, busily prepping the potatoes for the teatime trade. Embarrassment, it seems, is a great motivator when it comes to chipping spuds.

The teens arrive for their late-afternoon snacks but the real work starts in the evening, when the queue starts to snake out of the shop and on to the street. The orders are generally larger during the teatime rush as there are more families in need of feeding rather than individual orders. Ross remains in the kitchen to keep us stocked up on chips while Claire and I serve as fast as we can to a medley of Seventies hits. I’m feeling pretty frazzled by the time the queue starts to dwindle, but the sight of Riley hanging back to make sure it’s Claire who serves him invigorates me.

‘I don’t see why you won’t give Riley a chance.’ I lean in close to Claire and lower my voice as we both fill up trays with chips, our backs to the customers.

Claire glances behind us. She hadn’t even spotted him. ‘He’s cute and everything, but he’s too sweet. You know me, I like bad boys. Librarians just don’t do it for me.’

I scoop a few more chips into my tray. ‘He isn’t a librarian. He works in a bookshop.’

Claire shrugs and heads back to the counter. ‘Same thing. Salt and vinegar, Gwen?’

I watch Riley out of the corner of my eye as I serve the next customer. He’s calculating the right moment to join the queue as he gazes up at the menu, and he times it to perfection so that it’s Claire who serves him. If that isn’t a skill to be admired, I don’t know what is.

‘Where has dating bad boys got you so far?’ I hiss the question as we fill up at the chip station together again. Riley’s at the counter, gazing lovingly at Claire as she fulfils the order he agonised over for so long (and yet is the same thing he orders every time). ‘Why don’t you give Riley a chance? He’ll treat you better than Lewis and Danny and all the other idiots you’ve wasted your time on lately. He adores you. Don’t you want to be adored for a change?’

‘I guess it’d be quite nice, but…’

‘But what? But he’s too nice ? Do you realise how ridiculous that sounds? After the way men have treated you?’

Claire sighs and rolls her eyes. ‘Fine. I’ll go out with him. But just for a drink, and I’m not having sex with him.’

‘That is absolutely your choice. I’m not your pimp.’ I am, however, a modern-day Cupid, and I will gloat for eternity if this works out.

I’m thinking about having a name badge made up, that I will wear for all occasions: Cleo Parker, Cupid Extraordinaire . Because Claire’s date with Riley was ‘all right, actually. Surprisingly fun’, which is extremely high praise when you consider how many times Claire attempted to wriggle out of it. We had everything, from a ‘double-booking’ (though Claire couldn’t elaborate on what her other commitment was), ‘working late’ (even though I’m responsible for the shift timetable, and Claire wasn’t working at all that night) and a simple ‘I don’t want to go’. But luckily I managed to talk her into it a second time, and she met up with Riley in the Red Lion and had an amazing time.

Okay, ‘amazing’ may be over-egging it, but Claire said she’d had fun and that Riley wasn’t boring or book-obsessed (he mentioned Harry Potter once, but only because there was a bloke who looked exactly like Dumbledore propping up the bar, and it made Claire laugh so it was fine). Claire was true to her word and didn’t sleep with him, but she did agree to a second date which, in my opinion, is even better. I’m thinking long-term here. Soulmates. The One. All that gubbins that ends with marriage and babies and living happily ever after. Naturally, as the Cupid Extraordinaire who brought the pair together, I will be Claire’s maid of honour and godmother to their offspring.

‘There’s just one problem. Well, two actually.’ It’s Saturday morning and Claire and I are in Russell and Jed’s little kitchen, leaning against the worktop with the coffees and pastries she brought with her for the date dissection while Arlo watches cartoons approximately three inches away from the TV in the living room. ‘He wants to take me to some Victorian exhibition.’ She scrunches up her nose. ‘Which is probably going to be incredibly boring.’

‘Or it could be really interesting.’ I bite into my almond croissant, closing my eyes to savour the deliciousness. I would have channelled my inner Cupid ages ago if I’d known this was the reward.

‘Maybe.’ Claire shrugs. ‘I’m willing to give it a go anyway.’ I raise my hand for a high five because my mouth is too full of buttery pastry to speak, and Claire responds accordingly. ‘But the thing is, Arlo was supposed to be with his dad this weekend but he’s bailed – again. He says he’s got the flu, but he’s hung-over more likely. Anyway, I’d ask my mum to babysit, but she’s on her way down to Brighton to see my sister. Plus, this is all your doing, so I was wondering…’

‘Of course I’ll babysit.’

‘Really?’

I take a sip of my coffee. It’s a caramel macchiato. Beautiful. ‘Really. We had fun last time.’ I’ve still got the ice cream painting stuck to the fridge behind me, and if I get Arlo to eat something healthy again, I can have a second badge made up: Cleo Parker, Babysitter Extraordinaire .

‘Thank you.’ Claire gives me a squeeze. ‘You’re the best.’

‘I am that.’ I raise my takeaway coffee cup and Claire taps her own against it. ‘When do you need me?’

Claire flashes me a sheepish grin. ‘Now? I said I’d meet Riley at eleven.’

‘You’d better get going then.’

‘Are you sure?’ Claire’s tone is hesitant, but she’s already backing up towards the door. ‘It’s really short notice. I can cancel. It’s no problem at all.’

‘Go.’ I point a finger towards the door. ‘Have fun.’

Claire snorts. ‘At an exhibition?’ But she heads into the living room so she can say goodbye to her son before she leaves with a definite skip to her step. I have a Very Good Feeling about this date. A Very Good Feeling indeed. I wonder if they’ll name one of their kids after me?