Chapter Thirty-Three

‘You’re surprisingly agile.’ I lean against the dance machine’s rail for support as I try to get my breath back. ‘And you have some rhythm.’

‘You have no idea.’ James leans against the rail at his neighbouring machine. ‘My rhythm is legendary round these parts.’

I roll my eyes as I push myself away from the rail and hobble towards the whack-a-mole game, where Arlo and Edith are clocking up an impressive trail of tickets. I haven’t managed to wipe the smug grin from James’ face at all. In fact, I’ve made matters worse because he’s just annihilated me on the dance machine. And not just once; after losing I demanded best of three, then best of five, and now I want to curl up and die, of exhaustion and humiliation. That was my game. Nobody could beat me on the dance machine back in the day, but my crown has been well and truly knocked from my head.

‘Is there anything you’re not good at? I bet you even have a decent shower-singing voice.’

‘I was in a band, remember? Fronted it. My voice is fantastic both in and out of the shower.’ James narrows his eyes as he looks up towards the ceiling. ‘I’m pretty fantastic all round, really. I’ve even mastered magic loops.’ He raises his eyebrows at me, the grin pulling at his lips again. ‘I’m on my fourth sausage dog now.’

‘ Fourth? ’ I stop and stare at him, my arms folding across my chest. I’m still on my second, with two paws and a tail to go until I’m finished.

‘Yup. I finished Chipolata last night and started Cumberland this morning.’

‘Of course you did.’ I throw my hands up in the air and stomp my way to the whack-a-mole machine. Arlo and Edith are wielding a mallet each, with Arlo making an adorable, breathy huh sound every time he swings it. I record a short video to show Claire later.

‘I have really bad handwriting.’ James leans in close to whisper his confession in my ear. ‘Really, really bad. It’s not writing at all, really, just a squiggle that vaguely resembles letters if you study it long enough.’

‘That’s it? That’s your flaw? Your handwriting ?’ I lock my phone and slide it into my pocket. There’s a message from Paul, but I’ll read it later. ‘Jeez, that must be so debilitating. How on earth do you cope?’ I’m trying to sound disparaging, but the smile creeping on to my face is letting me down.

‘It’s a cross to bear, that’s for sure.’ James’ shoulders rise as he takes in a deep breath before he lets it out in a long sigh. I elbow him lightly in the ribs and he laughs, holding up his hands. ‘Okay, the handwriting thing was a bit lame. My real flaw is my inability to let women know that I like them. I’m terrible at flirting and I can’t just come out and tell someone that I like her, because that would be utterly mortifying, especially if she doesn’t feel the same way.’

‘That’s because you’re out of practice. You were married for, what? A decade? And now suddenly you’re single and you haven’t flirted with a woman since you were seventeen. At least, I hope you didn’t flirt with other women when you were married.’

James holds his hands up again. ‘Not guilty, ma’am.’

‘There you go then. You just need to dust off the old flirting skills and give it a go. You’re a good-looking bloke, if you’re into long hair and beards. Get out there and have some fun. Your twenties have almost passed you by – you’ve got some catching up to do.’ The whack-a-mole game finishes and spits out the last of Arlo and Edith’s tickets so I gather them up and pop them in my pocket for later. Seth’s wandering towards us, probably out of money by now. ‘Hey, Seth, how are you on the dance machine?’

Seth lifts one shoulder up lazily. ‘All right, I guess.’

‘Do you think you can beat your dad?’

Seth snorts. ‘That old geezer? Easy?’

‘Really?’ James ruffles his son’s hair. ‘Bring it on then, twinkletoes.’

The pair head to the dance machine, feeding coins into the slot and ribbing each other with good-natured trash talk as the lights start to flash and the music starts. James gives it a good go, he’s nimble and enthusiastic, but it’s the junior version who’s triumphant. I high-five Seth while James complains about the fact that Seth is younger and fitter and it was an unfair contest.

‘Bad loser. That’s your flaw.’ I nudge James lightly with my elbow. ‘What shall we do now?’

We play air hockey, even Seth, who doesn’t slope off back to the racing games as soon as he has a fistful of pound coins, and we feed a ton of two-pence pieces into the coin-pusher machines until the kids start to complain that they’re hungry. After exchanging the prize tickets for two bouncy balls and a handful of sweets, we head back home, where Gran’s prepared a lasagne. It’s just starting to bubble in the oven and Gran instructs us to sit at the table in the dining room, which has already been laid.

‘I’m going to miss your cooking when I move into my new place, Cordy.’

‘You’re moving out?’ I’ve been replying to Paul’s message from earlier on my phone, but my head snaps up at this news and I frown at James. ‘When?’

‘As soon as I can get everything arranged. I’ve loved living here, obviously.’ James smiles fondly at Gran. ‘But it’ll be nice to have my own space again, with the kids staying over at the weekends.’

‘Where are you moving to?’ Dread fills my stomach. What if he’s moving out of town? Who will help me with the sausage dog crochet then? Because Gran isn’t up to it yet, no matter what she claims, and the Easter fair is just around the corner.

‘It’s over by the harbour. It’s only a small cottage, but it’s cosy and it’s had a loft conversion to make it into a three-bed.’ James’ gaze flicks to his kids, and a smile spreads across his face. ‘Pretty perfect for us, really.’

‘You’ll still be able to help out with the sausage dogs though, won’t you?’

James’ brow furrows. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’

I’m relieved James is staying in Clifton-on-Sea, and that he’s still on board for the crochet project, but a little bit of dread remains in the pit of my stomach and remains there for the remainder of the day, even after I’ve dropped Arlo off at Claire’s and gone back to the flat. I’ve got used to James being around at Gran’s, so I guess I’ll miss him not being there all the time.

The dread has eased by the following morning, but I’m still left with an odd underlying feeling of mild panic that sneaks in whenever I let myself settle. I’ve tidied and scrubbed the flat to within an inch of its life to keep me occupied, updated my bullet journal and even created a new page with a bucket list for the summer, complete with colourful illustrations, and I’ve crocheted another leg for Saveloy the sausage dog. I’m about to start yet another leg when Claire texts, suggesting we meet up for a coffee and a date dissection, since I wasn’t in the mood last night. I never turn down a coffee opportunity, plus I really, really want to know how the date went with Riley now the shock of James’ imminent move is wearing off.

The rain from yesterday has shifted, making way for a clear, bright sky, so we decide to meet at the park so Arlo can run about on the playground while we chat. The park is already filling up with early picnickers, and there’s a couple of footballs being kicked around on the fields while little rowboats bob about on the lake. The kiosk where you can hire boats has been shut up for months, but like the rest of the town, the park is slowly coming to life again.

‘Sorry I had to rush off last night.’ Claire is already at the park and has secured a bench outside the rainbow fence of the playground. I carried out a rapid drop and run with Arlo last night, claiming unexpected staffing issues at the shop when the truth is I was feeling weird and twitchy about the James thing and I knew Claire would question my odd mood.

‘No problem. Sorry the date took so long. That was… unexpected.’ Claire’s trying to keep a straight face, but there’s a grin itching to flourish across it. She takes the coffee and paper bag I hold out to her and twists in her seat as I flop down beside her. ‘Oh, Cleo. You’ll never guess what the exhibition he took me to was all about.’ She leans in close and lowers her voice so it’s barely audible. ‘It was a Victorian sexhibition .’ She straightens to observe my reaction, which is suitably shocked. ‘I know, right? Who knew Riley had it in him? It was pure filth . Early porno pics, fallen women, dildos .’ Claire checks all around her, to make sure none of the other parents – or worse, their kids – are in hearing distance. ‘Riley clearly isn’t the boring librarian I thought he was.’

‘You slept with him, didn’t you?’

‘Obviously.’ Claire places the coffee beside her on the bench and delves into the paper bag. ‘We were surrounded by sex all afternoon. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I’m surprised we made it back to my flat before I ripped his clothes off, to be honest.’ She sinks her teeth into the raspberry and almond bake, trying to catch the bits of nuts that scatter with her hand.

‘So you’re seeing him again?’

Claire holds up a finger while she swallows. ‘God, yes. It just goes to show that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.’

I can’t help feeling a little bit smug that I spotted Riley’s potential months ago. I’ve definitely earned that Cupid badge, and the timing is perfect with Paul returning to town in six weeks. Claire and I can be properly loved up with our new boyfriends together.

We finish our coffees and cake and then I leave Claire to the playground duties and head to Gran’s. The Easter fair at the dog shelter is taking place next weekend and I’m determined to present three stripy sausage dogs for the raffle. There is no way I can match James’ four in the time available, but I’ve come to terms with it – mostly – and three will have to do.

James is in the kitchen when I get there, whipping up a brunch of French toast bacon sandwiches, waffles with whipped cream and berries, and a cafetiere of freshly brewed coffee. I can see why Carla stayed in the loveless marriage for so long if this was what weekends looked like in the Merchant house.

‘Cordy’s outside, deadheading.’ James nods towards the open back door as he carries the plate of sandwiches to the table. ‘I didn’t even try to stop her this time.’ He flashes me an apologetic look, but I shrug.

‘There’s no point. You’d be wasting your breath on the stubborn old bird.’

‘Are my ears burning?’ Gran steps into the kitchen, heading straight to the sink to wash her cast-free hand. ‘This looks lovely, James. I really am going to miss your cooking when you’ve moved out.’

I must be hungry, despite a scrambled egg on toast breakfast followed by the raspberry and almond bake in the park, because my stomach twinges. I press a hand against the discomfort to try to ease it.

‘Have you eaten?’ James adds a pot of tea to the table, next to the matching milk jug. ‘There’s plenty.’

I think about the double breakfast I’ve already scoffed this morning for a nanosecond before pushing the thought away and plonking myself down at the table and helping myself to a bacon sandwich. James has added maple syrup and the sweetness against the saltiness of the bacon is heavenly.

‘You’re wasted as an accountant.’ I place the sandwich down on my plate and lick the delicious grease from my fingers before helping myself to a coffee.

‘Being an accountant pays the bills.’ James grabs the teapot, and while Gran tuts and rolls her eyes at him, she lets him pour her a cup. ‘I don’t think I could make quite as much trying to flog bacon butties.’

‘There’s more to life than money.’ I take another huge bite of my sandwich and resist the urge to groan in appreciation. This must be what Claire felt like as she dashed back to her flat after the exhibition yesterday.

‘That’s true, but there’s more to my life than work. I have other less boring things going on. Things that might surprise you.’

‘I doubt that.’ Nothing could surprise me after the Riley revelation earlier. ‘Unless you do a bit of Magic Mike-ing at the weekends?’

I shouldn’t have said that, because now I’m imagining James peeling off his blazer very, very slowly while looking deep into my eyes, which is a disturbing enough thought in itself but made doubly unsettling with my gran sitting across the table from me.

‘I liked that film.’ Gran adds a drop of milk to her tea and gives a dreamy sigh as she stirs.

‘I know. You made me go with you to see it at the cinema three times.’

‘That’s because Gwen wouldn’t go and see it again. Twice was more than enough, she said.’ Gran shakes her head. ‘Such a prude.’

‘Anyway.’ I think it’s time for a change of subject. Something as far from stripping men as possible. ‘I’ve brought my crochet with me. I’ve nearly finished Saveloy and then I want to try and squeeze another one in if I can.’

Gran smiles at me across the table, her eyes almost disappearing in the crinkled folds. ‘You’ve really caught the crochet bug, haven’t you?’

Have I? I thought I was just being over-competitive with James, but I guess I have found it quite therapeutic to sit down for an hour or so with my hook and yarn, and I think I’ll miss it once all the sausage dogs are complete and raffled off next week.

‘What’s our next project going to be then, Cordy?’ James takes a bite of his sandwich, completely missing the look of surprise on my face (it turns out he is capable of surprising me after all).

‘You’re still going to crochet with us? Even when you’ve moved out?’

James wipes his mouth on a napkin. ‘You didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily, did you? Who else is going to scoff at your silly daytime soaps?’

I’m feeling quite enthused by the time we’ve finished eating – so much so that I offer to wash the dishes. James dries and then we settle down with our current crochet project. Over brunch, we decided that once the sausage dogs are complete, we’re going to make tiny hats for newborns, which Gran will send off to local neonatal wards. It seems I’ve inadvertently found that new hobby to cross off my list.