Goodmans of Glassford Street (25 page)

‘We’ll see.’

‘Are you going to wait until she gets settled in here before going down to South Castle-on-Sea?’

‘Yes. I’m not looking forward to going down there again.’

‘Would you like me to come with you? A breath of sea air will do me good, and I’ve never been to South Castle-on-Sea.’

‘Would you, darling? I’d love you to come.’

‘That’s it settled, then.’

‘I’ll phone Edinburgh and try to find out when Mrs Goodman is planning to return to Glasgow. She was supposed to get back tomorrow. I told her we’d have everything organised by then, but she may have decided to stay longer with her son.’

As it turned out, Mrs Goodman was returning the next morning and her son was coming with her and staying in the flat with her for a couple of nights, at least.

‘That’ll solve our problem,’ Sam told Moira. ‘We won’t need to worry about her being on her own until she gets used to the place.’

And so they were able to get ready for the journey to South Castle-on-Sea immediately after welcoming Mrs Goodman and her son into the flat. Sam handed over her keys and said, ‘I hope you’ll be very happy here, Mrs Goodman.’

‘Thank you, Mr Webster. It certainly looks very nice. Thanks for all your hard work.’

‘Yes,’ John Goodman agreed. ‘You’ve done an excellent job and we both appreciate all your help. And Mrs Webster as well. If ever you fancy a trip to the Parliament, just give me a ring and I’ll show you around and give you lunch.’

Mrs Webster smiled. ‘We might just do that, Mr Goodman. I’ve never seen the Parliament except on television. I’d be most interested to pay it a visit.’

‘Just give me a ring,’ John repeated.

Eventually they got away to drive along to the High Street. Once in their own flat, they had a meal and packed an overnight bag. They left early the next morning and it was still light when they arrived in South Castle-on-Sea.

Sam had already booked them into a hotel he’d stayed in before. He would have been quite content to sit in the conservatory and look out at the sea from there. However, like Mrs Goodman when she’d been with him, Moira wanted to walk along the front and also explore the pier.

‘We’ll have to pass The Floral,’ Sam told her.

‘Well, why not? We’re not going into the place. After dinner, I insist we have a walk along the front. I don’t want to sit in the hotel for the whole evening.’

‘Fine. Fine.’

They enjoyed a delicious meal and after a leisurely drink, Moira said, ‘Well, come on then, Sam.’

Reluctantly, he rose and accompanied his wife outside. A breeze was ruffling over the sea but it was a pleasantly warm evening. They strolled along arm in arm. They had never felt so close and happy in years. Sam was so grateful that Moira had forgiven him. Now he tried in every way he could to make up for his previous unfaithfulness.

‘That’s it over there.’ He squeezed Moira’s elbow. ‘It’s called The Floral because of the pots of flowers around it.’

Moira stared at it. ‘Very pretty. I wouldn’t think she’d want to ruin that place, if it’s a good, money-making business, and I expect it is with that location. Oh look, is that a variety theatre on the pier?’

‘Yes, but I don’t think we’d get in to tonight’s show without having booked in advance.’

‘I could maybe spend an hour at the matinee tomorrow while you’re doing your business with the warehouse people. I’ll have a look around the town in the morning and then take in a show in the afternoon. It would be better than hanging around waiting for you in the hotel. I suppose you will be most of the day doing business?’

‘Yes. In the morning certainly, and probably a good part of the afternoon. I’ll get a ticket for you and we can arrange to meet afterwards. I could call for you at the theatre. We could have a meal somewhere. And I know a nice pub where we could have a drink afterwards.’

‘That sounds fine. I’ll look forward to tomorrow. If I find a nice little boutique in the morning, I might even treat myself to a new outfit.’

He laughed. ‘I might have know there was a reason behind you wanting to visit South Castle-on-Sea. I can only be thankful that the girls aren’t here as well. It would have cost me a fortune.’

They walked along the pier and he purchased a ticket. Then they walked further along the seafront until Moira said, ‘I’m not used to all this exercise and fresh air. Do you mind if we turn back now, Sam?’

‘No, of course not. Come on.’

Still arm in arm, they walked back to the hotel. That night, they made love with both passion and tenderness.

‘Oh Moira, I’m so lucky to have you – especially after …’ She pressed her fingers against his lips. ‘I don’t want to hear any more about that. Not one word. It’s in the past. We’re both so much luckier than Mrs Goodman. We’ve still got each other.’

The next morning, after breakfast, he said, ‘You know, you could have come with me, Moira.’

‘What? Hang about in the background while you talk toys for hours? No thank you, darling. I’d rather do a tour of the boutiques. I’ll see you later.’

They had arranged a time when they’d meet on the pier. He looked forward to being able to relax after his business meetings were over and to enjoying a meal and a few drinks with Moira.

Everything went according to plan until he returned to the pier. He found he was a bit early and he was standing gazing down at the sea when he heard a voice say, ‘Couldn’t keep away from me, could you?’

It was Viv. He turned to face her.

‘Are you determined to end up in the jail? Because, if you don’t get out of my sight right now, I’ll report you.’

‘Now, you don’t mean that, darling.’

This was the real Viv. The weeping and apologising in court had just been an act.

‘How many times must I tell you? Will you never be able to get it through your thick head? I don’t want anything to do with you. I think you’re mad. You tried to ruin my life. You ruined my home and everything I had. But you couldn’t – and never will – ruin the thing that means most to me, Viv, and that is the love I have for my wife.’

Suddenly another voice cut in. ‘And the love his wife has for him.’

‘Moira, darling, I’m so sorry about this. I was just waiting …’

‘You don’t need to explain, Sam.’ She turned to Viv. ‘Now you heard what he said and, if he doesn’t report you, I certainly will. You’ll end up in jail, your business will be ruined. You’ll be ruined. For God’s sake, have a bit of sense, woman, and forget about Sam. You’ll surely be able to find another man. A single man. You’re not a bad-looking woman.’

Without another word, Viv turned away. She walked towards The Floral and disappeared inside.

Sam said, ‘Good for you, darling. I must bring you down to South Castle-on-Sea more often.’

Moira linked her arm in his. ‘I don’t think she’ll be bothering you again, Sam.’

He had a joyful feeling that Moira could be right.

‘Certainly not if she thinks you’ll always be here with me,’ he laughed.

Miss Eden didn’t know how Mr McKay managed to rent out his villa in Bishopbriggs. She always watched him as much as she could in the store, and she had a private arrangement with the security guard that he would report to her if he saw Mr McKay leaving. He had not reported any such sightings. Mr McKay could have left by the back door, of course. But he never used the back door except for the very occasional times he used that route to go to the bank.

However, she supposed he could have arranged the whole thing by phone with an estate agent. Anyway, as he eventually explained to her, he still had his mortgage payments to meet, plus other expenses connected with the house like the Council Tax. (And of course, although he didn’t mention it, there was the money he was giving to her for his board and lodgings.) It was understandable that he would want to rent out his house. It had just been a surprise, that was all. No, more than that. How long, she wondered, were his tenants to be there? Had they a contract for a certain length of time, or what? She didn’t like to press Mr McKay on that point in case he thought he had become unwelcome, and she was trying to get rid of him. He had been with her for a considerable time now and he seemed his old self again. Indeed, he seemed very content and happy.

They had long since got into the regular habit of sharing all the work in her flat. They even went together to do the food shopping and had lunch together during the week in the Marks & Spencer’s café. They had their main meal in the flat in the evening. They shared the preparation and the cooking. On Sundays, they even went out for the Sunday newspapers together and made it the occasion for a little walk to get ‘a breath of fresh air’. Often, they went in the afternoon and had a walk around Springburn Park. Sometimes they sat on a park bench and read the papers.

It was surprising how much they found to talk about – what had happened in the store, and what the staff were like, and what they were getting up to. They also had discussions and exchanged opinions about what was in the newspapers.

She was getting a bit worried that they were spending too much time with each other. He was definitely, to all appearances, perfectly all right now. One day, she suggested he should go out for the papers while she did something in the house. He agreed and went out, but as if he knew exactly what she would do, he turned and waved cheerily up at the window. She had not been able to resist the temptation to peep out to see if he was all right. He was safely back in no time, with the papers tucked under his arm. She had just got into the habit of worrying about him, she supposed. She had always treated any job she took on with great concentration, loyalty and seriousness. Nowadays, though, they laughed quite a lot, sometimes about what happened in the shop, sometimes at some comedy programme on television.

Now he went out regularly for the Sunday papers while she got the breakfast started. They heard that Mrs Goodman was writting a book, of all things. They both found that highly amusing, especially when Mrs Webster, who worked a couple of afternoons a week in Books and Stationery, told Miss Eden what it was about. It started her and Mr McKay remembering some of the poems and jingles of their childhood. They had quite a few laughs over that.

One day recently, she had seen him leaving the shop and she had discreetly followed him. Her heart sank as she saw him making his way along Argyle Street. He surely wasn’t going along to see the group of tramps he’d once known? No, surely not. It was such a long time ago now. Then he had gone into a florist’s, an Interflora place, and she realised he must be ordering flowers to be sent to someone. She wondered who the lucky person was.

First thing on her birthday morning, however, before she set off for work, a beautiful bouquet of flowers was delivered to her. Attached was a card which said simply, ‘Happy Birthday, Miss Eden, from Mr McKay.’

She was quite touched at his thoughtfulness and that he had even remembered the date of her birthday. She never normally bothered about flowers but they certainly made the flat look cheerful and pretty.

That evening, Mr McKay insisted that he took her out for a birthday dinner. He had already booked a table at Café Gandolfi. It was really a most enjoyable evening. The food was excellent and the surroundings most interesting, with carved wood furniture and stained glass windows.

After the meal, Mr McKay splashed out on a taxi back to the flat. Altogether, it had been one of the best, if not
the
best birthday she’d ever had.

Eventually, she was tempted to say to Mr McKay that he didn’t need to accompany her to her karate class any more. It must have become an awful chore to him. He had been going regularly twice a week for ages now. Then a thought occurred to her. He did look as if he was quite interested. Perhaps he would like to join. The physical exercise would be good for him. He really didn’t get enough exercise. None at all, except for walking about the store and going shopping. The next time, on the way home from the karate meeting, she said to him, ‘You’ve been coming along to the classes for so long now, Mr McKay. Why don’t you join?’

He laughed. ‘For goodness’ sake, Miss Eden. A man of my age? Away with you!’

‘No, I mean it. Age doesn’t matter. Anyway, you’re in your prime.’

He pushed his glasses further up his nose. ‘I’m even short-sighted.’

‘That doesn’t matter either. Even if you never get to black belt standard, think of the advantages. It would give you a focus and targets. It would help you get the old heart and lungs fired up, basically stretch you physically and mentally …’

Mr McKay shook his head. He looked uncertain, but good-humoured. Miss Eden went on, ‘It’s all done in stages, teaching you how to stand, breathe, balance, and move. Come on, Mr McKay, try it, please. Just for me.
Please!
’

That made it a done deal. Next time, there he was, sheepishly shuffling from a chilly bare foot to a chilly bare foot, decked out in jogging trousers and a big, baggy T-shirt. He looked both nervous and embarrassed. Before long, the class was called to order and he was sent away from where he was standing with Miss Eden to the far end of the back row. There a young black belt in his twenties came to stand beside him.

‘No worries,’ he said. ‘Just do your best to copy me through the warm up. If you’re puffed or can’t do anything, don’t worry. It’ll be a gradual process. Everyone has their own pace.’ The class was called to attention, backs straight, heels together, toes pointed out at a forty-five-degree angle, hands smartly by their sides.

On the command to bow, they knelt – left knee first, then right – and sat back on their heels. Then, as one, they leant forward – left hand first, then right, head briefly touching the floor, before they sprang to their feet. The bow he could manage with ease; the springing to the feet bit was more of a challenge.

Then it was straight into a sequence of bounces and bending and stretching that certainly gave his cheeks an unaccustomed glow. Slightly out of breath and most definitely warmed up, he was taken aside with two other newcomers by a slightly older black belt for the more tricky learning process, as individual techniques were broken down and explained.