He wanted to ask why they moved around a lot, but Fran was sitting back in her chair with her arms folded. He remembered how much he needed her to solve the problem of Charlie’s pages.
‘I see,’ he said, blandly.
‘I doubt it.’ Her tone was dust dry and she turned her head towards the window as if she needed time to gather together what else she wanted to say.
‘While it meant I got a very good education,’ she went on, ‘I spent too much time with adults. And, of course, it made me a late starter with the social niceties. Where others can hear the conversation
under
the one that’s actually going on and stay quiet, I tend to blunder in.’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’
She twisted her mouth out of the smile she might have been going to give in response to that. ‘Hilarious, Tom. You would have got on well with my friends at college. They were always pulling my leg about how tactless I can be. Luckily my lovely personality won them over.’
‘I’ve no doubt.’
‘Of course the other thing I do is ask inappropriate questions. For example, is your brother all right? He seemed panicky yesterday and I could see you were worried about him?’
He hadn’t seen that coming either. ‘It was something and nothing. He’s fine now,’ he trotted out.
More lies. After Fran had left them in the cemetery, Rob had said he felt better, but Tom was one hundred per cent unconvinced.
Fran looked equally sceptical about his reply, so he said, sharply, ‘Talking of inappropriate questions, what were you doing crawling around in the cemetery?’
He was especially eager to know since a quick scout around the tombstones had failed to reveal any new graves, any old ones with fresh flowers on them or, indeed, anything bearing the name Mayhew at all.
A dig around on the Internet had only brought up her site, a Facebook page dedicated to her work and about a million other people called Mayhew.
He expected Fran to be evasive, but if anything, her gaze was more intense. She kept staring at him and so he stared back. He was determined that here in his own damn office it wasn’t going to be him that broke away first. Even when she said, ‘Touché,’ he kept looking into her eyes. But it was starting to get embarrassing. Did she realise that too or was that another social nicety not covered in home-schooling?
At that moment, she reminded him of one of the Mawsons with their impromptu staring competitions – the kind you only realised you were in when it was too late. He
desperately wanted to blink. How the hell could anyone with plaits and a retroussé nose be so focused?
It was with huge relief that he heard the door open and he made a big show of being surprised that Liz was back so that he could escape from those blue eyes without looking as if he’d backed down. He wondered if Fran felt as relieved because, when she saw the cup Liz was carrying, she seemed to leap at the chance to be enthusiastic about it.
You won’t be so bloody enthusiastic when you taste what’s in it
.
He was looking forward to this – he might have sailed close to defeat in the staring event, but Liz was going to walk it in the poisoning finals.
‘Here you go,’ Liz said, putting the cup in front of Fran. It was, even by Liz’s standards, vile-looking. He watched as Fran took a sip and waited for the normal effort not to gag. The sudden lowering of the cup to reveal a smile that took in the whole of Fran’s face was completely unexpected.
‘Oh, Liz,’ she said, ‘you make coffee just like my mother used to. It’s rare to find someone who has the knack. Thank you so much.’
Liz was peering at Fran as if she suspected the piss was being siphoned off in industrial quantities, but that delighted expression was unmistakably guileless. As they watched, it settled into something that had a slug of sadness
mixed in with it – Fran was swallowing more times than she was sipping.
Tom was embarrassed all over again, but this time because it felt too intrusive to be an observer. He wondered whether that need to slow down that she’d talked about earlier had something to do with her mother?
It was likely Liz was thinking the same, as her combative expression was fading. ‘That’s all right. Glad you like it,’ she said, resting her backside against the desk just along from where Fran was sitting. She watched her face for a while, before adding, ‘So, you’re going to help us out with the nature pages then? What did you have in mind? Tom says you’ve got a seal and a fox stashed in that bungalow of yours.’
There was one more deep swallow from Fran. ‘It sounds funny when you put it like that.’ She handed back the coffee cup and Liz peered into it as if checking it really was empty.
‘You want me to go and get Felix and Derek?’ Liz asked, one eye still on the cup, and when Tom said he did, she went off without a murmur.
That left Tom and Fran alone again and, even with the door open, Tom felt weird about it. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. Fran appeared to be self-conscious too and started to look through her handbag as if hoping to find something to fill the silence. She pulled out a tissue and wiped her nose.
‘Comforting to have your daughter with you while you work,’ was the only thing that she did say, just before Felix bounded into the room. She was staring at the paperweight on his desk. ‘Quite right too,’ she added. There was a brisk nod of her head and a further application of the tissue.
Tom looked at the glass dome with a photo of Hattie at the base and was left with the impression that he’d passed some kind of test, but didn’t know what it was.
*
Felix wanted to go for a three-page spread and ideally feature another animal along with the seal and fox.
‘Ah, that’s easy,’ Fran said, ‘I’ll do a red squirrel to give it a real Northumberland flavour. If I can track one down and finish sketching it by the weekend, I should have the actual sculpture completed towards the back of the following week. Does that give you enough time for the photography, Derek? Felix?’
‘It’ll be quite …’ Derek said, doubtfully, before Felix chipped in with, ‘Do-able.’
‘And what about the copy?’ Liz had on her Eeyore voice.
‘I’ll see to that too,’ Fran said, brightly. ‘A tiny little bit about me – and then a lot about the animals – where to find them in the area, their habits etc.’
‘Sorry to sound rude.’ Tom made sure he looked it. ‘But we need someone who can write to a high standard – plus
the piece has to show a real knowledge of the area. And what with you not being a local—’
‘Oh I’ve made quite a study of this part of the world, Tom. I’m sure I can give it the Northumberland flavour you want. And yes, I can write to a very high standard.’ She paused. ‘Although I use a slate, obviously …’
‘A slate,’ Derek repeated, ‘why do you use a …?’
‘I was just pulling Tom’s leg,’ Fran said, patting Derek’s and making him jump. Tom wondered if a woman had ever patted anything of Derek’s before.
‘But joking aside,’ Fran carried on, ‘would it be acceptable for me to come into the office to work? It’s always nice to feel part of something.’
‘She could have Charlie’s old desk,’ Liz suggested.
‘Charlie’s old desk? No … I …’
‘It’s a dumping ground for all sorts of crap. I’ll get Jamie to clear it for you.’ Liz stood up. ‘And, if you’re going to be part of the furniture, let’s get you introduced.’
The meeting broke up then and Tom re-applied himself to checking the ever-increasing pile of proofs on his desk. When he looked up, he saw Victoria standing by Charlie’s old desk, talking to Fran. He wondered what the two of them would make of each other.
Next time he glanced up, Fran was chatting to Jamie
with the same look on her face as she’d had outside the bookshop. Smitten.
He re-applied himself to the proofs.
He’d moved on to something from Monty when there was a knock on the door frame.
‘Look at you,’ Natalie said, ‘captain of industry.’
‘Yeah, thanks. Have you come to babysit one of my staff?’
She glanced back over her shoulder. ‘That’ll be Jamie then.’
Behind her, Tom saw Jamie bend over his keyboard, his face already going red.
Natalie came into the room. ‘I’m here to pick up Fran. Thought I’d pop my head in, say hello, and ask if you wanted me to pencil in next Thursday for babysitting?’
He looked back down at his work, avoiding Hattie’s eye in the paperweight. ‘It’ll depend how next week pans out – whether I can get away.’
Code for: it depends on when Grietje texts me
.
‘No problem.’ Natalie had moved over to the bay window and was running her finger over the sill. ‘What are you paying your bloody cleaner?’
‘I’ve no idea … You said you’ve come to collect Fran?’
‘Yeah. Off into town, see a couple of bands. Ah … here she is.’
Fran was in the doorway.
‘Ready to go?’ Natalie asked.
‘Yes, all set. And, Tom, I’ve given Liz my mobile number if anyone needs to contact me. I’ll let you know how I’m getting on.’
Tom wanted to ask what bands they were going to see, but was afraid he wouldn’t have heard of them and would look even older than he already felt. And he wanted to ask how the two of them had got together again after that initial meeting outside the bookshop.
And would calling it a ‘concert’ mark him out as a real old fart?
He heard Natalie winding Jamie up one last time as she passed by and then it was Victoria loitering about near the door. ‘She’s a one-off,’ she said, obviously feeling she didn’t need to explain who she was talking about.
‘Certainly genuine,’ Liz said behind her. The barb was not lost on Victoria, who did that elegant pirouette of hers and went back to her desk.
‘Liz,’ Tom said, ‘easy on the loaded comments.’
Liz snorted and did a parody of Victoria’s pirouette, which was ruined by having to steady herself on the door frame as she came to a halt. ‘I think I’m going to like her, Fran. Mad as a box of frogs, obviously, but a lifeboat kind of person.’
‘Lifeboat?’
‘Yeah. She’d help you catch fish and collect rainwater. Whereas Victoria would club you to death and eat you.’
Tom got up when Liz had gone and looked out of the window. Suddenly Kelvin was at his elbow, standing on tiptoe to get the last possible glimpse of Fran and Natalie before they turned the corner out of sight.
‘I would,’ he said, ‘wouldn’t you?’
When Tom ignored the question, Kelvin added, ‘Very sexy – pert, hell of an arse.’
‘You want to stop dribbling down my arm, Kelvin? And can I just remind you, that’s my daughter’s babysitter you’re talking about. Told you before, I don’t like the sexist stuff.’
‘I wasn’t talking about Natalie. Her family’s trouble. I was talking about the one in the dress. She’s like a posh Debbie Harry.’ Kelvin was screwing up his face as if considering that and added, ‘How she was in the eighties, obviously, not like she is now. Don’t tell me you didn’t knock one out every time Debbie was on the telly?’
‘Well done, Kelvin. Ageist and sexist in one disturbing parcel.’ Tom moved so that the desk was between them. ‘Anyway, you’re ten years older than me and Debbie Harry was white-blonde. Now, bugger off.’
Fantastic. Not only did he have an image of Debbie Harry in his head, but also a much worse one of Kelvin as a teenager.
CHAPTER 22
Wednesday 21st May
1) Acting strangely can be a result of being frightened (see point 2) and/or because when you walk into an office, you are aware that you are walking in the footsteps of ghosts.
2) On first meeting, Liz seems blisteringly scary. It is only later that you realise she is a woman who wants to be:
A. Taken seriously
B. Not taken for granted and
C. Freed from having to babysit people who might be weird or hopeless at their job or both.
3) You can have a bottom covered in plaster dust that nobody notices until your friend points it out to you on the street. Even Kelvin did not notice because I’m sure if he had, he would have tried to brush it off for me (see point 9).
4) When I am nervous, I not only blurt out tactless things, but seem to have developed a love of architectural
detailing. Especially creaking floorboards and dusty old plaster grapes which you leap on as if they were the Holy Grail (or should that be grille? – sorry, poor joke). I could not work out if I was inhabiting the soul of Kevin McCloud, or in the case of Tom’s window, Johnny Depp. (Window is magnificent, though, can imagine Hattie and her eye-patch take up position there on a frequent basis.)
5) No amount of telling yourself beforehand that you will
not
, repeat,
not
tell anybody that you are home-schooled, will work in the face of Tom’s nosiness. Tom’s ability to ask questions and remember the answers is worrying.
6) Tom is not easily stared out, but I think another minute and I would have done it.
7) It is amazing how the taste of over-stewed, too-strong coffee can make you want to put your head down on a desk and weep.
8) It is also amazing how your reaction to the taste of old, too-strong coffee can make a woman who you thought was going to be very tricky indeed become someone you would very much like to have by your side in an emergency.
9) Tom has an interesting mixture of staff and it is too early to say what I have learned about any of them.
Except for Kelvin. I have learned not to stand too close to him or to bend forward without first putting your hand modestly to the neckline of your dress. He made the lads drinking three shots for five pounds in town later seem very well behaved – although that could have been because I was a ‘friend of Natalie’s’. This is not the same as being a ‘friend of Dorothy’s’.
10) There are worse people to have a staring competition with than Tom Howard.