A Special Cornish Christmas, page 13
Chapter Seventeen
Ran had thought that the day Phaedra had asked him to leave the flat was the most humiliating moment of his life, closely followed by the day the record dealer had carted off his collection while his wife stood by him at the lock-up, face white with horror at the number of discs he’d managed to amass.
The look on Bo’s face – shock and disgust – meant he’d topped those two lowlights by a long way today.
The process server had scuttled off like a centipede the moment Ran had the package in his hands. Clearly he was used to making a quick exit once his deed was done, in case of repercussions.
Ran was too stunned to have given any kind of response, and the guy, however odious he was, was merely doing his job.
It was entirely Ran’s own fault; he’d started to fill the forms in after Bo had visited but then put off returning them.
He stared at the papers in his hands. Jesus, he should have responded sooner. He’d vaguely registered he had a couple of weeks to reply but he’d kept putting it off and somehow the time had flown by.
‘I’m so sorry about that,’ he said to Bo, who was staring after the guy as he jumped into his car and screeched out the car park, spraying up gravel. ‘It was excruciating.’
‘Can he even do that?’ she said slowly.
Ran winced in shame. ‘I think so. I guess he just did.’
‘Fancy coming after you here, though – to your workplace in front of your friends.’
‘Yes …’
She looked him full in the face, her dark brown eyes puzzled and, God forgive him, hurt. Even Bo, with her happy-go-lucky facade, couldn’t hide her shock.
‘I didn’t know you were married,’ she said simply.
‘I should have told you.’ His voice trailed off.
‘You didn’t mention a wife or partner. I suppose I assumed you were single.’
He sank lower, crushed with embarrassment. ‘Technically, I am. We’re separated. She lives in our flat in London.’ He corrected himself. ‘Her flat now, I suppose … I …’ He faltered, unable to think of any simple way to say that he had spent a considerable chunk of their savings on things they couldn’t afford. Unable to explain that he had probably suffered a mental breakdown but that was no excuse for the way he’d plunged headlong into a lifestyle that had made both of them miserable.
‘It’s complicated but I didn’t want to leave Phaedra in debt. I, um … you know you asked me if I had any valuable records? I did have some rare stuff at one time, in fact I had far too many. It was that kind of expensive indulgence that got me into trouble in the first place. I had to sell anything really valuable to pay off my wife.’
Bo’s lips were pressed together.
‘So, I got rid of all the expensive stuff. Most of the vinyl you saw are bootlegs, barely worth the price of a coffee. I only pay pocket money prices now and I buy far fewer. Hoarding records I couldn’t really afford was an addiction, the same as the expensive lunches, the clubs, the champagne, the weekends away … that’s why I packed in my job in the City at the bank. It was making me ill and the way I behaved played a big part in wrecking my marriage.’
‘I’m sorry. Sounds like you were under a lot of stress.’
‘Yes but …’ he swallowed hard, reminding himself that he had specifically invited her to go with him to buy records. How must that look when he’d just confessed to an addiction?
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You came here for a fun day out, not to witness that bloody spectacle. There’s nothing more tragic than some bloke moaning about his ex on a date with another woman – unless he’s visited by a bailiff serving him with divorce papers, I suppose,’ he said, going for humour, while dying of shame at the public humiliation of being hunted down by a process server and of having allowed the situation to get so far.
‘You haven’t moaned, and you had no idea that guy would turn up at your workplace,’ she said. ‘But I think maybe today isn’t the best time for us to do this. You probably need time to sort this out. It looks like those papers are urgent. I’m sorry we can’t make the restaurant. I hope your friend won’t mind?’
By which she meant, he thought, that she wanted to get the hell away from a man with a problematic love life who hadn’t been entirely honest with her about his situation. She definitely didn’t need ‘It’s complicated.’
He also recognised he’d been too hellbent on keeping his private life private – or was his reluctance to be open with Bo, and to sign those papers, part of more serious issue: that deep down he still wasn’t ready to accept his marriage was over?
‘I’ll deal with the restaurant,’ he said, wondering what he could say to his mate, although it was the least of his worries. ‘You’re right, I don’t think either of us is in the right frame of mind for a cosy lunch or a record-buying trip.’
‘No. No.’ Bo’s smile was fleeting and awkward and he didn’t blame her. ‘Perhaps not today.’
She drove off, leaving Ran on the quayside, the papers in his hand, wondering how he’d found someone he cared about for the second time in his life and managed to balls everything up before it had even started.
Chapter Eighteen
Married.
Ran was married.
Bo still couldn’t help thinking about the bombshell a week later as she checked the café after fierce autumn gales had caused them to remain closed on a Sunday morning. It had been too dangerous to open, with twigs flying about. The chairs and tables were intact, but only because she’d lashed them down under a tarpaulin with Cade’s help the night before. Other businesses hadn’t fared so well. The wind had blown some slates off the roof of Falford post office, narrowly missing the postwoman as she came to collect the mail. The plans to start refurbishing the terrace were on hold, although ironically, the weather highlighted the need for a sheltered space even more.
At least the turbulent weather matched her mood.
She hadn’t seen or spoken with Ran since the disaster outside the dive centre. He’d sent her a message saying he’d cancelled the lunch reservation and apologising again, but nothing else. He also didn’t turn up to Flingers on the Saturday evening, passing on a message via Hubert that he was busy.
She couldn’t help wondering if it was an excuse not to see her because he was still embarrassed. Being honest, it must have been an excruciating situation for him, and yet.
He was married?
If he’d been straight with her from the start, she would have understood but she felt he’d been actively evasive and even secretive. She’d known him a year – even if they weren’t close, he might have mentioned it.
Perhaps, more importantly, despite all his protestations, and the divorce petition, it was obvious that Ran was very much part of the relationship. Divorce was a tumultuous process and he still seemed very attached to his wife, otherwise why hadn’t he responded to her divorce petition?
The situation had occupied Bo’s mind far too much and yet she couldn’t shake it off, and her mood wasn’t helped by the thick grey clouds hanging over Falford with no intention of leaving anytime soon.
She decided to take herself off to see Angel at the Country Stores, which had been able to open. She planned to buy some hardier plants to replace the summer bedding at the café. The flower baskets and tubs had been trashed by the storm and she needed something fresh as autumn slid into winter. Her main motive, however, was to see how Angel was getting on and hopefully brighten both of their days.
On the way, she wondered if the process server’s visit had been noted by anyone at the dive centre. Even if people had witnessed the weasel speaking to Ran, no one had been near enough to overhear, surely?
The Country Stores were located a few miles out of Falford, near a crossroads on the main road. It had started as a place for farmers and horse owners to buy animal feed and supplies but had evolved into a more general shopping destination that attracted as many holidaymakers as farmers. Angel’s job title was administrator but, for all intents and purposes, she practically managed the place.
With the rain lashing down, Bo dashed from her car, across the yard area towards the large warehouse-like shed that housed the supplies and equipment. One side of it had a ‘trade entrance’ but Bo was heading for the ‘posh bit’, as Angel called it.
Here, the equestrian area stocked trendy outdoor gear from designers alongside the riding boots and harnesses. Several smaller concessions had also opened up, including a boutique stocked with country-themed gifts and cards and a small deli.
The garden centre was situated to the rear, sheltered by a covered area, which was fortunate as Bo’s hair was already damp merely from the sprint from car to store.
A handful of customers were inside on this stormy day. A woman in riding gear was trying on a quilted jacket for size and a slender blonde in an oversized Barbour coat and matching hat was browsing the racks of cards. Angel was stationed at the main cash counter, which had an office with glass windows behind it where a few other staff worked. There was no sign of Kelvin, her boss, which was fine by Bo as it meant she could have a chat without him hovering nearby.
Angel’s face lit up when she caught sight of Bo and she waved.
‘Hello! This is a surprise!’ she said when Bo reached the desk.
‘I need some new plants and pots for the café but I thought I’d drop by to see how you are. I’m not disturbing you, am I?’
‘No, no. We’re quiet this morning. The rain’s keeping the tourists inside, not that there are so many about now October’s here. It’s only the hardy regulars who’ve ventured out.’ She nodded at the equestrian area on the other side of the store. The horsey woman had obviously decided against the jacket and was disappearing through the front doors. The card lady was still twirling the rack.
‘Is he around?’ Bo asked, referring to Kelvin.
Angel rolled her eyes. ‘He said he was going to see his accountant in Helston but …’ She lowered her voice. ‘I think he was off to play golf.’
‘In this weather?’
Angel smirked. ‘He’ll probably head straight for the nineteenth hole.’
‘It’s all right for some,’ Bo said. ‘I came to see how you are. Sally asked me how you’re getting on.’
‘Did she?’ Angel sighed. ‘I’m OK. The kids aren’t round so much. There’s still no word from Tommy.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’m having to face up to the fact I’m on my own and there’s nothing I can do about it.’ She had to raise her voice as the rain pounded the roof as if a helicopter was coming into land.
‘He can’t leave you like that. Have you thought you might need to get advice?’ Bo tried to keep her voice low.
‘About a divorce, you mean?’
‘Not necessarily.’ Bo thought of Ran and the trouble he’d got himself into. She didn’t want to frighten Angel but she was aware that Tommy might even now have seen a solicitor and it would be horrible if Angel suddenly received a letter like Ran had. ‘I only wondered if you might like to get some guidance on where you stand … legally.’
‘I have been thinking about making an appointment at the Citizens Advice Bureau. God, there’s so much to do … mind you, I’m used to dealing with everything myself anyway, with him being at sea for so long, but the thought that it is only me – for good – is terrifying.’
Bo nodded sympathetically.
‘Oh, there’s a customer coming over,’ Angel murmured. ‘I’d better deal with him.’
‘OK. I’ll go and choose my plants. See you in a minute.’
Rain drummed down on the polycarbonate roof of the covered garden area, swooshing off the roof and flowing down the drains. The wind drove sheets of water across the outdoor displays, and thick mist obscured the fields beyond the perimeter fence. In weather like this, with the days rapidly closing in, who wouldn’t feel down? Even the thought of Christmas events couldn’t cheer Bo up, with their past and present associations.
Normally, she relished the chance to do even fewer hours at the café and enjoy the breathing space after the busy summer. Now she almost longed for the breathless bustle of the peak season, no time to stop and think. Falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, body and mind completely spent.
This was no good … she found a trolley, and focused her attention on the bright yellows and violets of pansies, and the fresh green of trailing ivy. The café was her livelihood and it deserved some TLC. For a little while, she lost herself in choosing plants, pots and hanging baskets. Finally, with a trolley full of cheery colour, she returned to the counter.
‘Oh, they’re lovely,’ Angel said, putting them through the till for Bo.
‘I thought they’d brighten up the seating area by the waterside.’
‘They’ll be beautiful right through to March if you water them.’
‘You think? I hope so. The café needs cheering up as the dark nights draw in.’ Me too, thought Bo, but the last thing Angel needed was her moping and she certainly wasn’t going to share what had happened at the dive centre.
She paid for her flowers and, as it still seemed quiet in the Stores, stayed for a longer natter.
‘I’ve finished your bunting and tea towel order,’ Angel said, chatting away while tidying up some petals from around the till.
‘Wow. That was quick.’ Bo could picture the piles of fabric and hear the whirr of the machine, Angel lost in a whirl of frantic activity.
‘I enjoyed doing it. It takes my mind off all the other stuff. You can come and collect them any time you like. I’d have brought them in to work, if I’d known you were dropping by.’
‘I’m happy to pop round.’
‘Why don’t you come one evening? I’ll make you some dinner … give you a break from the kitchen.’
‘I’d love to,’ Bo said. There was still no one near the counter so she took her chance. ‘Are you still planning to come to Flingers on Saturday?’
‘I wanted to. Adam and Emma say I should. Now I’m not so sure.’
‘We all miss you,’ Bo said gently, trying to tread a line between encouragement but not pressuring her friend.
‘I still feel awkward. People will ask so many questions and I don’t have answers myself, let alone to them. On the other hand, I really miss Flingers, I miss my friends and the company and music. That’s one thing. I can play “Rock Around the Clock” as loud as I want, whenever I want, with no Tommy to worry about. I always felt I couldn’t listen to it when he was at home. He said he came home for a “bit of peace and quiet”.’
‘Oh?’
‘I couldn’t blame him. I wanted to talk to him and he needed a rest so I never played it when he was at home.’ Angel had a wistful expression, then she said, ‘But I bloody well play it now. I turned the volume up full and streamed it through the kitchen window when I was repairing the lock on the shed! He was always promising to “get round to it” and he never did so I had a go myself.’
‘Good for you. Look, I’d never push you but you might like to know that we’ve all agreed a playlist for the Illuminations and the Christmas Spectacular. We used some of the songs you suggested and had a vote on it.’
‘I bet some people moaned! I bet I know who.’ Angel rolled her eyes.
‘Of course.’ Bo grinned. ‘Obviously a few aren’t happy but I think we’ve found a mix of songs everyone can live with and we’re ready to rehearse.’ Mentally she crossed her fingers, hoping Angel would take the bait.
‘It sounds wonderful. Will you send me the playlist?’
‘You can hear it yourself if you come on Saturday night.’
Angel hitched a tiny breath. ‘True.’
She held her head high and set her mouth in a determined line that heartened Bo. However, a moment later her eyes narrowed and she whispered, ‘It’s Kelvin. I’d better get back to work.’
Bo turned to see Kelvin march in, golf umbrella in one hand, a phone clamped to his ear with the other. He shoved the umbrella in a stand by the door, before stopping by a wheelbarrow display, still barking into his mobile. His voice echoed around the warehouse space.
‘Yeah, I can do you a deal, pal. I’ll be giving it away, mind, but you’re a mate so I’ll do you a favour.’
He was wearing a Harris tweed jacket and matching cap, with red chinos and brogues, yet he was only Bo’s age.
Bo picked up her flower pot but whispered around the side of it to Angel, ‘Who does he think he is? Lord of the manor?’
‘He says he needs to look the part. “The Gentleman Farmer” and all that, but his designer stuff is brand new. No real farmer would be seen dead in that kind of fancy gear. If it isn’t full of holes and covered in dog hair, they wouldn’t touch it.’
Kelvin was now on another call. ‘Yeah, just sold him a shedload of compost. He thinks he got it at cost but I’m making thirty percent on top. Some people are so gullible. Haw-haw. Yeah, mate, see you down the club tomorrow. Shame we couldn’t get a round in. Thank God for the nineteenth hole, eh?’
He ended his call with a braying laugh.
‘I’d better go,’ Bo said hastily. ‘Please do come to Flingers, won’t you?’ Her eyes telegraphed an appeal to Angel, who nodded and immediately started brushing soil from the plants off the counter into a bin. She clearly wanted to look occupied now her boss was on the scene.
Bo headed for the door, crossing paths with Kelvin who nodded at her flowers and grinned. ‘Nice blooms, love,’ he said with a grin.
Ignoring him, Bo sailed straight past, yet she could still hear him talking to Angel, or at Angel. ‘Angel. You look like you need something to do. Get onto Mullion Feeds and tell them I want a new order of seed and I want a big discount. Don’t let them get away with anything less than twenty percent. They’re overcharging us …’
‘But Kelvin, I already persuaded them to give us a bigger discount than any other customer they deal with and that’s only out of goodwill because they know me – I mean, your uncle.’
Kelvin snorted. ‘I keep telling you, my uncle’s not in charge now. Mullion are taking us for a ride. You can do a lot better than that, from what I heard in the club – in my business meeting – this morning. If anyone calls, I’ll be in my office looking at how I can trim some of the fat off this business – and I don’t want to be disturbed.’ He glared at Angel, as if to imply she might be some of the ‘fat’.
