11 The Teashop on the Corner (39 page)

‘Where are we going?’ asked Leni, as Shaun turned right when he should have turned left on Higher Hoppleton Lane.

‘I’ve left my drill. I’m calling home to get a spare. You need a bolt on your door.’ He’d noticed on his last visit that she didn’t have one. He thought she
might benefit from some extra security, especially now.

‘Did you see our Leslie slip in the chocolate cake, Mr McCarthy?’ came Ryan’s giggle-filled voice from the back. ‘He must have split his nuts.’

‘Ryan.’ Leni’s voice was disapproving.

‘Cat all right?’ said Shaun, trying not to let the smile show on his face.

Ryan was poking his finger through Mr Bingley’s carry case. ‘He’s purring. Leslie missed him. I’d have killed him if he had hurt him.’

‘Thank you for this, Mr McCarthy,’ said Leni again. ‘It’s much appreciated.’

Shaun made a grunting noise as if embarrassed by her gratitude. He drove on in silence until he swung into a twisting private road and braked outside his gothic-style house.

‘This where you live? Wow,’ said Ryan, seemingly very impressed. ‘Any chance I could go to your toilet, Mr McCarthy, please?’

‘Erm, yeah, of course. Come in.’ Then, without thinking, he extended the invite to Leni. ‘Come in yourself, and wait if you like,’ he said, then wished he hadn’t.
He was only going to be a couple of minutes – he didn’t have to say that.

Leni got out of the car and followed Shaun and Ryan down the path to the front door.

‘It’s like the house in
Psycho
,’ said Ryan, his head at a severe angle as he looked up at the high roof.

‘Thanks very much,’ said Shaun, not attempting to hide his indignation.

‘In a good way though,’ added Ryan, hopping from foot to foot now.

Shaun pushed the door open to let Ryan in first. ‘Straight forward through the kitchen and it’s the end door you need.’ Ryan sped off. Shaun stood aside to let Leni in.
‘Take a seat, I’ll not be a moment.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. There was none of the usual strength in her voice, he noted. She was as meek as her cat. He saw her sit down tentatively at the large kitchen table and
wondered if she was in pain. She’d possibly hurt her back when Leslie O’Gowan threw her against the wall; not that he could ask to inspect any injury. A sudden vision of him seated
where she was, Leni standing between his legs lifting her blouse to allow him to search for damage rose unbidden in his head. He thought her skin would be pale and soft and fragranced.

Shaun strode off fast as much to escape the image as to be quick and get his drill, which, as luck would have it, wasn’t where he thought it was. Then he remembered that he’d left it
in the garage.

As Leni waited in the kitchen she looked around admiringly at the size of the room and the design. She guessed Shaun McCarthy had made the units himself. They were rustic oak, designed to look
as if they’d been there for many years. It was a kitchen she suspected he didn’t use that much because of how pristine it was. She wondered if he had refurbished the house for himself
or with a view to selling on. It was certainly a big chunk of building for a single man. The kitchen was perfect and she imagined the rest of the house would be finished off to the same standard,
but it was lacking something – little touches that turned a house into a home, that softened and comforted: flowers in a pot in the windowsill, a cushion on a seat that indicated it might be
a reading chair, pictures, well-used recipe books on a shelf.

Ryan appeared in the kitchen doorway, puffing out his cheeks with relief.

‘I feel better now,’ he said.

‘Good,’ said Leni with a gentle smile.

Shaun appeared. ‘Got it,’ he said.

‘You have a lovely house, Mr McCarthy,’ said Leni.

‘It’s all right,’ said Shaun, following her to the door, catching the light honeyed perfume that trailed behind her.

*

Bernard and Molly were in the kitchen making chips and fried eggs, lots of bread and butter and a big pot of tea. Harvey had waited until they were both out of earshot before he
asked the question.

‘So, Margaret, who did you see waiting for me?’

‘What do you mean?’ Margaret replied with gruff indignation.

‘Someone is here, aren’t they? To take me across the river Styx.’ His blue eyes fixed on hers and his eyebrows raised to their limit.

‘Don’t be daft. I haven’t seen anything like that for years.’

‘It would be a comfort to know,’ Harvey said. ‘Unless it’s an old bloke with a handlebar moustache and a walking stick. That would be Uncle Selwyn. Vile old
bugger.’

‘There’s no one but us in this room,’ said Margaret, her back as stiff as her voice. ‘Now, was that true about you not taking our Molly’s jewellery when you
left?’

‘On my life,’ said Harvey, ‘which doesn’t sound like much of a guarantee at the moment, but no. I wouldn’t have done that. I knew those pieces in her jewellery box
meant the world to her. I even took off my wedding ring and left it with hers in the box before I went. I thought she could at least sell it.’

‘We always thought it was strange that you didn’t try and get money out of her when you divorced. We presumed you’d taken the jewellery to hurt her because you knew it meant so
much to her. Or to sell to pay off your gambling debts,’ she added the last phrase with a sniff.

‘No, never.’ Harvey shook his head slowly from side to side. ‘I went to prison once for theft and I came out a changed man. Thieves are the scum of the earth. People and their
things are often very entwined, I’ve learned. When you take someone’s possessions, you can rip their heart out as well. That’s why I’ve always travelled light. My treasures
are all in here. Memories,’ and he tapped the side of his head.

Harvey’s eyes locked on to Margaret’s and he saw in them that she believed him. A slow smile spread across his lips and he said, ‘Thank you.’

She knew what he meant by that.

‘There are things I wish I’d said to you, Harvey,’ she blurted, her voice shaking with rare tearfulness. ‘About Molly. I’ve never forgiven myself . . .’

‘She told me,’ smiled Harvey. ‘She told me it all.’

‘But too late.’ Margaret wiped the single tear that was racing down her cheek.

Harvey raised his shoulders and dropped them with a sigh. ‘I’m glad I got to know eventually, in the end. It gave me answers to all the questions I’d been pondering about for
years. We will part as friends. I hope you and I will too.’

The conversation ended as Bernard came into the room with a tray full of bread and butter, chips and egg.

‘I’m ready for this after all that rich food we’ve had,’ he laughed. ‘What a feast.’

And Molly and Margaret, Bernard and Harvey broke bread together for the first time in twenty-eight years. And the last.

If Ryan’s eyes grew to saucers when he saw Shaun’s house, they were positively dinner plates when he walked into Leni’s cottage.

‘This is bloody lovely,’ he said.

‘Oi you, no swearing,’ Shaun admonished.

‘Sorry,’ Ryan made an embarrassed grimace at Leni.

‘Ah, don’t you worry,’ smiled Leni. ‘Would you let Mr Bingley out of his carrier please, Ryan? Sit down and put on the TV if you like.’

Ryan took off his shoes and placed them neatly by the door, then he unhooked the catch on the cat carrier. Mr Bingley made a lazy exit and plonked down on the mat in front of the black iron
range. Ryan picked up the remote and clicked on the TV.

‘He’s at home too quick,’ said Shaun, unfastening his toolbox and taking out a bolt.

‘I’d rather he were like that than scared to move,’ said Leni. ‘Can I get you a drink? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?’

Shaun asked for a hot chocolate. The cottage was a hot chocolate sort of place, he thought. Leni made three hot chocolates, presuming that Ryan wouldn’t say no. She brought them out with a
plate of soft-baked cookies which she set on a small table at the side of the sofa. Shaun didn’t take a sip until he had fitted a bolt to both the top and bottom of the front door, though it
didn’t take him long. The chocolate was thick and creamy and for a moment Shaun wished he could take a seat at the side of Ryan on that big cushioned sofa. Sister Rose-Maria had once brought
him a cup of hot chocolate when he was ill with mumps. She had a Crunchie hidden in her pocket for him too. Chocolate wasn’t allowed in the dormitories usually. It was the first time he had
ever had a hot chocolate and it was even nicer than he thought it would taste.

‘That’ll help get you on your feet,’ said Sister Rose-Maria. ‘I put an extra spoonful of chocolate in and the bar is a wee present from me for doing so well in maths. I
hear you got top marks in the class.’

I did it for you
, he was desperate to say to her.
I wanted to show you that I could do it
. But all he really said was ‘Thanks, Sister.’ And she had chuckled and
fixed him with her bright, bright cheerful eyes and somehow he thought she knew what words were inside him reserved for her, even though they wouldn’t come out.

‘I’m proud of you, Shaun McCarthy. Now eat that chocolate quickly before anyone sees and we both get into trouble,’ she had said and ruffled his hair before levering herself to
her old feet. And he thought his heart would burst like a balloon inside him with pride. A little went a long way with a starving child.

Shaun checked the front windows. They had locks on them. How could anyone have those and yet a door that a five-year-old could have broken into with a hairgrip?

‘You need that door lock changing as well. I’ll come and do it soon for you.’ He sipped his chocolate and the warmth spread all the way inside him, right down to his toes.
‘I’m presuming the back door is the same as this one.’

Leni gave him a puzzled look. ‘I don’t really know about locks.’

‘Okay to go through?’ Shaun closed his toolbox, picked it up and gestured to the kitchen.

‘Yes of course.’

Her kitchen would have fitted six times into his own at least but it would have given it a lesson in how to be welcoming. Bright yellow checked curtains hung at the windows and a jar of freesias
sat in the middle of the small kitchen table, diffusing their sweet heady scent. There was an orange teapot on the table, painted to make it look as if it were a sleeping ginger cat. The door was
obscured by a thick brocade curtain woven into a pattern of books on shelves. Leni pulled it to one side.

‘Can I make you a sandwich or something?’ she asked, as Shaun bent once again to his toolbox.

‘I’m fine,’ he replied. ‘I’ll get something at home.’

‘That’s a lovely kitchen you have to cook in,’ Leni remarked.

‘I don’t cook that much,’ said Shaun, plugging in his drill.

‘It’s a big old house, too. I wish mine were that size.’

‘No you don’t,’ Shaun said, seeing Leni wince and fold over slightly. ‘I rattle around in it. Did O’Gowan hurt you?’

‘I’m sure it’s only a bruise,’ she replied. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just bob in and see if Ryan is okay.’

He watched her as she smoothed her hand over Ryan’s hair, enquiring if he was all right. The boy had landed right on his feet here. He wouldn’t want to go back to the family home in
Ketherwood with its stench of cannabis and grime. And who could blame him? What would
he
have felt like if any of his foster homes had had a house as comforting as this and a woman to
greet him with a smile? He didn’t know how any of those had ever passed muster to take on children. One house had been so cold he had to sleep in his plimsolls as well as his socks and there
was never any water warm enough to take a proper bath in. He imagined Ryan would have a soak later in water hot enough to steam the whole house up, scented with half a bottle of bubble bath that
smelt like ice-cream.

‘Okay, I’m done,’ said Shaun. ‘I’ll come up with your car later. I’ll put the keys through your letter-box so as not to disturb you.’

Leni made a sudden move towards Shaun and he took an instinctive step backwards. ‘I was just taking that ball from your coat,’ Leni explained. Shaun looked at his sleeve to see a
furry ping-pong attached to it.

‘It’s Mr Bingley’s sticky toy,’ said Leni.

‘Oh.’ Shaun pulled it off and handed it to her. He had embarrassed her, moving away from her so quickly as if she revolted him. If only she knew that he wanted her to lean towards
him. He wished he could have sunk his nose into her chocolate brown hair and breathed her in. God he was fucked up. He needed to get out of here.

‘What do I owe . . .’

Shaun held his hand up. ‘It’s fine. If you have any funny business with his family, don’t hesitate to ring the police. They aren’t reasonable. You can’t talk to
them so don’t even try.’

‘I promise,’ said Leni. ‘Thank you.’

Shaun reached for his toolbox. Ryan was now sitting with Mr Bingley on his knee, eating biscuits. If only Shaun had had a temporary mother in his childhood like Leni. Maybe then he
wouldn’t have grown up into an ice-man, he thought to himself as he walked out of the warm cottage and into the cool July night.

*

He returned an hour later with Leni’s car and a couple of black bin bags. It appeared that Leslie O’Gowan had dumped everything his younger brother owned on the
teashop doorstep. Shaun gathered up the clothes, school uniform, the socks with worn soles and holes, the tatty trainers, the books, the school bag, a water bottle which looked as if it had been
stamped on, some ripped up papers and certificates. He knocked on the door and handed them over without accepting the offer to come in. He thought that he might have been tempted not to leave again
if he stepped forward into the warmth and light of Leni Merryman’s space.

‘Come and talk to me for a moment,’ said Harvey, seeing Molly pass the doorway as she crossed from the bathroom to her bedroom. ‘Wasn’t that lovely
today, having a meal with Bernard and Margaret?’

Molly walked into the room in her pink fluffy dressing gown and matching slippers. Her long snowy hair was loose and lay on her shoulders.

‘You look like a young girl,’ he grinned, patting the bed cover.