Barefoot in the Dark (10 page)

Chapter 11

Jack had just finished emailing his youth team round-up to the
Echo
when the phone rang. It was Saturday evening. Ergo ‘Stars in Their Eyes’ and another exciting night in. He used to enjoy ‘Stars in Their Eyes’, in a slumming-it, detached, wind-up-Lydia sort of way. Now he just watched it. How sad was that? He padded out to the hall and stooped to pick up the receiver.

‘Hello,’ said a voice. ‘It’s Hope Shepherd. Are you in?’

Jack wiggled his bare toes. This was a surprise. ‘I certainly seem to be,’ he said.

‘Only I’m around and about and wondered if I could pop by.’ She paused. ‘Er… I’ve got something for you.’

A pleasant surprise. A
very
pleasant surprise. This was telling him something, and he really ought to listen. He nearly said ‘that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse’ but stopped himself. Too lewd. Too suggestive. She sounded a bit nervous.

‘Well, that sounds most intriguing,’ he said instead. ‘What sort of something?’

‘Ah. You’ll have to wait and see.’ He could hear a smile in her voice now. ‘About half an hour or so? Would that be OK?’

She was calling from a mobile. He could hear white noise around her. ‘That,’ he replied. ‘Would be very OK.’

By the time Hope’s car pulled up in the road Jack had done the two things most important in an unscheduled-female-visitor situation. Removed his boxer shorts from the bathroom floor and cleaned his teeth. He’d been in two minds about re-freezing the chicken tikka biriani he’d been defrosting for his supper, but in the end plumped for relocating it to the fridge. There was always room in the day for curry. Breakfast tomorrow, if need be.

He opened the door even before she was through the front gate, a manoeuvre she was executing with a fair degree of difficulty, as she seemed to be more dustbin liner than person from his vantage point. He walked down the path to help her, wincing as his feet made contact with the cold ground. She had the grey coat-thing on again. And – hurrah! – the boots.

‘Dismembered corpse? Hippo?’ he asked her as he heaved the bag from her. She scooped some hair from her face with a gloved hand.

‘Thanks. It’s not heavy. Just a bit bulky. There.’ She carefully shut the gate, as per Leonard’s laminated instruction, and followed him up the path. He could hear her heels click-clicking behind him.

The smell in the hallway was an unfortunate blend of cauliflower and damp carpet, and Jack was pleased he’d sprayed a bit of Ollie’s Ben Sherman anti-perspirant around before coming down. He must get some air freshener. He never seemed to think of things like that when he was shopping. But at least it had faded a little once they got up the stairs.

He wanted to usher her into the flat but the bin bag made the action potentially dangerous, so rather than sending her flailing off back down the staircase he went on in. He heard her shut the door behind them.

‘So,’ he said, dumping the bag down on the sofa. ‘This’ll be the something, then, will it?’ She nodded, beaming at him. ‘So what is it?’

She slipped her handbag from her shoulder and deposited her car keys in it.

‘See for yourself,’ she said, her expression a little bashful as she pulled off her gloves. ‘And you must tell me if you don’t like them. I won’t be offended. We can flog them off in the shop, no problem. So, you know. After I came round… well, I just wanted to do something. I just thought perhaps you’d appreciate something to… well… anyhow… I hope you don’t mind.’

She was saying all this while he was fiddling with the knot that held the bin bag together. Unsuccessfully, because it needed pygmy fingers. Or girl’s ones. So in the end he just ripped it open, man-style. A jumble of large cushions burst out. Six of them. Three leather patchwork, three suede. In various shades of brown and distress. Like the ones he’d seen back at the charity office.

And admired. Of course. ‘These all for me?’ he said, picking one up now and smoothing his hand across it. It was beautifully made. She nodded again and put her own hands in her pockets.

‘I just thought, with the flat and everything… well. Do you like them? I remembered the sofa was beige.’

He was lost for words. No-one had ever done anything like this for him before. Been kind like this. ‘Like them? They’re great, Hope. And that’s really –’ Not ‘nice’, for God’s sake. ‘Really thoughtful of you. But you must let me give you something for them. They must have –’

‘Don’t be daft.’ She took her hands out of the pockets and did the double hair-behind-the-ears thing. ‘I told you. I get all the jackets from the shop. It’s only a few cushion pads. And a bit of time. And as Kayleigh told me you’d said you –’

Jack ditched the rest of her sentence by stepping forward and planting a wholesome, closed lips, what-a-pal smacker on her mouth. Then hugged her.

‘You are
so
sweet, you know that?’

He let her go. She was scarlet. ‘I’m so glad you like them. They’ll work well in here.’ She reached across and picked up the empty bin bag, crumpling it in her hand.

Jack thought the only thing that would work well in his living room was a hefty JCB with a pile-driver on the front. But who cared. They would work perfectly well on their own. They were classy. That’s what they were. ‘They’ll look just – well – perfect,’ said Jack, groping for some interior design vocabulary and failing. ‘A darn sight better than these manky things, that’s for sure.’ He strode around the room, plucking the old ones up. Cushions. Fancy that. Fancy her making him cushions.

She was following his circuit now, placing the new ones where the old ones had been. Then she stood, hovering, while he shovelled the flowery ones into the back of one of the cupboards. Jack turned.

‘You taking your coat off, or what?’

‘Oh, right. I –’

‘Unless you’re in a rush or something.’ Jack suddenly wondered if she’d left her children in the car. But it was all right. She couldn’t have done. She was beginning to untoggle the toggles.

‘I’m not doing anything,’ he went on, to consolidate. ‘Just chilling. Heavy night last night. Stay for a while, why don’t you?’

The coat was undone now and she slipped it from her shoulders. She was wearing the wool dress she’d had on when they’d first gone out to lunch. Well, now. Saturday night. Nothing doing. Frozen Indian. Crap telly. And now cushions. And Hope. Here, in the flesh, in her boots and her dress. And tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, and the day after… well, they could go hang. She was here. This was now. ‘Well, if you don’t have to dash off anywhere, let me get you a drink or something, yes?’

‘That’ll be great, thanks.’

‘Beer, beer or beer?’ He paused a moment in the kitchen doorway, taking in the legs as she sat down on the sofa. ‘Only joking. I have meths too.’

She looked at him sideways. ‘A glass of wine would be good if you’ve got one. Just a small one. I’m driving.’ She sprang up again, and followed him into the kitchen.

‘Kids?’ he said, opening the fridge door as little as possible so she wouldn’t see how sad the contents were.

She shook her head. ‘At their father’s this weekend. Back tomorrow night.’ She’d moved across the kitchen now and pulled back the net curtain that hung across the door down to the garden.

‘It’s big, isn’t it?’ she was saying. ‘You’d never guess these houses had such long back gardens, would you? What does it back on to? Is it the railway?’

Jack started peeling the foil from the bottle of wine that had sat in the fridge since the last high school quiz night and raffle. It could be crap, easily. And the raffle ticket was still on it. He pulled it off. ‘Not quite. There’s allotments before that, just beyond the trees there.’

‘Nice in the summer.’

‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t intend – I sincerely hope – finding out. Anyway, I don’t use it. It’s not for the flat. I have that rope thing to hang out washing – as if!’ He uncorked the bottle and poured her a glass of wine, then picked up a Becks and opened it. ‘The garden’s Leonard’s. The landlord. That’s just a fire escape, really.’

She peered into the blackness outside. ‘But you have this little balcony.’

‘I have that little balcony. And if I’m still stuck here in the summer no doubt I’ll pop a few tubs of pansies on it. You know. Brighten the place up.’

She turned round to smile at him. ‘Yeah, right,’ she laughed. ‘Of course you will. But what’s that down the end? That big shed thing?’ She turned back to look outside.

‘At the end of the garden? Oh, that’s Leonard’s menagerie. He keeps all sorts down there. He’s got finches and canaries and chipmunks –’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Chipmunks?’

Jack nodded and took a swig of the beer. It wasn’t quite cold enough. He must turn the fridge up a bit more. He had no evidence, but he wasn’t altogether sure that Leonard didn’t let himself in when he was out and turn it down.

‘Chipmunks. He’s very fond of his animals, Leonard.’

‘Oh, chipmunks are so
sweet
. I had no idea you could keep them as pets.’

‘Oh, they’re not really pets. He doesn’t handle them. Just likes looking at them.’

Like he was liking looking at Hope now. Her face was reflected in the glass in the door, and she caught his expression before he had time to remove it. She smiled shyly at him. Then turned round.

‘Well,’ she said. ‘So what are your plans for the rest of the weekend?’

Was she being conversational or up front? She moved back across the kitchen and began studying the list of football fixtures on the fridge door. ‘I found it really strange at first after Iain went. When he had the children. Disenfranchised, you know? I’m sort of getting used to it, but I still feel not quite relaxed. Like I’m skiving off or something. I’m never sure quite what I should be doing.’ She sipped her wine. And didn’t grimace. ‘It must be
really
strange for you.’

Making conversation, then. But, hey, the night was young.

He gestured that they go back in the living room. He would put on some music. Yes, that would be good.

‘Like you say, you get used to it. But you’re right. It feels like a whole lot of time to fill sometimes. I only see Ollie Thursdays and every other weekend – this isn’t one of them, as you probably figured – so it’s a big life change, yes.’ He pulled out the CD rack and started flicking through it. Nirvana? Was she a Nirvana kind of person? Or would she be more Lighthouse Family? In which case he was well scuppered. ‘And no. No plans. I’ll spend some time writing tomorrow, probably. Meet up with Dan for a drink at some point, no doubt.’

She was crossing the room, looking over his shoulder as he flicked.

‘Dan?’

‘Danny. You met him at the studio, didn’t you?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure.’

‘Well, anyway, he’s got three kids. One of them a baby. He needs to get out more.’ They both laughed a been-there-and-done-that-one laugh.

‘Oh!’ she said, arresting his flicking with her hand. ‘You have the Chili Peppers! I love the Chili Peppers.’ She pulled the CD out and handed it to him.

‘Put that on. Track twelve.’

‘Yes, miss,’ said Jack. It was one of Ollie’s. It had his little sticker in the corner. Jack put his thumb over it. ‘Right away.’

By the time he’d put the CD on and an arresting electronic twanging had started up, Hope was back on the sofa and unzipping her boots. She glanced up.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘But my feet are killing me. I’ve been in these all afternoon.’

‘Around and about?’ he said, sitting in the armchair the better to view her.

She yanked them both off and tucked her legs up under her.

‘Shopping mainly. As you do. Plus, I had to go down to the Heartbeat shop to sort out the race application forms with Bet. Which reminds me. Are you going to be able to make the meeting OK next Tuesday? We’ve got both our main sponsors coming. I called your secretary but she wasn’t sure what your movements would be.’

Secretary? Fat chance. But Jack had already put it in his diary. Along with the meeting with Allegra in the afternoon. He was pinning so many hopes on his meeting with Allegra that he didn’t even want to think about it. Getting out of this hole, for one.

‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ he said. ‘Another drink?’ Her glass was still a third full but his beer was finished.

She looked at her watch then shook her head. ‘I’d better not.’

‘There’s no rush to go, you know.’ He stood up.

‘Go on then. Just half a glass.’

‘Great.’ He headed off to the kitchen. ‘What about food?’ he said, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He had no food apart from the Indian for one. But he could always have a take-away delivered. That would work. ‘You eaten?’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she called to him. ‘I don’t want to impose on your evening. I’ll probably have some soup or something when I get home.’

‘No rush,’ he said again, bringing the wine bottle back in with him. ‘My evening is more than happy to be imposed upon. And if it’s soup you’re after, I can easily oblige. As long as you like tomato.’ This time he sat on the sofa beside her and put another two inches into what was left in her glass.

‘I do, as it happens,’ she said, nodding to indicate there was enough in the glass now. She sipped at it and settled herself back against one of his stylish new cushions. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Isn’t this nice?’

There were so many routes to a successful seduction, but, for the life of him, Jack couldn’t get his head around what they were. All he knew – all that he could think right now – was that Hope (female, warm, fragrant, soft, smiley, yielding and ultimately, gloriously, alien) was sitting on his sofa, in his flat, and that they were all alone. And she was looking gorgeous. What the hell had he been thinking? There was absolutely no possibility that he was going to let the next hour or two pass without making an attempt at seducing her. He had absorbed all this information at lightning speed around the time, if not before, she had taken her boots off. He was a man and she was a woman and whatever reservations he might have had about the wisdom of getting involved with anyone like her right now, chances were that she had not, he figured, had sex for perhaps even longer than he had. That fact, together with the boots and the dress, was sufficient to make him determined that baggage could bugger off, that biology would out, that two people of the opposite sex in circumstances such as theirs would be committing a grievous crime if they didn’t allow their proximity to reach its evolutionary conclusion. But Hope was a woman. And women didn’t necessarily see things like that.