Staying at Daisy's (13 page)

Daisy had made a point of not fussing over Barney since his arrival. He appeared to be settling well into his job and Vince had told her he was a willing and eager worker, already proving a hit with the guests—particularly the female variety—thanks to his cheerful manner and fresh-faced good looks.

But moving to Colworth from Manchester had to be a huge shock to the system. Worried that he might be lonely or homesick, she cornered Rocky in the bar later that afternoon.

‘How’s Barney getting on?’

‘Fine, I think.’

‘You think?’ Daisy frowned. ‘Don’t you
know
?’

‘He seems OK.’ Bewildered, Rocky said, ‘I haven’t really seen that much of him outside work.’

‘Well, that’s not very kind, is it? When a group of you go out to the Hollybush, do you invite him along?’ Daisy experienced a surge of indignation on Barney’s behalf. She pictured him sitting alone in his little attic room, feeling excluded from the crowd, miserably wondering why nobody wanted to be his friend.

‘Of course we’ve invited him,’ Rocky protested. ‘You know we try to make the new staff feel welcome. But Barney always says no.’

They obviously weren’t trying hard enough, Daisy thought crossly.

‘You mean he stays here all on his own?’

‘You must be joking,’ Rocky exclaimed. ‘He’s got himself a girlfriend, hasn’t he? And I’m telling you, a couple of our waitresses had their eye on him and they were well pissed off when they found out he was already taken.’

Daisy was amazed. ‘A girlfriend? What, here?
Already?
’

‘The quiet ones are always the worst.’ Rocky grinned, relieved that the misunderstanding had been cleared up and that he was off the hook. ‘The moment he comes off shift, we don’t see Barney for dust. He gets into his car and, zoom, straight off down the M4. She lives in Bristol.’

Well, well, well, who’d have thought it? Maybe this was why he’d been so eager to move down here in the first place.

‘Actually, you’re wrong,’ said Daisy.

‘She does! Barney told me she lived in Bristol!’

‘I meant about the quiet ones being the worst.’ Daisy raised a playful eyebrow. ‘From what I hear, you’re certainly one of the worst. And nobody could call you quiet.’

***

Barney was loving every minute of his job. He was currently loving every minute of his life. Finishing his day shift at five o’clock meant he could strip off his porter’s uniform, jump into the shower, change into jeans and a sweatshirt, and be in Bristol by six. The car he had bought for four hundred pounds in Manchester—a rusty Rover in a distressing shade of mauve—was bearing up so far, intermittently belching out great clouds of black smoke but bravely refusing to do the girly thing and break down on the motorway. It wouldn’t last forever, but it was doing well enough for now.

Barney’s absolute favorite moment of the day was when he pulled into Mel’s street and drew up outside her flat. Next moment the front door would swing open and there she’d be, with Freddie on her hip, beaming all over her face.

It just felt so… special. Barney couldn’t get over how great she made him feel. All his life, through no fault of his own, he had been looked after by other people. Now, for the first time, the balance was equal. He knew that Mel looked forward to his arrival just as much as he looked forward to seeing her.

Their first evening together, Barney had turned up as promised with a takeaway from the Chinese place around the corner. The next evening Mel had made a lasagna, and the evening after that she’d served up sausages with fried onions and gravy, followed by chocolate mousse.

‘You don’t have to cook me a meal every time I come round here,’ Barney protested. ‘It isn’t fair on you.’

‘Why isn’t it fair?’ Mel’s grey eyes sparkled. ‘I like cooking for you. It’s just so nice having you here.’

But Barney’s conscience was at work. Food cost money, after all. Feeling wonderfully macho (me Tarzan, you Mel), he told her, ‘Tomorrow night, we’re going to the big supermarket at Emerson’s Green. They’re open ’till eight.’

That had been yesterday, and now he was outside Mel’s flat. Mel, locking the front door behind her, was wearing her red fleece and jeans, and Freddie was bundled up in his navy snowsuit. Jumping out to fasten the child seat into the back of the car, Barney realized he was as excited as if they were setting out on a trip to Disneyland, Paris.

He’d never pressed her for details of Freddie’s father. Just once, he’d asked casually if there was a chance he’d ever come back. Mel, shaking her head, had replied firmly, ‘No chance at all. He’s gone for good.’

This was fine by Barney.

It felt fantastic, trawling up and down the supermarket’s busy aisles with Mel at his side and Freddie beaming happily from his seat in the trolley.

We look like a normal family, thought Barney, swelling with pride as an old lady stopped to coo with delight over Freddie.

‘Ooh, that’s a lovely little boy you’ve got there,’ she complimented Barney. ‘Going to be a real heartbreaker when he grows up.’

‘He doesn’t do so badly now,’ Barney told her with a grin.

‘We’ll go halves with the bill,’ Mel said, as the trolley began to fill up. ‘I can’t let you pay for his nappies.’

‘I want to. Please, just let me do it.’ Barney was firm. ‘I’ve never been to a supermarket like this before.’ Hastily he added, ‘I mean, the three of us together.’

Smiling, Mel briefly squeezed his arm. ‘Neither have I.’

By seven thirty they were back at her chilly basement flat. Mel, busy unpacking carrier bags and putting everything away in cupboards, watched Barney switch on the gas fire, carefully fasten the fireguard back around it, then help Freddie out of his padded snowsuit. Her heart contracted at the sight of the two of them laughing together. It was almost scary, the difference Barney had made to their lives in such a short time.

For the first time in over a year, Mel realized, she felt normal. OK, maybe it did sound pathetic, but being together in the supermarket, giving the appearance of being a family, had been a real thrill. Since Freddie’s birth it had been something she’d yearned to do; each routine shopping trip had been accompanied by a jolt of envy whenever she saw a proper family, the father pushing the trolley, entertaining his child, humping the heavy bags into the car…

Exhausted by his evening jaunt, Freddie was fast asleep within minutes. As Mel was tucking him into his cot, Barney appeared behind her in the bedroom and whispered, ‘Red wine or white?’

‘White,’ Mel whispered back, then jumped as his hand came to rest on her shoulder. Together they gazed down at Freddie with his long eyelashes casting shadows over his flushed cheeks, his little arms flung above his head.

‘He’s perfect,’ said Barney.

So are you, thought Mel.

Back in the living room, she saw that he had laid the table, lit candles, and torn open the foil-lined bag containing their spit-roasted, ready-cooked chicken. The salad had been dressed and tipped into a bowl, the garlic baguettes were warm, and their pudding—rhubarb crumble and double cream—awaited them on top of the fridge.

Hot tears of gratitude sprang into Mel’s eyes. She wasn’t a wimp and she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but… oh, it was
so
nice to be spoilt for a change. Even if Barney had lit the ornamental carved red candles that were far too pretty and expensive to ever actually use.

After dinner, with Macy Gray crooning soulfully away in the background, they played Scrabble. The room was warm now and Barney had pulled off his navy sweater. Inwardly buzzing with anticipation, Mel wondered whether tonight would be the night he made his move. If Freddie stayed asleep and she managed to persuade Barney to drink a second glass of wine, it just might happen. Of course she could take the lead herself but was determined not to. She didn’t want Barney to think of her as some brazen seducer who went around ripping men’s trousers off willy-nilly.

Besides, Mel sensed that he would want to be the one who made the decision; she had to leave the first move up to him. It would be awful to scare him off and lose someone she cared for so—

RRRINGG, went the doorbell, startling them both.

‘Who’s that?’ said Barney.

‘No idea.’ Mel uncurled her feet from beneath her and slid off the sofa; she didn’t have any friends likely to drop in unannounced. ‘Unless it’s that moaning Minnie from the flat upstairs, complaining about the noise again.’

Actually, this was quite likely.

Barney gazed up at the ceiling in bewilderment. ‘What noise?’

‘God, any kind you can think of. Putting our Scrabble letters down on the board in a clicky way. Taking the wrapper off a bar of soap. Brushing your hair noisily. Anything,’ Mel rolled her eyes in despair. ‘That bloody woman has ears like a bat.’

To be on the safe side, she turned Macy Gray off before answering the door.

If the old bat upstairs was Mel’s least favorite visitor, the skinny woman on the doorstep ran her a close second. Mrs Jefferson, her landlady, was in her late forties, with a face like a hatchet and a manner to match.

Typically, she didn’t hang about.

‘Here’s your written notice to leave.’ She thrust the envelope into Mel’s hands and glanced icily at Barney, who had appeared behind Mel. ‘You’ve got one month to get out.’

Instantly Mel felt sick. Being booted out of her flat had long been one of those vague fears floating around in her subconscious, but she’d never really expected it to happen.

‘Why?’

‘I’m selling the building.’

This was a blatant lie.

‘I’m not noisy,’ Mel insisted.

‘You may not be, but your kid is. I’ve had endless complaints,’ Mrs Jefferson snapped back.

‘That’s not true! Freddie’s a
happy
baby.’

‘Glad to hear it. If he’s so fantastic, you won’t have any trouble finding another place to live.’

‘But this isn’t
fair
,’ wailed Mel, so loudly that Freddie promptly woke up and began to bawl. ‘It’s that bloody boss-eyed old witch upstairs, isn’t it? I’m telling you, she’s barking mad!’

‘Really?’ Mrs Jefferson, her voice like permafrost, said, ‘How interesting. She’s also my mother.’

***

‘I don’t care, I don’t care. This is a shitty dump anyway.’ Mel’s voice quavered as she recklessly sloshed wine into her glass, but she wasn’t the weepy-waily type. She was damned if she’d cry. Waving a dismissive arm, she said bitterly, ‘I mean, look at it. Bosnian refugees would turn their noses up at this place. I’ll find somewhere better in no time.’

Barney’s heart contracted with love. He’d give anything for Mel to burst into tears now, so he could comfort her properly. Then again, the fact that she was trying so hard not to cry only made him love her more.

Was it love? Really? Barney didn’t care; he just knew he’d do anything he could to help Mel.

Anyway, she was right. Despite her best efforts to clean it up, this place was still a dump. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls, the window frames were rotten, the carpets practically worn down to the threads.

‘I’ll go with you when you go flat-hunting,’ he told Mel. ‘We’ll find somewhere great, you’ll see.’

Mel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. ‘Who are we kidding? We won’t find anywhere great at all. If I’m very, very lucky I may find somewhere marginally less damp and disgusting, occupied by a slightly better class of cockroach.’

Barney put his arm round her. ‘What about the council?’

‘You mean go into a hostel? Spend six months in some bed and breakfast place before they offer me something on the sixteenth floor of a drug-infested tower block? Forget it. Anyway,’ Mel gave herself a shake and abruptly stood up, ‘this isn’t your problem, and we’re not going to talk about it anymore. Help yourself to another drink,’ she added over her shoulder. ‘I’m just going to the loo.’

Two minutes later, plonking herself back down on the sofa, Mel turned her attention to the Scrabble board and said briskly, ‘Now, where were we? Is it your turn next or mine?’

Then her gaze slid over the letters propped up on her letter stand. Eight of them now, instead of the seven that had been there before.

The letters spelled out: I LOVE YOU.

For a long moment Mel was too choked to speak.

At last she said unsteadily, ‘You know I could have sworn I had a J and an X just now.’ Then her eyes softened. ‘But I much prefer these.’

‘I want to make you happy,’ Barney told her.

‘You do make me happy.’ Mel leaned over and kissed him, tentatively, on the corner of his mouth. She pulled away, then kissed him again, her eyelashes trembling against his cheek. Two brief kisses, that was enough. She wasn’t a strumpet. The rest was up to Barney.

Barney took the hint. Tilting his head, his mouth found hers. The next moment his arms were round her. Emotion welled up inside him and he drew Mel closer still, feeling the rapid thud of her heart through her thin grey sweatshirt.

Overwhelmed by the effect she was having on him, Barney cradled her head in his hands and wondered if it was possible to feel happier than this.

Then, as Mel’s fingers moved tentatively to the front of his jeans, he discovered it
was
possible.

‘I love you too,’ she whispered in his ear.

This, Barney realized, was why he had never gone in for one-night stands. Why would anyone want to settle for anything less perfect than this?

***

Freddie remained asleep in his cot in Mel’s bedroom. By unspoken mutual consent, they made love in the living room, on the rug in front of the gas fire.

Afterwards, Mel said dreamily, ‘I thought he might wake up again.’

‘He’s on our side.’ Barney smiled and stroked her hair, admiring her body in the flickering orange glow of the fire. He loved the fact that she was so unselfconscious about being naked and the teasing way she ran her hands over his chest. In fact he wished they could stay here like this for ever.

‘What’s this?’ Mel’s fingers had moved lower and sideways, towards his back. Gently, she explored the fine, four-inch scar with her fingertips.