Million Love Songs(107)

‘Well, it’s hardly going to be for me, is it?’

‘Give it here then.’

Charlie, smiling, snatches it from my reach before, smugly, handing it over.

On the receipt Joe has written, ‘Call me, please,’ and his phone number. As if I’ve ever deleted it.

My heart thumps in my chest and I look at Charlie, stricken. ‘What?’ she asks.

I hand back the receipt and she reads the message. ‘Wow. Nice work.’

‘What shall I do?’

‘Call him, you muppet!’

‘When?’

‘Now!’

‘It’s not too soon?’

‘No time like the present.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Perhaps you don’t need to say anything at all. Do it, woman!’

‘I don’t know. What if it all goes horribly wrong again? What if his wife comes back a second time? What if his kids find out that they really hate me?’

‘Then at least you’ll know you tried.’

I chew at my fingernails, wracked with indecision. This is too important to mess up. Take That come on the iPod singing ‘A Million Love Songs’.

‘It’s a flipping OMEN,’ Charlie says.

The lyrics do seem particularly pertinent and a big ball of emotion lodges in my throat. How can I speak to Joe now?

‘If you don’t call him, then I bloody well will.’ She goes to wrest my mobile from my hand.

‘I will. I will. I’ll call.’ With trembling fingers, I find his number and punch the button. A second later, his phone rings.

Instantly, Joe answers. His breathing is ragged, uncertain.

‘Ruby?’ he says and there’s a world of hope in the way he says my name.

I nod, which I realise is pathetic.

‘Thanks.’ He lets out a wavering breath. ‘Thanks for giving me another chance.’ I can hear the relief and the love in his voice.

‘Me too.’ My eyes fill with tears. We can make it work this time. I know that we can. ‘Where do we go from here?’ I ask.

‘Look up,’ he says.

When I do, I see him standing in the street outside the café window and he’s grinning right back at me. Next to him, the kids are running round, punching the air and cheering. And Gary Barlow sings about love, love, love.