This Could Change Everything(23)

‘You mean have I found myself a new one? No, not yet.’

‘I meant have you heard from the old one?’

‘I haven’t,’ said Essie.

‘Well, if there’s anything I can do . . .’

At least he was feeling guilty. As he should be. But it was one of those polite but meaningless offers. After a moment, she shook her head. ‘No. I’m the one who wrote those things. It’s me he can’t forgive.’ If anything, Paul might be grateful to Lucas for having revealed her true feelings towards his mother. Up until then, he’d had no idea.

‘Do you miss him?’

A memory instantly began to play in her brain, of the morning of her last birthday, when she had sat up in bed and Paul had brought her all the foods she loved best, even though he categorically disapproved of hot chocolate, a Greggs sausage roll and two cream doughnuts for breakfast. He’d done it because he loved her. He’d even stuck lighted candles in the doughnuts.

And there were so many other happy memories like that. You couldn’t help replaying the good ones, could you?

Essie looked at Lucas. What a stupid question. ‘Of course I miss him.’

‘Well, you never know, maybe he’ll change his mind. Give it a few more days and he might realise he overreacted.’

Did he genuinely believe this? Essie said, ‘I doubt it. Shall I go downstairs and start work?’

Lucas was looking at her intently, as if there was something else he wanted to say to her.

She waited. The moment passed. Finally he nodded. ‘That’d be great.’





Chapter 11


‘My goodness!’ Zillah exclaimed, fanning herself with her gloved hands. ‘So many people. Are you managing OK?’

It was the following morning, the last Sunday before Christmas, and the countdown was now happening in earnest. From behind armfuls of shopping Essie said, ‘I’m fine. How about you?’

‘Darling, you’re the one having to carry everything. I feel like the Queen. Shall we get a coffee before heading back? Give our feet a rest?’

‘If you like.’ Essie, in her flat pirate boots, was impressed by Zillah’s choice of navy patent leather court shoes with three-inch heels.

In one of the independent cafés hidden away down a narrow side street they found a free table and ordered cappuccinos and cakes from the waitress.

‘You don’t miss a thing, do you?’ Amused, Essie noted the way Zillah shrugged off her coat, adjusted her sunset-hued scarf and gazed intently around the room at each of the other customers in turn.

‘I’m interested in people. I just love to watch them. Everyone’s fascinating in their own way, aren’t they?’ Zillah thanked the waitress who’d brought over their drinks. ‘I’m curious about other people’s lives. Or plain nosy. One of the two.’

‘Maybe that’s what keeps you young,’ said Essie.

‘Ha, yes, could be! I can’t possibly pop my clogs yet.’ Zillah was busy adding sugar to her coffee. ‘Not while there are still so many people to watch and listen to and wonder about.’ She leaned closer and whispered, ‘See those two women sitting over there by the window? They’re pretending to be friends but they can’t stand each other!’

‘You can tell just by looking at them?’ Essie was wildly impressed.

‘I’m not Derren Brown.’ Zillah burst out laughing. ‘The skinny one’s my doctor’s ex-wife, and the blonde one’s his current one.’

‘Oof.’

‘He’s a good GP but he’s always been a bit of a one for the ladies. It makes visits to the surgery great fun,’ said Zillah. ‘OK, how about those two men next to the door?’

They speculated happily about several of the other customers before moving on to cover last-minute presents, the purple velvet beret Zillah had been tempted to buy in Jolly’s, and the merits of salted caramel versus peanut butter Magnums.

Twenty minutes later, coffee and cakes finished, Zillah beckoned the waitress over to ask for the bill.

‘And could I also pay for whatever the lady in the corner is having?’ She’d lowered her voice. ‘The one in the grey raincoat.’

‘Oh!’ The waitress sounded surprised. ‘She ordered a pot of tea and a slice of lemon drizzle cake. Is that OK?’

Zillah nodded. ‘Absolutely. But when she asks for her bill, please don’t tell her who took care of it.’

Essie looked over at the woman, who was, at a guess, in her early seventies. Her hair was short and silver-grey, she was wearing brown shoes with worn-down heels, and her mac appeared to be a few years old too. Between sips of tea, she was either gazing out of the window or turning the pages of the magazine on the table in front of her.

Once they’d left the café, Essie said to Zillah, ‘Did you know her?’

‘No, darling. I just thought she looked a bit sad.’

Essie nodded. ‘She did.’

‘There was a wedding ring on her left hand, but it was too big for her, as if she’d lost weight but couldn’t bear to stop wearing it. Maybe her husband recently died and this is her first Christmas without him.’

‘And that’s why you paid her bill?’

‘Why not? It might brighten her day, just a tiny bit.’ Zillah flashed a smile. ‘It certainly brightens mine.’