Two Kinds Of Truth(6)

I make my way over to the till, just as an elderly customer scurries into the shop.

“Have you any fresh carnations, dear?” she asks, warmly.

I point to a bucket near the shop window and the old lady waddles over. “I’ll have a few of these,” she says, pointing to a bunch of pink and white chrysanthemum’s, instead. “Oh and add a couple of those lovely white lilies into the bunch, too, please.”

I head over and pull the flowers from the water before taking them back to the counter and wrapping them in pretty patterned paper. The old woman thrusts a ten pound note into my hand.

“I’m off to the cemetery,” she explains, opening her shopping bag and placing the flowers inside. “My husband passed away just over a year ago and I always try and visit him once a week.”

I smile weakly as I give her, her change seeing the sorrow in her eyes, the way her mouth turns down ever so slightly.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I murmur.

The woman’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Do you know? he promised to take me to Paris, but we never made it. Time just seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, he was gone.” She places the few coins I offer her back inside her purse, but then hesitates and leans a little closer. “Take my advice, lovey, don’t leave everything too late. Enjoy your life whilst you still can. After all, you’re only young once.”

I nod and glance over my shoulder, to see Keira looking rather smug, then quickly return to watch the old lady as she leaves the shop, but that doesn’t stop Keira from coming over.

“You see? Even the customers think you should go to Scotland,” she laughs.

“Ha, ha; very funny,” I splutter, trying to hide a grin. “That’s not what she was saying at all.”

“It is, too,” Kiera insists. “She’s telling you that life’s too short.”

I let out a loud sigh.

“Whatever she meant, it’s not as though I’m going to die next week,” I proclaim. “Well, at least I hope not. Seriously, don’t you go worrying; I’ll get to Scotland, one way or another. For some strange reason, visiting the Highlands has now become important to me. Don’t ask me why, but I feel as though I’m spiritually being drawn back there. I want to… No, I need to see those glorious snowclad peaks again.”

Kiera’s face breaks into a glorious grin, but it just as quickly fades.

“So how will you convince Callum?” she asks.

I give her a wink. “Oh, that part’s easy. I just need to think of a way of using reverse psychology, of making him believe a trip to Scotland is all his idea.”

“Ah, I like your style, but do you have any idea how you’re going to do it?”

“Oh, indeed I do, and as Baldrick would say: ‘I have a very cunning plan’.”

***

“Haven’t you got any work to do?”

I glance up from the till, taken completely by surprise. “Hey, Callum, what are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d take you out to lunch,” and he tugs playfully at the sleeve of my shirt. So, what do you say?”

“Listen, I’m sorry about last night.”

“Forget last night. Let’s start over. I thought maybe we could go somewhere nice, together.”

I nod. “Sure; okay; so, where would you like to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Anywhere. You choose. Besides, I want to make it up to you.”

I catch Keira’s eye as she arches a perfectly shaped brow.

“Well,” I rush on to say, “I’m not one to turn down a free lunch,” and I force a grin. “However, I am wondering whether you’re coming down with a bug, or maybe even man flu?”

Callum chuckles, clearly trying to laugh off the dig, but I sense he isn’t amused.

“No, I’m not ill. I just want to go out to lunch with my wife; is that really so unusual?”

“Well, then, if you’re serious, we could go to Frankie and Benny’s? I hear they do great specials on Thursday’s.”

“Fine with me,” Callum acknowledges, then lifts my coat from its peg, and I’m soon zipped up, hat on my head, hands in my gloves.

“I’m ready,” I announce cheerily and nod to Keira. “Thanks for holding the fort. I’ll try not to be too long,” and I grab my handbag.

Kiera waves her hand dismissively, then pushes open the shop door. “Don’t worry. Take as long as you like,” she insists. “We’ve survived this morning’s mad rush, so go and enjoy yourself, for a change.”

I relish the thought of escaping the shop for a while. It isn’t often I get away and being with Callum makes this unexpected treat that much sweeter. I link my arm through my husband’s and he pulls me even closer, crossing the street, laughing and joking as we go.

Callum swings open the restaurant door and I can’t help but smirk as he acts the perfect gentleman. It’s great seeing this side of him again. It’s been far too long.

We hang about just inside the doorway for a few seconds, until an approaching waiter asks, “Table for two?”

I nod and he shows us to a vacant booth.

“This is nice,” I say, pulling off my hat and gloves. “We should do this more often.” I check out the restaurant as I unzip my coat, pleased to see the other customers are busy devouring their food. There’s a nice atmosphere about this place. It’s homely. A mixture of black and white photographs cover the walls, mostly of movie stars and famous people from the nineteen-fifties and sixties, a particularly striking one of Marilyn Munroe. She’s so beautiful, I note, and she’s placed next to Dean Martin, at whom I smile. They would certainly have made a dashing couple back then.