‘Of course not.’
So I tidy up in the kitchen trying not to move too quickly – in case I dislodge the bacon layer on top of my banana split – and listen to the shower running through the thin walls. I think of Mason in there, naked, water streaming down his body and wonder, very briefly, whether I should join him. He’s right. I could do a lot worse than him. When he’s being nice, I like him. What’s the point in pining for Joe? Seeing him with Gina yesterday should have put paid to that. I busy myself washing our plates.
Mason comes out of the bedroom ten minutes later, dressed in last night’s clothes, hair washed. ‘I’ve called a cab. Two minutes and I’ll be out of your way. See you later at work.’
‘Yeah. Thanks again, Mason. You’re a mate.’
‘I could be more,’ he says lightly. He kisses me on the cheek, his hands warm on my arms and then his phone pings and it’s a text from the taxi company to say they’re outside. ‘See you, Brown.’
‘See you, Mason.’
He heads off down my stairs.
Standing on the landing, dressing gown pulled around me, I watch him go. As he gets to the cab, he turns and waves me goodbye.
I shout after him. ‘I’ll think about it.’
He looks puzzled. ‘About what?’
‘Us,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll think about us.’
He grins at me and, smiling to myself, I quickly duck back inside before my landlord sees me and realises that I’m entertaining gentlemen overnight in my granny annexe.
Chapter Eighty-Six
I do think about me and Mason. I think about us a lot. As I said I would. But I think about me and Joe more. Boo.
I’m thinking about him now. I miss him. I miss him for so many reasons.
If I’m honest with you, I don’t miss diving. If I never see the bottom of a swimming pool again it will be too soon. But I do miss the outings with the dive club. They’re a nice bunch of people – even though they get over-excited at the prospect of messing about in a murky gravel pit for fun. And I’ll never see Joe again stripped down to the waist in his wetsuit which, frankly, is something that often troubles me in the wee small hours.
I’m sitting on the bench outside the Butcher’s Arms watching a noisy bee trying to get some joy out of a garish pink flower that’s growing by the bins. Maybe he’s finding its nectar wanting as it just seems to be making him cross. At least he’s not been fooled by one of the wasp catchers around the garden which are filled with sugar water to lure the wasps away from the diners’ fish and chips or cheesecake. At this stage in the summer, they’re already half-filled with a disgusting mulch of dead wasps and we haven’t even reached the point where the wasps are bad-tempered and will sting anyone who looks at them twice. I don’t know whose job it is to clean out the wasp catchers, but I’m glad it’s not mine. It’s half an hour before my shift and I’m having a cheeky roasted vegetable panini and a diet Coke to see me through the day. I know how to live.
I have been thinking about Mason too. A bit. We haven’t seen each other since the night he stayed over at my place – on the sofa. That was fun and we do get on well, but … I don’t even know what the ‘but’ is. But there is a but. If you know what I mean. We’ve been texting each other though – half a dozen times a day. Mason is busy with the club and another restaurant business that his father has started in London, so he hasn’t been around. Which is fine. I don’t want to rush into anything at the moment. I just want to nuture myself and hope the hurt will eventually go away.
Charlie’s car pulls into the car park and I watch her as she walks towards me. There’s a spring in her step, a sashay to her hips and I don’t think it’s just because Take That have got a new album out. Though it actually might be. She hasn’t mentioned Nice Paul for days and I don’t like to ask.
‘Hey, chummie,’ she says. ‘What’s occurring?’
‘Not much,’ I tell her – which is true.
She joins me on the bench, giving me a friendly dig in the ribs as she does. ‘What are you doing out here on your tod?’
‘Waiting for you. Thinking.’
‘You do far too much of that,’ she says. ‘It’s bad for you.’
‘I know. I can’t help it.’ Somewhere in the dark recesses of my brain, I’m trying to form a plan for my future. My future and not a future that includes anyone else. But it’s like trying to grab at gossamer strands that always seem to be out of my reach. I give up.
She roots in her handbag and pulls out all the vaping paraphernalia that lurks in there. ‘You should try vaping. It’s almost like meditating. Want a go?’ She offers me her e-cig.
‘No thanks. I think white wine works for me.’ I break my panini in two. ‘Do you want half of this?’
Charlie shakes her head. ‘Fast day. I’ve just had a fresh air sandwich and a piece of virtual cake.’ She leans back, pushing her sunglasses onto her head, closing her eyes and letting the sun warm her face while she puffs out clouds of vapour towards the sky. ‘So what are you thinking about this time?’
I don’t say Joe as I’m sure she’s bored to death of me talking about him. ‘Just wondering what to do with my life.’
She opens her eyes to look at me and pulls a face. ‘Deep.’
‘Mid-life crisis looming, probably. I’m at that funny age.’ Charlie goes back to her sunbathing, even though she’ll complain when her face is bright red later. ‘Don’t you feel as if you could have done more with your life?’
‘Not really,’ Charlie says. ‘I like being a waitress. The world would fall apart without waitresses. This is a nice place to work. The pay’s rubbish, obvs, but I get good tips. I don’t want a Ferrari or holidays on a cruise ship, so it covers my needs. Mostly. I don’t need to join a gym as I get enough exercise by being on my feet all day. And I go home after my shift and don’t have to stress about work. When it’s done, I’m done. There’s a lot to be said for that.’
‘I haven’t really achieved anything. I haven’t been anywhere.’
Charlie realises that she’s not going to get any peace while I’m in this mood and sits upright, putting her sunglasses back in place. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘I don’t know.’ I pick at my roasted vegetables, which have lost their appeal now. ‘I’ve thought about packing it all in and going to Spain.’
‘There’s nothing in Spain.’
‘There’s not much here.’ I think what I really want is to go anywhere that I’m not likely to bump into Joe and his family.
‘I’m here,’ she says. ‘You can’t leave me.’
‘Perhaps I could take a course. Studying something.’
‘What?’
I let out an unhappy breath. ‘I don’t know.’
Charlie laughs.
‘It’s OK for you,’ I say more crisply than I intend. ‘Gary Barlow is all that you need in your life, but I want more.’
‘What you mean is that you want Joe.’ She sighs at me. ‘Well, lovely, you can’t have him. That boat has already sailed.’