They emerged from the stacks and passed through the low door at the farthest corner of the shop, entering into a room dotted with tables covered in red-and-white checked cloths overhung with red, retro diner lamps. Lace curtains hung at the windows and over the glass of the cafe’s door. Everything in here was shiny and new but with the feel of a snug little hideaway.
They rifled through the white cabinets behind the counter.
‘Ding, ding, ding, jackpot!’ Annie cried, lifting the glass dome on a dish of fresh, fat scones in the walk-in pantry, just as Harri laid his hands on the clotted cream in the refrigerator. ‘And there’s a zillion jars of strawberry jam back here,’ she added.
‘Cream tea it is,’ Harri said, grinning. ‘Welcome to England!’
They paused before the espresso machine with a thick instruction manual by its side.
‘That’s intense,’ observed Annie with a frown.
Harri filled a kettle from the tap. ‘Hey, you’re looking at the three-times winner of Port Talbot’s “Best Cappuccino” award. Nothing could scare me less. But how about tea since it’s getting late?’
While Annie extracted a promise that Harri would be the only one expected to brew speciality coffees for customers this vacation, they worked out how to use the grill and toasted two split scones and carried it all back to the fireplace in the bookshop.
Annie flicked the shop lights off, apart from the lamp closest to the hearth so the depths of the room fell dark. They flopped down on the beanbags in their warm, glowing spot. Annie pulled off her boots with a sigh while Harri poured milk into mugs.
Frosty designs were forming at the edges of the windows. Sleet pattered sharply in the courtyard outside where the strands of glowing light bulbs swung in the breeze, casting a shifting, twinkling light along the fireside wall.
Neither spoke while the tea was poured and the warm scones were spread with jam and thick cream.
Annie took bite after bite, smiling and ravenous.
‘Happy?’ Harri asked, watching her enjoying her food.
She didn’t answer, only taking another bite. Her hunger made him wolf his food too. He’d forgotten how much they’d loved doing this. All those paper-wrapped fish and chip dinners devoured down on the water’s edge watching Aber sunsets and drinking Coke, all those Red Velvets and milky teas in the Students’ Union caff. Annie loved to eat and so did he, though recently he’d had no appetite at all. He smiled at the memories and filled his mouth again before a haunting voice spoke sharply in his mind.
Slow down, chew your food!
Paisley never seemed to take much pleasure in eating. He pictured her in their spotless little kitchen now, industriously making cheese and pickle sandwiches to take to work in the morning. He reminded himself sadly that if she was joyless, it was because he’d made her that way. There it was again: the guilt.
If only he’d been able to make her happy. He’d been in their relationship for years without fully being present. She’d deserved better all along.
‘Harri?’ Annie held the last bite of scone halfway to her lips. ‘You okay?’
‘Uh, well…’ He glanced from Annie’s face to the flames in the fireplace. It would be a shame to spoil the cosiness. ‘I’m fabulous.’ That sounded off. Definitely. ‘So, tell me…’ he tried, casually, ‘how’s life as a school librarian? Has Principal Johnson chilled out at all?’
Annie shoved in the last bite then spoke with a curled finger covering her mouth. ‘He was still meaner than a junkyard dog last time I checked.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’
She shrugged then asked him how his parents were. Harri got the impression she was trying to avoid discussing school, so he confessed guiltily he’d not seen his folks as much as he’d have liked, especially over Christmas, but they seemed fine. ‘Same as always.’
He’d avoided telling his parents that things were increasingly rocky with Paisley – his dad thought she was the best thing to happen to Harri – and so he’d avoided seeing them at all after the Boxing Day break-up and he’d kept on avoiding them right up until yesterday when he’d popped in to his childhood home to deliver the bombshell news that he was heading to England for two weeks. He’d made sure his dad was out at work first.
His mum tended to worry about Harri, and his dad had a habit of gruffly urging him to do better, making comparisons between himself with his successful conservatory-installation business and the feckless Harri who hadn’t made a go of anything yet, leaving Harri wondering if he’d somehow missed some mysterious lesson in manhood and now it was too late to catch up. Either way, it was hard to keep his parents from losing sleep over his wellbeing or his position in life.
He’d left his mum to break the news of his split with Paisley, and he hadn’t heard anything from either of them since, though he’d texted his mum this morning to let her know he’d made his train.
‘Mum sends her love,’ Harri said, and it was true, she had. In fact, she’d told him with a wagging finger to make sure he didn’t do anything to upset Annie while she was on her holidays.
‘Tell her I said hi back.’ Annie smiled, wiping the crumbs from her front.
Harri reached for his phone. ‘Send her a picture?’
Annie shifted over, perching precariously on Harri’s beanbag, squashed against his side, and he took a shot of them in the glow of the firelight. Annie looked beautiful. He looked like a ghost.
He quickly sent it, knowing for sure his mum would read into this. She’d always liked Annie; in contrast to her lukewarm, but always polite and welcoming, regard for Paisley.
