‘Here’s someone else coming,’ Peaches said, cocking her head at the crunching on the gravel outside. She was getting invested in the whole Gray proposal idea too – even though her and Willie were new to the repair shop and every inch as much victims of its gossip themselves.
Those uninvolved in the news interview turned their heads towards the door… as the grocer, Laura Mercer, pale and bonny and about Ally’s age, carried in her basket of milk and loaves.
‘How do I get the feeling you’re disappointed to see me?’ she said, stopping still on the doormat.
‘Don’t be daft, come in!’ Ally said, bringing her towards the café corner. ‘It’s just this lot, up to their usual nonsense! Don’t stand still for too long or they’ll have you paired off with Sachin here.’
This was met with a ripple of good-natured laughter and Sachin remarking woefully how his Aamaya might have something to say about him ‘taking up with a young lassie’.
Laura had been calling in on her delivery round every Saturday since the very beginning, bringing the café provisions from her mobile pantry. She didn’t give much away, usually, but everyone knew she was single because no question was considered too nosey in this place.
‘Actually,’ she began with a sly smile and a lowered voice. This made Senga whip at her sister with a tea towel so she snapped to attention. ‘I might have met someone.’
‘Oh, aye?’ Roz McIntyre said. ‘When did this happen?’
‘Not long ago,’ replied Laura. ‘I’ve been delivering bacon rolls to his work on Fridays for a while, and he asked me out the other week. Took me to the Wildlife Park, of all places.’
‘Did you see the polar bears?’ Rhona asked innocently, only to be shushed by her sister.
‘And do you like him?’ Senga wanted to know.
‘I think I do.’ Laura blushed, unloading her basket onto the café counter. ‘Early days, mind, but I want him to meet my mum, so…’ She shrugged, letting her words tail off into a dopey smile.
‘Love certainly is in the air this weekend!’ said Roz, winking at her indignant daughter, but keeping her voice low because the first client of the day had arrived.
‘Is that so?’ Laura turned to Ally with an arched brow, but there was no time for her to answer.
Sachin was directing the customer towards McIntyre. ‘Jewellery job,’ he called out. ‘Lady wants personalised engravings removing.’
The woman, wrapped in a long Afghan coat that looked too hot for the spring day outside and with nicotine blonde hair flowing over her shoulders seemed like she wanted to disappear at the announcement, which was only made worse by Senga enquiring if it was a break-up that had sent her here with her jewels.
‘Remove all trace of ’im, eh?’ Senga chuckled, before she stopped Laura the grocer from leaving with the offer of a cup of tea. ‘Stay a bit, eh? Tell us about this lad you’ve met.’
Laura gladly accepted and propped herself up at the café counter.
McIntyre was taking a jangling drawstring bag from the customer in the Afghan coat’s clenched fist. If anybody had been paying attention to the woman (they were too taken up with Laura’s gossip, Ally’s upcoming date, and the bustle of the news team getting ready to roll), they’d have picked up on how nervy she was.
McIntyre tipped the contents of the bag onto his work station while the cameraman ordered coffees for him and his colleague.
‘Elaine, is it?’ McIntyre asked her, inspecting each piece in turn and reading the name inscribed on the lockets and bangles. ‘Some lovely pieces here. You sure you want your name erasing?’
‘Elaine’s my mum’s name,’ the woman replied in a shaky voice, glancing around the room, and only just spotting the TV reporter. If she was local to the region, she must recognise her; everyone knew Morag Füssli. ‘I want to… give them to my daughter to wear… without the engravings.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s a repair of sorts.’
‘Can we film you working on those, Mr McIntyre?’ Füssli said, advancing with her steaming cup and her freshly applied lipstick.
‘Machine’ll be noisy,’ McIntyre warned, ‘but it’s as good a way as any to show you what kind of thing we can do here.’
‘Can I leave?’ the woman said, eyes darting around the room. ‘Come back for them later?’ She didn’t wait for an answer, reaching into her pocket for her phone as she headed straight outside, into the courtyard and away.
‘Camera shy,’ McIntyre remarked to himself with a chortle as he watched her go.
Reaching for his goggles and ear defenders, he settled himself on his stool. ‘Ready?’ he asked the cameraman, who looked down into the viewfinder at his chest.
‘Rolling in three, two…’ he said, and Füssli gave McIntyre the nod to start the machine.
As the metal laser hummed and screeched and McIntyre wore away the engraving on the first item, a heavy gold bangle, more people arrived into the workshop, including a slim figure in sports gear. It was Gray.
