Blind Faith, page 6
‘I love the weather,’ Faith said. ‘It always brings something different; something fresh, don’t you think?’
Not the weather conversation! ‘Yes, it does,’ Drew smiled at Faith who seemed lost in thought. She placed the coffee on the counter. ‘Would you like anything to eat?’ she said, careful not to refer to the buns displayed proudly on the counter.
Faith turned to Drew and smiled. ‘No, I’m fine thanks,’ she said.
Drew caught a glint in the soft-green gaze and felt her throat constrict.
The café door opened and Esther virtually ran towards the counter. ‘Right, dear, I’ll take over from here so you can go and get dressed up for your date,’ she said without giving a second glance in Faith’s direction.
Drew watched Faith process Esther’s statement and felt disappointed that she didn’t see a reaction.
‘Oh, hello, Vicar,’ Esther said, eyeing Faith up and down with an odd expression. ‘I didn’t recognise you…’ She stopped assessing Faith and smiled.
‘No dog collar,’ Faith said and indicated to her neckline.
Drew melted inside. It was a whole different feeling from the irritation that her mother’s intrusion had stirred.
Esther studied Faith intently. ‘Yes.’ She paused. ‘You look.’ She paused again. ‘Naked,’ she said.
Drew started choking and excused herself. She wished!
Faith chuckled. ‘Yes, I suppose so. I haven’t found a running t-shirt yet that supports a dog collar,’ and there was warmth in the smile she gave the older woman. She took a seat close to the counter.
‘Yes, I can imagine.’ Esther turned her attention back to Drew and glared at her.
‘What?’ Drew said, her cheeks crimson.
‘Be off with you.’ Esther said stabbing her watch with her index finger. She stepped around the counter, removed her coat and put it in the kitchen and then nudged Drew out of the way.
‘It’s an hour and a half before I need to be at the pub. The pub is one minute from here and it takes me no longer than half an hour to shower and put on a pair of jeans,’ Drew said.
‘Aren’t you going to wear a nice dress?’ Esther said.
Drew felt the hint of a smile coming from Faith in a warm glow that flooded her cheeks. ‘When did you last see me in a dress?’
‘That’s not the point,’ Esther said with a turned-up nose. ‘I can cope with the café; it’s not that busy.’ She indicated the empty seats.
Drew sighed.
Faith finished her drink and stood. ‘Right, I’ll pop the money in for the coffee in the morning, if that’s okay?’ she said.
‘That will be fine, thank you, Vicar,’ Esther said distractedly.
‘Definitely not; it’s on me,’ Drew countered and glared at her mother.
Faith smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said and set off towards the door.
Drew watched her closely until the door shut and the vision in white had disappeared and only then did she realise Esther’s beady eyes were on her. ‘What?’ she said, her tone reflecting her irritation.
‘Steven’s a nice man,’ Esther said.
‘Which reminds me,’ Drew started. ‘How do you know Steven?’
‘I know his family from years back,’ Esther said. ‘They’re a good family. They’ve got their own business.’ She was nodding her head as if that was an important factor in the love equation.
Drew rolled her eyes. ‘I’m going upstairs,’ she said and walked out through the kitchen.
*
Drew entered the pub and looked around, and it occurred to her she couldn’t remember clearly what Steven looked like; at least not well enough to spot him in a crowd unless he was the gawky one looking directly at her with an inane grin on his face and a trilby plonked on his head. That would be easy enough to spot.
‘Ah-right petal,’ Bryan said as she approached the bar.
‘Hi Bryan, G&T, please.’
‘Coming right up.’ He looked Drew up and down. ‘You got a date?’ He was teasing but the grimace coming back at him answered his question. ‘Oh, dear, like that is it? Who’s the unsuspecting fellow?’
‘Steven Taylor,’ Drew said and sighed. She had thought about cancelling the date, which in her mind wasn’t really a date at all, but decided against that. She needed to think about something other than Faith. A couple of hours respite from pondering her desires held some appeal, and at least it would shut her mother up for a bit.
‘Oh, right!’ Bryan shook his head. ‘Don’t know of him,’ he said and squeezed lemon over the ice.
‘I’ll get that.’
Drew turned her head at the sound of Steven’s voice, spotted the tweed jacket and matching trilby hat. He looked fifty years old if he was a day. Is this the same guy who came into the café? His smile looked familiar, and the glint in his eye seemed to strike a chord, though not an altogether pleasant one.
Drew cleared her throat. ‘Hello, Steven.’
Bryan turned from the back of the counter and placed her drink on the bar. He eyed the middle-aged man and when he smiled he did so with politeness. ‘What can I get you,’ he said, addressing Steven.
‘I’ll have a half a mild shandy, please.’
‘Coming up,’ Bryan said and gave an apologetic smile to Drew.
Steven removed his hat and Drew stared at the bold, heavily receding, hairline. She could imagine he would look quite dapper with a much shorter cut around the back and sides, but the long thin strands that he had styled in a comb-over straddling the top of his head just didn’t sit right and made him look closer to fifty-five. Where the fuck had she been when he had asked her out? She tried to smile but felt the strain of it in the tightness in her jaw and she didn’t want to lead Steven on in any way. She needed this date to be over and done with as soon as possible.
‘Have you seen a menu, my love?’ he said.
Drew cringed and her insides formed a tight ball of resistance. She took a long slug of her gin. ‘Um, no, I was waiting,’ she said and then took another long slug. Bryan caught her eye and she indicated to him for another drink.
‘Where would you like to sit?’ Steven said. He scanned the dining options, pointed to a cosy corner away from the bar area which was already becoming occupied and smiled.
‘How about here,’ Drew said, picking a table in the centre of the room, exposed on all sides with no hint of intimacy.
‘Yes, whatever you like, my love.’
Irritation flared. Stop calling me that!
‘Shall I put these on the tab?’ Bryan asked.
‘Yes, of course,’ Steven said and went to pick up the drinks.
Drew reached the gin before he did and the sense of his fingers grazing her hand sent a shiver of disgust through her.
‘Oops, sorry!’ he said, and giggled, which was almost more irritating than being called my love. Drew tried to smile and Steven headed for the table. ‘I’ll pay for my share,’ she said to Bryan, who nodded.
Drew sat back in the chair and studied Steven, trying to find something she liked about the man. He had nice shaped eyes, but that look felt all shades of disconcerting. He was fit, which was a plus, but aside from that nothing came to her. ‘What are you a purveyor of?’ she said, reminded of his business card and short of something to talk about in the silence that sat heavily between them.
Steven seemed to grow taller in the chair. ‘Antiques,’ he said and grinned with pride. ‘Our family started the business three generations ago. We have several shops now.’
‘Oh, right. Are you a collector?’ Drew didn’t know the first thing about antiques, other than the fact that it was about old things that were of value today.
‘Yes, I’m a big stamp collector.’ His grin widened.
‘I’m sure that’s very exciting,’ Drew said, totally un-enthralled.
‘Ooh, it is. I’m so glad you think so. Most people find it quite a bore. I guess it’s one of those hobbies that either you get it or you don’t,’ he said, suddenly looking like an eager puppy.
‘Yes,’ Drew said, aware that she was one of those who didn’t. ‘A bit like train spotting, I guess.’
‘Exactly!’ Steven was ecstatic. ‘I can see why your mother thought we would get on so well.’ He looked as if he were about to start clapping. Drew braced herself then his excitement drove him to pick up his glass instead and she breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Cheers!’ he said and she watched him take the tiniest sip of shandy.
She took a long swig of the gin and was already plotting the third. ‘Should we take a look at the menu?’ she said.
‘Can we wait a little longer? I wouldn’t want to rush through the evening. I’m prone to indigestion,’ he said and giggled.
Fucking hell! ‘Right,’ Drew said, feeling the pain of an extended evening ahead. She sat back in the chair and glanced around the room. Jesus Christ! You have got to be kidding me? Esther smiled back at her and she groaned.
‘Is everything alright, my love?’ Steven said.
No, no, no! ‘Sorry, I was just thinking about food. I’m really quite hungry. Do you think we could order? It can take a while to get served at the moment. Our head chef left recently.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Steven said and looked a little flustered. ‘Should we have chosen somewhere else?’
‘No, no, this is fine. The food is excellent, it just takes a bit longer. I can recommend the beef and ale pie,’ she said, knowing it would just need heating in the microwave.
‘Oh, right. I prefer sea bass or salmon,’ Steven said.
Of course, you do! ‘Right. I’m not sure that’s on the menu. Steak, haddock and chips, lasagne,’ Drew said with a shrug.
‘Oh dear, that all sounds a bit heavy for my stomach. I have grumbling guts, you see,’ Steven said. ‘Have to be a bit careful what I eat this time of night. I’m okay up until lunchtime,’ he continued.
Oh my God. Too much information! ‘Salad, maybe with tuna?’ Drew suggested. When she looked up she noticed Harriet and Grace had taken a seat at the table next to them. And then, Jenny and Vera entered the pub and approached the bar. She could feel her cheeks flush with indignation and glanced across at her mother, whose smile became a glare directed at Jenny and Vera.
‘Salad would be perfect if the tuna is in brine but not in oil, thanks. Shall I go and order?’
Drew leapt from her seat. ‘I’ll go,’ she said. Can I get you another drink?’
‘Oh no, one half is my limit thank you,’ Steven said. ‘I’ll probably struggle to finish this one.’
Drew grimaced and went to the bar, approaching Vera and Jenny with a wide-eyed look of despair. ‘Hi,’ she said.
‘Who’s that?’ Vera said.
‘Don’t ask. Another G&T please, Bryan, a tuna salad if the tuna is in brine and I’ll have a beef and ale pie please.’
‘Right you are,’ Bryan said and wrote out the order. ‘I’ll bring your drink over.’
‘No rush, I’ll wait,’ Drew said, thankful for the space from the man sat at the table.
‘Oh, I meant to say, there’s a woman coming to the café on Friday to interview you about working life in the village if you’re interested? She’s a reporter for a local magazine. I can’t remember what it’s called. What do you think?’ Vera said to Drew.
Drew smiled.
‘A bit of free advertising.’
‘Sure, sounds good.’ Drew nodded.
‘Here you go, petal.’ Bryan passed Drew the drink. ‘I see your mum’s in. Where’s Doug tonight?’ he said.
‘At the Duckton Arms if he’s got any sense!’ Drew said.
Bryan chuckled. ‘Still plotting to move up that way, is he?’
‘In his dreams.’ Drew smiled. She took the drink from the bar. ‘Wish me luck,’ she said and headed back to the table.
‘Good luck,’ Jenny and Vera chorused.
‘She doesn’t look happy,’ Jenny said to Vera.
‘Can you blame her,’ Vera said, and glared across the room at Esther, who gloated at her.
Drew leaned back in the seat, the aching silence drowning out the general hum and buzz of conversations taking place around them. She caught Harriet’s pained expression and Grace’s look of concern and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the situation. And then Steven started to babble about something and she knew to cry was the front-runner. At that moment she vowed never to allow her mother to set her up again. And then thoughts of Faith drifted into her awareness and the man opposite her didn’t matter anymore. She held onto the image of Faith, wearing Lycra, her breasts revealed through the thin wet t-shirt that clung to her very wet body and the soft green gaze that touched her with kindness, tenderness. And then there was the sound of Steven’s voice, loudly in her ear.
‘Drew, Drew,’ he said. ‘Are you alright, my love?’
Drew flicked her eyes open. ‘Sorry, I must have drifted off.’
‘Goodness, I thought there was something wrong.’ He said, a hand pressed to his chest.
‘Here you go,’ Bryan declared and put the two suppers on the table.
‘That was quick,’ Steven said.
‘Salad,’ Bryan said with a shrug and turned away from the table.
Drew smiled and her cheeks flushed. ‘Bon appétit.’
‘Oh, you speak French; that’s nice,’ Steven said.
Drew rolled her eyes. ‘That’s my entire repertoire,’ she said and started to eat.
‘Oh!’ Steven said. He sounded disappointed.
Drew ate in silence, finished her beef and ale pie before Steven had munched his way through half the salad, and sat back in the chair. She sipped her drink, hoping he would finish soon enough so she could go home. Drew looked up to see Vera approaching the table from behind Steven. She had a mischievous grin on her face and winked at Drew before stopping next to them.
‘Excuse me. I’m very sorry to disturb you, both. Drew, there’s report of a water leak at the café,’ she said. ‘I think you might need to check it out.’
Drew sat up in the seat. ‘Oh, no!’ she said.
‘Oh, goodness,’ Steven said. He looked at his half-eaten salad as if pondering whether the disaster was something he should give up his food to attend to and then opted for heroism. He stood. ‘I’ll come and help,’ he said.
‘No, no, no, it will be fine,’ Drew insisted. She put a hand on his shoulder and helped him to find his seat. ‘You finish your salad; it’s too good to waste. It was lovely meeting you, Steven,’ she said.
‘Oh, umm, right,’ Steven mumbled. ‘Yes, it was lovely. Perhaps we could do it again sometime?’
Drew shook her head. ‘I’m a bit busy at the moment, what with it being the summer season. I’ll settle the bill though.’ She patted him on the shoulder and headed for the door with Vera in tow. She stepped out into the muggy air and breathed in. ‘Thank God for that,’ she said.
‘You looked like you needed a little help,’ Vera said and hooked an arm through Drew’s. ‘I’ll walk you home.’
‘Mother set me up,’ Drew said, as they walked.
‘I guessed,’ Vera said. ‘Daft bat!’
Drew chuckled. ‘God, that was painful.’
‘Looked it. Anyway, onwards and upwards, I think you’ll enjoy the conversation with the reporter on Friday. I hope you don’t mind; I contacted her to see if she would run a piece on the village, the market, and your café.’
Drew squeezed Vera’s arm, comforted by the fact that Vera seemed to get her better than her mother did. ‘I think it’s a great idea. Thanks, V.’
Vera smiled. ‘You going to the meeting on Friday evening?’
Drew grinned. ‘It’s a three-line whip, isn’t it?’
Vera chuckled. ‘I guess.’
7.
Faith wandered down the track towards Duckton House and Harriet’s cottage. She stared at the bright pink and white camper van in the driveway with a mild amusement before turning her attention to the beautiful landscape beyond the buildings. The hills seemed to dominate the skyline for miles to the rear of the larger house leading up to the lake, and then there was the flatter terrain of the valley to the right leading into the town of Ferndale just short of the horizon. She approached the gate to a fenced field. A chestnut horse approached and snorted at her. She held out her hand and it nuzzled, snuffling at her palm and she stroked down its nose admiring its markings. Two ponies stood together at the other side of the field, munching at the grass. She stepped back from the fence as the deep barking sound came to her and before she could think about what to do next, a black and white Great Dane leapt at her and tumbled her to the ground.
‘No, Flo!’ a voice yelled, getting closer. But the dog didn’t respond.
Faith groaned before being silenced by the wet tongue that sniffed at her ear and slobbered over her black shirt. Then a higher pitched noise came to her and she opened her eyes to see an orange poodle yapping at her left ear and baring its teeth. Suddenly the Great Dane was being dragged away and Grace was staring at her with wide eyes.
‘God, I am so sorry,’ Grace said. ‘Archie, away,’ she said, waving her arm. The poodle backed off and ran to the field, chased by the bounding giant of a dog.
‘Well that was quite a welcome,’ Faith said, pulling herself to her feet and brushing her hands down her top and trousers.
‘I’m really sorry, Vicar. She’s not normally like that,’ Grace said, and flushed, aware that Flo had greeted her in exactly the same way the first time, too. Maybe it was a sign? Did she just think that?
‘It’s okay, just a bit of dirt and slobber. I was passing and thought I’d say hello. Beautiful horse,’ she said, indicating to the chestnut.
‘Do you ride?’
‘A bit; you?’
‘I’m learning.’
