‘No, thanks,’ she answered almost before he’d finished the sentence.
Simon bent forward. ‘Did you say you were fitting your own kitchen? Because I’m a chippy by trade and I’d happily give you a hand. Only if you wanted me to, obviously.’ He appeared keen to avoid the same rebuff as Jack.
‘Thank you, Simon, that’s really kind of you, but even with your expert help I’d be hopeless at fitting a kitchen so I’ll pay the store to fit it.’
‘No,’ said Jack, loud enough for Audrey to almost spill her Martini and lemonade. ‘Sorry, I mean, don’t do that, they’ll charge the earth and they rush things. If you don’t mind it taking a bit longer, me and Simon could do it evenings and weekends for you.’ He was signalling to Simon as he spoke, and Simon was nodding so hard Beth feared he might injure his neck.
‘I don’t know,’ said Beth, looking at them both. Simon looked quite excited at the prospect. Jack was now giving off his usual hard-to-read aloofness. ‘What would it cost me?’
Simon spoke first. ‘I only take payment in strong tea and custard creams.’ He gave her a warm friendly smile, which she returned. They both looked at Jack for his response.
He rubbed his chin. ‘Dog-sitting.’
Beth’s brow furrowed. ‘Dog-sitting? Looking after Doris?’
‘Yep. I’m at home less and less and she’s unhappy being left on her own. If you’re in all day you could have her at yours and keep each other company.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Beth. The thought of the giant hound in the small cottage didn’t sound like anyone’s idea of a smart combination. ‘Do I have to pick up poo?’
Jack chuckled. ‘No, she goes first thing, so you should be all right. But, in case of emergency, put a bucket over it and I’ll sort it when I pick her up, okay?’
Beth was still assessing the proposition as the fat man with the shiny head took to the mike. ‘Welcome to the Bleeding Bear Pub Quiz. Round one: the London Underground. Are you ready? Question one …’
Beth looked over her shoulder to see Petra giving them the thumbs-up and another unsubtle wink.
Fergus was sulking. Things hadn’t been great since the treehouse fiasco, mainly because Fergus didn’t know what he had done wrong and Carly wasn’t able to explain it to him. When she’d asked Beth for advice, she had suggested that they needed to speak to each other more. Her choice of words may have been ill thought through but her sentiment was spot on. They had been interacting less and less recently and Carly needed to do something before things became irretrievable.
The fact was that they were drifting apart and Carly felt it acutely. So now she was going to do her best to engage with Fergus and to show an interest in the things he was interested in. The last thing she wanted was for the relationship to break down; she loved him and she knew that was all that really mattered.
Carly made Fergus his favourite vegetable curry with naan bread, poppadoms and mango chutney, which they ate in silence. She opened him a chilled beer and passed it across the table.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘Fergus, I want to know about …’ Carly stopped signing as Fergus wasn’t watching her, he was drinking his beer with his eyes closed. She waited until he put it down. She waved to make sure she had his attention. ‘Fergus, I want to know about your work,’ she signed.
‘Why?’ He didn’t look pleased at the prospect.
‘I’m interested and I don’t know anything about it.’
He pursed his lips. He had full lips, eminently kissable lips. Carly was distracted and missed what he’d signed. She signed to him to repeat it and he looked frustrated with her.
‘Why don’t you play a few games on the computer with me and then you’ll get it.’
This was what Carly had feared most. She didn’t get computer games. In her view they were just for children and she didn’t see the point of them. To her it was all a big waste of time but she knew she had to overcome her prejudice for the sake of their relationship. ‘Okay, I’ll clear away the dinner things. You set something easy up and I’ll give it a go.’
Fergus was grinning broadly. He looked thrilled that Carly was going to play his game with him. Bless him, she thought.
An hour later she wasn’t thinking bless him. She was thinking that she could have merrily battered him to death with the computer mouse. He had explained to her at length about Minecraft and the myriad creatures that occupied its strange world. She had then been let loose on the game herself, with Fergus giving instructions over her shoulder, and now she’d had enough of being chased by ghasts, creepers and endermen, or whatever the stupid creatures were. It was so stressful and watching the screen lurch about was making her feel nauseous too.
‘What do you mean I’m now a flowerpot?’ shouted Carly.
Part of the confusion seemed to have come with Fergus explaining verbally to Carly what he felt were very clear instructions but, as they were both looking at the screen and Carly’s hands were busy using the controls, any questions she asked went unheard and unanswered.
‘No, you need to act like a flowerpot or someone will spot you and kill you. Ahh, there you go, you’re dead.’ Fergus stretched over, tapped on the keyboard and the screen changed. ‘Here, forget the mini-games, let’s try building something again.’
Carly dropped the controller as if it were molten lava. She would rather have her eyeballs tattooed than play for another minute. As the earlier lesson on building had also turned into a one-sided shouting match, Carly knew she had to walk away before she did or said something she would regret.
‘Beer?’ she signed and he signed ‘Please,’ which allowed her to escape to the kitchen where she could have a good rant without being heard.
Beth was juggling a PE kit and a lunch box as she tried to leave the house. ‘Hang on,’ said Beth as she locked the front door. She didn’t want Leo charging off without her. ‘Have you had Jack, I mean Mr Selby, teach your class yet?’
‘Nope,’ said Leo, fidgeting as he saw Denis come out of the side door of the pub.
Beth couldn’t work out why Jack was so busy if he wasn’t teaching. The school only had one class and, from what she’d gleaned, he was their IT teacher. Things weren’t adding up. On the walk to school, Petra was having a rant about brewery deliveries so Beth just listened and nodded in the right places.
Leo was swallowed up by the ancient school entrance without giving his mother a backward glance. It jabbed at Beth’s heart but she was pleased that he had settled in so well. As she walked back with Petra, the subject changed to being a single parent.
‘I don’t know how you run the pub as well,’ said Beth, who was truly in awe of Petra. There was no question that Beth was better off without Nick but it was no picnic managing everything alone.
Petra shrugged off the compliment. ‘How long have you been on your own with Leo?’
‘Since he was a baby. There was a boyfriend until recently but that didn’t work out. How about you?’
‘The same,’ she said, with a sad smile.
‘Leo’s father died. What happened to Denis’s?’
‘Disappeared,’ said Petra, wiggling her fingers into the air. Beth was smiling at the gesture but Petra wasn’t.
‘Like magic?’
‘Like the Devil,’ said Petra,