Hopelessly Devoted to Holden Finn (4 page)

If Henri hadn’t left her and Paige in the lurch, Bonnie wouldn’t be thinking about such a ridiculous scenario. They had been happy; at least, Bonnie had thought they were happy. Henri might not have been the most reliable or caring man in the world, but at least he was always there. Until one day he decided he wasn’t going to be, of course. And Bonnie still had no idea what she’d done wrong; he’d just gone off in that enigmatic Gallic way of his.

She picked up the phone from her bedside table and looked at the display again. Three o’clock. Surely more than ten minutes had passed since she’d last looked at it? There was wine still left in the bottle downstairs. Middle of the night or not, this seemed like as good a time as any to go and finish it.

***

‘Did you send that text, Mum?’ Paige said as she sat down at the kitchen table where Bonnie was already nursing her second cup of coffee of the morning.

‘Good morning to you too, Paige.’

‘Yeah, I meant that, but did you send it?’

‘Yes, I sent it. It’ll go in the pot with the million other texts that will never be chosen but I sent it anyway.’

‘Last night you said that we had as good a chance as anyone else.’

‘Last night I wasn’t feeling quite as rough as I do now.’

‘Too much booze?’

‘Cheek!’

‘Just asking.’

‘If you must know, I didn’t get to sleep till the early hours, which is why I’m up this late but still knackered.’

‘Right. But you still had a drink last night, I saw the bottle in the recycling.’ Paige reached for some toast from Bonnie’s plate.

‘Oi, make your own!’

‘That’s what you’re for,’ Paige grinned before biting into the stolen slice.

Bonnie sighed. ‘Here,’ she shoved her plate over, ‘I’m not that hungry anyway.’

‘That’s because you have a hangover.’

‘I do not have a hangover. I’m tired, that’s all.’

As she munched her toast, Paige’s face had that faraway look that used to make Bonnie’s heart leap when she saw it on Henri. Seeing it now on her daughter made Bonnie feel very alone.

‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

‘Imagine,’ Paige said showing a barely contained excitement that Bonnie knew only too well, ‘that we did win that competition and we met the band and Holden actually fancied me!’

‘You’re a little too young for him, aren’t you?’

‘He might wait,’ Paige replied defensively.

‘Ok, he might,’ Bonnie soothed.

‘You think I’m being stupid.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘But you think it.’

‘No, but –’

Paige leapt up from the table. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’

She slammed the door as she left the room.

Bonnie sighed. That was another of Henri’s traits that Paige had inherited, one that she wasn’t quite so fond of. She wondered if, just once, she could have a pleasant conversation with her daughter that didn’t end up with her flouncing off in a temper. Jeanie would say that it was Paige’s age, but Bonnie was pretty sure that wasn’t the
only reason. She felt that on some level, Paige was still blaming her for Henri’s departure. And Bonnie could see why: sometimes, she blamed herself too.

***

Bonnie had just flicked the kettle on when Linda came in shaking rain from her umbrella.

‘Cats and dogs out there,’ she grumbled. ‘Good weekend, Bon?’

‘Weekend? You mean that one day I had yesterday cooped up with Paige and her prickly temper?’

Linda raised an eyebrow. ‘That good, eh?’

‘Yep. Want a brew?’ Bonnie asked, fetching another cup from the cupboard without waiting for a reply.

‘Does a bear poo in the woods?’ Linda hung her coat and nodded her head in the direction of a deathly quiet shop floor. ‘Where’s Drop Dead Fred this morning?’

Bonnie shrugged. ‘Just phoned me early and said he would be late in today so I needed to open up with my keys.’

‘Cheeky bugger. I’d have told him where to go. I bet he doesn’t pay you any overtime for being in early.’

‘Probably not. Which is exactly why he daren’t ask you to do it.’

‘Too right. I’d squish his little head like those cockroaches he had me chasing around the other day.’

Bonnie laughed and handed Linda a steaming mug. ‘That’s one match I’d pay to see.’

There was a tap at the back door.

‘That’ll be Max,’ Linda said. ‘Want to make yourself scarce so he can’t ask you out again?’

‘He hasn’t asked me out, he just mentioned a friendly drink, that’s all,’ Bonnie frowned, dragging the bolts back on the door. She opened it and Max grinned on the step. His wet hair had curled at all sorts of odd angles and his cheeks were wind-blushed, so that he looked more like a naughty schoolboy than ever.

‘Morning ladies! Who wants to finger my fine plums today?’

Linda sniggered. ‘Bonnie doesn’t want your plums, that’s for sure.’

‘Linda!’ Bonnie almost choked on her tea.

Linda winked at Bonnie. ‘That’s what you told me the other day
… if Max offers me his plums once more, I’ll stick my foot in them
.’

Max chuckled. ‘Now, now. Perhaps I’ll just take my plums elsewhere until you’re feeling less aggressive.’

‘Ignore her,’ Bonnie said, frowning at Linda. ‘How about a cuppa?’

Max stepped into the tiny kitchen. ‘Sounds lovely.’ He looked through to the empty shop. ‘It’s quiet in there this morning. Fred’s normally shouting and unfurling the swastika flag around now.’

Bonnie giggled. ‘I know, he just phoned me to say he’d be late in today.’

‘That’s not like him; he usually likes to check everything in.’

‘Yes,’ Linda agreed, ‘it’s not like Fred to miss an opportunity to complain he’s a potato short in his delivery.’

‘I’m glad you said that and not me,’ Max laughed taking a mug from Bonnie with a nod.

‘So what did you get up to this weekend, Max?’ Linda asked.

‘Hmmm, I went skydiving for an hour Saturday morning, that was just after I’d woken at 4.30am and run a two hour marathon, beating the Ethiopian Olympic team. Then I got back home and knocked up a loft conversion just after dinner. Sunday I was out all day hanging around Buckingham palace gardens while Liz and Phil threw some burgers on the barbie.’

‘Pretty quiet then?’ Linda grinned.

‘Yeah, I actually sat on my arse for most of it.’

‘I’d have thought you would have been out with whichever girl had taken your fancy this week.’

‘I’m not doing very well with girls who take my fancy. I might have to start settling for the bug-ugly ones soon if I’m gonna make little Maxes.’

‘Or Maxines,’ Bonnie put in as she rinsed her mug.

‘True. Though Maxines are no good for taking to footie matches.’

‘Sexist pig!’ Linda said.

‘That’s me. Do you think that’s where I’m going wrong? Maybe I’m not being sexist enough. What are the chances of me getting arrested for assault if I go down town on Saturday night and club some woman over the head, caveman style?’

‘Club me over the head caveman style and you’d never be able to use your plums again,’ Linda remarked as she took her mug over to the sink too.

‘So women don’t like that sort of thing?’ Max said innocently.

‘Bonnie threw a teacloth at him. ‘You’re mental, you are.’

‘I’m desperate, Bonnie,’ he said, pulling the cloth away from his face with a huge grin. ‘Come on, take pity on a desperate man and go out for one teensy drink with me. If you don’t have a good time, me and my plums will never bother you again.’

‘Oh, Max. I’m such a miserable cow these days you’d be begging for mercy within an hour.’

‘I’m a good listener,’ Max said.

‘I’m sure you are. And I’m sure there’s a pretty young thing out there who will think all her Christmases have come at once when you ask her out.’

‘In that case,’ Max said, putting his cup down on the draining board and cracking his knuckles theatrically, ‘I’d better get working on these pecs. Where do you want the spuds?’

***

Just as the last sack of potatoes had been hauled in by Max, Fred let himself in at the front of the shop, throwing back the hood of a raincoat that was so old fashioned the only place it was likely to be seen these days was on a fishfinger advert. He gave himself an exaggerated shake, spraying water everywhere. ‘Bloody hell, it’s like monsoon season.’

‘Alright, Fred?’ Max asked, wiping his hands on his overalls.

Fred looked up. ‘Still here, are you?’

‘Nice greeting,’ Linda said with obvious sarcasm. ‘It’s that down-to-earth friendliness that has the customers eating out of his hand.’ She grinned at Max as Fred frowned at her.

‘I’m just off now,’ Max replied, biting back a grin of his own. He handed Bonnie a piece of paper. ‘The chitty.’ He leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘Though if you look on the bottom of the page, it has my number on it.’ He did a telephone mime. ‘Call me…’

Bonnie giggled. ‘That’s your business number; you give it to all your customers.’

‘Yeah, but I wouldn’t answer to all of them out-of-hours. And when pretty girls ring it flashes like the Bat-phone.’

‘Get out you nutter,’ Bonnie laughed. ‘You’ll be late for your harem at Cherry Ripe.’

‘I’ll come and lock up after you,’ Linda said, following him out.

Fred gave Max a short nod goodbye before turning to Bonnie. ‘Stock all out, lass, or have you been hobnobbing with himself again?’

‘Yes, Fred, the stock is out, as you can see.’

‘I’ll open up then, no point in the door staying shut if folk can come and part with their money.’ Fred shuffled off to the front door.

‘You know he’s going to stop asking soon?’ Linda said to Bonnie in a low voice as she came back in.

‘Fred?’

‘Max, you silly cow.’

‘He’s not being serious. It’s just Max flirting.’

‘He is being serious. And he’s lovely. You’re mental to keep turning him down.’

Bonnie turned and put her hands on her hips, fixing Linda with a serious expression. ‘What if it all turned to crap? How awkward would that be when he calls here every day?’

‘It wouldn’t turn to crap. Besides, Max is far too nice to get nasty over something like that. I’m sure you could stay friendly.’

‘No, Lind. I know what you’re trying to do and I appreciate it, but no me and Max, not now, not ever. That’s my final word.’

Linda shrugged. Her gaze went over to Fred unlocking the front door and turning the sign over to OPEN. She narrowed her eyes. ‘Do you think Fred’s head looks funny today?’ she whispered.

Bonnie followed her gaze. ‘Not really,’ she said quietly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Like his bald patch isn’t quite as bald as it was on Saturday.’

‘What, like a comb-over?’

‘No, not like a comb-over, like…’

‘Oh my God!’ Bonnie squeaked and put a hand to her mouth. ‘You don’t think that’s where he was this morning?’

Linda turned to her and nodded solemnly but her eyes were dancing with laughter. ‘I think he’s treated himself to a new rug!’

***

Despite her working week being a long and very routine one, it had still flown by and Bonnie found herself with a rare Saturday off. Paige was still in bed after staying up late the previous night, mostly online, Bonnie presumed, although what Paige did behind her closed bedroom door was anyone’s guess.

Bonnie sat at the kitchen table, staring into space. She had washed up and cleaned the surfaces, plopped a pile of meat and veg into the slow cooker with a sachet of casserole seasoning for the evening meal, ironed their washing and read every magazine she had from cover to cover and then back again. What did you do on a precious Saturday off when you had no spare money to enjoy it? Linda was working, of course – one of them had to be in the shop helping Fred (who was probably, right now, on his fiftieth grumble of the day, complaining that they were short-staffed and rushed off their feet and he didn’t see why the trade unions had ever got involved in the running of businesses, instigating holidays and sick pay and such nonsense) and her mum was on one of her frequent cigarette runs in Spain. They seemed to be getting very frequent indeed, Bonnie mused, and although she hadn’t really noticed Jeanie’s five-a-day smoking habit worsening, she wondered whether she ought to drop some heavy hints about quitting before her mum smoked herself to instant death. All in all, it looked like it was going to be a boring day and Bonnie was beginning to wonder about phoning her boss to see if she could go into work. At least she’d have someone to talk to there.

One more hot drink and she’d go and get sorted, at least pretend she had something worth getting dressed for on a dreary, lonely, boring Saturday morning.

And into this morass of greyness, her phone bleeped. She rarely got texts from anyone, and the few people it was likely to be were all currently busy. Unless Paige wanted a cup of tea and had decided to text from her bedroom. That would be a new low, even for them, but Bonnie wouldn’t have put it past her. She reached across the table and picked it up to read the message. For a moment, it didn’t register. But then she stared at the screen as she read it again.

Please call us on 07773771771 to hear some exciting news.

It couldn’t be...

It had to be a hoax.

Or a sales call, one of those timeshare cons that made you believe something amazing was coming your way when all they wanted was to get you to buy their poxy product?

Or could it be that, for once in her life, Lady Luck had cut Bonnie some slack?

Bonnie placed the phone on the table and pushed herself up to fill the kettle while the information sank in. As she waited for it to boil, her mind wandered to Paige, and how much she would love to win that competition, how much she deserved it for the terrible time she’d had since Henri had left them one grey morning with no explanation and barely a look back. Paige had spent a long time blaming herself for somehow doing something that had upset her dad to the point that he felt he had to desert them. Once she had finished blaming herself, she blamed Bonnie, and then Jeanie, and then finally seemed to accept that Henri himself was the villain of the piece. But it had taken her a long time to get there. All the while, Bonnie had struggled to keep the relationship between herself and her daughter from falling apart too.