Page 19 of You, As You Are

He’d tried to tell himself since that he wasn’t the least bit intrigued by her, but it was a lie.

What was a young woman in web-design doing moving from London, arguably the hub of all thingsbusinessin England, to a seaside town in mid-Wales to live with hernain? She’d said that she wanted a change of scenery, but something didn’t add up, and Iain suspected that it had everything to do with the thick purple cast on Ms Vera’s wrist. And what she’d been doing on the hike … well, that had puzzled him too. But she’d given up details for why she’d been there so easily, as if she’d never had anyone listen to her before; a definite duck out of water amongst the group.

Maisie might not have wanted to be there initially, her presence was obviously not her idea, but she asked enough questions that tested his local knowledge to say that she was at least a little intrigued. She asked questions about him, too, and it seemed like she actually wanted to know the answers. So he’d indulged her, just a little. Enough to satisfy her before she realised how pathetic his life was.

And she’dlistened.

How sad was it that a complete stranger had made a knot inside of his chest ache to be released because she’d listened to him.Forthree hours.He’d memorised that enraptured look on her freckled face, the parting of her plump lips, when he’d told her the story ofSarn Gynfelyn.

Iain might have flirted a little on the hike too, though whether his attempts translated asflirtingor not was anyone’s guess. Maisie looked so stressed at her first sight of the cliffs that he’d thought a little levity might take the edge off. His rusty skills weren’t expert at flirting – it’d been a long bloody time since he’d used them – but he knew how to throw out a line or two. Her full cheeks had turned pink on occasion just from when he’d looked at her alone. The default of his expression had always been an irritated stiffness he’d inherited from his father, so Iain was stumped by her reaction, to say the least.

Rain pelted down on the showroom’s glass windows for walls.

Two customers had come in today so far, both of them so indecisive about what it was they were looking for from a kitchen that Iain was stuck for how to help them. He could show them as many worktop samples, prefab units, and floor tiles as he liked, but if they didn’t know what aesthetic they wanted in the first place, then how was he supposed to narrow it down from the entire brick-thick catalogue of options?

In the end, they’d taken some photos but not made one single decision, so the hour had been a complete waste of Iain’s time. He didn’t even know why he worked in sales when he saw no future there. Plus, his face wasn’t exactly the open, friendly sort that was supposed to break record sales.

Mari, on the other hand – the twenty-something, glossy haired brunette who occupied the other desk across the showroom – knew how to make a sale. He wouldn’t be a prick and say it was because of her objectionably attractive looks and her welcoming smile; she was actually damn good at her job. Better than him, at least, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. She came into the showroom with a pep in her high-heeled step, whereas Iain would rather be anywhere else.

Why he hadn’t gotten fired already, he didn’t know.

The sound of Mari’s manicured nails clicking at her keyboard carried across the low tunes of the radio echoing in the showroom, bouncing off all the shiny new surfaces of bath tubs, toilets, and taps. Iain lifted his phone and drummed on the back of it. He was tempted to text Ms Vera to ask how Maisie was. If that was her first hike, which it looked like it likely was, then her body would probably be sore as hell, and the way that she’d landed in those stinging nettles wouldn’t have been pleasant for her either.

Would it be crossing an invisible line to ask? He didn’t know, but he’d do so in a separate chat outside the group one which amused him to no end. Every person from a younger generation should experience being in a group thread with thirteen pensioners at least once in their life. The use of emojis was – accidental or not – dirtier than his group text with his rugby mates.

He opened Ms Vera’s contact and hovered his thumb over the green ‘message’ button. Would it put the wrong ideas into Ms Vera’s mind if he texted to ask about her granddaughter? Probably.

He hadn’t been bullshitting Maisie when he’d said Vera had talked about her, always when he was around, Iain recalled. He’d figured that it was a ploy to get him – a terminally single man – intrigued about this unseen granddaughter, until he realised that a) the topics of gossip weren’t flattering to the granddaughter at all, and b) the granddaughter lived in London, too far away for Iain to consider showing any interest.

Except, now she was here.

He’d never expected to actuallymeether, and Maisie Moss wasn’t how he’d pictured her at all. From the way Ms Vera spoke, he’d expected someone frail and meek. Someone who would have seen his gruffness as brutishness and ran a mile the other way. But who’d turned up was a larger, curvier womanwith enough personality to fill every inch of her. Ted was right to have run to her (even if it was only to nab her breakfast) – none of those things about the real Maisie put Iain off at all. He was a grown arse man who could handle a grown arse woman, and he’d walked behind her on enough inclines that morning to get a good glimpse at her arse.

Whatever. He couldn’t think too much about how if he saw her again, then it wouldn’t be a bad thing. He guessed that if she was going to stay with the group then he’d be seeing her a fair bit more. Though he was in no fit state to entertain dating a woman, even in his mind.Especiallythat. It was a car crash in there, and like for most of his life, Iain put fixing the wreckage aside. If things hadn’t gone arse about face without warning almost two years ago, he’d be married now. He’d be happy. He wouldn’t be eighteen months into a new life having abandoned the old.

His thumb still hovered over the ‘message’ icon in Ms Vera’s contact, his brows pulling further together with each second of the ticking clock on his desk.

The elders had glanced back at them enough for him to sense trouble – themeddlingkind. But the incident with the nettles had been unfortunate, and Maisie’s brand-new boots—idiotic—had caused her to hobble the last half an hour up to Constitution Hill and back to Aberystwyth’s promenade, scratching at everywhere the nettles had stung her.

“Fuck it,” Iain muttered whilst Take That’s popular tunes lowly filled the showroom.

It was just friendly consideration. That was all.

Iain H

Pnawn da?*, Vera, hope you’re having a nice day. Wondered how Maisie is fairing after the walk? Sorry it didn’t end well for her.

There.It was done.

He’d said what he’d wanted to, and now he could put his phone down and continue staring out of windows at the sheets of rain and vehicles coming in and out of the industrial estate.

“Iain?”

The sound of his manager’s voice made his stomach tense.

“Could you come into my office for a moment?”

Iain caught Mari’s eye across the showroom, finding himself being given a small smile of encouragement. He wouldn’t be standoffish with her – she was a kind young woman who put up with his grumpiness every day – so he gave her the most shallow twitch of a companionable smile that she might not have interpreted from under his beard anyway.

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