Page 86 of Love in Tune

‘My darling, I think I’ve got a frozen shoulder. Do you think you could give it the quickest of massages? You look like you’ve got the perfect hands for it.’

Tash flexed her fingers. ‘Go on then. These hands have had a lot of practice.’

Mimi, usually territorial over Billy, just smiled serenely. ‘The kitchen, Honeysuckle.’

Coerced, Honey sighed and picked her way along the path towards the home. Towards the kitchen. Towards Hal.

Inside, the Sunday staff had gathered, bewildered. Without anyone to care for they were rudderless, and they turned to Honey as she walked through the doors.

‘What are we supposed to do?’ Nikki asked, one of the carers who Honey knew vaguely.

‘Well, it’s up to you guys. You can stay in here, or you can go out there and make your voices heard. Your jobs are on the line here, as well as the residents’ home. You have a dog in this fight too.’

She left them there, straightening her shoulders as she heard their murmurs of assent, when the door swung shut behind her. Maybe Tash was rubbing off on her after all. Outside the kitchen door a moment or two later, she regulated her breathing and hoped like hell that she could keep the kick ass attitude in place, at least for the next five minutes. Thank God Skinny Steve was in there too. ‘Safety in numbers’ had never felt a more appropriate phrase for the day.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Staying at the flat hadn’t been an option for Hal that morning. He’d promised Honey and Steve that he’d be there, but his reasons for being at the home were more selfish than that. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts today; he made bad company and even worse decisions. His brain was under siege, held hostage by the past. How had things gone so wrong? He’d woken yesterday with a plan to let his birthday slide past unmarked, and it had somehow ended up being the most significant birthday of his life.

He could blame the whisky. He could blame Honey. He could blame his brother. He could blame Imogen. He could blame all of those things and all of those people, but he didn’t. Hal blamed himself for yet another spectacular fuck up, and he was reaching the point where he couldn’t stand to make many more. That was the real reason he was here today. This seemed to be the one and only thing he was capable of doing right. Imogen’s letter had opened doors that he’d long since slammed shut, and only the simple beauty of cooking could offer him respite from deciding which doors to open and which ones to close.

‘I’ll make a start on taking the soup out,’ Steve said, heading out of the back door. ‘I’ll be back in ten.’

Hal nodded, and then turned as the door from the dining room opened. He knew who it was before she spoke. Strawberries, the slightly irregular sound of her breathing, the crackle of attraction, the complicated emotions.

‘Where’s Steve?’ she said, in lieu of a greeting.

‘Honeysuckle,’ he said cordially. ‘He’s just gone down to take soup for the protesters. Did you need him?’

As he said it, he wished he’d chosen different words. He didn’t want her to say she needed anyone else.

‘It was just about the numbers.’ She stumbled slightly on her words. ‘There’s already more than seventy people down there, more arriving all the time. We’re going to need, umm, a lot of soup.’

Hal wasn’t concerned by the numbers. He’d designed food today to specifically cater for a crowd. What concerned him more was the widening chasm between himself and Honey, and he didn’t know how to bridge it.

‘Honey, about last night …’

‘Soup! Lots of it please!’ she squeaked.

‘It doesn’t have to be like this.’

‘I think we should work on well over a hundred,’ she shot back, still hovering over by the door, ready to bolt. ‘More, even.’

‘We can make enough soup for the whole damn town if they all show up, Honey. It isn’t a problem, okay?’

He heard her swallow. ‘Good. Well, that’s good news about the soup,’ she said, trailing off. ‘I’ll get back then.’

‘Honey. Just hang on a minute, please?’ he said, even though he had no idea what he was going to do or say to make things better.

She didn’t ignore him and leave. That had to be something, right?

‘Come here.’

He needed her closer. She moved quietly, nearer, not touching him.

‘I need to say some things, Honey, and I don’t know how to say them without hurting you,’ he said, reaching out for her, aiming for her shoulder, finding the soft skin on the side of her neck, his thumb on the warm pulse between her collarbones. She’d tied her hair back.

‘Hal, do we really need to do this?’ she said.

---