Page 6 of Forgive Me Not
‘You enjoyed those Christmas crackers. They’ve got to be the least useful thing anyone’s ever given us.’
‘The old dear meant well, and that plastic puzzle kept you quiet for, ooh…’ his lips turned upwards, ‘a good ten minutes.’
Her mouth broadened. ‘Come on. I need a decent meal. So do you.’ She reached out and took his hand. Joe pulled it away.
‘Stop mithering me, Ems,’ he snapped. ‘You never know when to stop. We’re not joined at the hip. You go if you want.’
He lay back down and wriggled into the sleeping bag. Stammering an apology, she tugged on her boots, grabbed her coat and headed out.
Half an hour later, she was standing in the queue for food, the merry jingling tunes depressing her mood. Stig stood behind her, having tied up his Staffie dog outside. As usual, he held a battered novel in his hand. They hugged briefly.
‘Haven’t bumped into you for a while,’ he said, and pulled off his khaki bobble hat. As they neared the serving hatch, he stuffed the hat and the book into his rucksack. ‘Thought I might see you at the Red Lion on Christmas Day for that free turkey lunch. They threw in a bag of chocolates and toiletries too.’
‘Me and Joe just stayed in Market Street.’
The volunteers smiled as they dished out food. Emma and Stig carried their trays over to one of the long white tables. She inhaled the aroma of beef and gravy… creamy mash. A sense of nostalgia embraced her like an over-zealous aunt. The smell shouted school dinners. Christmas cooking. Sunday roasts in the Badger Inn. Oaktree Shelter’s soup kitchen was a desperate measure, but at least her friend Beth was here today.
‘It’s made from scratch an’ all,’ said Beth with a slight slur, and gave a thumbs-up.
‘Yeah, none of that tinned mince,’ said Stig.
‘Or that instant powdered potato crap,’ said Tony, a tiny broccoli floret in his beard that looked like a tree growing out of uncultivable woodland.
‘And as for this jam roly-poly with home-made custard…’ said Emma. ‘So much better than the shop-bought version.’
The four of them stopped shovelling food in for one second and smiled at each other.
‘Listen to us,’ said Emma, and wiped her mouth on her duffel coat sleeve. ‘Quite the food critics, aren’t we?’
‘Me and the missus used to eat out once a week. Before she got ill.’ Tony stared into the distance and started feeding himself on automatic.
‘Seen Mad Hatter Holly lately, Beth?’ Emma asked. She didn’t like to call Holly that, but at least everyone knew who she meant.
Beth burped. ‘Haven’t you heard, chickie?’
‘She got sectioned,’ interjected Stig.
‘About time. She needed to get back on her meds.’ Emma stared at her plate and admired the cheerful yellow and red of the pudding.
‘So where’s that toy boy of yours?’ said Beth, and smiled to reveal decaying teeth. ‘I haven’t seen him around so much.’
Emma couldn’t remember the last time she herself had used toothpaste. When she was little, Andrea used to make her scrub her teeth religiously for two minutes every morning and night.
‘Have you fallen out?’
She focused on the last mouthful of sponge. ‘Joe is only two years younger than me.’
‘He done a runner?’
‘No.’ Almost.
‘He’s thinking about it then?’
‘London,’ she replied in a flat voice. ‘He’s stopped coming back every night.’ There. She’d said it without crying. Emma’s friendship wasn’t enough to keep him in Manchester, and that thought fuelled her thirst more than anything else.
A few days ago, Joe had announced his thoughts about a new start after… Emma swallowed… after more than just a kiss. It had been his twenty-second birthday. They’d both been out of it. Emma had lit a candle. Stuck it in an empty bottle. Said that in a fantasy world she’d bake him the most amazing chocolate peanut butter cake. He’d held her tight. Said she knew him so well. Then she’d done her best to sing him ‘Happy Birthday’. She’d never reached the end. Their lips had collided. Their hands explored. She’d thought it felt so right, but just as things were progressing, he’d pulled back and now was more distant than ever. Why was it so wrong?
Joe was the first person in ages who’d made her feel normal, with their chats about telly and their visits to the canal. They both loved Jammie Dodgers and told each other when they had bad breath. They were movie fanatics and enjoyed casting friends into film. Tony was Harry Potter’s Hagrid.
