Page 8 of The Winter We Met
I shuffled and sat straighter. ‘Did you know in Australia they call an outside toilet a dunny? And we’re currently enjoying a choccy biccy. I could change careers and get a job as a garbo, chalkie or milko. Facebook is Facey.’
‘You’ve been researching Australian slang? This Nik really made an impression.’
‘I’m just curious. I’ve never really got to know an Australian and we really hit it off.’
‘Anyone would think you fancied him,’ said Oliver and took a large mouthful of tea.
‘What would be the point of that? He lives on the other side of the world for a start.’
‘You could always keep in touch via Facey…’
‘Ha ha.’ I picked up the business card again. It was basic and didn’t even mention the name of his company. ‘But he is around for a while, on some sort of break. Maybe I’ll ring and see if he fancies meeting up. It must be lonely, not knowing anyone here. I feel bad that I’ve left it this long.’
‘It was Bonfire Night last night and Remembrance Sunday this weekend – why not take Nik to a fireworks display? Or you could meet him in London – take him to see the Cenotaph.’
‘I’m out to work early in the morning, like you, although Angela texted to say I could just do until three tomorrow, if I wanted, as she’s going in to look at some paperwork and can cover. I think she appreciated me going straight to Under the Tree from the airport last Saturday. But Nik may not want to come all this way for a couple of hours, just for coffee, before I head to Gran’s at five. And I can’t cancel her, not with the shock of Willow Court closing. Even if I could there’s Buddy to think about.’
Between us Oliver and I managed to stop Buddy from getting lonely. The fact that Oliver worked shifts helped, and sixteen-year-old Immy next door loved to spend time with him after school. Eventually I insisted on paying her when she offered to let herself in and take him out for a walk.
‘I know… I’ll text him. That way it’s easier for him to duck out, if he’s actually really busy. He left his business card – I don’t want to come across as unfriendly by not contacting him. At least this way I’ve made the effort.’ I picked up my phone and added Nik’s number to my contacts list before typing.
Hi Nik. Jess here – we met this time last week, on the plane from Nuremberg. Sorry I had to take that call. Hope you got to Islington okay.
A message pinged back almost immediately.
Hi there Jess! I was just thinking about you and how you shared your chocolate with me. I thought you’d appreciate this joke:
What do you call a wooden toy that likes chocolate?
Pinocchi-cocoa.
Mentally I gave myself a hug and grinned before replying.
Love it! How about telling me some more of your bad jokes in person?
5
Red anorak. Khaki trousers. Feet planted on the grass verge at the front of Willow Court. I almost forgot to turn the car as I stared at Nik. There was something compelling about his smile. I waved as my battered old hatchback headed into the car park and he followed. We’d agreed to meet at Willow Court and go to The Corner Dessert Shop before I visited Gran. I’d nipped home first to pick up Buddy. He’d been jumpy what with fireworks going off all week. I smoothed down my curls after I’d climbed out of the car although there was little point as one touch of the dusk dew would instantly unleash the frizz. I’d sprayed my favourite perfume across my hair, as well as on my clothes. I had as many bottles as I had candles.
‘Hey, Jess, how you going? Great to see you again.’ Nik opened his arms and we hugged briefly, a spark of electricity making its way down my spine. He bent down to stroke Buddy. ‘And who’s this handsome fella?’
‘My other flatmate, Buddy,’ I said with a smile. ‘Great to see you too – although I don’t flatter myself you came all the way to Springhaye for a couple of hours with a woman you met on the plane. Did you get it?’
He put his rucksack on the ground and delved inside, pulling out a box that he opened. Out of that he gently pulled an old-fashioned camera. It had a chrome and leather body just like he’d described, with the word Pentax printed above the lens.
‘I’ve been thinking about it all week. You texting prompted me. I rang Mr Wilson first thing this morning to see if it had been sold. I asked him to put it aside until I dropped by this afternoon.’
Carefully he put it back in its box and into the rucksack. We crossed the road and headed down the high street, passing Under the Tree. I wished I’d worn gloves as the tips of my fingers turned red. Nik looked in and waved at Mr Wilson as we passed Smile Please. The Corner Dessert Shop was next to the bank. It was bright and modern with white furniture and matching walls, decorated with silver frames filled with tempting photos of sweet treats. It was a welcome contrast to the clouds outside darkening the winter afternoon.
We went in and found a table for two, on the left. Like many of the food and drink establishments in Springhaye, dogs were allowed as long as they were under control and didn’t climb on any of the furniture.
‘I don’t think I’ve been to a dessert shop before,’ said Nik as Buddy collapsed at my feet.
‘They’ve become really popular over here in the last couple of years. You won’t find a wider choice of sweet treats. All they sell is desserts and puddings – huge ones as that’s all the meal consists of, without any savoury dishes. Then there’s a range of soft drinks, teas, coffees and mocktails.’
Nik took off his anorak and scanned the menu. ‘Wow.’
‘I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when this place first opened up last year.’ I glanced through the choices of sponges, waffles, pancakes and ice cream dishes, the cakes and cookies, the tarts, the macaroons and muffins… Nik focused on the page of traditional English puddings. I knew it well. Gran and I often came here and she always had trouble choosing from her old favourites, including apple and blackberry crumble, sticky toffee pudding, custard tart and jam roly-poly. He glanced at a neighbouring table where a couple were eating and his eyebrows shot into his hairline.
