Page 32 of A Clean Sweep
‘I’m not sure if he’s around but … hang on, you’re in luck! Here’s the man himself.’ Adam disengaged himself from her grasp and gestured towards another man who’d appeared from a backroom area. Tabitha took in his solid but well-toned build, his cropped but full head of hair laced with strands of silver and a handsome face that spoke of a life well-lived and enjoyed.Thumbs up, Mum, she thought.
‘Hi! Oh, I’msopleased to meet you! I’m Tabitha. Emily’s daughter. I know this is really bad of me – my mum willkillme when she finds out – but I was just passing so I thought I’d drop in and say hello. I hope you don’t mind, I just like keeping an eye on things. Ridiculous, I know, she’s a grown woman and all that, but you never stop worrying about them. Mums, that is, just as they never stop worrying about their children!’ Tabitha ground to a halt, aware that Joe was looking at her with something like bafflement creeping across his craggy features.
‘I’m pleased to meet you too, Tabitha. But I think we’re talking at cross purposes here. You said your mum’s name is Emily? But I’m afraid I don’t know any Emily.’ He looked over at Adam, who shrugged, giving Tabitha another smouldering look that half-convinced her they were batting for the same team.
‘But, you’reJoe, aren’t you?’ Tabitha was now beyond confused, as well as hot under the collar as Adam sent her another sizzling stare. Any more of this and she’d be a molten pile of embers they’d have to sweep up and dump in a wheelie bin.
‘No, I’m Steve. I’m Joe’s dad. He’s out back if you’d like to meet him. Or he was. Here he is now. Joe? There’s someone here who’d like to say hello. Tabitha? Meet Joe.’
Tabitha felt like her whole world had tipped on its axis.The man standing in front of her, looking about as stunned as she felt, was thirty, maybe a year or two more. She could see his physical likeness to his father – both incredibly attractive men – but she could not begin to make sense of what was in front of her. Her mother was dating – maybe evensleepingwith – a man young enough to be her son. Unless she’d got it all wrong, misunderstood names, misread information. That must be it, she’d been more upset about the Tom break-up than she’d realised, had got hold of the completely wrong end of the stick.
‘You’re Joe? The chimney sweep? So, you know my mum? I’m just a little confused, think I might have got things mixed up. Always been a bit of a ditz. Once a blonde, always a blonde, eh!’ Tabitha had swung her head from side to side to demonstrate her blondeness. Stopped abruptly when Joe had taken her by the arm and steered her towards a corner spot. Pointing to a seat, he had poured her a cup of water from a dispenser and gestured for her to sit down.
‘Tabitha. I’ve heard a lot about you. Well, not alot, but your mum adores you. And I know she’s been worried about telling you about us. I completely get it but here’s the thing. I really,reallylike your mum – Emily – and I think she feels the same way. It’s early days but … I think we have a future. And I know there’s an age gap but it honestly doesn’t bother me. Does it bother you?’
Did it? Suddenly Tabitha wasn’t sure. Yes, she’d been stunned when she learned that her mum’s new boyfriend was more her own age than what she’d imagined. Yes, she was having a hard time coming to terms with this fact. She’d always hoped that her mum would meet someone else, she’d just never foreseen it would be atoy boy. Yet, looking at Joe’s earnest, worried face and thinking of her mum’s evident joy and – understandably now, her evasiveness – she wondered if it really mattered. Did a distance in years mean a distancein connection? Could two people transcend a couple of decades and come together if it was meant to be? Or maybe it was simply meaningless sex and they’d wake up, move on and no harm done?
Steve – the dad – was looking uncomfortable, as well he might. Joe was still watching her, trying to gauge her reaction. Adam, meanwhile, was delving into a drawer and produced – with a flourish – his business card.
‘Voila! In the midst of all this soap opera drama I thought you should have this. In case of a burning desire – sorry – to contact me. You have my home number, mobile number and email. I will answer all and sincerely hope to hear from you. Soon.’
She took the card and tucked it into her purse. Joe walked with her to the door, his dad and Adam discreetly sloping off to attend to business elsewhere.
‘Tabitha, I’m sorry if this has all been too much to take on board but, believe me, I’m not messing about. Emily is special and I would never hurt her. Hand on my heart.’ He made the gesture and something inside Tabitha pinged painfully. Tom might not have been The One but she knew that he had never come close to the intensity of feeling that she sensed Joe felt for her mum. Which made her – what? Sad for herself? Happy for them? Completely confused? Time to go home, she thought.
‘Bye, Joe. It was good to meet you. Take care.’ She kissed him on the cheek and left, all thoughts of herbs in pots wiped from her mind.
Chapter 21
It was D-Day. Or rather, M-Day. As arranged, Meryl had shut up shop early and she and Tabitha had set off like Holmes and Watson in pursuit of Moriarty. Except his name was probably something much more mundane. Like Eric or Kevin. Unlikely to be Xavier as he had a considerable way to go alphabetically.
Behind the steering wheel, Tabitha glanced across at her boss and friend. She was ghostly white and gripping her handbag as if her life depended on it. She'd assured Tabitha she was OK, that this was the right thing to do, but her demeanour suggested otherwise. Seeing Miroslaw again and facing the truth about his treachery was clearly something Meryl was dreading. Understandably. To meet a man you thought was your soul mate, only to discover he was a conman with only your bank balance in mind, was a bitter pill to swallow.
Indicating left, Tabitha pulled into the yard with the sign McArthur's Builders in bright red letters against a white background. A few vans with matching logos were parked out front, alongside piles of paving slabs, bricks andmiscellaneous materials. When quizzed, Meryl reluctantly admitted she didn't know Miroslaw's surname. Tabitha suspectedMcArthurwasn'tit, but didn't push the point. She now firmly believed he was about as Polish as the Queen but saw no need to rub more salt into an already painful wound.
'Are you ready?' Tabitha squeezed Meryl's hand, after prising it from her handbag and noting the definite tremor as she responded. Part of her wanted to put the car in reverse and get as far away as possible from this place and that man. Find someone genuine and lovely who would worship and adore Meryl, not treat her with such contempt and callousness. But she knew closure – another word she loathed – was only a few steps away. Until Meryl slammed the door on this doomed relationship she would be unable to open the way to another.
'Hi! We're looking for the boss. At least, we think he's the boss. Miroslaw?' Tabitha addressed the man behind the desk, who was cleaning his left ear with the tip of his Biro. After scrutinising the results – and wiping them down on his overalls – he deigned to look at them.
'Sorry, love. Didn't quite catch what you said. Got a bit of an ear infection. The missus says I should get drops but I figures there's nowt you can't fix with a good old scour. How can I help you?'
Tabitha took the lead, Meryl quivering by her side. 'I was asking if we could see Miroslaw. I believe this is his company. If you could please call him, see if he's free to come and talk to us.'
The man – whose name badge said "Bert" – scratched his head. A fine dusting of dandruff settled on his shoulders. Tabitha tried not to visibly recoil. They were here for information, not to assess the dubious habits of a staff member. But if he so much as cleared a lung or scratched his balls she swore she would…
'Miroslaw? Never ‘eard of him. Sure you've got the right place?' Bert was definitely going in for a groin adjustment. Before he could realign his tackle, Tabitha whipped out a photo from one of the websites. 'Do you recognise this man?' She waited, aware that Meryl was leaning on the counter, her face contorted with angst and apprehension.
Bert removed his hand from down under and swivelled the photo from left to right. Took out a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and looked again. Sighed deeply, then sighed again. This time, with genuine regret.
'Sorry. Idoknow this guy but he ain't the boss. Never was. Think he's been leading you up the garden path. He worked here for a few months. Seemed OK at first but then money started going missing.Couldn't quite pin it on him but he always had an answer. A bit too slick, if you know what I mean? Anyway, he legged it, probably a couple of weeks ago. Haven't seen him since. Hope he hasn't been doing the dirty on you too?'
Tabitha wrapped her arm around Meryl's shoulder. She was still shaking, but with shock or with fury, it was hard to tell.She had to get her out of there. A stiff drink or two was a given. They'd head back to the shop, park the car, and take it from there. Just one small question was dying to leap from Tabitha's mouth.
'So. Youdoknow him but he didn't call himself Miroslaw. Whatdidhe call himself?'
Bert had another scratch. Another snow globe moment of whiteness followed.
'Malcolm', he replied. 'Said he came from the West Country but I never bought the accent. Never trusted him, truth be told.'
