Page 12 of Forever, Maybe
Danny rummaged in his jeans pocket and a extracted a bunch of keys. The first opened the padlocks attached to the shutters in front of the door. He handed her the umbrella and heaved them up. They rose, clanking nosily. He used another key for the glass-fronted door, which swung open, its hinges creaking in protest.
“Come in!” The grin split his face in two. He stepped aside to let her in, but as soon as she crossed the threshold, the smell hit her full force.
She clamped a hand over her nose. “Whatisthat?”
“Aye, sorry! Place used to be a butcher’s,” Danny replied, waving a shiny, just-unwrapped bottle of Febreze in the air. He sprayed liberally, the cloying scent of “Meadow Fresh” doing battle with the lingering odour of… well, not-so-fresh.
As the mist cleared, she took in the details: the counter, glass-fronted cabinets, and tile flooring streaked with red-brown stains that she decided not to think about too hard.
“And you’ve brought me here why?”
He propped the umbrella against the counter and spun around, arms spread wide. “Picture it. Six months from now. All the flooring ripped out. Dark tiles down instead, white walls wi’ up-lighting to warm the space up. Wooden shelves all around packed with exotic things. Fresh bread in baskets lined wi’ linen. A refrigerated unit stacked wi’ cheeses, olives, dips. TheStuffed!sign on the wall there… Can you see it, Nell?”
She couldn’t help but laugh, clapping her hands as his energy swept her along. “Yes, yes, I can!”
She re-examined her first impression of him. No sign of the nerves now. The practical guy with a sandwich van was an artist in his own right. His head painted pictures that didn’t yet exist the same way she did.
He led her through a narrow passageway to a decent-sized room at the back. “This,” he said, “was where they butchered the carcasses.”
The slightly sweet, slightly rotten smell in the air confirmed it.
“This’ll do for an office and a small bathroom,” he added matter-of-factly.
Nell shivered. Her damp clothes clung to her like a second skin, and she could swear the smell was seeping into them.
“And here I was thinking romance was dead,” she teased, pulling her jacket tighter.
“Wait a sec,” Danny told her, disappearing into the main shop once more and returned wheeling a Calor Gas cabinet heater, the Febreze bottle, a kettle and a blue plastic bag. He pressed down the pilot ignition and the heater sparked into life. All four bars radiated instant intense heat, and she held her hands out, feeling the warmth spread up her arms.
“Tea?” he asked, plugging the kettle in. “And I’ve got sandwiches and crisps. Cans of cider too.”
The date was unlike anything Nell had ever been on before. And for that reason, she was enjoying herself a great deal.
“Cider, please. And a packet of crisps. Only if you share them with me.” Less calories that way.
There were no chairs, so Danny shrugged off his coat, tossed it onto a pile of old sacking, and sat down with his back against the wall. He patted the space beside him, and she joined him. One cider down, and somehow it felt completely natural to shift closer. She slid into the space between his knees, leaning back against him. His arm rested along her shoulder and her head nestled against it. The warmth of him was steadying, comforting, in a way she hadn’t expected as their conversation flowed.
Why did you move to Glasgow? Do you like Scotland? Do you have brothers or sisters? What’s your favourite film, favourite band, favourite singer? If you were a sandwich, what kind would you be?
“That’s a ridiculous question!” Nell laughed, taking another swig from her second can of cider.
“Is it, though?” he teased, his voice soft, the faint scent of his lemony aftershave mingling with the Febreze. “You can tell a lot about a person from the kind o’ sandwich they think they are.”
Her clothes had dried. A gentle heat spread through her. Not just from the cider but from Daniel’s proximity, the casual way his arm brushed hers and his steady presence. She felt lighter, more at ease than she had in weeks.
“Fine, then. What about you? What kind of sandwich wouldyoube?” she shot back, tilting her head to catch his reaction.
He grinned, his eyes sparking with mischief. “Something spicy. Chicken wi’ jalapeños, mebbe.”
“Predictable,” she said, giggling.
“Better than egg mayo,” he countered, pulling a face.
“I wasn’t going to say that!No onelikes egg mayonnaise sandwiches, never mind wanting tobeone,” Nell shot back. “I’d be something exciting. Like ham, corned beef, and beetroot, topped with Branston pickle, smoked cheese, and cucumber.”
Danny recoiled theatrically. “Nobody likes that!”
She jabbed her elbow into his thigh, making him yelp.
