Page 52 of Forever, Maybe
The crew at the stall—a couple of men and a woman in standard-issue black catering T-shirts, aprons, and caps—were busy plating up smoked salmon on toasted bagels, topped with poached eggs and a glossy drizzle of Hollandaise sauce.
Daniel saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
Minutes later, he returned with the bagel. As Nell admired it, a globule of Hollandaise slid down the side of the egg. Daniel swiped at it with his finger and licked it off, wrinkling his nose. The smoked salmon’s flavour was overpowering. True to West of Scotland male tradition, he preferred his fish white, battered and steeped in enough vinegar to pickle a barrel’s worth of herrings.
“Fit’s that? Looks yummy!”
The voice was bright, slightly nasal, and far too close. A ginger-haired woman, their age, with bug-like blue eyes, prodded the bagel in Nell’s hand.
Nell recoiled, clutching the bagel to her chest like a prized possession. “Smoked salmon and Hollandaise,” she said, her tone edged with disbelief.
The woman scrunched up her nose. “Fuck that. Cannae eat it. Smoked salmon’s raw, int it? Nae good for this.”
She cradled her stomach, a smooth, protruding bulge peeking out beneath a cropped crochet top and loosely fastened jeans, the top button undone. Daniel couldn’t help but stare. The sheer fullness of it was startling, like a balloon pumped to capacity. A dark line bisected the curve, making it look like whatever was inside might burst out at any second.
“Nicky!”
The cry made all three of them turn.
Joe.
He ambled toward them, his expression flickering with what looked like dismay before settling back into his usual genial grin. He slung an arm around the ginger woman’s shoulders, grinning wide.
“I see ye’ve met the boss, then.”
Daniel blinked. God Almighty. Joe had kept this one quiet.
“The boss? Ah, so this is the famous Daniel! The loon who keeps ye workin’ aw the time?” Nicky stuck out her hand with a grin. “Nae offence, like.”
“None taken.” Daniel shook it, nodding toward Nell. “This is Nell.”
“Welcome to the sisterhood,” Nell said, her tone acerbic. “Of women whose partners work all hours, every day, week in, week out. The only way I could see Danny this summer was to sign up for sandwich van duty. When’s the baby due?”
“Beginnin’ o’ November,” Nicky replied.
Something in Daniel and Nell’s expressions must have shown, because Nicky grinned and patted her stomach. “I ken! Looks like I’m aboot tae pop in a few weeks, eh? Fit aboot you?”
“Me?” Nell blinked.
“Aye,” Nicky said breezily. “Are you an’ the boss plannin’ any?”
The question hung in the air, heavy and awkward.
“No,” Nell said firmly, breaking the pause.
Daniel glanced at her, feeling the familiar sting. His Catholic family had asked the same question countless times. Early in their marriage, Nell had given vague answers:We’re young yet,orToo busy at the moment.These days, she’d perfected the art of the royal “No”. Calm, unequivocal, no explanation needed.
Joe scuffed his feet, his gaze flitting to the ground. Nicky’s eyes flickered between Nell and Daniel, then back to Joe. A spark of curiosity.
“Where you staying?” Daniel asked, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory.
Nicky gestured toward the car park. “Drove here earlier. I’m no’ campin’. I need tae pee ten times a night now. Got tickets fae Coldplay later. Mebbe Joe could come wi’ me?”
Daniel nodded, relief creeping in. He and Nell could manage the stall while Joe was away, as it was unlikely to be busy during Coldplay’s set.
Joe pointed toward a stall at the edge of the field selling bacon rolls. “Want one o’ them?”
“Aye, mebbe more than one. I’m eating for two, mind.”
