Page 8 of Forever, Maybe
Click. Done.
The hotel website’s confirmation email landed in his inbox seconds later, and he forwarded it to Nell.I’m an arsehole. Will this mini-break for your birthday make up for it…? X
“All right, I’m finished,” he told Joe as he switched the Mac off. “Is this something you need to tell me good or bad?”
“Good. Well, good for me anyway. Dunno about you, though.”
He’d lost that habitual grin. Daniel’s heart lurched. Had the very able Joe had been poached by another company willing to pay him the far better salary he deserved after all these years?
“Tell you what. I’ve had enough o’ this stuffy office. Fancy a walk to the Hyndland shop wi’ me? You can tell me everything on the way.”
They stepped out of the office building, turning right toward Hyndland as Joe launched into a detailed account of the trouble his eldest—a girl—was already stirring up, and the chaos he expected was still to come, all in response to Daniel’s casual inquiry about his kids.
April’s fine weather had lingered, blessing the city with a bright, sun-drenched day. Glasgow’s office workers seized the chance to bask in it, claiming every bench around Blythswood Square. In the gardens, daffodils stood in full, golden bloom, nodding gently as people unwrapped their lunches beneath the cloudless sky.
Daniel’s gaze swept over them automatically, scanning for the telltale black-and-red bags that marked his shops’ sandwiches and wraps. Too few. A small knot of irritation tightened in his chest. The spring promotions clearly weren’t hitting the mark. He’d need to revisit the offers, tweak the strategy and figure out how to draw more of these lunchtime crowds intoStuffed!.
Joe nodded when he mentioned it. “That’s my opening, then. I’ve got an idea. Recipe boxes. Saw it on a TV ad. What if we made them up wi’ quality ingredients and recipes for a week’s worth o’ dinners, so that punters only need to buy one or two other fresh foods? Could be a great wee money spinner, eh?”
The idea chimed with every bit of business advice Daniel had ever been given. Adapt, diversify, meet your customers where they are at. Recipe boxes were a great half-way house between ready meals and cooking for yourself. “Aye. Could work. Come up wi’ a plan for it, figure out the logistics, costings, etcetera. Might be something Ronnie would like to invest in.”
The idea didn’t seem to warrant further discussion, but Daniel knew Joe would get to what he really wanted to say in his own time. They walked in companionable silence, taking the scenic route to the Hyndland shop. Leaving Blythswood Square, they meandered down Douglas Street and turned left onto Sauchiehall Street, the buzz of the city weaving around them.
Did Daniel love Joe more than his own brothers? Probably. As the eldest sibling, Daniel had always felt a gulf between himself and the younger two. When he’d started the business at eighteen, Luke and Mark were still kids—twelve and ten—wrapped up in junior football, video games, school, and their mates. Their worlds had barely overlapped.
Joe, though, was different. He’d been there through all of Daniel’s highs and lows, a steady witness to the chaos of buildingStuffed!from nothing. Like Daniel, Joe had grown up in one of Glasgow’s rougher areas, the son of a single, alcoholic mother. Escape had been his driving force, too, the grim alternatives—tower block flats, dead-end jobs or a weekly giro—never far from his mind. That shared history had forged an unspoken bond between them.
Yet, despite his hard start, Joe carried a natural optimism and a wealth of common sense that had become invaluable. He wasn’t just a colleague or a mate; he was family in a way Daniel’s own siblings, for all their shared blood, had never quite managed to be.
Joe cleared his throat as they walked past the art deco dental hospital, Daniel marvelling as always at the massive number of eateries on that stretch of road.
“Okay… here’s my other bit o’ news. Nicky’s pregnant again. She’s due at the start of September.”
“Fucking hell!” Daniel blurted out. “Number five! Are you and her trying to create your own football team?”
Joe stopped walking, turning just enough to meet Daniel’s eyes, a challenge in his expression. “She loves weans. So do I, actually.”
Daniel held up his hands in surrender. “Aye, fair enough. Sorry! Congratulations. That’s brilliant news.” He reached out, his hand resting lightly on Joe’s shoulder. “D’you want a manly hug?”
Joe shrugged the hand off, his mouth quirking into a wry smile. “No, ta. A handshake’ll do.”
Daniel obliged, clasping Joe’s hand firmly. He wouldn’t have minded the hug—mostly for his own sake. The news stirred something uncomfortable inside him, a pang he couldn’t quite name.
“Is Nicky alright?” he asked, clearing his throat. Joe’s partner was only a couple of years younger than Nell, and their youngest hadn’t even turned two yet. The rest of the brood—six, nine and twelve—kept the house in a state of perpetual chaos. Whenever Daniel and Nell visited, they were greeted by a wall of noise: shouting, crying and the occasional crash of something hitting the floor. As soon as they left, Nell would shake her head and mutter, “How the hell does she cope with it?”
Every single time.
“Aye. Tired, but she’s just comin’ out of her first trimester so she should start feelin’ a bit better soon.” That fluency in the lingo of pregnancy marked out Joe and Daniel’s poles apart worlds, the idea of Nell stroking a swollen abdomen absolutely and utterly alien.
They resumed their walk.
“How much time do you want off?” Daniel asked. His first, unworthy thought was relief that Nicky was due in September. Safely outside festival season.
“Aye, well… here’s the thing.” Joe hesitated, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “This time, Nicky wants a wee bit more help. Cannae blame her, not wi’ all our kids.”
“Fair enough,” Daniel replied, fingers crossed in his own pocket. By now, they’d reached the Charing Cross traffic lights. Below them, cars, vans, lorries and motorbikes roared along the motorway slicing through Glasgow’s city centre.
“We were thinking… mebbe six months off,” Joe added.
