Page 90 of One More Day
‘Oh, Charlie.’
He shrugs, bites his lip and then lifts his plate and reaches for mine, which tells me he has said enough for now. I hand it across to him before remembering my manners.
‘No, let me, please. I’ll wash up. It’s the least I can do.’
He takes a deep breath and glances out through the window. I didn’t expect our conversation to steer that way and I don’t think he did either.
‘You fancy a snowball fight in the garden?’ he says as I’m filling the sink with hot soapy water, and I must admitI’m impressed at his quick effort to lift the mood again and change the subject. ‘I bet I can build a much better snowman than you can.’
I turn to face him and dry my hands with a tea towel, delighted to see him smiling again.
‘Oh, do you now?’ I ask him, wearing my game face. ‘I’m not really the snowball fight type, to be perfectly honest, but I’ll rise to your snowman challenge for sure.’
‘You’re competitive?’
‘You better believe it, Charlie, boy. What’s your surname by the way?’
‘Sheerin. Charlie Daniel Sheerin, the first and last boy Sheerin of my family line. And yours?’
‘Quinn,’ I reply, picturing my dad’s sweet face as soon as I say it. He always called me his golden girl. ‘Rose Marie Patricia Quinn. Not named after anyone, but named three times nonetheless.’
‘So now that we’ve cleared up that small matter, what’s the prize for the winner of the snowman competition?’ he asks.
‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ I say, scooping some bubbles from the sink before turning to face him. I put some on the tip of his nose. He blows them away.
‘OK, I’ll meet you in the garden in five,’ he replies, and as he leaves the kitchen I lean up against the sink, realising my legs have gone to jelly as the tension fizzles between us.
I lift my phone from where it sits on the worktop. I’m tempted to call Carlos and fill him in on how wonderful Charlie has turned out to be, but then I decide not to.
I don’t want to tempt fate for a start, neither do I want to put pressure on anything to come out of this holiday haze we’re now in, but most of all I want to savour these moments with Charlie all to myself for as long as I possibly can.
And I hope I can find my old self once again somewhere in between.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlie
‘So, who’s judging this? I mean, if it were up to me I’d say the snowman on the left has much more pulling power for votes than the one on the right.’
‘You’re biased,’ says Rose, as we stand at the kitchen window, staring out at our individual masterpieces. ‘I’ll give you that he does look very stern and bossy, but the one on the right is much more stylish and glamorous. She’s a she, of course.’
‘Of course.’
It’s just gone lunch time, Rose and I are each cradling a large mug full of creamy tomato soup, and the lane coming up to the cottage is a no-go area, so for the first time since we got here we can now officially say we’re snowed in. I have to say, there’s a sweet surrender about that feeling of going absolutely nowhere.
‘They do look like they’re having a conversation,’ I muse as I take in the two very different characters in the garden. ‘She is probably telling him off.’
‘He is probably mansplaining something to her and deserves every word she says.’
‘Do we call it a draw then?’
‘You’re so diplomatic, Charlie,’ she whispers. ‘I won fair and square. I mean, look at her lips – she’s had fillers and everything. I went to so much effort.’
‘I’m not so diplomatic as to hand you the winning title,’ I say, folding my arms now as we both study our form out through the window. ‘My guy has a moustache, which must add extra points. And he’s wearing Rusty’s old hat which I found in the shed. He’s a bit of a dude, if I do say so.’
‘We could call them Rusty and Marion,’ Rose suggests which makes us both chuckle. ‘That was fun, I have to say. But now what do we do? Not like we can go anywhere, is it?’
I look around the kitchen for inspiration. We could dig out a board game from a collection on the sideboard, or there’s a deck of cards in the drawer.
