Page 2 of Fe
“Those garden seats were pricey,” Charles barked as he approached.
“They’re nice though,” Fen pointed out. “Elegant. Just need a bit of cleaning up.” If Fen had a garden, he’d love seats like that, not that he’d ever be able to afford them. Or a place with a garden.
Charles huffed.
It was just as well Abe came out to help because Fen was struggling and Charles was getting exasperated. When his boss glared at the Victorian revolving bookcase Abe had lifted into the van, Fen braced himself.
“I didn’t tell you to buy that,” Charles said.
“Yes, you did.” But Fen’s heart dropped into his stomach. He pulled the catalogue from his coat pocket to show Charles he was wrong, and found it snatched from his fingers.
“Idiot,” Charles muttered under his breath. He brandished the catalogue in Fen’s face. “The item below, not that one.”
There was no mistaking the mark on the catalogue. “You told me the bookcase. I remember you said you had—”
“How much did you pay for this rubbish?” Charles checked the invoice, then raised his eyebrows. “Good grief.”
“It’s not rubbish,” Fen said.
He suddenly found himself knocked against the van with Charles right in his face. If Fen hadn’t had the vehicle at his back, he’d have fallen.
“Don’t fucking argue with me!”
Fen pressed his lips together, rain battering his face. This was more than Charles’ usual bad temper and Fen wondered what had happened. Had Scott pissed him off? After Charles went back into the building, Abe came over.
“You okay?” Abe asked quietly.
Fen nodded.
“That was well out of order.”
Fen moved out of the rain and retrieved his crutch. Had he made a mistake with the bookcase? He’d been sure he hadn’t but…
When Charles returned, he kicked at the box Fen had bought. “What’s this?”
“It’s mine. I bought it with my money.” Why did he feel he had to add that?
“Then you can damn well take it with you.”
I’m not getting a lift?Fen had assumed Charles would go back to the shop.Shit.That was a problem.
After the last item had been strapped into the van, Charles jumped down from the back, then closed and locked the rear doors. He drove away without a word and Fen stared at the cardboard box, which was getting wetter and wetter. No way could he carry it.
“You going to manage?” Abe asked.
“I’ll see how much I can get in my backpack.” Dump what he couldn’t.
“Want me to lift the box back up onto the loading bay?”
“Please, Abe.”
It made it easier for Fen to get at the contents and it was out of the rain.
“I’ll see if I can find you a plastic bag. Keep things dry.”
Fen shot him a look of thanks. He took off his backpack and began to slot in the items he most wanted. The wooden box first, then the stamp album and the painting. The coins and little bits were easy to slip in the side pockets and he packed in as much as he could. After he’d zipped it up, Abe returned with two supermarket bags.
“Thank you.” Fen shot him a smile.
