A Part of Me (10 page)

Carter’s hammering resumed above. Bywater walked towards me, picked up his drink and turned to lean against the bench beside me. I caught something sweeter, more natural than the heavy fragrance of morning coffee. I tried not to look awkward, and shifted awkwardly beside him.

‘Do you mind if I just get something out of the way?’ he asked, tilting his head to me.

My free hand began fiddling with my jacket button, the other bringing my cup up as a face guard. Bywater repositioned himself slightly and looked through the open door out onto the waters. This was it. This was where he would spell out what a good sport he’d been in the face of my total knobishness and professional ineptitude. And I would agree with him, humbly, because he’d be absolutely right. ‘I’m guessing that taking this job on might be … uncomfortable for you, and you should know, you don’t need to feel that way while you’re here.’ I heard him swallow another sip from his cup.

I hadn’t expected him to say that … not that I was overly sure what it was he was actually saying – Bravely, I lowered my mug – just enough to look at him properly for the first time since I’d arrived.

‘You mean … because you caught me sending totally inappropriate emails to clients and didn’t tell on me?’ He couldn’t see me chewing away at my lip behind my reinstated face guard.

Bywater’s eyes held a smile. ‘Actually, I was referring to my little joke on the ramps the other day, but you can roll the playground insult about my peg leg into this truce if you like?’

I was already wincing. Even accompanied by his throaty laugh, it sounded even more offensive when he said it out loud. At least he hadn’t used the term
disabled
, or I’d have probably frog-marched myself, wrists aloft, to the nearest village stocks right there and then. I owed him an apology. I began gearing up to something I already knew wasn’t going to cut it when the true colour of his eyes hooked my attention for a second. They faded to an almost fawn colour at their outer edges, like a mood ring on the cusp of change. My back straightened. ‘Ah, I can only …
sincerely
apologise, about … I mean, I … I’ve never … really, I’m very sorry.’ His smiling was making it worse. Why did I always have to be so awkward around this guy? I
was
sorry, for crying out loud, so sorry it was killing my powers of speech. ‘Sorry,’ I repeated, trying again before my head turned completely scarlet. I hid back
inside my mug and looked over its rim only where it was safe to do so, out there onto the twinkling water.

‘Forget it.’ He shrugged. ‘Carter and the boys have thrown around every joke there is. Thought up a few new ones, too. If you really want to insult me, go for my hair.’ He was smiling crookedly when I emerged from my cup. Well, I couldn’t stay in there for ever. Actually, there was nothing wrong with his hair. But he was right, I had wanted to insult him, and now I couldn’t really remember why.

‘Actually, I wasn’t going to mention the hair,’ I quipped, instantly wishing I could gobble the words back up like one of Samuel’s Hungry Hippos. Rohan was still smiling. He ran his hand over the ruff of his hair. ‘Maybe not as glorious as Shin Splints’ golden mane, but you’ve gotta rock what you’ve got, right?’ he offered, shrugging apologetically.

I felt my head furrow. ‘Shin Splints?’

‘Yeah, your man with the curtains … and the impressive track record for winding you up.’ Thoughts of James made my back stiffen. And
curtains
? Boyzone had curtains. I smiled through the renewed discomfort and pretended there was something of critical significance in my watch face.

‘Shall we make a start, Mr Bywater?’ I said, waiting for him to exploit the very obvious chink I’d just revealed in my armour. I might as well have pulled out a great big neon arrow and let it flash him towards his next easy joke.

‘Rohan.
Please
,’ he softly insisted. ‘You sound like a doctor when you call me
Mr Bywater
.’

‘Sorry,
Rohan
.’ I nodded. ‘I’m eager to get started if we can.’ Rohan pushed himself up from the bench, unsettling more of the subtle fronds of his aftershave. I tried not to inhale another hit of him but he was everywhere.

‘Great. Well, I guess you’ve already seen how it goes around here. We’re pretty laid back, so, you know, make yourself at home and, er, don’t stress out about splashing hot coffee on anyone’s body parts.’ He smiled again. ‘Not the ones that won’t scald, anyway.’

I smiled and tried to think of something to say back.

The hammering above us abruptly stopped again, emphasising that our conversation had stalled. For the first time, I thought I saw him trying to think of something to say too. I suppose that was my cue to drop in with something professional, but I was still busy getting my head around the fact that there was simply no hiding from: Rohan Bywater was being nice to me, and it was completely throwing us both off.

‘So, any ideas how long you’ll be here for?’ he asked, setting his cup down gripping onto the workbench.

‘Based on the ideas you touched on with Adrian, I think you’re looking at four to six weeks fit-out and decoration.’

‘Sounds perfect. There’s nothing much happening around here other than a small gathering I’ll be having here mid-June, but honestly it wouldn’t be the end of the world if there were a few jobs running over.’

‘A gathering?’

‘Yeah, it’s a bit of an old tradition, I guess. I used to
throw a big barbecue, kind of an annual thing with my pals. They all lead pretty hectic lives so it’s good when we get together, catch up on what’s been happening, who’s broken what. I’ve been moving around, and with one thing and another, it’s kinda been on hold the last few years. Carter thought that with this place being fixed up soon, it’d be good to wake an old custom.’

I pulled one of my pads from my bag and began rummaging for a pen.

‘Okay, so you need everything finished up early June?’ Rohan passed me one of his from the workbench and nodded. I began scribbling. ‘Given what you’ve discussed with Adrian, there aren’t that many structural items to tackle. Lead times on finishes are where the issues might be. If we can tie a few suppliers down this week, we should be able to get a better handle on the project, start piecing together a schedule of works.’

He seemed amused again. ‘Sure, sounds good. No one really has a set schedule to work around here, usually we just … go with the flow.’

‘Go with the flow?’

‘Yeah. Why not?’ He shrugged.

‘I’m more of a planning type of person,’ I conceded, returning to my notes. I didn’t have much experience of
going with the flow
.

Rohan arched his eyebrows. ‘Sounds exhilarating. How’s that working out for you?’ Not so great, as it happened.

I was chewing my lip again, trying to think of something else to say. ‘Should I … get set up here? I can do a lot from the office but some days I’ll need to work from site.’

‘Actually, I’ve set you up in one of the mill’s bedrooms, if that’s all right? Some of my stuff’s in there, but there’s a desk and a fridge – enough to keep you comfortable.’

‘Great. Sounds ideal.’

‘Sterling brew, chief,’ Carter declared, ambling into the workshop. ‘Roof’s done. Are we hitting the verts or what?’

Rohan pushed himself up from the bench, stretching through the muscles in his arms. ‘I’m just going to go show Amy her new executive office, then I’m going to try,’ Rohan leant back to inspect one of the sketches on the wall, ‘brace fifteen, but with the extra clip.’ Carter meandered past me, perusing the scribbled notes on the wall.

‘Can’t you get away without it?’ he asked, turning to examine the brace contraption on the side.

‘It’s still moving around too much,’ Rohan replied, ‘it’s nearly there, it just needs a few more tweaks.’

‘Did you run this one yesterday?’ Carter asked, holding up the brace.

‘Uhuh,’ Rohan said disinterestedly, ‘but the stiffness is still slowing down the line-up. I’m spending valuable seconds looking to see where to plant my foot.’

Carter rolled his head as if stretching through aching
shoulders and pondering the great questions of life all at once. ‘So, you going to tinker with it this morning?’

Rohan planted his hands against the workbench next to me and leant forward on them. He had better defined forearms than I’d seen at the gym and I bet he’d never set foot inside one.’

‘Uhuh.’

‘Cool,’ Carter said, seemingly losing interest. ‘In that case, I’m gonna go get my yoga on. Give me a holler when you’re ready to eat ramp, brother.’

Yoga
? It was hard looking at Carter without smiling. Now that I thought about it, he did have something of a hippy guru about him. Rohan’s eyes warmed, his features softening with the beginnings of a smile. If nothing else, it probably wasn’t going to be dull working here, but there was even less chance of it being easy.

I stood quietly, waiting for Rohan’s amusement to subside and for him to take me up to the mill, repeating in my head the only mantra that might see me safely through this project and out the other side.

Go with the flow
.

‘I’
VE HAD AN EPIPHANY
!’ Phil declared triumphantly, the bustle and thrum of a hair salon clearly audible in the background.

‘Where are you, Phil? I thought you were snagging retail displays with the shop-fitters again today?’

‘I will be, after I’ve finished snagging my roots with the colourist. What Adrian doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’ I carried on picking my way over the cobbled street, trying not to wobble where my boot heels hit uneven ground. It wasn’t far now to the quaint little shop with the Morris Minor van parked outside. The van was a quirky burgundy thing, with bold gold lettering splashed across its side. Not the obvious choice of vehicle for a fashionable bakery like
Cake
. ‘James is on site most of the week, right? So at least you’re mostly avoiding him at work. It’s Glitter Knickers who’s the issue.’ I reached the pretty cream shop front and hovered there. I’d already explained to Phil the reasons that I didn’t have the luxury of avoiding James, but her replies had consistently involved shovels and patios.

‘She’s his niece, Phil,’ I said, faffing over my watch.

‘Yeah, and? She’s a gofer, for crying out loud! She doesn’t need to work at Cyan with you breathing down her neck.’

I only had half an hour left. Hannah had asked if anyone fancied nipping out of the city to Hunterstone for lunch. As I wasn’t working at the mill today, I could either avoid the staff kitchen all lunchtime, again, or come into Hunterstone and cancel the cake for Mum’s party. It was a no-brainer.

‘He won’t get rid of Sadie, Phil.’

‘He won’t push her off the plank, granted, but if she jumps herself, Adrian won’t catch her, Ame, she’s too flaky. All we’ve got to do is
encourage
her to jump.’

Sadie had gone home ill by the time I’d got back to the office yesterday. She hadn’t shown at all today.

‘Can we talk about it later, Phil? I’m just about to embarrass myself.’ I took a deep steadying breath and glanced over the beautiful wedding cakes in the window displays.

‘Sure,’ Phil answered. ‘Where are you?’

‘Cake shop.’

‘Comfort food?’

‘Cancellation.’

‘Oh. Party’s definitely off, then?’

I tucked the same troublesome lock of hair behind my ear. By force of habit I’d styled myself to perfection this morning, armour firmly in place for another tense day
in the office, but despite the promise of yesterday’s sunshine and the wonders of expertly applied finishing spray, today’s damper air was seducing my inner frizz.

‘The party is just a distraction, Phil. We’ve got bigger things to focus on.’ James held too many cards and we both knew it. He’d given me a little space, which I’d appreciated, but Anna’s impending visit was looming like a storm on the horizon while I scurried around before she hit, trying to batten down the hatches of a premature reconciliation. But I’d be buggered if I couldn’t take control of this one stupid thing – the circus I never wanted.

I waited at the foot of the stone steps leading up to the old-fashioned bakery door, its vintage shop sign swinging overhead, and wondered if they’d have a line in commiseration cakes for the romantically damaged. Mum and I could probably eat a very large one between us. Phil began talking to someone as a hairdryer resumed its assault on her head. ‘Ame? I’m going, hon, I can’t hear you; I’ll call you later.’

My goodbye was futile, drowned out by the hairdryer. I took the steps up to Cake and let myself in through the door. It was warm inside, bursting with the delicious aromas of everything I’d spent the last half a decade abstaining from. Bright and welcoming, it was hard not to feel picked up by the atmosphere in the little shop. The door jangled closed behind me and the pretty young woman behind the counter looked up from her task.

‘Hey!’ She smiled, warmly.

‘Hi.’

‘It’s …
Amy
, right?’ I quickly racked my brain for the cake woman’s name, stalling until it presented itself.

‘Wow. Do you remember all of your customers’ names?’ I asked, impressed, and still stalling. When we’d come in to order the cake, we’d only been in the shop for twenty minutes, and Mum had done most of the talking and sampling. She shrugged happily, pushing a few of the loose tendrils from her face. She seemed to have every shade of brown through blonde in her hair, happy enough to let it sit wildly piled at the back of her head.

‘I don’t know,’ the woman smiled, ‘some people just stick, I guess. It’s getting close now, isn’t it? May the …’ She began flicking through a diary on the worktop. The first tingle of awkwardness began to rise in my cheeks.

‘Actually, I need to er …’

From the room behind the counter, a handsome thirty-something in an open-necked white shirt all too easily created a diversion. He jostled his light-grey suit jacket from one arm to the next. He reminded me a little of James, suave and confident in a way that was more natural gift than conscious effort. There was something different about the way this man held himself, though, more relaxed in the shoulders perhaps. He smiled politely. It was a good smile, but I didn’t hold its attention for long.

‘I’ve got to run, Hol,’ he said.

My memory clicked.

Holly blushed as the guy leant in and kissed her
tenderly. I watched as he bent down and placed his hands deftly at her waist, laying another, longer kiss on her swollen tummy. ‘Right then, young bean, you look after our favourite girl while Daddy thrashes your grandpa over eighteen holes.’

She couldn’t be very far off. She was a little bigger than I had been when I’d gone in to the hospital. I turned away to look at the displays of cakes and confection around the room, desperately trying not to feel as though I’d just ram-raided my way into their happiness. Salvation came in the form of my phone, vibrating in my bag. I turned away from them, speaking in hushed tones behind me while I flicked to the message icon. I had two texts, the first from Mum.

I smiled at the screen. I should take a cake back for her. I flicked through to the second message.
JAMES
sat unapologetically centre screen.

Perhaps it was being stood there, a spectator in the middle of someone else’s happily-ever-after that caught me off-guard. I glared at the screen, trying not to blink and dislodge the tears that might suddenly be there. Behind me, Holly shooed the man from the shop.

‘Sorry about my husband. He’s excited.’ She smiled as I turned back to face her. She began patting the bump beneath her crimson pinny. It was the same shade as my woollen trench coat. Two women, with only a colour in common. Slipping the phone into my bag, I smiled back at her, but it already felt heavy on my lips.

‘Actually,’ I said, clearing my throat, ‘I’ll have to pop back. That was my mum … minor emergency, sorry. I’ll call back in the week.’ I made it hurriedly to the door. Holly looked on from her counter, almost hiding her bemusement.

‘I hope everything’s okay,’ she called, but I was already on the steps, skipping rapidly down onto the pavement. The frustration bubbled up in me with every strident step forward. Why couldn’t my brain just fathom it all out? Override the stabbing I felt in my chest every time I thought of them together? It should be demanding that I go immediately to the house, throw all of James’s things into the street and banish him from my life. The life we’d tumbled into together after a one-in-a-hundred fluke. The life that we’d been surviving together ever since.

And then another thought shadowed the last. I wasn’t perfect either, and James knew it. And I knew that this was
the conclusion everyone but Phil and my brother would eventually come back to, that if James could accept never having his own biological child with me, why couldn’t I accept a momentary
indiscretion
by him? A blip. A mistake. It seemed such small sacrifice by comparison.