than what the teacher thought is something to be celebrated, not be ashamed of.
‘But I’m not going for actual Christmas.’ No way do I want to spend Christmas there ever again. Even if the place had still been perfect (which it certainly isn’t), I don’t think I could face that. ‘I’ll go just before, or after. Actually, now might be a good time.’ No time like the present. ‘I could try and get some of it sorted before he has chance to ruin Christmas for another load of people. One more bad Christmas could finish the place off for good. I am not going to let him screw up like this: no one cancels Christmas!’
‘But you can’t just up and leave me!’
‘I’m not leaving you on your own. I’ll have to clear it with Aunt Lynn, but she did say a while ago that she thought maybe we should start to visit places again. She’s thinking of taking a temp on to cover here, so that we can get out more. You’d get to go to places too.’ I give her a sideways glance. ‘She knows you want to travel.’
Sam goes bright red. She thinks she’s hidden the way she feels, but she is one of those people who just can’t hide their feelings – they’re written all over her face. She’s changed in a good way, lately, especially after she got over her tosspot two-timing ex, and met her dishy boyfriend Jake. It’s been obvious that she’s come out stronger. She’s still the funny girl I love, but she’s now much more determined to live the life she wants. And she wants more than just sitting in a goldfish bowl in the high street.
‘Lynn doesn’t want to lose you, Sam. I don’t either.’ I can’t imagine life without Sam. We’re totally different, but we just get on. She’s giving me a look, like she might hug me, and I can’t cope with hugs right now. ‘Hang on, this will timeout if I don’t complete the booking.’
‘Leave it.’ She tugs at my chair again so that I can’t reach the keyboard. ‘Come on, they aren’t exactly going to get booked up if you leave it a few minutes, are they? And don’t you need to check dates first?’
‘I can provisionally book.’ Not that there is much need – there is availability on every date I look at. ‘Then I can call Aunt Lynn.’ Sam doesn’t like the impulsive side of my character, it makes her uncomfortable. She likes to know where she stands, whereas I – with my wobbly past – tend to view each day as a new challenge. And right now, locking horns with Mr Armstrong in the Canadian Rockies sounds like a good diversion.
‘Why don’t you call her now?’
‘Okay, okay, I’ll talk to her first if it makes you happy.’ Sam does have a point, but it’s a quiet time and I’m sure my aunt will be more than happy to cover for me for a few days; she likes to ‘keep her finger on the pulse’, as she puts it.
‘It does make me happy.’
So I dial out on the office phone and put it on speakerphone so that Sam will be in no doubt at all to Lynn’s response – even though I know she will like this idea. She says travel broadens the mind and shrinks the butt. She will definitely like this idea.
‘Aunt Lynn?’
‘Oh, I’m glad you rang, dear.’ She says this as though we never talk, whereas we talk at least once a day. ‘I wanted a little chat.’
Sam raises an eyebrow, and I half wish I hadn’t put Lynn on speakerphone.
‘I’m a bit tied up at the moment,’ she does sound distracted, ‘but come for a spot of coffee and cake.’ I stare at the phone, then glance at Sam, who is doing an ‘I haven’t a clue’ gesture.
‘Er, fine. It’s just I wanted to—’
‘Will it keep until Wednesday, dear?’
She sounds as if she’s not really listening anyway, so I nod, even though she can’t see me. ‘Sure.’ What difference will a couple of days make? ‘Or tomorrow?’
‘Oh no dear, I’ve got Hedgehog Rescue tomorrow, had you forgotten?’
There’s the tiniest note of reproach in her voice. How could I forget Hedgehog Rescue? Not to mention Purrfect Cat Rescue, Sanitary Towels for the Homeless, and Baby in a Box. That last one did worry me a bit, until I researched and found out it was a care pack for newborns. The image in my head hasn’t changed, though: the perfect next day delivery service for the childless.
Aunt Lynn believes in paying it forward, and because she is so nice people shower her with little acts of kindness. There is, therefore, a lot of paying forward to be done.
‘It’s the big weigh in, followed by a hog roast.’
‘That sounds vaguely inappropriate.’
She laughs, a hearty belly laugh. ‘Oh, get you! We can have a good catch up, and I’ll tell you all about my plans.’
‘Plans?’ That sounds ominous.
‘Shall we say three o’clock, then?’
She is obviously not going to enlighten me. Although with Aunt Lynn there is never a need to rush, and she is the least inquisitive person I know. If somebody says they’ve got something to tell me, I will mull it over, dissect the tone of their voice, list all the possible reasons, worry. Lynn will forget about it. ‘Sure, if you can’t—’
‘Rushed off my feet, darling! Oh dear, oh dear, I really have to go.’
‘Shall I bring cake?’
‘No, no.’
‘It’s no bother, I can grab some from the café across the road?’
‘Just bring yourself, dear. Take the afternoon off, I’m sure Sammy can cope. Now, I really am going to have to rush, Lionel is dangling from the chandelier, he’s so adventurous!’
Sam splutters biscuit crumbs in all directions, and I shout ‘bye’ and slam a finger hard on the end call button, as though it will disconnect it quicker.
‘Clean that dirty mind of yours.’ I stare at Sam disapprovingly. ‘Lionel is her neighbour’s cat.’
‘Ah.’ She’s grinning, and I can’t help it, I have to grin back. We know we’re both thinking the same thing (as she does know my Aunt Lynn quite well), and Lionel could quite easily have been a man she’d picked up. Qualifying for a bus pass hasn’t slowed her down at all.
We sit in silence for a moment, savouring the image that has sprung into our minds. It’s Sam who shakes the thought out of her head first. ‘Do you think it’s okay? The cat?’
‘Oh yeah, he’s done it before. He waits until she’s halfway up the stepladder then lets go and stalks off.’
‘Oh. That’s good.’ The look of relief turns to a little frown. ‘That was a bit weird, the cake and coffee thing. She never asks you round for cake and coffee.’
It is weird (even weirder than the Lionel thing) and worrying on many counts.
‘I know.’ Lynn doesn’t really do ‘coffee’, I might pop in for a chat, or she sometimes calls by my place and stops for a drink, or even a meal. But we don’t invite each other round for coffee. And definitely not for cake and coffee. The whole conversation is out of character. Something is off kilter. This feels like bad news and has made me feel all uneasy and icky inside.
What does she need to talk about that means I won’t be up to work afterwards? Is she selling up? Is she ill? My God, is she getting married?
I feel more than uneasy now. I feel sick.
I take a deep breath. It can’t be that urgent if it can wait until Wednesday and be lower priority than Hedgehog Rescue. Surely?
But even though Wednesdays are quiet, she knows that leaving Sam running the place single-handedly could be an issue.
Sam is ace at selling holidays to people who aren’t sure they want them, but she tends to get distracted. And press the wrong buttons on the computer