Page 30 of The Fete of Summer

Polly: Wanted to ask if you’re up for a meal out on Sat. You, J & I. What do you think?

Jaymes: Did I do something to piss you off?

Polly: Don’t let me get stuck with him. You owe me that much, Nathan!

Cliff: Sleep tight. CUIMD

Nathan snorted. CUIMD. See You In My Dreams. Clifton had used the same secret sign-off in emails when they’d been kids in love. A vision came to him of sitting in a posh West End restaurant, waiting alone like a doting lover for a celebrity friend who was never going to show. Taking a deep breath, he scanned down the list of messages again. Overwhelmed and unsure of how to reply to any, Nathan did what he always did in those kinds of situations.

He switched off his phone.

Chapter Nine

Takeaway

Saturday lunchtime, with a shop full of customers, Nathan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Even though he usually discouraged the practice, he popped in his Bluetooth earpiece and answered while serving customers. The caller turned out to be Polly. After the flurry of messages on Tuesday night, Nathan had only switched his phone on once he’d arrived back home. He’d immediately fired back apologies while accepting Polly’s offer for beers and food.

“What’s up, Polly? Are we still on for tonight?”

“Change of plan. Could you manage a bit of babysitting and pick Jaymes up from his office in Mosswold Forest? His Rover’s in for repairs. I had to drop him off to work this morning.”

“No problem,” Nathan smirked as he agreed. Later on, he’d happily give Jaymes stick about the heap-of-junk that he considered his pride and joy. He’d wondered if Polly might be calling to say that Jaymes had cried off because Kell-Bell wanted him to climb him like one of his forest trees on Saturday night. As soon as the sarcastic voice sounded in his head, remorse filled him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt terrible and told himself not to be weird. Hopefully Jaymes would be in one of his usual upbeat, slightly silly moods rather than his more serious and pensive one. Seeing more customers entering the shop, Nathan was about to end the call, but Polly hadn’t finished.

“And about tonight,” she said. “Are you okay if it’s just the two of you?”

“Why? Do you have a better offer?”

Polly said nothing, and Nathan gasped.

“Do you have adate, Polly Wynter?”

While using tongs to place two chocolate croissants into a brown paper bag, he smiled at the customer. As an afterthought, he popped in a couple of complimentary macaroons.

“No, I—” He knew Polly well enough to recognise her discomfort. “Just dinner.”

“Come on. Spill the beans.”

At the till, he handed over the bag and took the cash from the young blonde girl, one of the Slubowski clan. All of the offspring had the same trademark blonde hair, brown eyes and chubby red cheeks. Before ringing up the purchase, he mouthed an apology about the call and received a slight shrug in return. After handing back the change, he smiled and nodded to the next customer.

“Are you okay or not?” came Polly’s irritated voice.

“Ooh-err. Polly’s got a hot date. Who’s the lucky fellow, you saucy minx?”

“I swear you are turning into Jaymes. Do you want to go or not? Either way, I’ll let Jaymes know. And he’ll probably carry on working past midnight again.”

Familiar with his next customer, he pointed to her usual order of a fresh baguette and received a nod in response.

“Short or long?”

“What?” came Polly’s startled voice.

“Not you, Polly. Sorry, I’m serving Mrs McDonald from Berry Lane. Got a shop full of customers. Of course it’s fine. I’ll pick him up once I shut up shop.”

And right then, the truth sank in. Tonight, there would be only Jaymes. No Polly to run interference. Could he cope with that, he asked himself? Maybe later, he’d find out. Being out and about had to be better than another Saturday night, sitting alone and falling asleep in front of the television.

“Great,” said Polly. “I’ll text him.”

“Anything else you need to tell me?”

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