Page 75 of The Winter of Second Chances
‘You’d be missing an opportunity if you didn’t.’
Annie smiled.
‘You’re a real mystery, John Granger,’ she said.
John smiled back at her and winked.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Truce?’
Annie shook his hand.
‘Truce,’ she agreed. She went to pull her hand back but he held it for a moment longer.
‘Just so you’re clear what a truce means,’ he went on. ‘It means that for the rest of the day we will refrain from being unpleasant to one another.’
‘Not once have I been unpleasant without due provocation!’ Annie protested. Her heart was beating strangely fast at being this close to him.
‘Ordinarily I would beg to differ. But in the spirit of the Halloween truce, I will simply renew my promise to refrain from being unpleasant for the day’s duration. Do we have a deal?’
Annie smiled in spite of herself.
‘Deal,’ Annie agreed, giving his hand an extra shake for good measure.
‘Good!’ he grinned. He swooped down on the first table he came to and began gathering up cups and cupcake detritus. ‘Then let’s clear up this shower of shite so we can make a start on those Halloween decorations. Those wee trick or treating bairns wait for no man!’ he added in a jovial, extremely Scottish, accent.
Annie could not have been more taken aback if she’d seen Neptune himself grinning out at her from the surf beyond.
‘Right,’ said Annie when they had cleared down. ‘I’m going to make us a well-earned lunch. Would you like a coffee while you wait?’
‘That would be lovely,’ John replied. ‘I’ll get cracking on these boxes.’ He reached into one of the boxes he had dragged in from the hall and pulled out what was essentially a basketball sized knot of black cat fairy lights.
Annie grimaced.
‘I’ll make it a double shot.’
She furnished him with a large Americano and left him to it. Upstairs, Annie looked through her cupboards and the fridge and tried to find something to cook for an impromptu late lunch. She settled on a vegetable frittata and salad.
Twenty minutes later and laden with two plates of rainbow food, Annie pushed the cafe door open with her bottom and turned to find that John was not there. For a moment, she thought perhaps he’d changed his mind on the truce; maybe he was simply as mercurial as he seemed. She felt strangely deflated. But as she set the plates down on the table, she heard atap, tap, tapfollowed by a curse in a thick Scottish accent coming from outside. Annie followed the sound and found John sucking his thumb whilst still holding a hammer in his other hand.
‘Are you all right?’ Annie pulled her cardigan around her. Despite the brightness of the day, there was a distinct nip in the air.
John removed his thumb from his mouth.
‘Yes,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I slipped with the bloody hammer.’ He inspected his thumb as he spoke. ‘The skin’s not broken but it’s throbbing like a bastard!’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bastard throb.’
He stared at her, his expression amused, though he still nursed his sore digit.
‘You’re a bit of a smart-arse, aren’t you?’ he said.
‘Only a bit?’
‘I’m still deciding to what degree,’ he grumbled amiably, looking up towards the guttering.
‘This looks great!’ said Annie, following John’s gaze. A double string of black cat and pumpkin fairy lights looped in and out of each other above the windows which ran the length of the cafe. Another string, of skull lights, criss-crossed from the Victorian lamp post to the signpost which warned of strong currents at the peninsular.
‘I’ve a way to go yet,’ he replied. ‘Whether I’ll have any fingers left by the end of it remains to be seen.’
