Page 104 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“So, once you’ve rolled the cookie dough into balls, place the balls evenly on the pre-greased tray, making sure you have about five centimetres space on each side to allow for spreading.”

I move around the group, helping everyone do just that. I’m sure half of the women here could kick my butt in a bake-off, but for them it seems to be more about the chatting than the baking.

Much to my delight, Shirley has even joined in today, taking a break from her books. Shirley and Mrs Lee have hit it off, which I’m certain has made Mrs Lee’s transition easier. I had no idea that Shirley could speak three different languages, Mandarin being one of them.

“How are you, love?” Frederick asks, as I reach his place at the end of the table. “I know it’s only been a few days since he left.”

“I’m good,” I reply in a higher-pitched tone than before.

“But not great,” he says, as if finishing my sentence for me.

I pick up one of his rounded scoops of dough and space it a bit farther from its gooey neighbour. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Painfully so,” he says with a nod. “Mr Trouble made quite the stir in here, didn’t he?”

I dust my hands off on my apron. “Yeah, he did.”

“The old bats are still talking about him, you know. I’d say he’s stolen more than one heart around here.”

I bite back tears. There’s no doubt that Sam has my heart. It’s slowly ticking without him.

“When are you planning on seeing him again?” Frederick asks.

“He’s coming up for the pumpkin festival in nine days.”

“Not that you’re counting or anything.”

“Believe me, Frederick. I’m counting.”

***

Over the next week, I keep busy at work, making up extra time for the upcoming writers’ group meeting. Tensions have been running high since Gloria fell ill and was taken to hospital. Turns out she had a blood clot, which split in two as it wedged its way into her lungs. Thanks to other health complications, she’s now in intensive care. Thief or no thief, I can’t help but feel down about it. We could potentially lose another one, and so soon after Mr Thompson.

Since Sam left, the two of us started off with lots of texting back and forth. Thankfully it’s only two days until he’s within my grasp.

I check the time on the clock and am taken aback when I see it’s nearly six-thirty. I pack up my desk, grab today’s paper, and drop into Kathleen’s office on my way out. She’s still slaving away at her computer. I place the folded newspaper on the corner of her desk.

Kathleen snatches it up and flattens it out in front of her. “My word, it’s Thursday already?” she says, and lifts her glasses and sits them on top of her head. “How’d that happen?”

“It’s kind of dragged for me, if I’m honest,” I say with a shrug.

“Yes, love. Of course. Oh, I meant to let you know that I spoke with Mr Carmichael this morning. He seems to have settled in nicely,” she says with a weary smile.

Whilst I’m happy with the news, the fact that he’s settled in nicely in my Sam’s room comes with a sting.

“That’s great to hear.” I nod and rub at my eyes. “I’m gonna head home. Just came in to remind you that I’ll be leaving after lunch tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes,” she says. “The big weekend with Sam.”

As I yawn, I think about telling her about the writers’ group meeting but decide not to. I don’t have the energy to open up that conversation now, and besides, I think it’d be best to do it when I’m closer to finishing my book. Firstly, I don’t know how long it’ll take me and secondly, I’d hate for her to think that my writing might interfere with my responsibilities here. “Yeah. I can’t wait to take him to the festival.”

“I hope that boy knows just how lucky he is to have you, Jane. And if he doesn’t, you be sure to let him know.”

I chuckle as I make my way to her door. “I’m pretty sure he knows, but I’ll make doubly sure.”

***

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