Chapter 7

The tentative autumn sun through the curtains was grey as Marilyn woke to the prospect of having someone to share breakfast with. She vaguely remembered waking once, but had gone straight back to a better night’s sleep than she’d had for a long time. Looking out of the window as she opened the curtains, she tried to ignore the sight of the landslide. The night’s rain had left, leaving a grey and blustery day.

The spare room door was ajar as she edged her way between the boxes on the landing. She glanced in, trying not to intrude. The space they’d cleared the previous evening was empty, his sleeping bag neatly rolled and stowed to one side. She listened for sounds from downstairs; Jay didn’t seem the sort to be shy of looking in cupboards to find what he wanted. She ought to mind that, but didn’t. The smell of coffee proved her theory. Downstairs, she found the place looking tidier than it had since she’d got back from Ireland. Genghis’s food bowl was half-empty, indicating he’d been fed, and he favoured her with a sleepy glance from where he was curled in front of the fire. Which had been lit. Still in Matt’s old jumper and jeans, Jay had his back to her at the kitchen sink, finishing last night’s washing up.

‘Morning,’ he said, turning to her with a smile like the sun struggling to break through clouds. As if recalling a dream, she remembered it was the sound of his voice that had woken her in the night.

‘Thanks for all this,’ she said, waving a hand over the room. ‘You didn’t have to, honestly.’

‘All part of the service. Hope you don’t feel I’m interfering.’

‘Not at all.’

She poured them both a coffee and he joined her at the table, drying his hands on a teatowel.

‘I didn’t sleep well. Eventually decided I might as well put the time to good use.’

‘I thought I heard you shout out in the night.’

His expression clouded again. ‘Did you?’

It was out before she could stop herself: ‘What does “shoiker” mean?’

‘Shoiker?’

She nodded, regretting her intrusion. He was still wringing the teatowel, though his hands must have been long dry. He paused, began to fold it.

‘You know, one of these days I’ll really get myself into trouble, rambling in my sleep like that! What on earth else did I say?’

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. But your voice was raised, and… That was all I heard, honestly. You just said something like “I’m not shoiker,” loudly. It intrigued me, that’s all.’

‘Sorry if I disturbed you. It’s coming back to me now you say it.’ He leaned back and hung the teatowel on the rail of the Rayburn. ‘It meant “jay”. My name. In another language.’

‘So why would you say you weren’t Shoiker?’

‘Search me.’

He stood and went over to the sink to finish off the pots. ‘You know what dreams are like. Weird.’ Still with his back to her, he scrubbed vigorously and upended a pan on the draining board. When he turned, teatowel back in hand like a security blanket, it was as if the dream and its darkness had melted away like a wisp of morning mist.

‘Time for me to get you some breakfast,’ he said, breezily. ‘Tell me what you want and where it is. We ought to get moving – haven’t you got an important appointment this morning?’

‘It’s a shop I know, Jay. They might sell my stuff. Hardly an exam or a major job interview.’

He grinned. ‘Whatever. But I’ve got work to be doing.’

‘Work out there; it doesn’t include you waiting on me hand and foot. Aren’t you supposed to be the guest here? Sit down, drink your coffee and I’ll see to breakfast.’

He seemed restless, edgy, and it occurred to her that his offer might have more to do with keeping himself busy than doing her any favours. She wondered briefly about the wisdom of leaving him here while she went to Skipton, and tried to think of a plausible excuse for locking the door while he worked outside. Nothing occurred to her that didn’t involve offending him, and in any case she thought that getting into locked houses could easily be one of his many talents. Chiding herself for overreacting, she recalled how the previous night had passed without incident and she’d actually enjoyed his company. By the time he’d finished several slices of toast and jam as quickly as the Rayburn could brown them, she had decided to trust him.

She quickly changed and he helped her to the car with one of the boxes from the landing. They decided it wouldn’t be worth him patching up the hole in the barn roof, as the whole thing was to be replaced, and he should concentrate on finishing clearing the yard.

‘OK, see you then. I’ll be back by lunchtime at the latest.’

She moved towards the car, but he called her; she paused and looked back.

‘The joys of country living, hey? Don’t you lock up round here?’

He sounded genuinely surprised, and she hoped her cheeks weren’t reddening.

‘Oh, I…won’t there be things you need inside?’

He shrugged. ‘The tools are all out here, aren’t they? Leave me a biscuit or two, perhaps. Apart from that, I’ve got my baccy in here,’ he patted his jacket pocket, ‘and I can drink from the stream there, if I need to.’

She locked the door as he suggested.

Marilyn’s meeting at the shop went well. Despite having played it down to Jay, it was important to her, and she felt buoyed up on the way home, deciding as she drove through Holdwick to call on Matt to update him. Nevertheless, as she parked the car and walked over to Barton Mill, she found herself wishing Jay was there. She shook her head, annoyed that she still felt anything around Matt, as well as for thinking that a near stranger like Jay would make any difference. Inside the building, she made her way past the ground-floor units and up the solid stone stairs to the shop that had once been partly hers.

The traditional brass bell rang out, and the familiar board creaked as if to warn of her presence. When they’d taken over the place they’d hardly believed that such thick, heavy floorboards could move, but the mill had its voices like any other building. The clanging faded into a background of atmospheric music. Marilyn recognised it and briefly wondered whether to ask for the CD back as she made her way between the shelves towards the empty counter, plucking up courage. The items on sale were the same but different. She let her eyes linger on the homely colours of a stoneware bowl. One of hers. She swallowed her resentment together with her nerves.

The storeroom door was ajar. Voices floated through to the shop, the sound of boxes being moved. A woman laughing. Matt teasing. Dust was in the air, in her nose, catching in the back of her throat. Like the early days. Marilyn coughed.

‘Customer,’ Matt muttered to the other, then in a raised voice: ‘Be with you right away.’

His footsteps approached from the depths of the storeroom. She leaned on the counter, stood tall, leaned again, hating herself for feeling nervous.

‘Marilyn. To what do we owe the pleasure?’

‘I’d like a quick word. With you.’

She glanced pointedly towards the storeroom. She had nothing against Lucy and grudgingly liked her, despite everything, but didn’t particularly want her there.

‘Fancy coming up to the flat for a coffee?’

Not like him to be so tactful; Lucy must be having a positive effect. He called through to the back that he’d be gone for a short while and she followed him out.

The top floor of the small mill made a lovely flat and she felt an insane surge of jealousy as she thought of their plans for it. Plans that would now benefit someone else, while much of the fruit of her labours lay under a heap of soil.

‘No need for coffee; I won’t stay long.’

‘Ah, just wanted a nosy?’

She bristled. ‘I wouldn’t be here at all if my phone was working.’

He waved her to a seat and looked round. ‘We’ve nearly finished, though you wouldn’t believe it with all this mess.’

There were a couple of boxes in a corner, one unpainted wall with some paint cans and dust sheets. Otherwise the place looked good, and she felt as if he was mocking her inability to be in a room for more than half an hour without filling it with clutter.

‘I just thought I’d better let you know – that storm Saturday night? It’s caused a few problems.’

‘Hence no phone.’

‘And still no electricity, plus it caused a landslip against the barn.’

‘Sorry to hear it. Any structural damage?’

‘A bit to the barn; nothing that wasn’t going to be rebuilt anyway. But that’s not why I’m here. I came to say that Alan won’t be able to start this week as planned.’

‘Saw him in the pub last night. He told me he’d spoken to you and you didn’t seem happy. He’s started on the Grants’ place, hasn’t he? You’ve got to admit, Lynnie, he’s bound to give them priority. It’s their home, they’ve got three young kids—’

‘Did I say I was complaining? And I’ve asked you to stop calling me that.’

‘Sorry on both counts.’ He held his hands up and she wondered how she’d ever found the familiar gesture and accompanying expression anything other than patronising.

‘I just wanted to say I’ll probably be needing the spare workshop a bit longer than we planned.’

‘Hm. We could do with letting it out before too long. We’d hoped it’d be free in the next couple of months. But I do understand the position you’re in.’

‘I’ll be leaving it in a far better state than when I came. It was a wreck.’

‘Merely cosmetic.’

‘A wreck and you know it. And don’t forget it’s in lieu of my share in the business.’

Matt laughed. ‘How much do you think we’re making here? If it was a market rent it’d already take months of your “share” to balance it out. Of course I wouldn’t dream of asking for money, seeing as it’s you, but… I’m sure you know where I’m coming from.’

Only too well; he never tired of reminding her what a favour he was doing her.

‘Listen, Lynnie – Marilyn – since Alan told me the news I’ve been thinking. What have you told the insurance? Could you get them to cough up some rent for the extra period?’

‘I haven’t mentioned it as such,’ she said.

‘“As such”. You haven’t contacted them, have you? I’d have thought even you—’

‘We’ve been too busy clearing the yard and getting the car out – no phone, remember? – and I had an appointment this morning. I’m going over to the brokers’ now. I wanted to update you first. And…make sure it was all right for me to stay on at the unit a bit longer.’

‘If you say so. Good luck, then. So who’s “we”?’

‘What? Oh, I’ve had a friend over to help me.’

‘Anyone I know?’

‘No.’ She smiled and stood. ‘Right, I’ll be off. Thanks for being OK about me staying on.’

‘And for reminding you about the insurance.’

For once his smug insistence on having the last word didn’t bother her. As she left she thought that, rent aside, the insurance might enable her to give Jay a decent wage. Perhaps she wouldn’t even need Matt’s mate Alan at all.