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“They’re where you left them, right here by the front door.” I look at the shoes in question before rolling my eyes. It takes her a few seconds to materialise. She races downstairs with heavy footsteps. As soon as she reaches the bottom step, she drops to the floor and puts them on. A waft of stale cheese from her lucky socks sickens my stomach, and I cringe. “Don’t you think we should wash the socks? I know you got a silver medal at the last competition, but it wasn’t gold. The fabric is getting thin and you’re wearing them for every class and event. I think we should get rid of the stench and find a new tradition.” We’ve both got a pair of ‘lucky’ socks.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt. What’s the worst that could happen? Oh, wait, I know. Silver could become bronze, or worse… no place.” She gives me a stern look. I guess she doesn’t like my idea.
“Don’t get smart with me.” I playfully push her outside and we make our way to my car.
“Okay, Mum,” she says, laughing, then her eyes widen.
My breath hitches in my throat as we both realise what she said. It wasn’t supposed to be a reminder of what’s missing. She didn’t mean any harm, but she hit a nerve. I’m too young to be her guardian, and the mounting debt is suffocating. We’re getting by rather than living life to the fullest. Ignoring the tug in my heart, I keep my words light-hearted. “People will start avoiding you if you smell bad.”
We climb into the car. Ainsley fidgets with her safety belt, taking her time to secure it into place. “Do you think Mum’s coming back?”
My faux smile falls. “Eventually, she’ll turn up. She always does.”
We fall into silence, both lost in thought. Mum has been gone for an unusually long time. We’ve received no postcards or care packages. It’s like she’s dropped off the face of the Earth. Has she found someone worth leaving us behind for? I push down the unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach. The only way to get through this is to be optimistic. She will come back. Everything will be okay.
I turn the key and the car makes a few noises before cutting out. Two attempts later, I cross my fingers and hope for a miracle. We can’t afford to break down. I turn the key one more time. The car breathes to life, and I thank whatever sweet angel is looking down on me.
We make it to gymnastics class just in time. Ainsley joins the girls in the locker room as I lock eyes with Mr Lightwood. He is not who I need to see right now. Hurrying, I slip out of a side door, making a run for the green area outside. He starts to follow, and I pick up pace. Gymnastics is in the local sports hall and, luckily, there are lots of exit points. I’m too busy watching behind me to notice what’s in front of me. As I open the last door to my escape, I come chest-to-chest with a wall of muscle.
The expensive soft cream wool feels so good against my palms. His toned body fills out the jumper perfectly. He is all man. I inhale deeply. Wait. I recognise that rich, woodsy cologne. My gaze drifts up to the brown stubble on his chin and his perfect pink lips. I frown as I meet his dark brown eyes. “Christopher McNabb.”
He’s a good-looking man and I usually push my attraction down. He’s not for me. There’s no point lusting over someone unattainable. He’s a customer at Sweet Cocktails, nothing more.
He matches my frown while he glances over my features. His eyes widen, and he quickly steps back. “Nellie?”
I’m offended by his reaction. There was no reason to jump back like I have a rash or something. “I do have a life outside the bar. What are you doing here?” I ask, trying not to sound irritated. Mr Lightwood must have freaked me out more than I’d realised. I need to keep moving. I switch sides with Christopher, gaining more distance from the door.
“I’m a member of the gym and I’m meeting one of my farmer connections at the conference later,” he says.
“Farmer?” He’s always so well dressed. He can’t be a farmer, can he?
“Yes. I do have a job which leads me to drinking on Saturday nights.”
A laugh escapes from my lips. He’s throwing my sass back at me, even though I tried to hide my confusion. Obviously, I didn’t do it well enough. Sweet Cocktails isn’t his whole world just like it isn’t mine. “Sorry. I thought you were too well-groomed to be out in the fields.”
He smiles like he’s amused by my answer. “I’m glad to hear I scrub up well. But these are worker’s hands.” He rubs the hard skin on his palms.
I’ve never noticed the roughness of his hands before. I nod.
I thought he was a stock market guy or something. From what I’ve seen, he doesn’t like to show his real self to his dates. Knowing more about him feels like big news, and he just became a little more interesting. There’s a noise behind him, which makes me panic. I don’t have time to linger.
“I’m sorry. I have to go.” As I move away, the door opens wide, banging against the wall, and Mr Lightwood shouts my name.
“Ms Kendal. I need to speak with you.”
I bat him off with an over-the-top hand gesture while continuing to flee. I get into my car and try to start the ignition, which fails me.
Please, not now. Start, you piece of junk.
A fist taps on the window while I’m still trying to start the car. I don’t want to deal with this right now, yet I have little choice. Pushing the handle, I open the door, allowing the annoyance to spread across my face.
“Look, I’m sorry for wasting your time, but we’re not interested,” I say.
“Don’t you think it’s up to your mum to decide if Ainsley could benefit from my club?” Mr Lightwood asks.
“She would have called if she wanted to.” I shrug, trying not to react. Mum wouldn’t have given him any more than I have. With her missing, I don’t want him to look too closely at us, though.
He points to the business card I left on the dashboard. “Somehow, I don’t believe you’ve mentioned Berry Hill Gymnastics Club.”
