Since You've Been Gone

‘They are now, he’s been here since I flipped the sign over.’

‘Oh no, Jess, have I forgotten an appointment?’ I said, with the first prickles of panic.

‘No. He hasn’t got an appointment,’ Jess said, still grinning.

‘Why are you being weird?’ I asked him, trying not to laugh at his ridiculous expression. ‘Where is he then?’

I followed Jess as he walked from the bakery through the short corridor and out into the area behind the shop counter.

‘He’s over there, waiting for you to show up to work,’ Jesse said, looking out front.

I looked out through one of the windows over to the café across the street, glancing at the bistro tables outside for anyone I recognised. There were a couple of women in coats and shades enjoying the morning, but other than that no one. I was still watching when two business types, a man and woman, left the café together, followed by another sharply dressed guy in suit and shades. As he turned to check the road before crossing, I recognised the strong line of his jaw, passed down from one generation to the next.

‘How was your weekend, Holly?’ Jesse asked as it dawned on me who was heading this way.

I watched Ciaran Argyll draw closer as I tried to figure out what he was doing here.

‘There must have been a problem with the cake,’ I thought aloud, readying myself for what might be. ‘I bet the old bugger wants to make a complaint because I didn’t compliment him on his wedding tackle.’

‘Wedding tackle? What did you get up to this weekend, Hol?’

‘Nothing,’ I answered, still pondering.

The door set the bell tingling and Ciaran Argyll walked assuredly into my shop. Jesse stopped munching on his bagel.

‘Morning. Again,’ Argyll said, nodding at Jess standing over me. I got a gentle nod. ‘Hello.’

‘All right, mate, enjoy your wait with the golden girls?’ Jesse asked.

‘Actually, the coffee was surprisingly good,’ Mr Argyll said, taking his sunglasses off. He didn’t look so melancholy today; his smile was more relaxed than I’d remembered it. ‘But you were right, they did take care of me.’ He laughed, flashing a glimpse of perfect white teeth. I’d bet he was used to being taken care of.

‘Ah, they love a gent over there don’t they, Hol? Hol stopped buying lunch from the café when she realised the old girls give better service to the fellas than the women. It’s sexist isn’t it, Hol?’ It sounded silly when I heard it that way, but yes, I was boycotting the place.

I flashed a full smile of my own at Jess.

‘I’ll just go and finish my brekkie then. See you, mate …’ he said, leaving for the back, ‘nice Vanquish.’

Argyll turned to check the car sat outside the shop and nodded to himself.

‘What can I do for you, Mr Argyll?’ I asked, noting his cologne again. His hand dipped into the inside pocket of his jacket as he approached the counter between us.

‘You left in a hurry Friday, understandably. You forgot this. I thought we at least owed you the courtesy of returning it,’ he said softly, pulling open a folded sheet of paper and handing it to me. I recognised the information immediately.

Two times ten-inch vanilla testicles gored with stiletto, deliver to Fergal Argyll, Hawkeswood Manor Friday 20th September 8.30 p.m. EXACTLY.

‘Can I sign it for you? My father was a touch worse for wear over the weekend or I’d have asked him.’

He’d brought the delivery note all this way?

‘No, that’s OK. It’s not important really,’ I said, realising too late that the delivery note had travelled some thirty miles back to the shop with this man. ‘But thank you for returning it.’

His eyes were an intense brown, narrowing slightly as he tilted his head to watch me. He was a very attractive man, too good looking all for just one person. My attention was snagged by the light flooding into the shop catching on the edges of his choppy hair, sending brown to blond in places. There was a hint of neatly cropped stubble I hadn’t noticed on Friday.

I couldn’t explain it, but I felt the beginnings of warmth creeping over my neck. Was I so out of practice interacting with the opposite sex that I blushed like a naive schoolgirl around them? How excruciatingly embarrassing.

‘Are you sure?’ he pressed, those eyes that didn’t belong with the tones in his hair still watching me closely. ‘My stepmother can be quite the pedant when it comes to paperwork. And my father’s anatomy.’

Oh dear, we were back onto Fergal’s testicles. Yep. Definitely had a pink neck.

‘Um, not really, she didn’t hang around long,’ I said, trying to get off the subject of the vivacious Mr Argyll senior and any conversation that might lead me onto it.

‘I believe Elsa offered you an additional sum for proof of delivery to Fergal in person?’

‘She did. But it wasn’t compulsory,’ I answered

‘Then you’re out of pocket?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing again. ‘Let me take care of that, it’s not your fault my father was misbehaving. You shouldn’t get into any trouble for it.’ He pulled a chequebook from the same inner pocket, laying it alongside his sunglasses on the counter.

‘Would five hundred cover it?’ he asked, clicking the cap of his pen. ‘I understand you were offered double the cost of the cake if you procured the signature? The cake was two-thirty, right? Consider the difference by way of an apology. Fergal can get … excited, sometimes,’ he said as his pen scratched against the chequebook.

‘How do you kn—?’

‘Toby’s an old friend of mine. He helped me find you. Do you know there’s no address on your delivery sheet?’ he said, pausing to look at me again.

‘The delivery sheets are just for our records …’ I shrugged. ‘Toby?’

‘Elsa’s driver. He paid you for the cake. So shall we say five hundred then?’ Ciaran asked, waiting to scribble a final figure. These people, it was obscene how they threw their money around.

‘Really, there’s no need. It was all paid for.’

He looked up at me from where he’d leaned in towards the oak surface Charlie had waxed five times before achieving the shade I liked. His left hand was flat against the wood as he stood poised over his chequebook. He didn’t have worker’s hands like his father. They looked softer than mine, with impeccably clean fingernails. No wedding band either, but then I didn’t wear mine. The icing was always getting stuck underneath it so I wore it instead on a chain around my neck, alongside Charlie’s.

‘That’s very gracious of you,’ he said, ‘but don’t you think you should run it past your boss first? Money’s money after all.’ I knew I was younger than the average for setting up on my own, but it always irked me when someone thought I was the run-around girl. OK, so I was still doing a lot of running around, just not for anyone else. I’d done those jobs all through college, and university. I may not have been sat on an empire, but I’d still earned my place on my own hillock.

‘Is your boss around?’ he pressed.

Martha had filled me in on what had been written of the Argylls. Of Ciaran’s fast living while his father footed the bill.

‘Yes,’ I returned. ‘And that’s very gracious of you, but don’t you think you should run it past your boss first?’

Something in his face changed and I sensed that I’d hit a nerve. The chequebook slipped back into his pocket. For him, the son of a rich pest, it must have been like re-holstering his weapon.

The smile was back again but I’d already seen the genuine version. This one was for show.

‘So this is your business?’ he asked, moving over to the glass display shelves nearest the counter.

‘Sure is,’ I answered, knowing that I’d offended him.

I watched him as he looked over our array of summer designs. ‘And these are all real?’ he asked, perambulating around the perimeter of the room.