Outside in the queue – for plenty of Murians had had the same idea on such a glorious evening – was Innes, holding Agot by the hand.
‘Hey,’ said Saif, wondering how Innes, who looked to be a single father to all intents and purposes, managed everything – his job and his daughter – while still looking so at ease in his own skin. Perhaps it just came naturally to some people. Perhaps he had just been a fool for thinking it would come easily to him. ‘Thanks again for the other night.’
‘ASSSHHHH!’ yelled Agot.
And then, in the queue, Ash did the most unexpected thing. He clambered out of Saif’s arms of his own volition.
He limped over to where Agot was jumping up and down.
‘CHIPS, CHIPS, CHIPS!’ Agot was yelling in excitement.
Ash grinned. He’d lost one of his front teeth, which made him look very comical. Then, all of a sudden, ‘CHIPS, CHIPS, CHIPS!’ he shouted, in a perfect imitation of her broad islands accent.
‘KETCHUP ALSO!’ hollered Agot.
‘KETCHUP ALSO!’ echoed Ash.
‘Goodness,’ said Saif, completely taken aback. Innes smiled distractedly. Agot bossing around other children she’d met was hardly a new experience for him.
‘Oh, it’s nice they’re getting on … Things going better then?’
Saif was overwhelmed with the desire to say, ‘Awful, unbearable, how does anyone cope?’ Then he glanced at the two children, Agot a little hopping imp, Ash desperately trying to imitate her.
‘Well, you know,’ he said weakly.
‘We were just heading to the harbour wall,’ said Innes in his easy way. ‘Want to join?’
Innes never knew how much that simple invitation meant to Saif. A simple outstretched hand of friendship, meant without expectation, neither intrusively nosey, nor desperately worried about saying the right thing. It was just one chap to another, with no agenda. Saif had lived with nothing but other people’s agendas for so long: the sheer banality of the invitation made him want to weep.
‘Sure,’ he said.
So they bought chips and Irn-Bru, except Agot wanted something called Red Kola, so of course Ash wanted it too, and got it, and Saif offered some to Ibrahim too, who shrugged and said he didn’t care, which Saif realised meant he desperately wanted some, and they all took the steaming paper-wrapped parcels and crossed the cobbled street to the sea wall. They sat, watching the children on the little harbour beach, shouting at Agot every time she tried to feed the seagulls who swooped around the children and looked entirely huge and alarming enough to carry them away.
‘I’S WANTS SEAGULL CARRY ME!’ shouted Agot, holding up her arms, whereupon Ash did so too, the chips fell to the ground and there was quite the kerfuffle getting everything sorted out again and drying tears and replacing the chips. But it was, Saif realised, a normal sort of fuss – the kind of thing that would happen to any family, any parent, out with children – and he was deeply and profoundly grateful.
‘We’re having a barbecue on Sunday,’ said Innes casually. ‘To celebrate my brother getting engaged. Bring them if you like.’
Something struck him.
‘Oh, but also he’s getting engaged to a big hairy American bloke so I don’t know if …’
Saif smiled tightly. He knew people meant well, but he didn’t like the implication that because he wasn’t from there he was automatically a bigot. Innes registered this immediately.
‘Sorry, I mean, some of the old buggers around here have been very weird about it.’
Saif nodded. ‘How is your father?’
‘Oddly cheerful,’ said Innes, eating a chip. ‘I think he just wants us to get out of the sodding house.’
‘YOU COME MY HOUSE?’ said Agot to Ash. Ash nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Did you understand that?’ said Saif in Arabic, crouching down. ‘Did you?’
‘He’s not stupid,’ said Ibrahim.
‘Did you?’ said Saif.
‘YES!’ shouted Ash in English.
Saif blinked in amazement. This was … this was amazing.
‘Well, uh, well, I’ll be off,’ said Innes.
‘Oh, yes, sorry,’ said Saif, immediately reverting to English. ‘Thank you.’
And he meant it more than he could convey.
Chapter Forty-nine
Annie’s Seaside Kitchen was quiet, the girls gone, everything cleaned and polished and put back, ready for another day tomorrow. Flora was sitting alone at a rickety table in the corner of the room with a calculator and a mounting sense of panic. She put down her tea and glanced up as there was a knock on the door. Sometimes a hopeful wet tourist would swing past after closing time, and sometimes, if she was in a better mood than this, she’d whip them up a quick coffee and piece of flan and send them on their way happy.
But not tonight. She shook her head, then the visitor knocked again. It wasn’t until she looked up that she realised it was Joel.
‘Hey,’ she said, swallowing hard as she turned the old Yale key. Her heart was beating. Was he here to declare himself? To tell her how much he missed her, how he just wanted to devote himself to her, how he’d made a mistake?
He was looking better, she realised, with something of a pang. There was some colour back in his cheeks. Fresh air was obviously doing him good. She wanted more than anything to run her fingers through his curly hair. He leaned in to kiss her and she did too, but they both aimed badly, and he ended up half on her cheek and half in her ear and she went bright red immediately and jumped back.
‘Uh, hi,’ he said.
Flora stood aside to let him come in.
‘What are you up to?’
Flora shrugged. ‘Just looking at … accounts and things.’
She wished she had some make-up on. She hadn’t had a second all day, that was the problem. She never stopped.
Joel looked at the dusting of flour she had across her forehead and wanted more than anything to gently wipe it off, take her head in his hands … but no. As Mark said, he had to get himself well.
‘How … how are the accounts?’
Flora suddenly wanted to burst into tears. She was so tired getting everything ready for Sunday, and the one person she wanted was standing in front of her like an accountant giving her an audit.
‘Awful, if you must know.’
Joel blinked. ‘But you’re always so busy!’
‘You can talk … Sorry,’ Flora added quickly.
‘It’s okay …’ He glanced at the computer. ‘Can I take a look?’
Flora’s eyes widened. He’d never shown much interest in the business before. ‘Um, sure,’ she said.
‘How old is this laptop? Do I have to wind it up at the back?’
‘Joel …’
‘It’s heavier than you.’
‘Glad something is.’
Joel smiled, and it shot through Flora like a dart. Then he wiped his glasses on a clean white napkin, and bent his head.
Flora went through the back to the kitchen, finishing the last of the day’s chores and the first of the new day’s prep. She made them a coffee, not because she wanted one but because she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Then she went back into the main room. It was gently lit. The evening was light but grey, and the round old-fashioned lamp posts on the harbour were glowing softly from beyond the window panes. She briefly leaned her head against the window frame and looked at him. He was as engrossed as ever – as far away, she thought, as ever.
‘Here.’
Joel looked up and smiled. ‘Thank you. But I’m off coffee.’
‘Oh. Really?’
‘Coffee, wine, processed food … Basically Mark’s got me eating grass and animal fats and that’s about it.’
‘Okay …’
She fetched him a glass of water, just as he took his glasses off and sighed.
‘Flora …’
Her heart leaped. ‘What?’
‘Flora … this can’t go on. It isn’t … It can’t work.’
Flora steadied herself against the counter. Everything was coming tumbling down. Everything was over. Just as she had known it would, just as she’d suspected all along.
‘Look,’ he was saying. ‘Look at your inventory. Look at your stock control. You can’t … I mean your portion control is a disaster. Look at this.’