“I’m going to tell them both tonight,” Maggie said, a half-empty crate of broccoli in her arms. “Over dinner.”
She and Joe were bringing in the fruit and veg displays from the front of the shop. The weather had turned ominously cold, and a freezing fog hung along the high street. She had filled Joe in on the events in the pub kitchen.
“We could tell them about us too. Make it official. Hit them with all the good news at once.” Joe smiled.
Maggie squirmed. “Maybe not tonight. We don’t want to blow their minds.” She laughed awkwardly. His face fell and she felt horribly guilty. “But soon,” she added brightly, always playing for time.
Joe recovered his good humor quickly. “I’ve got say, I’m relieved,” he said, dropping a crate of parsnips down beside a tray of sprout trees. “I understand your reasons for keeping the eviction from them, but I’ve felt uncomfortable about Patrick; he’s an adult, he ought to be kept in the loop.”
“I know. I was hanging on for a miracle. But what with the money from the painting and not having to sell my dad’s place, it feels like I’ve got the next best thing. Honestly, I feel like a weight’s been lifted. I know I gave it the big ‘I’ll be fine’ speech, but I was scared shitless about what I was going to do.”
“I know. You’re not as good an actor as you think you are.” He was smiling warmly at her.
“And here I was thinking I had you fooled.”
“Don’t give up your day job.” Joe laughed and then realized what he’d said. “Sorry.”
“My day job’s given me up. I know it isn’t glamorous, but I’ve always loved running a greengrocer shop. It’s hard work, but I get to be out and about, I get to meet people and carry on something my mum built up. It feels like I’m losing a part of her with the business.”
“I’m sorry, Mags. You know if I could I’d buy Gilbert out and give you the building.”
“You are so sweet, no wonder I love you.”
His face broke into a smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that.” He paused for a moment and then said, “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s about Gilbert and Marks . . .”
The door that led from the shop up to the flat flew open and hit the wall so hard there was a definite sound of wood splintering.
“Patrick! What are you doing? You practically took the door off its hinges.” And then she saw his expression. Pure anger.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Patrick’s voice was sharp and accusatory, shaking with rage. She recognized the blue letterhead as he shook the letter back and forth in his clenched fist, and her heart, so light a second ago, sank like a stone. From the corner of her eye, she saw Joe straighten up from lifting a box of clementines and dust his jeans down.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me? I had to find out like this. Cheers, Mum! Happy fucking Christmas.”
“Darling, listen, I . . .”
“I can’t believe you! What were you going to do? Box everything up and hope we wouldn’t notice? Or maybe move out on the sly when I’ve gone back to uni, send me a forwarding address in a text?”
“Don’t be ridiculous . . .”
“Did he know, this whole time?” He jabbed a finger in Joe’s direction. He must have seen the look that passed between them, because he raised his hands in the air in exasperation or resignation, Maggie couldn’t tell which. “Of course! Of course you would confide in him before your own son. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Ma, but you put your faith in the wrong person.”
She could almost hear Joe’s thoughts as his eyes tried to seek hers; I told you you should have told him. She kept her eyes on Patrick.
“I was going to tell you.” She kept her voice level.
He barked out a laugh. “When?”
“I didn’t want to ruin Christmas for Verity. I didn’t want you to worry. But there have been some recent developments, literally today, and I was going to tell you tonight. I was just talking with Joe about it . . .”
But Patrick wasn’t listening; he was too angry to be reasoned with. “What were you thinking? Spring it on us on New Year’s Day maybe? Happy bloody New Year! We’re going to be homeless!”
“I was hoping I could change the landlord’s mind.”
“This is our home. I had a right to know.”
“You’re right, but I’m your mother, and sometimes I have to make hard decisions for us.”
“You know, you treat me like a kid when you’re the one who’s being childish.”
“Come on, mate, that’s not fair,” said Joe.
Maggie felt him come to stand next to her, but it didn’t bring her any comfort; if anything, her stomach squirmed with unease. Siding with her was only going to make Patrick angrier. He turned his attention to Joe. She couldn’t read the expression on his face, but his eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and his mouth twisted into a sneer that didn’t suit his kind face.
“I went on the Gilbert and Marks website,” he said, voice low with rage. “Thought maybe there’d be a way to contest the eviction or make a complaint. I didn’t find anything useful, but the About Us page had some interesting photographs of the happy landlord family picnic two summers ago.”
She frowned, wondering where he was going with this. Patrick’s eyes were still locked on Joe. His voice had taken on an oily menace that she didn’t recognize. Beside her, she felt Joe stiffen.
“We can talk about this, Patrick,” said Joe calmly. He held out his hands, palms facedown, making a tamping-down motion, as though he could physically smooth out whatever was brewing between them.
“Talk about what?” she asked, looking from her son to her lover and finding only animosity in both faces. “What’s going on?”
“You’re not the only one keeping secrets,” said Patrick, eyes still locked on Joe, daring him to break the stare-off first.
“Let’s not do it this way, Patrick. I promise you, you have this all wrong.”
Patrick shook his head. “I don’t think I do.”
“Will somebody please tell me what’s going on?” She felt sick; it was the kind of nausea when your body knows before your brain that something is about to mess up your world.
Joe took a deep breath but Patrick cut him off.
“Gareth Gilbert is Joe’s uncle. I did a little digging. Your boyfriend is on the payroll. I guess this was an undercover job, huh? How much did you get for screwing us over?”
The room spun.
“What?” She looked from one to the other, confounded. Joe hung his head.
Patrick let the eviction notice drop to the floor. “Over to you,” he said to Joe, and left the shop.
The shop was suddenly oppressively quiet. Joe put his hands into his pockets and smiled nervously at her.
“Well, that was quite a spectacular mike-drop moment,” he said, trying to joke away the storm.
“You’re my landlord’s nephew?” She was having trouble making things fit in her head. What did this mean? Why wouldn’t he have mentioned this? “Did you know I was a tenant when you took the job?”
“Not right away.”