Niall told me he loved me tonight. I’m not stupid enough to fall for that: only having sex with him because he loves me, although that did help. No, I wanted to do it with him. I love him and he loves me, it seems right – the next stage of our relationship. Afterwards, he holds me and tells me he loves me. I know he means it. So do I.
I feel different when I go into school the next day. Grown up. I see Niall at school and when we pass each other in the corridor he pulls me out of the line. I see the other girls look, with a sense of envy. They wish Niall Marshall had eyes for them. He asks me if I’m okay after last night. Of course I’m okay. I’m in love. He kisses me and tells me he loves me before running down the corridor to catch up with his class. I float in the other direction. I feel grown up. I feel loved.
Chapter 5
I take the plate away from Mum, the pork chop barely touched and the vegetables only picked at.
‘Would you prefer a light sandwich?’ I ask.
Mum shakes her head. ‘Maybe later. A cup of tea would be nice, though. I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘No, you sit there, I’ll do it,’ I say as I flip the lid to the bin and tilt the plate to let the food slide off. Mum hates wasting food and takes it personally if anyone leaves so much as a morsel on the plate, so for her to leave pretty much all her dinner isn’t a good sign.
‘Erin, did you remember to get the café keys?’ says Mum.
‘Yeah, they’re in my bag.’ I try to suppress a frown as I recall my encounter with Messrs Wright.
‘I was so glad Kerry was there the other night,’ says Mum. For a moment she looks lost in her thoughts, then giving herself a little shake, she’s back with us. ‘Nice lad, he is.’
‘I remember him from when we were teenagers,’ I say. ‘He used to come down in the summer holidays.’
‘He’s been living here for quite a few years now. He works there with Max’s son, Joe,’ Mum explains, albeit needlessly, since I’ve established this myself.
‘Didn’t Max take him in because he was in some sort of trouble?’ asks Fiona, as she takes on tea-making duty. ‘I can’t remember the details, but wasn’t Kerry kicked out by his mum?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Mum looks thoughtful again. ‘Apparently, when Max’s brother died, that was Kerry’s father, the lad went off the rails a bit. Got into trouble with the Guards, I believe. The final straw was when his mum got a new husband. A clash of personalities, you could say. Lots of arguments. That type of thing. Anyway, Max felt he owed it to his brother to look after Kerry.’
We sit in silence for a few moments and I mull over the conversation. Kerry comes across as laid-back and I have a vague idea of him being pretty chilled out when we were teenagers. From what I saw today, I’d say he’s not changed much. It sounds like he had a troubled home life. I can relate to that.
‘So…,’ begins Fiona bringing over a cup of tea for each of us. ‘What’s happening tomorrow with the café?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. I need to open up,’ says Mum. ‘It was closed all day yesterday and today; we can’t afford to lose another day’s takings or have our regulars find somewhere else. Your father won’t be happy if we stay closed.’
‘You should try and rest,’ says Fiona. ‘Anyway, aren’t you going to be at the hospital tomorrow?’
‘Of course I am, but I thought I’d go in the afternoon so I can open up the café first thing.’
‘No you won’t,’ I say. ‘I will.’
‘You will?’ The surprise in Fiona’s voice is evident.
I take a sip of my tea to stall for time. I haven’t actually thought it through properly, but I know Mum needs a break. She looks tired and drawn and I’m not entirely convinced that is just from the shock of Dad’s accident. It looks a deep-rooted tiredness, one that has been weighing her down for a long time. I can feel Fiona’s eyes on me, waiting for a response.
‘I can open up and do the breakfast rush – I assume the menu is the same: bacon, sausages, eggs, beans, that type of thing. I’m quite capable of cooking that and when you’ve dropped the children to nursery and school you can come and help me get ready for the lunchtime rush.’ I smile at Fiona, pleased with myself for making it sound so easy.
‘Ah sure, there’s no need for that,’ says Mum, looking at us both. ‘I can manage, honestly.’
‘No,’ I say firmly. ‘There’s every need. Now, please don’t argue. We want to help. Don’t we, Fiona?’