The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts. Jennifer Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Jane nods, the awkward smile flicking at her lips again. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

      ‘Thought it would.’ Dad moves towards the kettle, plucking it from its stand. ‘Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?’

      Jane’s eyes brush over me, the smile flickering on her lips again. She looks like she’s got a tic. ‘You’ve got company.’

      ‘That’s just Maddie.’ Dad fills the kettle and flicks it on. ‘My daughter.’

      ‘Oh!’ The smile is wider now, more genuine. I try not to feel offended by the ‘just’ in Dad’s introduction. ‘I see! Of course. Hello, Maddie.’

      I raise my hand and give a little wave, the awkward bug having been passed on.

      ‘So,’ Dad says. ‘Tea?’

      Jane eyes me briefly before she turns to Dad. ‘I have to dash, actually. Maybe another time? Tomorrow?’

      Dad nods, already striding across the kitchen so he can see Jane-the-neighbour to the door. ‘Sure.’

      Jane beams at Dad, placing a hand on his arm now he’s reached her. ‘Thank you again for the screwdriver.’

      ‘Any time.’

      I watch as Dad and Jane disappear into the hall, hear their muffled voices as they chat at the door. The kettle’s boiled by the time Dad returns to the kitchen.

      ‘What was that all about?’ I ask Dad, indicating the screwdriver still on the table.

      ‘Jane asked to borrow it yesterday. Asked me if I knew anything about plugs. She needed to replace one of hers so I wrote down some instructions and let her borrow the screwdriver.’

      I want to drop my face into my hands. ‘Da-ad. She didn’t want to borrow a screwdriver! She wanted you to go over.’

      Dad shakes his head. ‘Nah. Jane’s not like that. She’s very independent. Capable, like.’

      Facepalm, round two. ‘She didn’t want you to go round to replace the plug.’ If there was ever a plug in need of replacing in the first place.

      Dad grabs the tea caddy and pulls a couple of bags out. ‘What are you talking about?’

      ‘She fancies you.’ I am almost giddy. With relief. With hope. A woman fancies my dad. He doesn’t have to be alone any more! ‘Jane-from-next-door fancies you and she was trying to lure you round to her house.’

      Dad shakes his head as he plops teabags into two cups. ‘Oh, no. It’s nothing like that. Jane’s friendly, that’s all. A good neighbour.’

      I’m not convinced. I fling myself at Dad, wrapping my arms around his middle and planting a noisy kiss on his stubbly cheek.

      ‘Jane-from-next-door has a crush on you. I’m sure of it.’

      ‘Don’t be daft,’ Dad scoffs. ‘People our age don’t have “crushes”. And I’m not interested anyway. I’m too old for all that nonsense.’

      By nonsense, I assume Dad means having fun and being happy with somebody other than Mum.

      ‘You’re never too old for love. Besides, you’re sixty-two and sixty is the new fifty, which is the new forty, so you’re practically a spring chicken.’

      Dad grabs the kettle and pours boiling water into the cups. ‘I don’t think your logic pans out quite right there.’

      ‘Oh yes it does.’ I open the fridge and take out the milk, passing it to Dad. ‘I want you to be happy.’

      ‘And you can’t be happy and single?’ Dad raises his eyebrows at me and I feel myself squirm.

      ‘You can. Of course you can.’ I’m an example of that. I’ve been single for a year now and I’ve never been happier. I push the thought of waking up wrapped in Joel’s arms away, of feeling safe and loved. ‘But aren’t you ready to move on? To find someone new?’

      Dad places the fresh cups of tea on the table and looks pointedly at me. ‘Are you?’

Chapter Three

      I’d been working at the Blue Llama – a super-pretentious, celeb-chef-endorsed restaurant – for three weeks when I first met Joel. The tips were amazing (super-pretentious people can be pretty free with their wads of cash when they’re tipsy, full of good grub and showing off in front of their friends, colleagues or dates. Especially when they’re showing off in front of their dates), but I was fed up. Fed up of blisters on my feet from the compulsory heels. Fed up of being patronised by the diners and yelled at by the chef.

      And then, one evening shortly before Christmas, when the restaurant was particularly packed with diners enjoying a festive night out, I was accosted as I passed the men’s toilets down in the basement bar. Hands and lips were on me before I even realised the tray of empty glasses I’d been carrying had slipped from my grasp and had crashed to the floor, glass shattering on the tiled floor around my feet.

      ‘You. Are. Gorgeous,’ the bloke drawled and I recognised his voice. I’d been waiting on his group of friends earlier, sidestepping wandering hands and pretending not to hear the vulgar comments as I went about my duties, reminding me that money doesn’t always buy class. ‘You’re coming back to mine, princess.’

      Before I could reply that no, actually, I wasn’t going back to his place, his mouth was on mine again, his fat tongue squirming against the roof of my mouth and making me gag. His whole body was crushing mine, his hands pinning my shoulders to the wall so any attempts to push him away were futile. I knew a swift knee to the balls would help my case, but as he’d jammed one of his legs between my knees, I couldn’t even deliver the blow.

      ‘Whoa, mate. What do you think you’re doing?’

      Glass crunched underfoot as the bloke was wrenched away from me and I dipped slightly as my jellied knees gave way. I swiped a hand across my mouth, trying to rid myself of the taste and memory of his lips and tongue.

      ‘Piss off and mind your own business,’ he growled at my rescuer. ‘Go and find a bird of your own. This one’s taken.’

      ‘I don’t think so.’ My rescuer turned to me. ‘Are you okay?’

      The bloke snorted. ‘Course she’s all right. We were only kissing.’

      ‘Didn’t look that way to me,’ my rescuer said. ‘It looked like you were pawing at the poor girl while pinning her to the wall. Whatever it was you think you were doing, she wasn’t enjoying it.’ He turned to me and repeated his question. ‘Are you okay?’

      I nodded, though I didn’t feel okay at all. My body was suddenly trembling and I wasn’t sure my legs would allow me to move away from the wall even though I wanted nothing more than to run like hell.

      ‘Come on.’ With a hand almost but not quite touching my back, he guided me away from the secluded spot and into the main bar area, where he caught the attention of one of the СКАЧАТЬ