LITMIR.BIZ

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with the teasing and tormenting I endured. As teenagers we had been friendly rather than friends, the crossover of groups unavoidable in a small place like Rossway.

      ‘Hi, Rebecca, how are you?’ I say, trying to assimilate the old memory of Rebecca the teenager with the up-to-date version: Bex the adult, wife and mum.

      Bex certainly is rather boho, as Kerry had said. I take in the long, sinuous dark hair with streaks of indigo running through, matched by an equally flowing skirt that nearly reaches the ground. Bex’s purple Dr Martens boots kick out from under the fabric as she walks and she appears to be carrying some sort of multi-coloured cloth bundle in front of her. I realise this bundle is, in fact, tied round Bex and snugly tucked inside is the baby.

      ‘Kerry said you were here, so I thought I’d come and see you.’ She smiles warmly at me. ‘And no one calls me Rebecca these days, not even my mum. It’s Bex.’

      ‘Sorry, I’m a bit out of touch with everything. Although, I do know about your little one. Congratulations. How’s everything?’

      ‘Really good, thanks. Come on, Storm, you sit here.’ She pulls out a chair for her son and then, adjusting the baby bundle slightly, seats herself on the opposite side of the table. ‘There, she’s fast asleep now. The fresh air obviously did the trick.’

      I nod and give a courteous look at baby Breeze nestled peacefully in her fabric cocoon. Immediately, the familiar feeling, something akin to fear and regret, flits through me as I admire the tiny features of the baby and see the tender look Bex gives her daughter.

      ‘She’s lovely,’ I say, then standing back, take out my order pad and pen. ‘Now, what can I get you?’

      ‘Black coffee for me, please, and a vanilla milkshake for Storm.’ Bex looks at the menu. ‘Think I’ll treat myself to a toasted teacake and Storm can have a cookie.’

      I jot the order down on my pad. ‘Okay, I’ll get that sorted.’

      ‘How’s your dad?’ asks Bex. ‘I heard what happened.’

      ‘No change,’ I say, touched that she has asked. ‘He’s being kept in a medically induced coma. They’re waiting for the swelling on his brain to go down. They’ve given him a scan, but can’t tell from the results. They said he needs to rest and this is the best way. Also, his breathing is affected. They’re using a ventilator to give him a hand. They don’t think he can manage on his own.’

      ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ says Bex. ‘It is nice to see you, though, despite the circumstances.’

      I smile. I’m taking to Bex already. ‘Thanks.’

      ‘What did you do when you left here? I heard you went to London?’ asks Bex.

      I’m grateful for the change in subject.

      ‘Yes. I went to live my sister, Fiona. Went to college and did a beautician’s course, worked in a couple of places before ending up where I am now, at a health and fitness spa.’

      ‘This is a bit of a change for you.’ Bex grins as she indicates the café with a slight nod of the head.

      ‘You could say that. I’m only helping out while my dad’s not well. I’ve been given some time off from work, but I’m not sure how long they’ll be so understanding.’

      ‘You don’t fancy moving back for good?’

      There’s something about Bex’s easy manner that doesn’t seem to challenge my departure from the village. It’s a nice change from the usual reaction I’ve been getting from customers once they realise who I am. It’s almost like an accusation when they refer to my leaving.

      ‘Moving back? Not really.’ That’s an understatement. ‘I don’t think village life, well Rossway life, is for me.’

      Bex nods, as if understanding. ‘No, it can be a bit claustrophobic at times, I must admit.’

      ‘Not enough that it ever drove you away, then?’

      ‘For a bit, but only as far as Cork. You can’t really call that a life-changing move.’ Bex chuckles as she takes the salt and pepper pots away from Storm, who looks like he’s about to attempt to lick them. ‘Once myself and Joe became serious there really wasn’t any debate about where we would live. He’s very close to his family and, of course, working for his dad.’

      ‘Have you been with Joe a long time?’ I ask. I don’t know why this idea surprises me. I hadn’t pictured Joe as the childhood-sweetheart type.

      ‘Oh yeah, since I was eighteen and he was nineteen.’

      ‘Good for you,’ I say.

      ‘It’s not always been easy, don’t go thinking that,’ says Bex. ‘We’ve had our ups and downs. We called off the wedding once and I went away with my sister. Thought it was all over. But it was all sorted out in the end and that was a long time ago. We don’t count it. Not when you look at the big picture. We’re love’s young dream.’ Bex grins and although she’s laughing at herself, I can tell she is obviously very happy, courtesy of Joe. Maybe he does have some redeeming features after all.

      ‘Look, I’d better get your order before the baby wakes up,’ I say, although I actually think Storm needs distracting by way of his milkshake as he now seems intent on squeezing tomato sauce out of the plastic bottle and onto the table.

      When I come back, Bex is in the middle of what looks like a game of chess. As she moves one item away from Storm he reaches over to grab another.

      ‘There you go, Storm,’ I say cheerily. ‘Lovely vanilla milkshake and a biscuit.’

      ‘What do you say?’ prompts Bex.

      ‘Thank you, lovely lady,’ pipes up Storm.

      Bex laughs out loud. ‘Oooh, cheeky! Where did that come from?’

      ‘Don’t worry. Kerry taught him that.’

      Bex raises her eyebrows. ‘Did he now? Actually, he did tell me he had invited you to the barbecue we’re having at the weekend.’

      I nod. ‘That’s right. I’m sorry, though, but my boyfriend is coming over from the UK.’

      ‘Bring your man along too,’ says Bex. ‘We’d love to see you there. I’ll make sure Joe behaves himself, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

      I try to smile confidently. I’m not quite sure how Bex is so perceptive. In a strange way, I find it reassuring. Maybe it would be a nice thing to do. ‘Okay, I’ll see how it goes,’ I say.

      After Bex leaves, I find myself clock-watching. I’ve decided to confront Roisin and sort this business out once and for all. I don’t want it hanging over me any longer. I close up the café at four-thirty and spend the next half hour clearing things away and setting up for the next day.

      Locking the door, I hurry round to the doctors’ surgery. The car park is virtually empty, except for a handful of cars, which I presume are staff vehicles. I spot a black Mini and something tells me it’s Roisin’s car. I wander over to it.

      I don’t have to wait long before I see her emerge from around the corner. She has her head down, looking in her handbag. She pulls out a bunch of keys and looks up towards the Mini. I was right, it is her car.

      Her step slows as she sees me. I remain leaning back against the car.

      ‘I hope you haven’t damaged the paintwork,’ she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and picking up her stride again. ‘Wouldn’t want to have to get Kerry to send you the bill for a respray.’

      I wait until she reaches the car before I move off. ‘I thought I’d have heard from you by now,’ I say, ensuring there is no concern attached to the words.

      ‘Getting jittery, are you?’

      ‘Jittery? No. Not at all. More like bored.’

      Roisin

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