Alex Hines - Chance

She took a deep breath and went upstairs, where she lay down on the bed for a couple of hours, trying to read a book. It was soon replaced by the remainder of the morning’s papers, which she flicked through looking for something to distract her. Eventually she gave up and had a bath. By the time she came back downstairs in her pajamas and fluffy dressing gown they had been at opposite ends of her admittedly tiny house for almost three hours.

‘I’m going to make an omelette,’ she said, standing at the living-room door. ‘Would you like one?’

Rob looked up, displaying all the signs of having forgotten that she was in the house at all.

‘Ooh, yes please! And look – Morgan & Hughes is on.’

The regional detective show was one of Ava’s favourites – second only to Strictly in the cosy autumn TV watching schedules. They had spent many happy evenings together, with trays of comforting wintery food on their laps, trying to work out who the unlikely murderer was. (It was always the most famous of the weekly guest stars!)

‘But it’s already begun.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve missed the set up.’

‘You’ll catch up …’ He patted the sofa next to him, as if she were a cat.

But you didn’t call me , she wanted to say. You used to call me! She chose not to say anything – it seemed wiser at this point.

Fifteen minutes later she was snuggled next to Rob on the sofa, their omelettes eaten and an apple shared. They watched the programme in the same companionable silence as they had driven back from the Dunnes, as if they were the best flatmates in the world. Later, Rob had a shower while Ava got into bed and returned to her book. He returned from the bathroom wearing pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt, got into bed, kissed Ava on the forehead and rolled over before she had a chance to kiss him back.

‘Good night,’ she mouthed to herself as she leant over to turn off the bedside light. She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling and listening to the rise and fall of Rob’s breathing.

Just before she fell asleep she realised that Lauren had never explained what she wanted for her wedding flowers.

Chapter Four

Monday, 29 August

Monday. A fresh new day, except it didn’t really feel like it after a muggy, restless night’s sleep. Ava struggled through the morning as if she were wading in treacle. All of the usual tasks seemed to take twice as long; part of the Dutch flower delivery was wrong when it arrived so they were swimming in an extraordinary amount of tulips. A small child, momentarily unwatched, had silently pulled the petals off several hydrangeas within the first hour of Dunne’s being open. She felt stifled in her own shop, her safe place, of which she was usually so proud and felt so at home in. Today it felt too hot, too small for her – it was as if summer had suddenly decided make its final effort.

By eleven o’clock, Ava had dropped a tin pail filled with stale flowery water. She watched with resignation as it spilled out onto the shop floor and all over her feet. The plimsolls she had on seemed particularly inappropriate footwear as she felt the water seep in, knowing they would now stink for a day or two. She remembered standing in front of her wardrobe only a few hours earlier, too tired and defeated to wear anything more sophisticated than the jeans and stripy T-shirt she had opted for. Why bother , she remembered thinking, no one will notice what you’re wearing . Now she regretted not putting on her patent leather ballet pumps.

With her soggy feet and her sour attitude, Ava was less than a ray of sunshine for the customers. She was usually cheered to see Mrs Lambert, an adorable old lady who lived alone in one of the town’s smarter houses and often came by to cheer herself up with flowers. Though old enough that she walked with a stick and her voiced had softened with age, she was always smartly dressed with her hair in neat curls and her jewellery on display. Unfailingly polite and always interested in Ava herself, she was one of her favourite customers. But today she dithered a little, apparently as tired as Ava was. She changed her mind once or twice about what she wanted in her bouquet and Ava would usually make suggestions and tell her what was fresh in but today she was forced to bite her tongue to avoid snapping at the old lady and hurrying her along. Flustered by the change in tone, Mrs Lambert dropped her wallet on the shop floor and Ava realised with a jolt that her impatience was not unnoticed.

‘Oh, let me get it, Mrs L …’ she bent down on the shop floor, her younger hands scooping up the coins from the slate tiles at twice the speed of Mrs Lambert’s arthritic fingers.

‘Thank you, dear,’ she said quietly.

‘I’m so sorry, here we go.’ Ava put the coins into the wallet and handed it to Mrs Lambert. ‘Don’t worry about the rest. I feel I’ve been rude this morning and I’m so sorry – I barely slept in this heat and I can hardly think straight.’ She waved her hand away as Mrs Lambert tried to pass her the few remaining pound coins.

‘Really, dear, that’s very kind but I’m perfectly happy to pay full price.’

‘Of course, please accept my apologies.’

‘I was wondering if you were feeling alright – you’re usually such a happy soul.’

‘One of those days but I’m sorry you bore the brunt of it.’

‘Don’t you worry,’ said Mrs Lambert, taking her flowers and standing as tall as she could. As Ava held the shop door open for her, she turned and looked at her. ‘Just you remember your worth, dear. Don’t go letting anyone take you for granted.’

Ava stood in the doorway, looking out across the square as Mrs Lambert walked away. How did she know to say that? Was she starting to look like a woman who was taken for granted, one of those who settled out of fear of being left alone? Despite the heat she shivered at the thought, then noticed Matt making his way back from the bank, having deposited some cheques.

‘Hello you, all done!’ he announced, as he headed into the shop with her.

‘You feeling better?’

‘Yes, thanks – Mrs Lambert’s so sweet. She’s so dignified, isn’t she?’

‘She’s a class act, boss, no mistake.’

‘Isn’t she just! I could do worse than end up like her.’

‘I don’t think you have to worry about that just yet, do you? Anyway, what about old Rob-o?’

‘Hmm …’ Ava stared into space and Matt quickly looked away.

‘Listen, do you want to go early again if I take a bit of a longer lunch break?’ she continued. She was suddenly keen to take a walk and clear her head, to be outside for a while and feel the breeze by the river.

‘Sure thing! I’ll give Amy a text now and see if she’s up for another driving lesson.’

‘Great! How’s that going, by the way?’

‘She’ll get there.’

‘I see – it’s like that, is it?’

‘Yeah, but you know, patience …’ Truly, Matt seemed to have a boundless supply of it.

‘She’s a lucky girl, I hope she knows that.’

‘Aw, she’s a doll!’

Ava smiled and reached for the canvas bag under her desk. ‘Right then, see you later.’

‘Sure thing, boss.’

Ava walked out into the market square and took a deep breath, determined to turn this suffocating day around. She crossed the square and headed to the Marshall’s, the deli. The husband-and-wife team who ran it were about her age, but had two small children yet they still seemed to work all hours, run a great little business and be astonishingly chirpy to each and every one of their customers. She had a ruddy, rosy, classic English complexion and a sturdy, earthy kind of sexiness. He was of similarly generous proportions – clearly they were a couple that enjoyed consuming their produce as much as selling it. Ava doubted she had ever seen either of them not smiling, and she had caught him pinching her bottom more than once. There was something of a modern-day Ma and Pa Larkin about them.