40
The cinema in Chippenham was busy when Joe and Rachel walked inside.
‘I’ll get the tickets,’ he said and walked to the counter.
Rachel nodded, holding on to her large tote bag. She had bought her own snacks for them because she wanted what she wanted, and she had read about someone who saw a mouse inside the popcorn machine at a cinema and couldn’t get the image from her mind.
Sweet and salty popcorn, drizzled with honey, vanilla and salt, and homemade orange cordial in glass bottles to wash it down. And a little freezer bag with two cones of chocolate ice cream that she had made, scooped into a handmade waffle cone, and dipped in milk chocolate that she had melted on the double boiler that morning.
Joe had asked her to the movies on a Sunday afternoon, and Clara and Alice said they would look after the shop, which was mostly tourists wanting Devonshire teas on a Sunday. Everything was going smoothly inside the bakery and tearooms when Joe picked up Rachel in his butcher van.
He seemed nervous but he couldn’t be as nervous as she felt. Her hands fumbled with the seatbelt and Joe had to help her pull it so it then clipped with a sharp snap to let her know it was in place.
Joe had leaned across her to pull the belt out and she noticed he had a dry scalp. Mother would have said something but she didn’t because she couldn’t understand why you would point out negative things about people other than to make them feel sad about themselves. He also had acne scars on his skin but he smelled nice. Like soap and black pepper. It reminded her of her dad and she wanted to kiss his neck.
He was the first man she had ever wanted to kiss who was in close proximity and not on the television or in a book.
Her romantic interests had been confined to Daniel Radcliffe, Michael Bublé, Ed Sheeran and Mr Rochester but Mother reminded her the first time she wore lipstick that she was as plain as a scone and no amount of jam would make her appetising to any man.
Rachel was trying to not call Moira Mother but she found it was hard to remember. Old habits die hard, as Tassie reminded her.
Joe came over to where she stood pretending to be interested in a poster for a horror movie.
‘You like horror movies?’ asked Joe.
‘Not really,’ said Rachel. ‘You?’
‘Oh, I hate them,’ said Joe. ‘I spend all my days cutting up carcasses so why would I want to watch that for entertainment. Give me a good action movie or a nice romantic comedy and I’m happy.’
Rachel felt relief at his words but she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was all the pain and abuse she had from Moira? She wasn’t sure but she knew she didn’t want to see that on any screen or live it again. She wanted a quiet life with the tearooms and the bakery and to save enough money to do them up one day.
‘Do you want snacks?’ Joe asked.
‘No, I brought us some things,’ said Rachel, anxious he would think less of her, as though she was frugal in the wrong ways.
‘Oooh, I’m excited now,’ said Joe. ‘I’m sure they will be better than anything you would buy. Now I think I’m more excited about the snacks than the movie.’
Rachel walked with him into the cinema and Joe checked the tickets.
‘L twenty-two and twenty-three,’ he said peering at the letters and numbers in the little brass plaques on the floor.
Soon they were in their seats, and as the lights went down, Rachel pulled the container of popcorn out and handed it to Joe to hold, while she opened them an orange drink each and handed him one.
The movie started and soon Rachel was swept away into the glamorous world of spies with impossibly beautiful women and exotic locations that seemed remote and unlikely for her to visit, doing things she could never dream of doing.
But as she handed Joe the ice cream in the middle of the movie, and he looked at her in the darkness of the film and whispered, ‘You’re amazing,’ she felt a thrill as though she was as beautiful as the girls on the screen, and in the most exotic place in the world, instead of a tired cinema with soft-drink-stained carpet and God-knows-what-stained seats.
Their arms touched on the armrest and Joe took her hand. It felt like the most natural thing in the world and her hand felt right in his.
Joe the butcher. Now away from the barbs of Mother, Moira, she self-corrected, she could see him clearly away from the snide comments about his skin and his intelligence. Joe the butcher was an idiot, Moira used to say. But Joe wasn’t an idiot.
He had finished school. Then he took over his dad’s shop when he had a stroke. He raised Alice when his mum died and his dad had a final and devastating stroke. She understood responsibility and guilt and grief. He had no time for anything but work and Alice but now he had time for Rachel.
In fact, she realised he’d always had time for her. The timing of his deliveries were mostly when Moira wasn’t there. He always brought her the best cuts of meat. One time he had brought her a bunch of daffodils because he said they made him sneeze but now she wondered why he had daffodils in the first place. Rachel had told Moira that a customer dropped them off for her, and Moira had put them proudly on the table upstairs and mentioned them whenever she passed, commenting on how many admirers she had.
Rachel had smiled at them when she passed because of the secret she held from Moira but now she wondered if she smiled because Joe gave them to her.
She squeezed his hand. It was impulsive but it felt right, thinking about the past and being here
