‘Oh, yeah. Maybe. What time is it, anyway?’
‘I might just go for a walk along the canal.’
‘I’ll come with,’ Jon said.
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Bex said, but he was talking over her, telling her to meet him by the green.
It had warmed up into a beautiful day, more like summer than spring. The green that ran from the pub down to the canal was full of teenagers lounging on the grass. Jon was waiting in their usual spot, his face turned up to the sun and his eyes shut.
Bex enjoyed the opportunity to watch him without him seeing her, but she said ‘hello’ when she was a few steps away so as not to startle him.
‘We can build up an appetite and then go for something to eat.’
Bex pulled a face. ‘I don’t think I should spend any money. Not until I get a new job.’
‘My treat,’ Jon said, but she shook her head.
‘You’re broke, too.’
They walked along for a while before Jon said: ‘You’ll get a new job. You’re really good.’
He had no way of knowing what she was like at work, of course, but she appreciated his show of support.
After a mile or so of peaceful walking, the water lapping gently against the sides of the canal and the brightly painted boats, Bex felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. The path opened up with a gated trail leading up to the main road and a patch of grass and flowerbeds next to a small gravel car park. There was an ice cream van and Jon bounded up to its window. ‘All hail the magnificent van of iced treats.’
‘You what?’ the man inside said, frowning at them both.
‘Cornetto, please,’ Bex said, trying to look normal and non-threatening. ‘Strawberry.’
‘And a 99, oh King of Whipped Cream. Or cream substitute, whatever that stuff is made of. King of Cream Substitute doesn’t have quite the same ring, does it?’
‘Are you being funny?’ The man looked like he’d reached the end of his tether some time during the nineteen-eighties.
‘He thinks so,’ Bex said. ‘Sorry.’ She passed across some money, waving away Jon’s offer to pay. She smiled at the still-frowning ice cream vendor. ‘He’s trying to cheer me up.’
‘Good luck with that one, love,’ he said as they walked away.
They sat on top of the picnic bench and Jon dug into his ice cream with impressive gusto. It was gone in a couple of bites. Bex wondered what it would be like to make love with a man like that, whether he’d consume the moment as quickly, as voraciously. Great. Now her head was on fire. She looked away, hoping Jon hadn’t noticed.
He finished the last bit of his cone and wiped his hands on his jeans. Which made Bex look at his thighs. Gah. Why had she ever thought this cosy little stroll could possibly be a good idea? Suddenly, the reason she had vowed to stay away from Jon came back with a thud; she was incapable of rational thought in his presence. She turned into a drooling, sex-obsessed idiot. And the need she felt when she was apart from him became utterly unbearable. Of course, the thought of walking away from the warmth of their friendship was like a knife to the gut.
‘Uh-oh,’ Jon said. ‘You’re thinking again. You need another ice cream.’ He jumped off the bench.
‘I haven’t finished this one.’ Bex held it up as evidence.
Jon stopped in front of her, his face almost level with hers, and Bex looked away to avoid gazing into his eyes, terrified that he would see the longing that lurked inside.
‘You going to tell me what happened?’
Bex concentrated on her ice cream. ‘They accused me of stealing.’
‘That’s outrageous.’ Jon was waving his arms around, emphasising his words. ‘Egregious.’
‘I know, but …’ Bex shrugged. ‘There’s not much I can do.’
‘But it’s unfair. They can’t do that, can they?’
Bex shrugged. ‘It’s their word against mine.’
‘I know what you should do,’ Jon said, his face lighting up. ‘You should go and see Iris Harper.’
That blinking woman again. It was as if she’d cast a spell over the whole town.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Yeah,’ he was nodding now. ‘She’s really good. She’ll sort this out.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Like that.’
Bex pulled a face meant to convey deep scepticism. ‘She makes, like, face creams and stuff. From plants. My mum used to use her earache mixture on me. It was bloody disgusting.’ Bex didn’t want to admit that she’d already approached Iris and been turned down as a client.
‘Well, maybe. But she does other stuff, too. You know Bob?’
Bex shook her head. ‘I don’t think so’
‘Yeah, you do. At the pub. Owns it.’ Jon sat back on the bench next to Bex, his leg almost touching hers. ‘Well, he told me that she sorted out a problem with his lease or something. Or a public permit. Something legal, anyway.’
Bex had reached the solid chunk of chocolate at the bottom of the Cornetto. ‘That doesn’t sound likely.’
‘She did, I swear. Bob thinks she’s a superhero.’
An image of Iris Harper with a long flowing cape and spandex suit popped, unbidden and unwanted, into her mind.
‘I’ll come with you, if you like.’ Jon dipped his head to look into her eyes. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘That’s okay,’ Bex said, eating the chocolate and slipping off the bench. ‘I need to think about it.’
She put the rubbish in the bin and then headed to the canal path, which turned towards Pendleford. It was time to stop running away from the problem. She stopped when she realised Jon hadn’t followed. He was still sitting on the bench, ten paces away and frowning slightly.
‘You coming?’
‘I wish you’d learn to accept help sometimes.’
Yeah, well, Bex thought. I wish you’d rip my clothes off and ravish me right here on the lawn. Guess we’re both out of luck.
Back at home, Bex spent an hour phoning around the agencies
