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‘I don’t believe this.’
‘Un-be-lievable!’
Elsie sighed and stared at him. ‘I didn’t realise you were waiting, OK? I’m sorry.’
‘You’re sorry.’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘But you still stole my space.’
‘Your space? Oh, forgive me, I didn’t see “Torin’s Space” painted across the piece of public tarmac I just parked in.’
Torin raised an eyebrow. ‘So, you remembered my name?’
Irritated, Elsie folded her arms. ‘I happen to have an excellent memory.’
‘So do I, Elsie Maynard. Man, it seems like you just can’t keep away from me, doesn’t it? First that awkward incident with your pile cream and now this …’
‘Whatever.’ Elsie had heard enough. Her blood boiling, she slung her handbag on her shoulder and headed quickly towards the entrance to the store.
‘This isn’t the end of this,’ Torin called after her, an annoying chime of amusement in his voice that made her cringe even more. ‘Mark my words!’
Reaching the vast entrance where Daisy was waiting, Elsie virtually yanked her sister up the escalator into the shop. ‘Do you have your list? Good. Let’s find what you need and get out of here as soon as possible.’
As they raced around the room layouts, Elsie was aware that Daisy was staring at her. When she was sure they had gained enough distance from Torin (who was no doubt following in their wake), Elsie came to a halt by a bright purple kitchen display.
‘You’re never going to believe this,’ she said, her breath shortened by their speedy circuit of the shop floor, ‘but that was him.’
‘Him who?’
‘The bloke – the one who was there when the stealing thing happened – the annoying one I was telling you about.’
Daisy’s eyes were wider than the glossy white dinner plates artfully arranged on the black granite worktop beside them. ‘No!’
‘Yes. And he wasn’t particularly impressed with my parking.’
‘Well I never. How funny! You have to laugh at this, Els, I mean, what are the chances of us driving forty-three miles and you bumping into the same guy?’
Elsie sank onto a black plastic bar stool by the breakfast area mock-up. ‘It beggars belief,’ she replied, willing her heart rate to slow. ‘He wasn’t happy, I can tell you.’
‘I could see that – oh, watch out, Els, he’s coming!’
Horrified, Elsie looked across the store to see Torin walking quickly past the living room layouts. Grabbing Daisy, she ducked down behind the breakfast bar and peered around the side as he approached.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Daisy protested, yelping when Elsie jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow.
‘Shh!’
‘Elsie, we’re hiding in a kitchen display …’
‘I know!’ Elsie hissed back. ‘We’re just waiting until he goes past. Then he’ll be following the arrows like all the other shoppers and we’ll be sufficiently behind him.’
Daisy shot her an incredulous look. ‘You’re mad, you realise that?’
Elsie ignored her sister’s amusement and waited until Torin was out of sight. When she was satisfied he had gone, she rose slowly to her feet, coming face to face with a very bemused store assistant.
‘Er – do you need any help?’ he asked, his acne-strewn brow furrowing.
Adopting her brightest, most innocent smile, Elsie patted the beechwood-effect top of the breakfast bar. ‘Excellent workmanship. Truly. Even at floor level, you can see the quality.’ With Daisy in tow, she maintained her grin until they were clear of the kitchen display and out in the space of the walkway once more.
Daisy laughed, ‘Shopping with you is never dull.’ She pulled a typed list from her bag. ‘We’d better find these items before there’s any more excitement.’
So they continued circumnavigating the store, with Daisy taking her time to select cushions, vases, table lamps and rugs, while Elsie kept a vigilant eye out for any sign of Torin. For the next twenty minutes, he was nowhere to be seen and she began to relax.
Despite her merciless mocking of Daisy about this controversial visit, she relished the opportunity to spend time with her sister. Watching Daisy at work was fascinating. The items she selected – most of which Elsie would have walked straight past – created an eye-catching mix in her yellow woven plastic store bag. It was so much fun to watch that Elsie completely forgot her irritation at seeing Torin again.
But then, it was as if a switch flicked and suddenly he was everywhere. Twice they had to duck into room displays, several times behind affordably priced sofas and even once into a mock shower cubicle when he was spotted in the vicinity. Feeling her hackles rising, Elsie made a momentous decision that shocked her sister even more than her recent revelation about dating again:
‘Right. We’re going against the arrows.’
‘But you’re meant to follow the arrows, Els! It’s what you do when you come here. It’s understood.’
Eyes wild with panicked determination, Elsie faced her. ‘I am not bumping into that man again, you hear me? I’m tired, we have an hour’s journey home and I really don’t want another awkward confrontation today.’
Much to the consternation of the shoppers behind them, Elsie and Daisy began to pick their way back, finding the recklessness of the act surprisingly liberating. They had almost reached the stairs to the ground floor when someone stepped into their path from behind a ceiling height advertising hoarding – and Elsie’s heart hit the floor.
‘Funny. I never pictured you as an “against the arrows” kind of girl.’ Torin’s green eyes were sparkling like the crystal lampshade over his head, the same half-amused smile playing on his lips.
Daisy was looking from Torin to Elsie and back like an overexcited Wimbledon spectator.
Elsie closed her eyes. ‘Please go away.’
He laughed – a sound that made all of Elsie’s defences instantly build. ‘Oh come on, you nicked my parking space. At the very least that should win me some gloating rights?’
Daisy nudged her. ‘That seems fair to me, Els.’
Elsie stared at her sister. ‘Thanks for nothing.’
Surprised, Torin held his hand out to Daisy. ‘Thank you. I’m Torin Stewart.’
‘Daisy Maynard. I’m Elsie’s sister.’
They shook hands, Torin holding Daisy’s for a moment longer than she was expecting.
‘Ah, a pleasure to meet another of the Maynard clan,’ he said, glancing sideways at Elsie. ‘Especially a polite one.’
Daisy ignored the muttered remark from Elsie and smiled back at Torin. ‘Oh, Elsie’s usually the picture of politeness. I guess there must be something about you that brings out her bad side.’
‘Oh and I expect you know all about that, being her sister?’
‘You’d be amazed at the stories I could tell you …’
They’re enjoying this, Elsie moaned to herself, they’re both flipping enjoying it. ‘Pleasant though this attack on my character is for both of you, we really should be going.’
Daisy shook her head. ‘No hurry, hun.’ She smiled her famous Daisy Maynard Smile™ at Torin – the one that had set many a man on a course towards heartbreak over the years – and Elsie knew this was far from over. ‘Actually, we were thinking of having a coffee before we head home. Don’t suppose we could tempt you to join us? As our way of apologising for the car park incident?’
Torin looked at Elsie, who averted her eyes. Right now all she wanted was to leave as soon as she could. Her expression must have betrayed her true feelings because, quite unexpectedly, Torin declined.
‘I’d love to, but I’m on a bit of a tight schedule. It was good to meet you, Daisy. Elsie, nice to see you again. I hope you find everything you’re looking for. Good evening.’
Elsie watched him walk away and, for the second time in as many weeks, felt the small pang of conscience in her stomach. Shaking it away, she faced Daisy.
‘Thanks for the help there, sis.’
‘I’m sorry, he just seemed like a really nice guy. I was trying to be polite … Oh, don’t look at me like that. It was an awkward situation and I thought maybe if we all sat down over coffee it might be a little less so.’
‘Believe me, it would have been a hundred times worse. He is the most arrogant, jumped-up individual I’ve ever had the misfortune to run into. Twice now.’
Daisy nudged Elsie’s arm. ‘My mistake, lovely. He did seem to be a little too pleased with himself, now you mention it. Let’s pay for this contraband and get the heck out of here, shall we?’
Two days later, Jim called Elsie at work and asked her to meet him at his house for tea. Always a fan of a Dad-cooked meal, Elsie was happy to oblige, heading straight over when her workday ended.
The most delicious aroma of cinnamon, onions, rosemary and pomegranate filled the kitchen when Elsie entered. In the middle of an industrious cloud of steam, Jim emerged, carrying a huge earthenware tagine.
‘We’re going Moroccan tonight!’ he announced, holding the pot aloft as if it was a sporting trophy. ‘There’s a bowl of couscous on the counter and a nice bottle of Chilean red. Be a dear and bring them over, would you?’
‘It smells amazing, Dad. New recipe?’
Jim set two places at the table and accepted a glass of wine from her. ‘Yep. Excellent Moroccan cookbook I bought from that second-hand bookshop café Olly loves so much. In fact, I was having coffee with him when he spotted it.’ His awful attempt at slipping this into the conversation made Elsie giggle.
‘Dad. That was terrible.’
Jim’s face fell. ‘I thought I was being subtle.’
‘No offence, but perhaps you’d better stick to cooking?’
‘Point taken. Sit, sit! We should have this while it’s hot. Preserved lemon? Found these in a wonderful deli that’s opened near the Theatre Royal.’
‘You’re such a foodie.’
Pleased by this, Jim winked at her. ‘Next stop MasterChef, eh?’ He served the aromatic vegetable stew and handed her a multi-coloured plate. ‘Now, tell me what you think.’
It was wonderful – warm, spicy flavours that made Elsie’s palate tingle and reminded her of a holiday they had taken to Marrakech when she was fourteen, Jim determined that his daughters should have every opportunity to visit new and exciting cultures. She could still remember his brave but ultimately fruitless attempts at bartering over a rug in the souk, as the sights, sounds and smells of the bustling market laid siege to their senses.
She had to hand it to Jim: he was a tremendous cook. But more than the chance to sample his excellent food, Elsie relished the opportunity to spend time with her father. The past two years of her life had often demanded her attention to the point where she had neglected time with her family; only now was she feeling like she was reclaiming some of it. Growing up as one of three siblings, with the added complication of her mother’s absence, time alone with her father had always been invaluable; even now, as each of the Maynard sisters lived out their lives, Jim’s time was divided. A fair man in everything, he tried to give each of them an equal portion of his attention, although Guin’s impending motherhood meant this was likely to change soon.
‘So what was it you wanted to tell me?’ Elsie asked, when the meal was over and they were sitting in the comfortable lounge watching soft candlelight bathe the walls from the collection of oil burners and pillar candles on the coffee table. Patchouli and lavender incense pervaded the air and Jim’s favourite Bollywood chill-out album provided an exotic soundtrack.
‘Ah yes. It’s very exciting. You know that I’m on the Traders’ Association committee for the Brighton Carnival this year?’
Elsie didn’t, but this was nothing new. Jim was nothing if not committed to his town.
‘Well, I am. Never learn, will I? Anyway, the point is, we were discussing community music for the street stage we’re sponsoring and I suggested your choir! I told them how much of a community endeavour it’s going to be, and they thought it was a fantastic idea! What do you think?’
‘I think it’s great, Dad, but don’t you think it might be better to wait and hear the choir we put together before you start booking us?’
‘It’s not till July, so there’s plenty of time to prepare for it.’ Jim hugged her. ‘I have every faith in you.’
Whether or not the choir would be able to take up Jim’s offer, Elsie was encouraged by the vote of confidence. She walked the streets of Brighton delivering choir recruitment posters to local businesses, handed out leaflets to customers at Sundae & Cher and persuaded a journalist at the local free paper to write a story, thus saving her the expense of placing an advert. She and Woody discussed their plans at length, determined to create something that stood out from the other choirs in the area.
‘It’ll be fun and inclusive, more than anything.’
‘Babe – we can’t lose. We’ll be the only choir with destiny on our side.’
‘And we’ll make the songs interesting and different. Try to avoid some of the choir clichés and create a repertoire that they want to sing.’ Elsie hesitated, as a thought occurred. ‘People will come, won’tthey?’
Woody’s conviction was Jedi-like. ‘If we ask them, they will come.’
The day of the widely advertised first choir meeting arrived, and Elsie spent most of it wrestling with nerves and trying her best not to dwell on the possible outcomes for the evening. It was as if she was at the edge of a tall precipice, her toes dangling over a two-thousand-foot sheer drop, waiting to take a step of faith: thrilling and utterly terrifying in equal measure.
Daisy arrived a little after seven that evening, with an unapologetic Woody appearing twenty minutes later.
‘I was seeking inspiration,’ he shrugged. ‘You can’t rush that.’
By eight, Elsie was trying not to check her watch, Daisy was pacing the floor and even Woody was beginning to show signs of apprehension.
‘What time was on the posters?’ Cher asked.
‘Seven-thirty,’ Daisy and Woody chorused.
‘Ah.’ She looked uneasy. ‘Perhaps they’re caught in traffic. Wednesday nights, you know …’ Unconvinced by her own argument, she fell silent.
‘Nerves, man. That’s what it is. Deep down the whole town knows this choir is about to shake the establishment.’
‘It’s a choir, Woody, not a political movement.’
Woody regarded Daisy with disdain. ‘So you say.’
Daisy ignored him. ‘This is ridiculous. They’re not coming, Els. Let’s just call it a night.’
Elsie considered the disheartened group. Part of her wanted to pack up and go home, but she had been so sure people would respond – surely that level of certainty counted for something? ‘You can go, if you like. I’m going to wait to see if anyone turns up.’
‘Suit yourself. If you don’t mind, I’ll head off.’ Daisy picked up her coat.
‘Yeah, you go, girl,’ Woody replied. ‘Leave the believers keeping the dream alive.’
Incensed, Daisy pointedly dropped her coat over the back of a chair and sat down again. ‘Then I’m staying, too.’
